#The Grapefruit Crush

[shsummertimefest]

The Grapefruit Crush

[retropopcult]

soda bottle caps produced between 1930s to 1960s

[ardentpoop]

hot milfs forsaken by fucking idiot TV viewers fanclub

[ark1os]

.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Vodka Day

Raise your glass and have a toast to one of the world’s most versatile spirits, vodka. Try infusing your own vodka, buying a new flavor, or making a new cocktail.

National Vodka Day is a great time to raise your glasses to one of the world’s favorite alcoholic drinks. While vodka is often associated with Russia, and some of the finest and most expensive vodkas in the world come from there, it is a drink that is produced in many countries and enjoyed all over the world.

History of National Vodka Day

Vodka is the Slavic word for ‘little water’ and is traditionally made by mixing water with distilled grains or potatoes, although today many popular brands add flavorings such as fruits and sugars.

It is believed that this drink first came into existence in the Middle Ages, perhaps sometime during the 8th or 9th centuries. Vodka has slightly different varieties that seems to have originated not only in Russia, but also in Poland as well as in Sweden. It seems that some of the first people to distill this drink from grains or potatoes were religious monks.

Records indicate that the word “vodka” was used in Russia sometime in the late 14th century. It is known that the Genoese ambassadors brought vodka to Moscow to present it to the Grand Duke in 1386. After another few hundred years, after the Russian Revolution in 1917, when vodka began to spread throughout Europe.

It wasn’t until after WWII that the popularity of vodka began to grow all throughout the world, particularly when it landed firmly on the shores of North America. Although it was originally almost tasteless and odorless, over the last decades that has changed. Creative differences in flavors, aromas, combinations and varieties have taken over the production of vodka around the world. But its neutral flavor has continued to contribute to its popularity as it makes an incredible base for a host of different mixed drinks and cocktails.

Purists of this distilled drink are known to only enjoy vodka neat, but it makes the perfect mixer and is the main ingredient in many favorite cocktails, including the martini, the screwdriver and the Bloody Mary.

The Moscow Mule, Cosmopolitan, Vodka Gimlet, White Russian and so many more drinks have become standard for bartenders at restaurants and in homes all throughout the world. All thanks to Vodka.

Now it’s time to celebrate National Vodka Day!

How to Celebrate National Vodka Day

Get on board with the fun and enjoyment of celebrating National Vodka Day using a few of these ideas or coming up with some of your own:

Try Out a New Variety of Vodka

While preferences for this drink can certainly be subjective, the experts in the field of liquor have put out a list of their favorite, best, top-of-the-line vodkas that would be perfect to enjoy in celebration of National Vodka Day. (Of course, responsible drinking is of the utmost importance.)

Try out one of these on the list as a way to appreciate the day:

Hangar 1. This vodka originating from the California region has interesting tasting notes of orange, cinnamon and white pepper, and its alcohol by volume is 40%. The brand is a small batch vodka that was birthed in an old airplane hanger (thus, the name) by St. George Spirits in 2002. It’s still produced at the old Naval Air Station on San Francisco Bay.

Ketel One, Cucumber and Mint. As flavored vodkas go, this one reigns supreme. From the Netherlands, this vodka has a slightly lower alcohol by volume, at only 60 proof. It offers only flavors that are naturally extracted from cucumber and mint, without any additives, and it’s perfect for light and summery drinks.

Beluga Noble. Bringing flavors from where the story began, this Russian Vodka provides a clean, crisp flavor that is perfect for simply drinking cold and neat. Made using a pure water source and expert filtration, the result is this 80 proof vodka that is “clean like a tear”.

Air Vodka. Purists everywhere will delight in the idea that this vodka is made using only the purest of ingredients: water, carbon dioxide and sunshine. Made in New York, this vodka is produced using solar-powered technology that removes greenhouse gases from the air and eliminates the need for farming, irrigation or depletion of resources. And it’s 40% alcohol by volume is smooth and light.

Give the Gift of Vodka

Share in the delight of the day by bringing a bottle of vodka to a special friend, family member, boss or coworker who absolutely loves it. They’ll be so appreciative of the gesture–and perhaps they’ll even open the bottle right away so that you can share a little toast together. Cheers!

Try Vodka Fusion

This is a fun activity that promotes the art of fusing individual flavors and varieties into vodka. Think of it as a painting where the vodka acts as the “blank canvas”. The process usually only takes 3-5 days, or longer depending on personal taste–and the strength of the flavors that are being infused.

Unique and original flavors abound when it comes to letting the creative juices flow into vodka! Some people have gone far beyond the norm with flavors such as Fruit Loops or Root Beer or Peanut Butter and Jelly. The sky’s the limit!

Consider these ideas for making a vodka fusion of your own:

Fruit Infusion Vodka. One of the most popular ways to infuse vodka is by using fruits. Cranberry, mango, strawberry, watermelon and lime are just the beginning. This is also a great way to use up the last of a pile of figs, or the end of the bushel of peaches. 80 proof vodka works well for this and using 2 cups of chopped fruit to 2-3 cups of vodka is a great measurement.

Peppermint Infusion Vodka. Great for enjoying at holiday parties or giving as gifts, this version simply uses 5 full sized peppermint candy canes in 1.5 cups of vodka. Deliciously festive and sweet, Santa will be happy to enjoy some as he spends time delivering gifts!

Herbed Fusion Vodka. Graze the herb garden to find some unique flavors that will complement vodka. Rosemary, vanilla bean, lavender, ginger, garlic, horseradish and chamomile are just a few ideas for National Vodka Day infusions. These delightful herbal vodka infusions are healthful and delicious.

Candy Corn Vodka Fusion. Take Halloween to the next level by dropping a handful of candy corn (½ cup) into a mason jar of vodka (1 ½ cups) and let it sit for several days, or even a week. Serve with cinnamon syrup, lemon juice and seltzer for a delicious Candy Corn Cocktail.

Join a National Vodka Day Event or Celebration

National Vodka Day is a great opportunity to enjoy a new cocktail or try one of the hundreds of different brands of vodka. Many bars and restaurants hold special promotions and tastings to encourage drinkers to celebrate this well-loved spirit. Check online or a local event bulletin board to find out what’s on in the community!

Source

[byuntrash101]

the good friend

f!reader x san x mingi ft ateez smut | mdni 3.4k san has known about mingi’s crush on his girlfriend for a while now. he also happens to be a very good and caring friend who values their friendship very much. and san would do just about anything to help a friend nsfw tags under the cut

a lil plot, idol!au, established relationship, bf san, mingi is the simp master, also rengoku hair mingi because i miss him, alcohol consumption (but consent is unquestionable), safe word mentionned but not used, pet names, (baby, princess, sannie...), unprotected sex (recommanded by 0/10 dentists), wall sex, semi public sex (full dorm hallway sex), exhbitionism/voyeurism, dirty talk, slight breath play (gentle), masturbation (f & m), controlled orgasm (f)

a/n: OMGGGG THIS ONE IS JUST SDMLKSQDMMSQLKKFF. i kinda like how turned out because im feral and shameless when it comes to these men. if you like it PLEASE TELL ME i might make a part 2 👀

@shinestarhwaa for you boo <3

sequel | ateez masterlist | navigation

It’s funny how Mingi is still stuck in this same situation years later, he thought while staring at you from across the kitchen table. When he first saw you 5 years ago, your back leaned against the company building, eyes glued to your phone, he thought of how pretty you were but he was late for practice again and he knew he was going to be scolded by Hongjoong so he just hurried himself in.

This encounter should have been left at that, he would have forgotten about you the next day and he would be at peace right now. 

But no.

You were still waiting there when he got out much much later at night, sweaty, tired and starving. He took a look at you again but this time you lifted your face from the screen of your phone and your eyes met. He didn’t know why he was flustered and cursed himself silently when he whipped his head to the side, quickly breaking eye contact. But despite the uninviting body language you took the first step in his direction. It took everything he had in him not to stumble back and stand his ground in the most natural way he could muster given his current state.

‘Hmm… Excuse me?” you started hesitantly, “Hmm… I’m looking for…” Mingi was all ears and eyes for you, focussing on your every move and word. In that split instant he noticed the color of your eyes, the soft texture of your hair and the mesmerizing way your lips moved to form words, that made sentences which he was supposed to listen to and he was arguably doing a poor job. But right when he was losing focus you were interrupted.

“Y/N!!” San’s voice resonated from the entryway. You whipped your head in the direction of the voice and turned away from Mingi with the most radiant and heavenly smile he had ever seen. 

“Nevermind. Thank you” you said quickly before running to San’s side. 

Mingi stood there for a second completely stunned as he watched the pair of you walking away, San’s hand reaching for yours right before you disappeared at the intersection. 

The next day San made him promise not to tell anyone he saw you waiting for him. He didn’t tell him exactly you were his girl but Mingi was smart enough to figure that out on his own.

And that should have been the end of the story. You should have remained San’s secret girlfriend and Mingi would have forgotten about you and your perfect smile in a week or two…

But once again… no. It did not go that way.

Over the years it got worse. You both grew, you weren’t 18 anymore. You grew into a beautiful, stunning woman and Mingi grew into a man. And you even became friends. With the years you got to meet the rest of Ateez. You became friends with all of them but you were closest to Mingi without a doubt, much to his disarray.

That’s exactly how he came to stare at you from across the kitchen table as you were leaning your head on San’s broad shoulder, barely holding your head up as you had one too many bottles of grapefruit soju. San was gently caressing your flushed cheek.

Everybody was laughing, drinking and enjoying themselves, but Mingi who was also slightly drunk just couldn’t stop staring at you, stealing glances at you through his eyelashes. To the others he looked like he was zoning out like he usually does after a drink or two but in fact he was focussing on you. Precisely on your neck and the sleeve of your top slowly sliding off your shoulder. The large and rounded neckline of your loose oversized top was barely hanging to the edge of your shoulder at this point and if you moved even in the slightest it would completely expose your shoulder. To everyone present that wasn’t a big deal. Nobody had even noticed apart from Mingi. And when you lift your head up again to bark at Wooyoung that was making fun of you for being a lightweight it happened.

The tired sleeve gave in. Mingi had a front row seat on your delicate collar bone and the smooth skin of your shoulder lightly shiny. If only that was it he could have handled it but the large neck line was also hanging very low on your chest so low that his eyes were rapidly forgetting about your shoulder to solely focus on your chest. His eyes scanned the shadow of your cleavage, the ceiling light was casting on you, he imagined how your breasts would feel in his large palms, how soft your skin would be and how your nipples would taste on his tongue.

He thought so much that he started pitching a tent in his large cargo pants. The tent of shame like he liked to call it. The tent he tried to fight off so many times because San was one of his best friends… And you were… his.

That thought broke his own heart.

“Well! I’m swamped, guys. I’m going to bed” he declared getting up, both fists stuffed in his large pockets concealing the “shame”.

The others grumbled to make him stay. They were having a nice time but honestly he just wanted to catch a break from his own heart and hop into the shower.

San knew exactly why he wanted to leave. He had known for a while about Mingi’s feelings for you. In reality everyone knew except for two people. One was Mingi who thought he was so good at concealing himself when in reality he was staring at you like a puppy all day and the other one was yourself. You just never noticed because to you Mingi was a friend, an attractive friend, granted! But a friend nonetheless. You didn’t think further than that. To you the idea of him having feelings for you was so far-fetched that the thought never entered the realm of possibilities.

Once Mingi had decided to go, the members followed one by one, Hongjoong was the second one. At the end only Wooyoung and Yeosang were playing a drinking game while you and San crashed on the couch. 

San was absentmindedly playing with your hair when he caught your hand dangerously slipping below his belt. He gripped your wrist firmly, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“Y/n~~” he quietly singsang. He knew that was going to happen. Alcohol had only one single effect on you. It made you horny. Without fail, whenever you all gathered like this and drank, it made you feral. And today San felt mischievous.

***

Mingi exhaled a big sigh before stepping in the shower, the hot water running on his large back helped him take his mind off the chatter and laughter erupting from the living room at the end of the hall for a while he just glided the soap across his body. The hot air made him dizzy. He felt the warm water on his face letting the stream run down his hair. As he closed his eyes, flashes of you came back to him. 

Your cute flushed face, eyelids half closed, your eyes made sparkly from the soju, this adorable dorky smile you wore all evening, the exposed patch of skin, the neckline of your top hanging so low on your chest. He wondered without even realizing about the way he would have loved to lay you down on that table right there. Peeling your clothes one by one, taking his sweet time admiring your body slowly giving away all its secrets. 

He felt himself becoming hard again. He kept his eyes shut as he guided the soapy foam along his half hard member. 

He dreamed about the melodic wet sounds you would make when he would slide inside you, about the way you would grip him so perfectly, about how your eyes would roll back and your lips would lazily hang open as you lost yourself to his cock, abandoning yourself to him, only him.

He gripped his length even tighter, rapidly dragging his fist up and down his shaft, turning his tip bright red from his arousal and the hot water.

He thought even harder about your hands muffling your high pitched moans shamefully as his powerful thrusts rocked your body under him.

Fuck he wants to see you like that, he wants to have you like that he thought as he drove himself crazy, on the verge of bursting. He felt himself twitch in his hand, precum and soap mixing perfectly making this sinful act easier than ever. 

“Fuck” he grunted considering to finally let himself go but at the last second he opted out of it. He suddenly let go of the aching organ, twitching and pulsing, hot and dripping red tip begging for release.

But Mingi just couldn’t keep doing that anymore. Just seeing you in the day act like your friend and fuck himself to the thought of you at night. He had to somehow snap out of this trance, break free from the spell you casted on him five years ago back in Gang-nam.

After five years he had to come to the realization that you were with San and you would never be with him.

So without thinking twice Mingi turned the water from scolding hot to icy. That had two purposes: one calming his raging boner and two taking his mind off the painful reality he had to accept. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and hissed in discomfort at the sudden temperature change. But it was efficient enough.

He quickly dried off and wrapped the wet towel around his waist. He crossed the living room to head out to the hall where San's room and his were. But when he entered the hall…

“Please”

Immediately he hid behind the corner of the L shaped hall out of pure instinct. That kind of sounded like… you?

“Please” you whimpered again. 

This time there was no doubt it was in fact your voice. 

“Can’t we do it in your room?” you asked, your voice interrupted by muffled moans.

“No I wanna take you right here” San responded, determined.

“But what if Mingi comes back from his shower?”

San smirked. That was exactly his intention but he just chuckled and brushed off the question. 

“Also if you really didn’t want to do it here. You’d use the safe word, right baby?” San’s smirk grew bigger as you stayed silent. “Wanna use the safe word baby?”

“No…” you admitted half heartedly.

“That’s what I thought” he said brushing his tip against you.

San wanted to be caught. He couldn't explain it properly but recently he started thinking about maybe offering Mingi some kind of relief. Because he’s had that huge crush on you for so long it must be really troublesome for him, right? So this little show for him was kind of a way to blow some steam off for him. Yeah! That’s right! San was doing that out of the goodness of his heart, out of friendship! Because he cared oh so dearly about his friend and not because the idea of having an audience flipped a switch in him. A flip he’s been fantasizing about for a while now.

“Spread your legs” San whispered. 

Mingi’s heart rattled against his ribs and rang in his ears. He held his chest as he didn’t even dare to breathe, not to mention move a single muscle.

“Babygirl” San started his lips pressed against the thin skin of your neck. “You’re already this wet for me”

His fingers brushed against your center, still clothed but already soaking wet.

“Were you touching yourself at the table again?” 

You nodded shyly. You just couldn’t help getting incredibly horny every time you had a drink.

“Yes” you admitted in a shameful whisper.

“What a naughty girl. Passing the blush as an effect of the alcohol when in fact you're touching yourself under the table despite your boyfriend’s friends gathered all around you.” you whined. “Maybe it’s even exactly why you couldn’t resist the urge huh baby?”

Mingi bit his lip, trying his hardest not to gasp. To think that you busied your hands into your folds while he was eyeing your exposed chest. And to think maybe, just maybe, you exposed yourself on purpose?

“Please… Sannie…” you begged again.

Mingi was going crazy. This whole time he was just leaning his bare back on the wall, dampened locks of hair, trailing water down his body. He couldn’t see anything he didn’t dare to move a muscle but fuck did he want to have a peek. Before he could even realize the raging boner was back on. Forcefully pulling up the towel he had tied around his hips.

“I love it when you beg baby” San whispered, lips pressed to your blazing skin.

Me too. 

Mingi thought so loud he was scared you would both hear him. One hand instinctively traveled to his engorged member, giving it a firm squeeze at the base while the other hand was pushing his flaming red and yellow hair back.

“Please… I can’t wait anymore” you said, granting your boyfriend’s wish.

“Please what, baby?” San teased again as he pushed your panties to the side. You hissed when you felt his tip brush against your bare pussy, digging your nails in his broad back.

“Cock!” you hurriedly replied, lust filling your mind. So eager you could barely form intelligible sentences “I want your cock” you demanded in a strangled whisper, hardly keeping your voice down.

Mingi had fought the idea of you against his own mind too many times today. He won at the dinner table and he won again in the shower but this battle… Knowing you there begging to be filled to the brim, exposed for anyone who might stumble across the sinful scene… He couldn’t fight that. He had to look. He had to see you.

So he dared. He dared to peek, just enough to have a look. Just one eye is all it took. And he saw…

He saw the both of you entangled into each other, both facing one another, your back pressed against the wall while San gripped your hips firmly with one hand and lifted one of your legs up with the other to grant himself access to your beautiful and soaked little pussy. He saw his friend’s smirk and eyebrow twitch as he gently pushed himself into your welcoming folds. But all this was only anecdotal. Because nothing, nothing! could come close to you. Mingi only had eyes -one eye in this case- for you.

He saw how your mouth went agape as you took him in, he saw how you arched your back and rested your head on the wall you were pressed up against. And he heard you trying your hardest not to make a noise and failing so miserably, much to his contentment. 

That sound, that fucking sound. He will never forget.

The raspy sigh you produced, audible bliss dripping from your lips as you refused to close your eyes, taking in the exalted face of your boyfriend.

San spotted from the corner of his eyes the flaming red strands of hair peeking from the angle of the hall. It made him smirk, his little scheme had worked. It made him even more determined to put on a good show for his friend, determined to drag those beautiful sounds out of you until you would beg him to stop. And you could have sworn you felt him grow even bigger inside you.

Without a second thought San settled a pace that was especially designed for you. Deep and slow. Just enough to keep you on edge. With every roll of his hips into yours you felt every single inch of his length deliciously scraping your clenching walls, gripping him desperately.

“Fuckkk” you cried out, biting down on your lower lip.

“You like that baby?” San asked you, the evil twinkle of lust dancing in his eyes.

“Yesss” you sighed, barely holding yourself up on the only leg that was supporting you. 

You gasped as he bottomed out again, this time staying there for a while. You instantly started to rock your hips into his, desperately clinging onto the friction.

“That’s right baby” San growled as his veiny hand left your side to tightly wrap around your narrow neck. “Fuck yourself on my cock”

And you were more than happy to oblige. You lost it at his words, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine, applying just the right amount of pressure to coerce you.

Unholy wet squelching noises bounced back on the walls of the narrow hall all the way to Mingi ears. His hands violently pumping up and down his cock, thick slimy precum coating his tip and being dragged with each movement along his shaft. It was so hard not to make any noise but he pulled himself together just so he could keep looking at you.

“Sannie Please… Fuck me harder” the last ounce of bashfullness had evaporated out of your body as the carnal sin was clouding your judgement. “Fuck me senseless” your tone was demanding. You just couldn’t bear it anymore. You wanted to cum. You need to cum.

Mingi can't believe his ears or his eyes or any of his senses as a matter of fact… To hear you say these words with so much drive, so much desire. To see you plead with those sultry eyes… If only he was the one right there between your legs right now. If only he was the one pumping his hot and dripping cock into you until completion. If only he was the one feeling your cunt clench and pulse around him.

“Your wish is my command, Princess” San whispered before he caught your other leg and lifted you up, flipping both your legs onto his shoulders and folding you in two against the wall. And he slid himself right back in. Where was his rightful place. You gasped, this position allowed him to go even deeper and tears started to cloud your vision as his tip so precisely hit on your sensitive spot. Both of your hips perfectly angled to fit inside each other.

“Fuck yessss… j-just like that” you whispered through gritted teeth. “Please don’t stop Sannie”. Your voices shaken with each of San’s violent thrusts. “Fuck I love your cock” you sobbed as your eyes lost their focused and your mind slipped in thick foggy haze. And San chuckled, his eyes leaving yours for a split second to briefly look at the flamboyant orange tuft of hair peeking from the corner of the hall.

Fortunately Mingi was way to focus on you to notice San had spotted him.

Mingi was about to burst but he was determined to cum with you. Picturing your twitching cunt in place of his gripping fist.

You were a couple of thrusts away from coming undone and San knew it. He knew everything about your body. He knew every micro expression, every sound, every queue.

“You’re gonna cum baby?” he asked, short of breath.

“Yessss” you whined, trying hard not to cum on the spot.

“Cum now. Cum on my cock right now” he ordered.

That was what you needed. In a split second you let go of the knot you’ve been desperately hounding on to and completely lose your sanity in an earth shattering orgasm that washes over your body.

Quickly followed by Mingi. Uncontrollably twitching and delivering what felt like gallons of cum in the towel, completely soiling it. Maybe even ruining it forever. It was so good, he never came like this. So good that an ever so audible groan of bliss slipped past his lips and into the world. Instantly he bit his lip and stopped breathing but it was too late.

San also let himself go, a smirk dancing on his lips as he happened to catch the shameful groan. You were unaware of why but that amount of cum was unprecedented and you attributed it to the thrill of the fear of getting caught. But San knew it was simply the joy and fulfillment of being a good friend.

IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤

a/n: what a ride dskfmkfmdkmfl. you liked it? you want part 2? SPAM MY COMMENTS AND ASKS AND REBLOGS BECAUSE I LOVE READING YOUR REACTIONS MY POOKIES <333 (a threesome in part 2? 👀)

sequel | ateez masterlist | navigation

taglist: @staytiny816 @onysmamas

[michverdun]

I stared in shock as I watched my friend pose, his pale, vein covered skin looking as if it were going to burst at any second. He huffed and puffed as he tried to flex, his massive muscles getting in the way of each other as they all were pumped to their absolute limit. I couldn't believe what I was looking at was human, much less that he was my scrawny friend that I'd seen looking fairly normal a few years ago.

"So? Whaddya think?"

He tried (Keyword: Tried) to hit another pose. He could barely even bring his hands together. His arms smashed right into his pecs, and his pecs threatened to crush his chin. I watched sweat drip off of his muscles and onto the floor, starting to form a small puddle at his feet. The veins on his arms looked even more prominent now, every heavy heartbeat visible in them. It was.. insane. I had to say something

"Are you worried? You're getting really big?"

What? No way, this is amazing! The guys at the gym say I'm just built to grow." He lumbered closer to me, every step causing him to breathe even heavier. Once He was so close that i could feel the heat coming off of his skin, he flexed his bicep right in my face.

"C'mon, feel it. you'll understand then."

I reached my hand out, caressing the mound of muscle right in front of me. God, it was so big I couldn't even wrap around it with both of my hands. I could feel the muscle underneath his skin, it almost felt like it was still growing. I breathed in, only to get a giant whiff of my friend's musk, as his armpit and swollen pec were right next to me. I tried to look away for a moment to keep my composure, only to look down and see his dick, almost a foot long with balls the size of grapefruits, stretching his posers. The puddle on the ground of his sweat started to slowly mix with precum, as he humped the air.

"Fuck yea, never gonna stop growing..." He moaned, lost in his own muscle filled world.

I took a step back to survey the beast my friend had become. I had a perpetually horny muscle monster in my life now, one that would only get bigger at the years went by.

I couldn't wait to see how big he would get.

[chlorinecake]

𝙍𝙄𝙄𝙕𝙀 𝘽𝙊𝙊𝙆𝙎𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙁 + 𝙂𝙐𝙄𝘿𝙀

ᅟᅟᅟ⌕ 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I write sfw and nsfw content, so please proceed with caution and read responsibly. Also, I’m Sohee’s former babysitter! Don’t question the age gap, it made sense at the time…

ᅟᅟᅟ⌕ 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐬: NO stepcest, p!ss k!nk, period sex, extreme bdsm, member x member, ana! stuff [including pegging], age-play, or race-specific smut

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐢 | 大崎将太郎 🦦

p e n d i n g …

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤 | 송은석 🪨

grapefruit diet

-> stoner!boyfriend eunseok, smut

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 | 정성찬 🐸

❛ NAILS DEEP ❜

-> friends with benefits!sungchan, smut

🍌 forbidden fruit

-> swim instructor!sungchan, smut

— GYM BROS

-> gym rat!sungchan x fitness trainer!chaemin x subby!wonbin, foursome, smut

written alongside @squoxle

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐛𝐢𝐧 | 박원빈 🎸

𓂃 watercolor eyes

-> stoner!wonbin, college au, mutual pining, smut

『 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 & 𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐒 』

-> birthday boy!wonbin, praise and bondage kink, fluff, smut

written alongside @/starrywonie

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐧 | ��승한 🫧

p e n d i n g …

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐡𝐞𝐞 | 이소희 💂‍♂️

p e n d i n g …

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 | 이앤톤 🦕

# “stay on ur side of the room, pls”

-> crush!anton, roommate au, suggestive, fluff

✰ don’t give me that look

-> producer boyfriend!anton, smut

⋆ ˚⁀➴ riize as first date clichés ―୨୧⋆ ˚

-> boyfriend!riize, relationship au, fluff

♡⃕ how long would each riize member last … ?!

-> boyfriend!riize, smut

when you text them “I hate you” maknae edition

-> boyfriend!riize, crack, fluff

nsfw texts with riize!hyung line

-> boyfriend!riize, crack, suggestive-smut

[scary-lasagna]

Could I request some lore headcanons for the proxies and their relationships with each other? :] Take care of yourself and drink water!

me, who only drinks carbonated water and grapefruit juice :sunglasses:

I'll keep it brief since it can get lengthy

Tim

Tim is the leader.

He's the responsible one of the group, and is always looking out for others more than himself.

He has a nasty habit of just charging in headfirst when it's only him on the line.

So, his sense of self-preservation is awfully skewed.

But he loves his friends, and them as a whole team. He's just proud of how well they all keep each other in check.

And if they ever need advice, Tim is always the one to go to considering how bluntly he'll dish advice.

Brian

Brian is Dad #2

He's like the boring parent who ensures you're always safe if you're doing something stupid.

But there's no learning experience unless you get hurt sometimes, so he'll let the others choose for themselves.

Brian is also the primary medic of the proxies and deals with any on-field injuries. He learned everything from EJ and they're pretty good acquaintces.

Brian is always checking in on everyone, wanting to know how they're doing mentally and to talk if they need a shoulder to lean on.

He's the most trustworthy one of the proxies.

Toby

Toby is the (lovingly) stupid younger brother everyone must look out for.

Despite living well into his 20s, he still hasn't quite grasped how to navigate everything with CIPA and neurodivergence.

He'll make impulsive decisions, like diving over an open flame, nearly sending Brian into cardiac arrest because he does NOT know how to handle 3rd degree without the proper tools.

And Toby is assigned the role of a Scout, meaning he's always in front.

This is good and bad, but mostly good, considering he can't wander off and shove things in his pockets.

(He's found a lovely way to work around this, of course).

Kate

Kate only pretends she hates everyone.

If it really came down to it, she would take a bullet for any of these idiots.

Toby especially loves to annoy her until she starts yelling at him, and then he has the audacity to get upset.

Kate is hot on her feet, and the fastest out of everyone, being a chaser.

But she's also terribly hot headed, and quick to jump to conclusions which can lead to tension between her and everyone.

So, she distances herself, because that's what she feels is safe.

The only one that can relatively get through to her is Clock.

She holds Clock in a really high regard, whether it's because Clock beat her ass the first day they met, or because she thinks she's pretty, no one will know.

Clock

Like Brian, she's quite level-headed.

She's the most cautious one, and will usually stay toward the back of the group.

Clock might be the only one to think all of the different outcomes through if given enough time, but if she has to make a quick decision, it never ends well.

She panics easily, not out of fear, but because her brain just doesn't compute quick-time-events.

She's close with Kate and Toby, and sometimes Brian, depending on the day.

Toby had the biggest crush on her when she first arrived, but she shut him down, letting him know that he's probably going through a trauma response of latching onto people.

Toby thought long and hard after that (in tears).

And then he gifted her a little goldfish as a peace offering, to which she still has to this day.

[syoddeye]

snipe

141 x transmasc!reader | 6k words | part four of spoils CW: noncon, MCD/major character death, predator/prey, restraints, lots of spit, degradation, praise, knives, guns, suicide/suicidal ideation, violence, blood A/N: Cunt, cock, and clit are used to describe genitalia of a trans masc reader’s body. Hit the back and/or block buttons as needed. Reader has body hair and hair long enough to grab. Banner by @/cafekitsune.

Stars dance across your vision before you’re properly awake, head swimming from the impact of hitting solid wood. The ringing in your ears gradually clears to the sound of wheels passing over gravel. Blearily, you roll to your stomach and spread your feet shoulder-width apart for stability, though that is as far as the bindings allow. The rope around your wrists is tighter, rooting them to the base of your spine. Being tied is something you’re accustomed to now, the skin a little rougher at the joints.

The hood is new.

Thin enough to breathe, thick enough to block your sight. The last thing you remember is disrobing for a morning bath.

You sniff. The scent of ripe grapefruit on the stem, sharp and bitter, coats your skin. A fragrance far weaker than the usual oils and perfumes the washers dip you in. You smell clean and sanctified, meaning whatever lies at this journey’s end is sure to be awful.

Laughter and cheer grow closer. Voices overlap, men talking amongst themselves in celebratory and enlivened tones. Thumping hooves and crushed rock keep their words from you. The cart rolls to a stop, and the chatter dies. Then footsteps, heavy but muted thuds on earth. A shrill squeal of a hinge, a shunk, and the floor rocks in place.

Tendrils of an earthy scent and leather seep through the hood, and your nostrils flare. A flash of warning before—a hand hauls you upright onto your knees, and another yanks the fabric roughly from your head. The sun litters your vision with spots, rapidly blinking away as a shadow falls over your face.

John looms. 

“Hello darlin’.”

His eyes drag over your form, his grip shifting to hoist you over a shoulder. You squirm as he adjusts the weight. For a moment, you glimpse a loose row of a dozen men bearing shotguns, various dead wildfowl hanging at their waists. Your stomach draws to your spine in a shocked breath as John ferries you closer, the cart driver, an older man, following. He sets you down facing the men and studies your apparel.

Myrtle green, medium-weight fabric sleeves one shoulder and cuts a dramatic slant down your torso, exposing half of your chest to the air before wrapping around your waist. It falls above your knees, and a brown leather cord cinches it together. Mercifully, someone’s given you shoes—plain things made of the same leather as the belt but sturdy with firm soles.

John traces the sleeve with a sound of approval. You do not count his three, your other tormentors, among the men. A fact that does not quell the boiling uncertainty in your gut.

Your keeper chucks your chin.

“I had a brilliant idea the other week, thinkin’ of your excursion in the gardens. Been some time since you had proper exercise,” He starts, “Today we hunt. A reprise of you playing quarry.”

John shrugs out of a tailored jacket and drapes it over the cart driver’s arm. “The four of us drew lots. Quadrants.” He gestures at the tree line at the bottom of the sloping hill behind you. “You, my darlin’, will have a ten minute headstart signaled by a shot. A second will announce the beginning of our hunt.”

He produces a strip of black leather with a brass closure from a pocket. “The first to find and collar the quarry, wins the right to exclusivity for three days.”

Three days. Three days with any of them.

John pinches your jaw, pressing the collar into bone. “Once you’re in there, you don’t leave ‘til one of us finds you, understood? These men, and others, have orders to shoot should they see your pretty arse take a single step out of the forest’s boundary.” He releases your face, patting your cheek with the brass. “Go to the tree line and wait. I’ll see you soon.”

Your feet feel leaden on the walk to the forest’s edge, struggling to shrug off his confidence. The sun above suggests it’s closer to noon than morning, meaning you must be far from the grounds. Meaningless hope buzzes about your head like a biting fly; you know there is no outrunning them. They’ve fucked the lesson into you countless times. It’s marrow-deep.

While you wait, you shift foot to foot, subtly stretching. John barks a laugh, cheering his men and clinking a snifter. How entertaining it is for him, the revelry of your torture. He catches you staring from the starting line and pats the bundle of rope strapped to his thigh. An eye drops in a wink, and he smirks into his glass. Something clicks into place: If this is a game to them, it must also be one for you. 

They do not expect strategy. They expect the same scared, pliable creature they corner at night. If there is no escape, you must choose the jaws to jump into. The lesser evil, if such a thing exists.

Immediately out of consideration is Simon, the brutalizer. All the power and heft of John in a meaner package without a thimble of mercy. He doesn't call for a servant when he’s finished, and you’ve never slept in his bed. He sends you, limping, into the halls to your rooms.

John is predictable and safer that way, but you’ve seen how he acts in competition, big or small. He already flaunts you like a trophy, seating you in his lap, between his legs, or tucked to his side. He muses openly about fucking you on the table at mealtimes. If he wins, you know he’ll use the occasion as an excuse to finally do it.

Soap is hardly better than Simon in ferocity, favoring teeth and nails to open and mark your body. He’s vocal, eager to condescend, and contorts you into positions he finds amusing. At least he winds down, licking his bites and scratches, massaging muscles. The worst, though, is that he pets your cunt like a cat, calls it one, too. Kitty.

Then there’s Kyle. He’s never taken you alone or slunk into your chambers in the dead of night. John’s invited him to share a handful of times. He seems to prefer...groups. Egging on his companions or keeping your mouth preoccupied. You do not know what three nights alone with him would entail.

No sooner do you make your decision, the starting gun fires. Instinct as old as the land propels you forward into the woods.

The trees swallow you whole.

~~

The temperature drops, the sun blotted out by the canopy. The woods are unfamiliar terrain. You cannot remember when you last visited a forest; if you had, it would’ve been by carriage or palanquin, on the safety of a road, and encircled by a retinue.

Ducking low-hanging branches and leaping over roots, you ruminate on your whiff of a plan. How to ensure Kyle finds you first. Without knowing the scale of the forest or the starting points of the other men, the task is daunting. The hedge maze was a controlled environment, tame and kept, but the woods are hostile, whipping and clawing, and the men, as far as you can tell, are trained for pursuit. Bloodhounds.

You come to a small clearing with a tranquil pond. Its polished green-blue glass surface reflects the trees and the window of sky above. A pang of thirst keenly reminds you of your last refreshment and meal from the night before. The memory invokes the taste of salt and tobacco on your tongue. You hesitate, torn between thirst and fear of stagnancy in more than one way. Still water harbors danger, and the woods will soon host another. You cannot be found retching.

A distant bang, sharp as a cracked whip, echoes. The sound of birds erupting from the canopy in a flurry of wings follows. The forest seems to hold its breath, frozen in the wake of the explosive sound. The reverberation slowly fades, leaving behind an eerie silence more unsettling than the noise itself.

Your heart finds new lodging in your throat.

The hunt is on.

~~

By your best estimation, four hours pass. A miracle, if you still believed in benevolent forces. Instead, an already immense paranoia metastasizes, making you frightened of your own breath. You creep as slow as molasses, but you might as well sprint. Mental exhaustion nibbles at your energy stores, demanding bigger and bigger bites.

Following a deerpath down an embankment, the sound of water brings your thirst front and center again. Hurdling a fallen tree, its decaying and damp wood gives some under your weight with a muted groan. You wince, pausing a moment before reaching the edge of tall grass. On your hands and knees, you swallow at the view. Cold water carves the landscape, beckoning and glinting in the light.

You creep to the bank and dip your hands into the clear, sparkling water,  nearly moaning from relief. The water finds and soothes the cuts and nicks on your fingers and palms. You drink greedily, ignoring the taste, eyes wide and darting. While the fear of falling ill remains, you cannot dehydrate further.

The third handful never makes it to your lips; it splashes on your chin and chest as you clap a hand to your mouth, stifling a screech. Upstream, resting on a log as if sunbathing, is the eviscerated corpse of a rabbit. Protruding from its tiny body, a knife. You throw yourself into the bush.

You wait. No movement from the trees, nothing in either direction of the stream’s course. It’s from one of them, and you know who among them favors knives. Simon. He’s been here. Close. 

The sun bounces off the blade and excises a thought—you could defend yourself. Do the hurting for once. 

Stealthing through the brush, you stare at the creature from across the water. Dead for a few hours, long enough that the gore is cooled. The decision is torturous. Terrified, you dash and hop over the stream, grab the handle, and continue. The rabbit’s corpse slides off with a wet noise, dropping to the ground as you jog.

You skid to a halt some distance away and duck behind a tree. A glance back reveals no pursuant; the foliage barely looks disturbed by your flight. Wiping it clean on moss, you examine the weapon. A four inch blade mounted on a polished wood handle, and sure enough, the letter ‘G’ is burned beneath the bolster. ‘Ghost’, a nickname John occasionally uses. A misnomer, you think, given how Simon never lets you forget where he is on the grounds. Stomping around, jeering, and crooning whenever you’re near. Whistling like you’re a dog.

And as if summoned by thought alone, sharp, shrill, and piercing—

Your head whorls on your shoulders. Endless green in every direction, trunks thick enough to obscure a giant—another whistle, closer. It echoes like the first. Disorienting. Yet you smell him before you see him as if he’s stepped upwind, probably on purpose.

A twig snaps, and you take off. 

He follows. The unmistakable thuds of his boots on the forest floor, too heavy to be anyone else. It hits you, vaulting over a log, that his pace is intentionally slow. Relaxed. Meant to wear and walk you down. How long has he been watching? A bleak question you want no answer to.

Tearing into a thin, narrow clearing, an alley of open space, you veer right toward a rocky outcropping. Two paces in, and your foot hooks an unseen root, hurtling you forward into a rough slide. The knife flies out of your hand, perhaps for the better. Your palms rip open, slivers shunting beneath your fingernails. Not a single sound leaves your mouth—pain is second to fear. Flipping to your back to push up, you freeze.

Clad head-to-toe in camouflage, with smears of paint coating the few places exposing his skin, Simon hovers in the tree line with a new, olive-colored mask fixed to his jaw. Through its cracked teeth, his lips move.

“Have a good run?”

His steps resemble a tiger’s loping confidence, unhurried and languid. No need to posture or bare his teeth; his bulk does the talking. Whatever light filters through the canopy is smothered in his dark eyes. The brutalizer, all solid and sharp edges, a mountain of a man seeking subjugation. The only struggle he must know is deciding how to take you apart. You scramble backward and clumsily grab the discarded knife.

“Don’t hurt yourself, snipe. That’s my job.”

A mitt disappears into a pocket then retracts with a metallic clink. A heavy chain choker dangles between his fingers, thick welded links with all of its burrs intact, a crude thing of his own design. How he must’ve labored to fashion it, imagined how it’d feel around your neck. What he must’ve pictured.

Surely not nine inches of steel disappearing into his stomach.

Simon doubles over with a guttural noise. The collar slips from his fingers, and John emerges from the trees to your right, his brows lowered in a menacing glare. Striding quickly, his fingers wrap around a second blade, not so much as glancing in your direction. Simon staggers to his feet, one hand gripping the offending blade's hilt, the other reaching for one of his own. He turns in time to meet John head-on.

You do not stick around for the outcome but look back as you reach the trees. Simon lurches, barely held at bay by John, and bellows something primal and incoherent. It rattles your very core, bouncing off each rib with the reminder: Hunting is a blood sport.

The sound of the fight fades as you run. 

After scrabbling down a steep gully and to the other side, you look for a hiding place. The hollow at the trunk of an elm all but rolls out a welcome mat, and you dive into its dark. Batting away cobwebs and tucking your legs into the cramped space, you suck in deep breaths. Your lungs scream for air, heartbeat in your ears. Every part of you shakes. The initial rush of the chase and escape ebbs away, leaving the burn of your muscles and the pulsing warmth of the gash in your left hand. Your good hand trembles as you cut a strip of tunic to crudely staunch and wrap the wound.

The hollow is dry, sheltered, and passably comfortable—circumstances aside. As you allow your muscles some respite and your heart rate to return to a baseline panic, you realize this is the first time off your feet since the cart. Exhaustion creeps over your shoulders like a warm blanket and whispers sweet lies of safety into your ears. Your mind does its best to keep you awake, but your body begs for compromise. The sleep that falls over you is fragile and whisper-thin, a veil.

~~

Distant voices wake you with a jolt, growing louder by the second. You wipe the sleep from your eyes with a knuckle and peek. Shadows dapple the ground, and rays of gold and amber of sunset streak through the canopy. The stiff muscles of your legs protest as you shift and strain to listen. You expect John or a wounded Simon; instead, a thick brogue trades barbs with the smooth timbre you hoped to hear all day.

Several minutes pass until they come into view.

Kyle and Soap a fair distance apart, fanned out and sweeping. It’s a far cry from the violent clash between Simon and John. Is working as a team allowed? John said three days of ‘exclusivity’, the prize of the hunt. Did they strike an agreement?

You hold your breath. Kyle strides ten meters from the elm. His suit is strange; you would not recognize him if it wasn’t for his voice. A cloak resembling the forest floor sweeps the ground, fastened to his back. It curves overhead, drooping low to cover the top half of his face. If he wasn’t moving, the mottled patterns of green and brown would render him near-invisible. You shudder at the thought and look past to Soap, who is, interestingly, clothed entirely in black, seemingly uncaring about camouflage. His gear absorbs the dying light of sunset.

You need to get Kyle’s attention and fast. 

Without taking your eyes off the men, you blindly feel for and pluck a pebble from the hollow’s floor and silently slide a foot out of the opening. You take aim at a nearby tree.

“Tav, I see something!” Kyle suddenly yells, pointing to an unseen space beyond his companion, and the men break into a run. You stumble after and nearly cry out, biting back a curse when they disappear into the lengthening shadows. 

When you no longer see nor hear them, you return to the hollow. Perhaps they’ll double-back and—

“I thought you might be near, snipe.” 

You whip around.

Kyle stalks toward you, his chest heaving from exertion. “Had an inkling.” He pushes his hood off, the sight of his focus unnerving in the low light. He’s more deliberate in his approach than Simon, curving his mouth in an easy grin like he’s not going to collar you like a wayward dog. A grin that has nothing to do with kindness. Gooseflesh rises on your skin.

“I see you found my knife.” He nods at your hand. “Thought I’d be nice.”

Your stomach churns at how he emphasizes nice. You turn the knife experimentally, the handle an inch too big to fit comfortably in your grasp. ‘G’ for ‘Gaz’; a clever red herring.

Kyle exhales, his smile sharpening into a smirk. “I admit I was curious to see what you’d do with it. I’m disappointed, snipe,” He advances, tutting when you retreat. “You’re either stupid, or you don’t hate us as much as you think you do.”

A breeze rolls over your naked shoulder, and you shiver, brows furrowing. “What?”

His eyes drop to your waist, then bounce to the knife. “You didn’t try to hang yourself with your belt, nor did you slit your own throat. Didn’t even risk getting shot.”

Kyle’s words stew your insides. You hadn’t thought of that method of escape. Was it stupidity? Naivety?

You know what it is. Hope. Like a cold you can’t shake. Protean and irrepressible. 

He holds a collar aloft. A rich, deep blue velvet comes alive in a sliver of light, its plush texture shimmering. Somehow you think it will be the softest thing you’ll see in Kyle’s company. The tinkling of the tiny bell fixed to its front an alarm. A third starting shot. The moment he intentionally shakes it, you turn tail and run.

~~

You hate these men. Loathe them. Fuck what Kyle said.

“Running will only tire you out, love,” he calls out playfully. ”And when I catch you—and I will catch you—it’ll just make things worse for yourself.”

To think you wanted him to be the winner.

Bolting into a lower area of the forest, the air is damp with fog. The ground softens beneath your feet, and it’s a step too late when you realize why. Your left foot plunges into mud, swallowing it to the ankle. Panic lights your veins like a spark meeting gunpowder, igniting every nerve ending as Kyle’s laughter dies abruptly. You curse, struggling to pull free, but each yank sucks the boot deeper. The cool, sticky mire oozes around the leather, making a messy suction noise with every tug. You wrench your foot free with a final kick, but the boot is lost.

You flounder over the muck to the solid ground of a meadow, eyes scanning the path ahead. They seize upon a massive nurse log, its void half-covered by a moss curtain, and you reroute. Diving, you crawl into the tunnel until you can’t go any further. You twist to your back and peer through the fissures in the wood to the outside. Quieting your breathing proves impossible, sheer terror ratcheting your heart rate at the sound of approaching footsteps. An insect with too many legs scurries up your tunic, but you do not dare move.

“Creative, I’ll give you that, but you can’t hide. Not from me.” Kyle chides, stopping beside your hiding spot. “You forget how I found you the day we met.” He speaks ponderously, probably thinking of how to flush you out. The damp wood bends beneath his boot as he steps onto the log, bouncing and testing it. “It’s poetic that I find you again…Ah, there.”

He’s silent, hovering over your concealed form, then steps off. 

There’s a rush of air before something slams into the bark, and the decaying wood splits with a sickening crack. Debris rains down on you, but you watch, frozen in horror, helpless, as Kyle violently opens the tree. He raises and swings something down, breaking your shelter open like any skilled durophage seeking a prize. His face gradually becomes clearer, the sclera of his eyes bright and irises burning. 

Kyle tosses his tool and cloak to press a knee to the ruined sanctuary. You swipe desperately with the knife, but he snatches your wrist. “Now, snipe, be good.” With a twist, he wrests it from you and sends it flying. He hauls you upright into a seated position and brings the length of velvet to your neck. “Blue suits you.”

It’s a futile thing, the fight. Victory is out of reach, just like your knife. Still, you kick. Push. Claw uselessly against the tough material of his clothes. A slip in your defense allows him to press the collar firmly to your airway. The pressure chokes a wheeze out of you, and his eyes narrow. Another push, and he’ll have you.

And then, gradually appearing overhead, a striped face, unnaturally iridescent eyes, looming—

Hooking Kyle’s neck with one arm and head with the other, Soap tucks his chin over a shoulder, grinning. “Hi, kitty. Is he troubling you?” He pulls Kyle off, laughing when you clamber up and out of the splintered log.

An awful thwack and subsequent thud spurs you onward. The man most likely to eat you piecemeal is going to get you. Have you. For three days. Discordant cackling, crunching leaves—your vision tunnels into the dark woods. Stupid, stupid hope.

Soap’s legs eat up the ground with a predator’s grace.

No, no, no.

An arm ensnares your waist and yanks, dragging you back into a solid mass. A tongue immediately licks from the crook of your naked shoulder up to a spot behind your ear. Wrestling you to the ground, Soap collapses his weight over you into the grass, fixing his torso to your spine. Your arms trapped underneath the combined weight, he lazily rolls his hips with a groan. He’s hard, worked up.

“Yield.” He hisses with a harsh dig of his hips, and when you don’t, he sets his teeth to your neck and bites.

A howl rips from your throat, and Soap chokes it off by shunting something under your windpipe. He curls a broad, coarse strap of fabric over the fresh wound and cinches it. Surfacing after a surreal wave of pain, you jerk at the sound of a shackle clicking into a lock.

“There we go.” Soap hoists you to your knees, fixing the collar until the small padlock fastening it sits in the notch of your throat. His eyes positively glitter when he works a fingertip underneath, rubbing it back and forth. “All mine.” A groan diverts his attention, the momentum making you stumble after him.

“You fucking madman.” Kyle spits, rubbing his neck as he stands, a bit unsteady on his feet. “I had them.”

Soap swings you around to his front, shoving you to your knees in the center of the meadow. He unzips his vest and withdraws a bright orange, snub-nosed pistol. “Aye, had—sit still, kitty—but it’s over.” He ignores the other man’s complaints, eyes flicking down as he fires. 

The flare soars into the twilight, leaving a fiery trail in its wake. Your captor, backlit by the glow, haloed as he heralds your defeat. Soap holds your gaze, licking his teeth until the light dissipates.

“Garrick. Build us a fire.”

~~

Revulsion hotter than the bonfire at your back burns in your belly. Jaw aching and throat raw, you stare at the four shadows passing a flask. John grips Soap’s shoulder, gesturing in your direction with a cigar, voices low in a conspiratorial tone. 

Simon glares daggers from his place on a fallen tree, a broad hand over the mass of fabric tied to his abdomen. He drinks the deepest, but Kyle is a close second. It had been Kyle’s idea, shared while he built the fire, that Soap christen his victory with your mouth. He was the one to tell Soap to tie your hands to your collar, too.

Your lips are puffy and swollen, covered in dry spittle from Soap’s conciliatory, wet kisses.

A loud clap and a snicker breaks you from your stupor. Eyes rolling in their sockets, refocusing, you watch John push Soap toward you. His vest long discarded, he reaches over his shoulders and pulls his shirt off, grinning, insufferably smug. Willfully misreads your staring. 

“Like what you see?”

Soap drops to a knee, lifts you by the rope, and forces his lips to yours in another mockery of a kiss. All to drop you onto the dewy grass, flicking open a knife to unceremoniously part you from your clothes. The draping fabric comes away in large swathes, the cool air chilling your sweat-slicked body. He sighs and drags a finger from your collarbone to your navel, tracing a circle around the divot, then continuing to the regrowing thatch covering the pad of fat above your sex. His lip curls at how you wince at his fingers, tangling and pulling the coarse hairs.

“Open ‘em,” he orders, sighing almost wistfully when you do, releasing the mean hold in your curls to drag a meaner knuckle down your seam. He stares at your cunt long enough that the shape of him becomes plain in his pants. With a grunt, he adjusts and leans closer, whispering conspiratorially as if you’re an accomplice, not a captive. “They keep callin’ you ‘snipe’ but that’s not what you are. My kitty. Sweet, fuckin’ kitty.”

It’s not often you talk back, no point to it, but Soap brings it out of you. 

“Don’t call me that—I’m not—“

His palm strikes like a cobra, the full width and fury of it slapping your cunt. You bite off the scream as fast as you can, pain white hot, but the titters of laughter say not fast enough. 

“Say again? Hmm? Thought so, kitty.”

Simon’s deep grumble floats through the flames, but the slap’s sting is slow to diffuse. Whatever is said, it prompts Soap to stand and strip. The flames dance across muscle and mass, and it’s then you think, pointedly turning your cheek in the grass, if there’s a way to sour his victory.

Soap makes a noise in the back of his throat when he knocks your legs open wider, spitting twice. One’s a bullseye to your cunt, a warm glob followed by the rough pad of a finger. He chuckles at your reflexive wriggling, spreading it over your hole. You’re already wet enough, no bottom to your body’s traitorous instincts—this is all part of Soap’s routine. Teeth. Tongue. Spit. 

There’s no pomp and circumstance, no triumphant speech you imagined a smug bastard like him would recite, just a single tap of his cock to yours, then he’s pushing in with a steady plunge that takes and takes. Despite how many times he’s had you, how they’ve all had you, the stretch is a punishing test every time. He retreats for half a second then barges in again, fucking into you, setting the tone.

It’s a long march to the brink. Blood lingers on your tongue and lips, having bit through them at the start from his fervor. It mixes with the saliva that drips from his mouth, long strings of it, glinting in the firelight. He’s practically foaming at the mouth, face twisted in an anger he’s too impassioned to hide. All because you haven’t made a sound louder than a single, pained breath. 

He’s tried hard, short strokes. Deep and slow. His frustration is as thick as the mist gathering in the trees above, but even that burns off with the fire. 

“C’mon, kitty. Not like you to hold back.” He pants, warm breath fanning over your face, his chest pressed to yours and arms bracketing your head. 

His companions remain close by. John attends to Simon between his legs, occupied, but Kyle—he’s happy to play heckler. “Chase take it out of you, Tav?”

Soap doesn’t respond, not to him, but drops his mouth to your ear. “Tryin’ to make a fool outta me?” He nips at the lobe. “Hm? Think you can steal from me? Keep quiet?”

“Forget their cock?” Kyle croons. 

He did out of selfishness, you think, and so did you, out of necessity. You’ve ignored the throbbing ache, pushed it to the far corners of your mind, treating the friction of his body as an annoyance rather than a source of pleasure. You’re helpless to watch realization pass over his reddened face, your wrists wrenched up to your neck.

“That it?” The blue of Soap’s eyes blacken slowly like the wick of a candle. Smoldering. He lifts off, settling onto his haunches, cock buried and twitching. Dog wagging its tail at the mere suggestion of a bone. He spits again and glides a hand over a thigh to rectify his mistake.

“No,” You rasp, throat dry from disuse. The sudden attention of his fingers on your engorged clit is electric, hurtling its ignored wanting to the forefront. “Fuck, no.”

Soap smirks and resumes thrusting with a renewed vigor, clumsily toying with your cock but spinning you up nonetheless. “Aye, there it is.” He snarls, shoving and adjusting slightly for a deeper angle. He crows with delight, finally punching noise from your lungs. 

It’s not often you protest, long past the point of it, but Soap—his barbarity, his hubris—it triggers something awful.

“Don’t touch me!” You snarl, jerking your own head and neck painfully, trying to claw at him. Your hands don’t make it past your bent knees. “I’ll fucking kill–”

A squeeze bordering on harsh around your dick cuts off the threat. 

Soap tuts, showing too many teeth as he bucks. Sweat from exertion and the fire’s heat drips from his temple to his chin, dropping somewhere onto your skin. “From silent to this, all your hissin’ ‘s just music to my ears, kitty.”

Your protests fade to ragged pants as Soap continues, a hard-fought and equally resisted overwhelming pleasure rendering you wordless. A tremor shudders through your body with a deliberate shift and targeted stroke of that unbearably sweet spot inside of you. Your back arches involuntarily off of the ground, eyes wrenching shut as the back of your head digs into the grass. Trapped and useless, your hands twitch. The grate of the collar a cruel tether.

His mouth claims yours once again, lips crushing together—broken moans spilling out from deep within your throat against his mouth. His fingers are deft things, milking sound and slick out of you. An intense, telltale pressure tightens like a coiled spring poised to snap.

Your nails dig into your skin, desperately holding onto the last fragments of control. 

“Give it, kitty,” Soap demands. “Give it here, you fuckin’ wildcat, be a good bo—”

A spark to a powder keg, fire licking at dry tinder. You white out, burning alive.

~~

You come to, impaled.

Kyle, down on one knee, tips your head back. He smiles at your recognition. “Yeah, they’re alive.”

His image bobs up and down. It takes a moment to piece together why.

Soap’s hauled you into his lap, cradling your legs in the crook of a thick arm, bouncing you with short, angry upward thrusts. The wet sound obscene and telling, the combined spend splattering between you. Your bound hands barely clasp over his bicep to hold on, back aching in discomfort, belly crushed. There is no corner of your cunt he does not find and mold to his liking at this angle. He ruts, groping and twisting your flat chest and nipples with his free hand.

He raggedly pants into your ear, nipping your neck when his movements jostle you into him. Filth streams from his lips, his wretched glee stitched into every word. Squeezing me good, fuckin’ mine, gonna be too loose for them after this.

“Cut the rope,” Soap suddenly commands. 

You catch a glimmer of uncertainty in Kyle’s eyes, quickly replaced by a smirk. 

“You sure?”

“Fight’s almost fucked out of them.”

“Slow down a tic, then.” Kyle chuckles, withdrawing a knife from his hip. He kisses the air in front of your face as he pulls the cord taut on the edge of the blade, sawing it until it snaps. 

The force knocks your back into Soap’s chest, and your hands fall to his thighs and brace.

Soap hisses in pleasure, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“You’re welcome,” Kyle murmurs, eyes locked to yours before retreating toward John and Simon, their positions reversed.

“Fought so hard and for what, wildcat?” Muffled into your skin, he prattles, tacking on a few more nothings. 

With Soap, he always reaches a point of near-incoherency. Fucks like he eats at the table. Messy, territorial, loud, and doesn’t know when to stop, to the point of overindulgence. A glutton.

It’s a running joke among his companions. Simon once said he needed a bib given his propensity to drool and spit. Put a plate of something tasty in front of him and he might as well be blind to—

Firelight bounces off something shiny in the grass. Your heart thunders at the sight. Balanced on a curled tuft of grass, the handle pointed toward you, is Kyle’s knife. Gaz’s knife.

Thought I’d be nice. 

I was curious to see what you’d do with it.

You can’t see his face now, but the message is clear. 

It takes some convincing, a few dramatic moans and a reciprocated praise that makes you want to tear your own bloody tongue out, but Soap eventually relinquishes your legs. Spine screaming, you flop into the grass face-first, tucking the knife under your chest. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips, lost in the pathetic cries you give him. 

It’s persuasive enough he doesn’t fight you when you motion to roll to your back. His eyes screwed shut in pleasure, stuttering, balls slapping against your soaked skin. Fully consumed.

You tug on a bit of chest hair and lure him into an open-mouthed kiss. He tastes like grapefruit. Faintly. The scent that coated your skin that morning. 

You cut him like one.

The knife sinks into his carotid, disappearing, then you yank it free and do it again. Soap jerks wildly, thrashing violently. Wet, gurgling curses and screams rip out of him as he struggles. He slips out of your warmth, buckling over onto you as blood pours from his neck. It’s adrenaline that pushes him off. You stagger to your feet, ignoring the rush of fluids from between your legs, and watch him writhe in the dirt. 

He slowly stills.

“Knew I liked him.” 

The deep gravel of Simon’s voice lifts your gaze. The three men rise from their perches, John discreetly wiping his mouth. 

“That’ll be fifty, sir.” Gamboling over with an impish smile, Kyle clicks his tongue at Soap’s corpse. “Well done, snipe.” He takes the knife from your hand, shock surrendering it easily.

Kyle throws an arm around your blood-soaked shoulders, laughing softly at your slack jawed expression. He admires the body like a painting then releases you. 

“Don’t worry, snipe. He’ll come to in a few hours. In the meantime,” He smacks a cheek. “You might want to start running.”

Tearing naked through the forest, their echoing laughs remind you once more.

Hunting is a blood sport.

[charliejaneanders]

You sometimes hear people talk about a "thigh gap."

This is a leftover slogan from the Cold War, when Soviet athletes boasted thighs that could crush a dozen grapefruits, and there was widespread concern the U.S.A. was falling behind.

[g-zma]

[Your honour, we on that Po Town visit!!]

[She was wandering around with Grapefruit at his side, fidgeting. There was a Heal Ball in her hands, and he was smiling. Yeah! This’ll go well! They.. WERE a little nervous since it’s a new location for her, but he’s fairly comfortable.]

[ Camera switch! ]

[ Guzma is in his room in the Shady House. As always, it's a bit messy. There's new paint on the walls, splattered around. He's sitting in the corner, crushed between the wall and the bed. A few bottles lay on the floor before him, and his head is in his arms. ]

[ The grunts left him alone, like this. The usual advice was 'Call Plumeria', or more recently, Kukui. But when Pat approached, they narrowed their eyes and tilted their head. A newcomer, huh? ]

[cottonlemonade]

[closed] Welcome to my Lemonade Stand

Ahoy again! My little request game is back and I’ve updated the menu a bit to include some new prompts and starting points.

It works like this:

> you order a lemonade in your preferred size (genre) and flavor (prompt), choose 1-2 extras (starting point) and then just add a character name at the end

Here are a few examples:

> a “medium Watermelon Lemonade with extra ice for Atsumu” would get you a fluffy story in which you fake date your rival!Atsumu

> a “medium to large Passionfruit Lemonade with crushed mint for Kuroo* and Sugawara” would get you a fluffy/spicy love triangle with coworkers Kuroo and Sugawara - Kuroo being the main love interest (marked with a *star)

or lastly

> a “medium Grapefruit Lemonade with slices of cucumber and ginger for Ennoshita” would get you a fluffy story in which you comfort/take care of Ennoshita as a manager whom he crushes on

and so on and so forth 😊

Please note, all stories will be x chubby!Reader (and lemme know in case a certain pronoun is preferred otherwise the default will be female 🌱)

Feel free to mix and match size, flavor and extras but please only order one lemonade at a time (you can of course place more than one order or just say Hi ^^)

______________________________

Masterlist

[rabbitcruiser]

National Vodka Day 

Raise your glass and have a toast to one of the world’s most versatile spirits, vodka. Try infusing your own vodka, buying a new flavor, or making a new cocktail.

National Vodka Day is a great time to raise your glasses to one of the world’s favorite alcoholic drinks. While vodka is often associated with Russia, and some of the finest and most expensive vodkas in the world come from there, it is a drink that is produced in many countries and enjoyed all over the world.

History of National Vodka Day

Vodka is the Slavic word for ‘little water’ and is traditionally made by mixing water with distilled grains or potatoes, although today many popular brands add flavorings such as fruits and sugars.

It is believed that this drink first came into existence in the Middle Ages, perhaps sometime during the 8th or 9th centuries. Vodka has slightly different varieties that seems to have originated not only in Russia, but also in Poland as well as in Sweden. It seems that some of the first people to distill this drink from grains or potatoes were religious monks.

Records indicate that the word “vodka” was used in Russia sometime in the late 14th century. It is known that the Genoese ambassadors brought vodka to Moscow to present it to the Grand Duke in 1386. After another few hundred years, after the Russian Revolution in 1917, when vodka began to spread throughout Europe.

It wasn’t until after WWII that the popularity of vodka began to grow all throughout the world, particularly when it landed firmly on the shores of North America. Although it was originally almost tasteless and odorless, over the last decades that has changed. Creative differences in flavors, aromas, combinations and varieties have taken over the production of vodka around the world. But its neutral flavor has continued to contribute to its popularity as it makes an incredible base for a host of different mixed drinks and cocktails.

Purists of this distilled drink are known to only enjoy vodka neat, but it makes the perfect mixer and is the main ingredient in many favorite cocktails, including the martini, the screwdriver and the Bloody Mary.

The Moscow Mule, Cosmopolitan, Vodka Gimlet, White Russian and so many more drinks have become standard for bartenders at restaurants and in homes all throughout the world. All thanks to Vodka.

Now it’s time to celebrate National Vodka Day!

How to Celebrate National Vodka Day

Get on board with the fun and enjoyment of celebrating National Vodka Day using a few of these ideas or coming up with some of your own:

Try Out a New Variety of Vodka

While preferences for this drink can certainly be subjective, the experts in the field of liquor have put out a list of their favorite, best, top-of-the-line vodkas that would be perfect to enjoy in celebration of National Vodka Day. (Of course, responsible drinking is of the utmost importance.)

Try out one of these on the list as a way to appreciate the day:

Hangar 1. This vodka originating from the California region has interesting tasting notes of orange, cinnamon and white pepper, and its alcohol by volume is 40%. The brand is a small batch vodka that was birthed in an old airplane hanger (thus, the name) by St. George Spirits in 2002. It’s still produced at the old Naval Air Station on San Francisco Bay.

Ketel One, Cucumber and Mint. As flavored vodkas go, this one reigns supreme. From the Netherlands, this vodka has a slightly lower alcohol by volume, at only 60 proof. It offers only flavors that are naturally extracted from cucumber and mint, without any additives, and it’s perfect for light and summery drinks.

Beluga Noble. Bringing flavors from where the story began, this Russian Vodka provides a clean, crisp flavor that is perfect for simply drinking cold and neat. Made using a pure water source and expert filtration, the result is this 80 proof vodka that is “clean like a tear”.

Air Vodka. Purists everywhere will delight in the idea that this vodka is made using only the purest of ingredients: water, carbon dioxide and sunshine. Made in New York, this vodka is produced using solar-powered technology that removes greenhouse gases from the air and eliminates the need for farming, irrigation or depletion of resources. And it’s 40% alcohol by volume is smooth and light.

Give the Gift of Vodka

Share in the delight of the day by bringing a bottle of vodka to a special friend, family member, boss or coworker who absolutely loves it. They’ll be so appreciative of the gesture–and perhaps they’ll even open the bottle right away so that you can share a little toast together. Cheers!

Try Vodka Fusion

This is a fun activity that promotes the art of fusing individual flavors and varieties into vodka. Think of it as a painting where the vodka acts as the “blank canvas”. The process usually only takes 3-5 days, or longer depending on personal taste–and the strength of the flavors that are being infused.

Unique and original flavors abound when it comes to letting the creative juices flow into vodka! Some people have gone far beyond the norm with flavors such as Fruit Loops or Root Beer or Peanut Butter and Jelly. The sky’s the limit!

Consider these ideas for making a vodka fusion of your own:

Fruit Infusion Vodka. One of the most popular ways to infuse vodka is by using fruits. Cranberry, mango, strawberry, watermelon and lime are just the beginning. This is also a great way to use up the last of a pile of figs, or the end of the bushel of peaches. 80 proof vodka works well for this and using 2 cups of chopped fruit to 2-3 cups of vodka is a great measurement.

Peppermint Infusion Vodka. Great for enjoying at holiday parties or giving as gifts, this version simply uses 5 full sized peppermint candy canes in 1.5 cups of vodka. Deliciously festive and sweet, Santa will be happy to enjoy some as he spends time delivering gifts!

Herbed Fusion Vodka. Graze the herb garden to find some unique flavors that will complement vodka. Rosemary, vanilla bean, lavender, ginger, garlic, horseradish and chamomile are just a few ideas for National Vodka Day infusions. These delightful herbal vodka infusions are healthful and delicious.

Candy Corn Vodka Fusion. Take Halloween to the next level by dropping a handful of candy corn (½ cup) into a mason jar of vodka (1 ½ cups) and let it sit for several days, or even a week. Serve with cinnamon syrup, lemon juice and seltzer for a delicious Candy Corn Cocktail.

Join a National Vodka Day Event or Celebration

National Vodka Day is a great opportunity to enjoy a new cocktail or try one of the hundreds of different brands of vodka. Many bars and restaurants hold special promotions and tastings to encourage drinkers to celebrate this well-loved spirit. Check online or a local event bulletin board to find out what’s on in the community!

Source

[gotham--fc]

Always - A Ruesha Littlejohn Imagine

Hello I'm back! It's sure been a while, missed yall

This fic came to me in a dream after the Canada-Ireland game so I hope it's good and that yall like it

Tagging @grapefruit-personified because she's been waiting for this for a while and honestly she was my motivation to finish this anyway enjoy!

“Hey Rue, what’s shakin’ bacon?” Y/N laughs to herself at her joke. She loves to make Ruesha laugh, so whenever she answers a call from her teammate, she’ll make a stupid joke or a pun that makes Ruesha laugh. She doesn’t laugh this time, and Y/N furrows her brow. “Rue?”

“Can I come over?” Ruesha asks.

“Yeah, of course, you’re always welcome,” Y/N says, “Is everything alright?”

“No.”

Ruesha hangs up before Y/N can say anything. Y/N starts tidying up, just to give herself something to do while she waits so she doesn’t make herself crazy wondering what’s wrong. It doesn’t take Ruesha that long to arrive and Y/N barely restrains herself from running to the door when she hears the knock.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asks.

Ruesha has clearly been crying and Y/N ushers her inside and sits her in the kitchen while she makes a cup of tea for both of them.

“Me and Katie broke up,” Ruesha says. Y/N sets the mugs down and gives Ruesha her full attention.

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N says, “That’s awful. What can I do?”

“I just need a friend right now,” Ruesha says. Y/N reaches across the table and lays her hand on Ruesha’s. She offers her what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

“Whatever you need from me right now,” Y’N says, “You got me. Always, I promise.”

***

“I can’t believe I have to spend two months with her!” Ruesha groans. Y/N shoves Ruesha’s feet off the couch so she could sit. “I should drop out.”

“You should absolutely not drop out, it’s the World Cup,” Y/N says, “I know it sucks but you don’t have to spend any time with her outside practices and games. And I’ll be there,” Y/N waggles her eyebrows.

“Yeah, on a completely different team,” Ruesha rolls her eyes and plops her feet in Y/N’s lap.

“We’re in the same group, at least.”

“It still sucks.”

“I know,” Y/N rubs Ruesha’s shin to comfort her, “But it’s gonna be okay. I know it’s hard and it sucks having to be around your ex, but fuck her, honestly. It’s the World Cup! You’re gonna have a blast and it’s gonna be so great and you’re going to play in the World Cup, this is gonna be amazing for you.”

“We haven’t seen each other, really, since we broke up. She wasn’t home when I got my stuff. The first time we’re seeing each other since we broke up is at the World Cup. Talk about the worst fucking timing.”

“Yeah, it really is. I can’t make it better. But you guys are going to have to learn to be civil. You’re both going to play on the same national team for the rest of your careers. I know it sucks that it’s the World Cup, but the next time you guys have to play together will be so much better because you’ve already done it in the most stressful environment you could get. This is just character growth,” Y/N says.

“I hate that you’re so smart,” Ruesha grumbles.

“That’s what you get when you pick a best friend like me,” Y/N says.

“Yeah,” Ruesha glances away, an unreadable look in her eyes, “I guess you’re right.”

“Hey,” Y/N waits until Ruesha’s looking back at her, “You got me. Always. Okay?” Ruesha smiles.

***

The leadup to the World Cup is intense, it always is. It’s days full of training, or working out, or days when they’re told to rest and coaches and trainers stalking the hotel to ask why they’re out of their rooms. It’s stressful, but it’s rewarding, because Y/N knows at the end of this they’ll be playing in the World Cup.

Despite how intense and stressful and time consuming every day is, Y/N still finds time to talk with Ruesha. They’re not in the same hotel, not even in the same city, but Y/N makes sure her phone is nearby for whenever they have time to talk. Y/N ignores her teammates teasing. Like, yeah, okay, sure, she has a tiny crush on Ruesha, but Ruesha’s going through a breakup and also doesn’t feel the same. And that’s fine. Y/N’s fine. Ruesha needs a friend, and Y/N is so okay with being that friend.

“Hey, you played well today,” Y/N says.

“Like you even watched it,” Ruesha says.

“I did! Who do you take me for?” Y/N asks with faux offense, “I was studying my opponents.”

“Sure you were.”

“I know you watched my game. You texted me about that tackle I made.”

“It was a good tackle, pretty decent.”

“Piss off!” Y/N laughs, “I will hang up on you.”

“No you won’t,” Ruesha says, “You love me too much.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

They’re silent for a moment. Y/N swallows.

“I saw,” Y/N says, “What happened. What everyone’s saying about it.”

“Everyone’s a bunch of shits,” Ruesha says, “They can shut the fuck up.”

“That may be true, but, Rue… What happened?”

“You said you saw what happened,” Ruesha grumbles.

“Rue.”

“What do you want me to say?” Ruesha huffs, “I don’t have to shake her fucking hand if I don’t want to. You know what’s going on with them. I don’t have to play nice with Katie’s new girlfriend.”

“No, but you can’t start fights with the whole world watching,” Y/N says.

“Not that many people watched the game.”

“Not my point.”

“I get your point,” Ruesha says, “I’m saying I’m fine and that I’m not going to hide what I’m feeling just because I’m on TV. If Katie doesn’t like how I treat her new girlfriend then that’s her problem, not mine.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Y/N says, “I want to make sure you’re not going to do anything you regret.”

Ruesha can be so stubborn sometimes and normally Y/N doesn’t mind. She likes Ruesha for who she is, stubbornness and all, but it’s times like these that Y/N can get frustrated. She knows how ruthless fans and the media can be and she just wants to keep Ruesha from facing anything negative. She’s already seen what some people are saying and she wants to climb through her phone screen and grab the people making comments and shake them, scream at them that they don’t know what they’re talking about, they don’t know Ruesha like she does. But she can’t do that, so instead she has to settle for fighting through Ruesha’s stubbornness to try and convince her to think before she acts.

“I can handle myself. I’m a big girl,” Ruesha says.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Y/N admits quietly.

Ruesha doesn’t respond immediately and Y/N lets the silence sit. It’s heavy and weighted and the longer it goes on the more Y/N thinks Ruesha’s hung up. It wouldn’t be the first time Ruesha’s hung up when Y/N said something she doesn’t want to hear. Y/N is about to hang up herself, when Ruesha speaks.

“Thanks for always looking out for me,” Ruesha says quietly.

“Of course. Always.”

***

As soon as the celebration and team talks are over, Y/N heads over to the Irish players. She shakes hands, gives hugs, but her mind is focused on one thing.

“Hey,” Y/N gets the attention of Louise Quinn.

“Congrats on the win,” Louise says.

“Thanks,” Y/N gives her a quick hug, “Do you know, by any chance–”

“She went back to the locker room,” Louise says before Y/N can finish. Y/N smiles in thanks.

Y/N goes back through the tunnel and heads in the direction of the Irish locker room. She finds Ruesha leaning up against the wall beside the door, staring at her feet.

“If you’re mad at me, you should’ve done a better job of hiding.”

Ruesha huffs.

“Not mad at you. You’re not that special.”

“But you are mad,” Y/N leans on the wall beside her.

“Of course I’m mad! We’re done! We’re out! We went through all the work, all the training, all the games, all the bullshit, for nothing. It meant nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Y/N says.

“It sure feels like it,” Ruesha huffs again, “I thought it was all gonna be worth it. I thought sticking it out and putting up with her and everything would be worth it in the end. Now I just wish we’d never qualified at all.”

“You don’t really think that.”

“No,” Ruesha sighs, “I don’t. I’m just pissed.”

“I know how hard this all was for you,” Y/N says, nudging Ruesha’s shoulder in a comforting gesture, “With Katie and everything. And I want to help make this better for you, however I can. You’re my best friend Rue.”

Ruesha makes a sound almost like a growl as she springs from the wall and moves in front of Y/N, her hands braced flat on the wall on either side of Y/N’s head, bracketing her in. Y/N blinks owlishly as Ruesha stares hard at her. There’s a myriad of emotions swirling in Ruesha’s eyes, anger, disappointment, frustration, and something Y/N forced herself to ignore every other time she’s seen it: longing.

“Stop talking.”

Then Ruesha’s kissing her and Y/N’s brain shuts down for a moment. Then she kisses Ruesha back with a fervour. This is what she’s been dreaming of for months, what she’s tried to forget she wants, what she’s repressed and buried for the sake of their friendship. It’s not the way Y/N imagined it, both sweaty and in a hallway in Australia, where Y/N’s just knocked Ruesha out of the World Cup. It’s not what Y/N pictured, but it’s perfect anyway because it’s exactly like them.

When Ruesha pulls away, Y/N knows she has a lovestruck smile on her face and the smirk Ruesha gives her in return just makes Y/N smile deeper. Ruesha’s hand grips the hem of Y/N’s top and tugs. Y/N’s eyes widen.

“Ruesha! What are you doing?” Y/N looks frantically down the hallway to see if anyone is nearby.

“What?” Ruesha says, “Isn’t it tradition to swap jerseys after a game?” Y/N shakes her head.

“You’re impossible.”

Ruesha tugs her own jersey over her head and looks at Y/N expectantly. Y/N only gets distracted by Ruesha’s bare stomach for a moment before she tugs her own jersey off. Ruesha grins after Y/N pulls her Ireland jersey on. Ruesha smooths her hands down the sleeves of her jersey.

“You look good in green.”

“And you look good in red,” Y/N says.

“Come on,” Ruesha grabs Y/N’s hand and pulls her down the hallway back towards the field. “Let’s get some photos taken. Immortalize the moment. Show the haters you’re mine.”

“Yeah,” Y/N says, “Yours. Always.”

[omentranslates]

Trigun Maximum Chugai Grace Cafe Collaboration - I Translated the Website :3

Hi I saw someone on twt wanting this to be translated and that's literally all it takes to get me moving anymore so!

Anyways I translated all the food and drinks, I found the references they chose really cute except for the evil one lmao and I also included the unbelievably small print drink ingredients if you wanna try mixing them yourself!! 🫶

Also also, if you know how to use a proxy, there is actually some stuff here that overseas fans can get our hands on!! Under the cut to keep the dash clean!! Hope it helps!!!!!

Edit my dumbass forgot the original announcement link sjshsk IT’S HERE!!!

So, the menu

Going from left to right we've got

"Battle Sausage Spaghetti"

"As Many Salmon Sandwiches You Want"

"Love&Peace Donuts"

"Banana Sundae"

and on the bottom row

"The Perfect Meal Plate: Vash's Handmade Fried Rice and Salad" ((´༎ຶོω༎ຶོ`) o k )

"Particularly Wonderful Udon"

"Mille-feuille with Ceylon Tea" (i believe the first part specifies gateau mille-feuille but I went to episode one and checked the subs for what they had her say officially and they left the gateau off so I did too)

"Latte with a random character art"

Character Drinks!!!

The Bride Soda, which comes with a double-sided postcard of the sworn friends (very common nickname for Vash and Wolfwood in JP fandom and ig official uses it too)

So the soda is their proprietary thing, it doesn't say what flavor it is or if it has one, but the shotglasses come with a little bit of smoked oak syrup and black ceylon tea and you're meant to fill the rest of the glass with soda and drink it that way. And then the rest of the text is just information and disclaimers for customers that plan on taking the bottle home (I guess it breaks really easily that’s So. lmao).

Vash's Drink <3

strawberry syrup

carbonated water and lemon juice

yellow candied cherries (drained cherries) and ice

Wolfwood's Drink

crushed coffee jelly and cafe ice (ice made and flavored with concentrated coffee and fruit juice)

brewed iced coffee and gum syrup

blue curaçao syrup and carbonated water

experimental ampules filled with blue soda

the cigarette is full of light brown sugar you're meant to mix in before drinking

Knives's Drink

apple juice and round sliced apples

mint and ice (it looks like mint leaves but full disclosure they have blurred that kanji to all hell I have no idea)

Legato's Drink

blue curaçao syrup

grapefruit juice

carbonated water and a mint cherry

a lemon and ice

Collab Merch

(Overseas pay attention here!!!!!! ChugaiOnline is opening these to online orders so we can get them with a proxy, I'll leave their link at the end of this section!!!!!!)

I've also listed all the prices in yen here so you can convert them to your currency, and all of these are the prices including the listed Japanese sales tax. If you want to see the price without it, it’s just the other number on the image!

So they've got

Two way acrylic figure stands (the main stand comes with a ball chain, you can reference these on Amiami for what this kind of product looks like I'm prettyyyyy sure like they're called different but it looks like they go together the same way). Anyways this is a set of 6 and 1650 yen each, it looks like you get to choose which one you want but they don't have a deal listed for getting all of them.

Next to it are the buttons (also called can badges idk which one is more common over here), set of 12 (6 are regular and 6 are glittery variety). They are 550 yen per button AT RANDOM, THEY WILL GIVE YOU A RANDOM ONE, or a box with one of each all 12 for 6600 yen.

Below that is the polaroid collection, it's also a 12 piece set and you can get A RANDOM ONE, THEY DO NOT LET YOU PICK for 330 yen each or a box with all of them for 3960 yen.

The same exact deal with the plastic (like a vinyl material) postcards underneath, they're double-sided and come one for 660 yen each at random or the whole set for 7920 yen.

The calendar is for 2025 and is 1980 yen probably obvious but y'know

I would be so shocked if a proxy actually let you ship the Kuroneko sama cookie discs lmao but hey wtf they're 1080 yen.

The Bride soda is listed here because this is the same merch that will be sold in the shop but they specify elsewhere that it's not available for online order even in Japan you have to go to the cafe ;-;

Also this is just personal experience but a lot of proxies will not let you get like blind or random stuff like the buttons they don't let you pick which one, some of them will only let you get it if you're getting the whole box.

Annnnnnd online order special gifts!!

For every 3000 yen spent in merch (including tax) you will get a random postcard from this set!! There are 15 to collect, they are NOT divided into halves of the event, you can get any of them at any time or all at once!! However, you can't combine orders made at different times/by different people to get more and if they run out that's it. Altho fwiw I have never seen an event run out of these lol

The online order period will be from Friday, May 24th at 11 am to Sunday, June 16th at 11:59 pm (both JST) and items will begin to arrive (within Japan, proxies will have to handle our own shipping ofc) from August 2024 on a first ordered first shipped basis.

CHUGAIONLINE STORE (JAPAN)

Ok, this last bit is relevant to the in-person cafe experience so it's just for if you're curious about other cool things going on or you have a hobby of watching JP mercari like a hawk and wanna know what to expect!

Guests who reserve places at the cafe online will get copies of some of Nightow sensei's most prized sketch pages, they'll get 3 random ones! Like with the special gift postcards, there are a limited amount and this event will end when they're all gone.

And these are the coasters, guests will get one with every item they order off the food or drink menu at random (while supplies last)! The variety you can get is split between the former and latter halves of the event so there's something new to come back for even if you've already been once! (The first 12 days is on top and the last 12 days is on bottom)

They're also doing a wallscroll campaign!

They'll have these decorating the venue, and when the event is over a raffle will be held where the winners get to pick out a scroll of their choice!

OK I THINK THAT'S EVERYTHING RELEVANT HAPPY TRIGUN MANGA CAFE EVENT!!!!!