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joeys-babe · 7 months

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Joey B Imagines: Let Your Love Flow*

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Summary: Valentine's Day with your husband, aka bestie, aka the love of your life.

Warnings: Fluff, little smut

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

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February 14, 2024

Slowly opening my eyes, I looked around trying to figure out why I had woken up.

After darting around the room, my eyes landed on Joe setting up for Valentine’s Day. We had a little part of our room that had a table in front of a couch.

We’d spent countless breakfasts on the couch watching TV, and this felt like the start of one of those.

I had to hold back a giggle when Joe rearranged a gift bag, card, and what seemed like a tray of food before stepping back to look at it. With his hands on his hips, Joe assessed the display before deeming it not good before moving the card around.

He did that a few times with different items before snapping a picture of the display with his phone.

When he turned around, I snapped my eyes back shut, trying to pretend I was still asleep.

I could hear the floorboards creak and the bed dip before a soft kiss was placed on my forehead.

“Mama…” - Joe whispered

He softly shook my shoulder to wake me up, and the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was his smiling face and gorgeous blue eyes.

“Morning.” - Joe grinned

“Morning.” - you

I rolled over and burrowed into Joe’s bare chest, enjoying the warmth that he emitted.

“I have a very important question to ask you, baby.” - Joe

“What's that?” - you mumbled

Joe took a jokingly long deep breath before asking his question.

“Will you be my Valentine?” - Joe

I pulled away from his chest with a smile on my face, biting back the urge to laugh.

“No.” - you

“What?!” - Joe

“I'm kidding… of course, I'll be your Valentine, Joey.” - you

Joe leaned down and captured my lips in a sweet but thorough kiss.

“Cool.” - Joe smiled

A few seconds of comfortable silence went by before I blurted something out.

“Are you still wearing your jammies?” - you

I yanked the covers off of Joe to see that he was still wearing his V-DAY-themed pajama pants.

“Yes, I'm still wearing them.” - Joe laughed

“Good boy.” - you smiled

I put the covers back over Joe before cuddling closer to him.

“Wanna see what I got you?” - Joe

“Sure.” - you

Joe rolled out of bed before bringing everything over one by one. He started by putting the bouquet he got me, that was already in my favorite vase, on my nightstand. Then he put my gift next to it and handed me my card.

“Saved the best for last…” - Joe

He walked over with a large tray with three plates and two cups.

They were heart-shaped breakfast bagel sandwiches, a bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries, and two strawberry smoothies.

“Stop… you're too perfect.” - you

“Perfect for you.” - Joe

“Stop…” - you

I put a hand on his chest, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

“Aye, don't cry.” - Joe

“I love you so much it hurts.” - you sniffled

“I love you too.” - Joe grinned

——

During breakfast Joe and I completed our Valentine's Day tradition of watching The Notebook.

“You know, I love you like Noah loves Allie.” - Joe

“I'm already basically sobbing, are you trying to make me cry more?!” - you

——

After breakfast, Joe and I took a little shower together. I'd noticed that he'd been acting a little weird and keeping his back to me.

“Joe?” - you

“Mhm?” - Joe

“Why are you facing the wall?” - you

He didn't say anything, so I grabbed his arms and moved him to face me. My eyes almost immediately landed on his impressive erection. Now I understand why he was hiding.

“Just… ignore it.” - Joe

Joe was looking down at his feet with his cheeks flushed pink, embarrassed that he'd gotten hard. We'd agreed to not do PIV sex while I was pregnant, but that doesn't mean I can't get him off, right?

Reaching out and wrapping my hand around his cock, Joe’s head shot up, and his eyes went wide.

“Oh god.” - Joe

He immediately shifted his body till he was leaning against the shower wall, suddenly feeling unable to control his balance from the pleasure coursing through his body.

Joe’s hips bucked into my pumps as I jerked him off in every way I knew he loved.

“Mama.” - Joe moaned

——

Later in the day, we had a heart-shaped pizza, which confused the hell out of Tyson.

“How- how is it a hwart?” - Tyson

“They shape the dough before it's cooked.” - Joe

“But it's a circle!” - Tyson

“I give up.” - Joe sighed

Laughing at their interaction as I put pizza on everyone's plates, soon I felt two strong arms snake around my waist.

“You look gorgeous.” - Joe

“You look pretty handsome yourself.” - you

I leaned back against him and craned my neck to place kisses down Joe’s jawline.

“When we take pics for your parents and mine after dinner, you have to let me wear your red Cartier glasses.” - you

“You know you don't gotta ask, just take ‘em. They look better on you than me anyway. The color of your jumpsuit will match them perfectly.” - Joe

“Thanks.” - you

I hummed contently as Joe ran his big hands over my bump.

The moment didn’t last too long as it was interrupted by the sound of liquid hitting a hard surface.

“Uh oh.” - Tyson

I opened my eyes to see Tyson with fruit punch all down his white sweater and on the floor. Miles was jaw-dropped and wide-eyed, making both Joe and I laugh.

“Imagine how boring our lives would be without them.” - you

“Wouldn't trade the hecticness for the world, and thank god we don't have carpet.” - Joe

We both laughed, and Joe laid his head on mine, my hands covering his that were on my bump.

“You're the best Valentine ever.” - you

“You are too, baby. I'm happy to say you're the only person I've experienced Valentine’s Day with.” - Joe

“Me too.” - you

Soon, Joe would leave your embrace to grab Tyson and carry him like a rocket into the kitchen.

Joe took the red-stained sweater off of Tyson before wiping him down, tickling his belly in the process.

There's nothing I loved more than watching that man become a father.

“Momma!” - Miles

I walked over to him as he patiently sat at the dinner table. Without saying anything, Miles pointed at the pizza and looked back at me.

“What do we say when we want something, Miles?” - you

“Pweaseeee.” - Miles

“Yes!” - you grinned

I didn't know, but Joe was standing just a few feet away from me in the kitchen, just smiling and admiring me in my element of being a mom, just like I had done a few minutes ago when he was wiping Tyson off.

After I got a piece of pizza on Miles’s plate, Joe walked over, holding Tyson, and sat him down on his booster seat.

We had our Valentine’s dinner as a family and made heart-shaped cookies with the boys afterward.

At one point, Tyson stuck his hand into the flower when I wasn't looking and rubbed it on Joe’s cheek.

“Oh, you are in for it!” - Joe

Joe grabbed Tyson off the counter and sat him down on the floor to give him a head start.

I laughed as Joe “chased” Tyson around the living room.

“Crazy.” - Miles shook his head

Looking at him with a playful look on my face, Miles stirred the dry ingredients, seemingly unfazed.

He's literally an old man trapped in a two-year-old body.

All of the running around tuckered both Tyson and Joe out. I was absentmindedly shapping the cookies with Miles when I heard familiar snores coming from the living room.

I peaked my head in to see Joe sprawled out on the couch asleep, Tyson’s chubby cheeks buried in his dad’s chest as he slept on top of him.

Jogging to the kitchen to grab my phone, I went back into the living room to snap a quick picture of the moment.

——

After the boys were asleep upstairs, and Joe woke up from his nap, we munched on some of the remaining cookies.

Joe abruptly stood up from the couch and put a hand out to help me up.

“What?” - you

“We gotta clean the kitchen up.” - Joe

“Noooo.” - you whined

Eventually, Joe grabbed my hand and pulled me off of the couch.

He connected his phone to his speaker and pulled up my playlist when I wasn't looking.

I was wetting a dishcloth to clean the counter off when the beginning of “Let Your Love Flow” by The Bellamy Brothers started playing.

Looking at Joe with a grin, he strode up to me and took the dishcloth out of my hand before pulling me into his arms to dance.

Giggles escaped my lips as he spun me around and dipped me, the moonlight seeping through the blinds and lighting up the kitchen.

What really stuck with me from tonight was dancing to a lyric that fit this scene perfectly.

“Through the moonlit nights with your lover.”

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Authors note: hey y'all. HAPPY VDAYYYYYY.

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut

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things-about-cars-in-posts · 5 months

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what do you like about cars?

I think you knew, upon asking this, that I could only ever have answered with either an ironic one-liner or a dozen-part novel. And unfortunately, this is already the second line, so novel it is. So then, without any further ado than the literal half year that’s gone by since this was asked, let's go.

1. Engineering matters

At the end of last year (aka when I started writing this, yikes) my dear old iPhone 6S moved on to a new home because it simply wasn't keeping up with me anymore. (And again, I was using an iPhone 6S in 2023. If I say a phone is too slow, it's too slow.) I had plenty of criteria for the replacement: a smallish screen not overboard on resolution, ideally a physical media control button and/or vibration toggle, repairability, a FUCKING AUX JACK... Something like the Sony Xperia 10, whose only real issue is marketing so trash you've only just now learned Sony never stopped making phones.

And yet...

This fancy wallpapers-sporting foldable is a Motorola RAZR 5G, a phone whose too-big screen already broke (though at the edge due to adhesive issues) and those who dared try warn repairing it will be as hard as phone repairs get. Why the fuck did I buy this? Well, because it has something more important than the aux jack, proper sizing, and good cameras: it made me go “That’s so cool!”, and when’s the last time a phone made you say that? It's the cusp of a new technology, and whether it becomes the future of phones, a future of phones, or just a weird footnote, it is an island of interesting in a sea of boring. And sadly, even this island is rapidly sinking. The drive for new form factors has already boiled down to the same two phones and their evolution is sinking into the usual millimetric proportion tweaking, camera rearranging, touchscreen expanding, case material switching, fingerprint sensor moving, and spec improvements not even manufacturers can come up with use cases for. I mean, seriously, how does the iPhone 15 differ from a software-updated iPhone X (which is apparently not pronounced "x", so I guess the iPhone Twitter)? Nothing is new. Nothing is tackled differently. The user experience does not differ. And why should it, when iPhone users will get a new one out of habit anyway and many are so tech illiterate moving a button could hospitalize them? Five generation newer and 150% faster are numbers you basically have to trust, because they don't make a difference that matters.

But in cars? 150% faster will matter alright. Even just looking at it. Cars are a visceral experience to even witness, let alone ride in or drive, and the frantic engineering pursuits for performance and overall capability actually have impactful real world implications beyond "some pockets will bulge 1mm less". And their engineering involves so many fields that there’s always a breakthrough going on somewhere - which leads to another reason their engineering is so interesting: there’s simply so much of it that anyone interested in engineering will find something for them, no matter their level or sector of expertise! Interested in mechanics? Well, obviously you’ll have a field day! Aerodynamics? Don't even get me started! Electronics? You're getting more goods by the year! It spread from engine management to safety assists to infotainment to ergonomic adjustments to even suspension and aerodynamics! Sound design? Even just working on the way engines sound is a profession of its own, let alone making these barrels of metal and glass propelling themselves at triple digit speeds through hundreds of explosions a second things you can comfortably have a conversation in - and that's not even mentioning horns and chimes! Hi-Fi? We’ve spent most of a century trying to get concert hall sound from a tiny tin can where everyone sits off-center and everything bumps and shakes around and you have maybe room for two components* a third the normal size and speakers can only be in a handful of places you wouldn’t want them which may well be the next room over**!

And this is just engineering.

*Like everything in the car world, there are exceptions to that

**For those unfamiliar, subwoofers, the speakers dedicated to, indeed, sub-bass, due to their frequent humongousness are often installed in the trunk.

#stay tuned for part 2!#sony phones *are* great btw #they are sold in actual colors and they're full of cool features #their aux jack can double as a stereo input!!!

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cass-the-mess · 11 months

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Was it Real?

Vikhor "Stitch" Kuzmin x Bell!Reader SMUT 18+ MDNI

Photo cred: @pricescigar

A/N: This has been brewing in my drafts since MARCH lol, and I suddenly felt the urge to finish it today so I hope you guys enjoy it!

Synopsis: Bell manages to break out of Adler's mind control early on in the game. She infiltrates the KGB to hopefully reconnect with the current leader of Perseus himself Stitch, angst ensues, old feelings emerge, betrayal happens, they deal with it in the most reasonable way: Shmex :)

CW: Dark themes, dubious content, SMUT, office sex, ex-lovers to enemies to lovers? Stitch is a bad guy ish, possessive sex, degrading, PWP, canon typical violence (this is COD) but not the main theme of this, they're in love but it's complicated because she's a double agent, not really a happy ending but also not a sad ending.

P.S. this one is dedicated to @stararch4ngelqueen because she's great and she makes me wanna keep writing so :)

P.P.S. Dialogue in Italics are flashbacks, dialogues in bold are russian.

You see him right away when you turn the corner of the hallway, his imposing form walking out of the elevator surrounded by some of his most trusted men. The silvery scar tissue cutting through the left side of his face and into his eye adding onto the threatening aura around him.

You remember him, you remember the relationship you had with him before you got taken away and had all of your memories jumbled and carefully rearranged to fit into the narrative the Americans wanted you to be a part of.

Vikhor Kuzmin aka “Stitch”, current leader of Perseus, your mentor, the man who had taught you everything you knew. The man who had made you into the woman you were. That woman was long gone, that thought angered you. You had no loyalties to the American cause, nor to the men who you were currently working for.

Your loyalty to Russell Adler, the leader of this operation, was especially treacherous. You knew what he did to you, the lengths he had taken to turn you against the very people who had built you from the ground up, whatever charade you were currently playing by “helping” him sneak into the KGB to recover intel, was about to end. Sooner rather than later.

You watch intently through the shaded glass of the door you’re hiding behind as Stitch walks through the empty corridor, the armed men at his side posting themselves at strategic points in the hallway as he continues to make his way through the space, not sparing them a second glance, his patterned eyes ice cold and constantly searching and analyzing. The hood covering his head as well as the mask obscuring the bottom half of his face keeping his true emotions from shining through.

Your heart squeezes painfully at the sight of him, you didn’t know where you stood with him anymore, you knew just how important Perseus’ cause was to him, and how loyal to it he was. You doubted he’d ever forgive you, no matter the circumstances surrounding your disappearance, people didn’t just leave Perseus, and if they did, they were found and dealt with. You knew because that was your job, the executioner. The shadow of death, you were the last thing traitors saw before the light left their eyes.

At one point in time, you were his most trusted advisor, his right hand, his friend. You’d spent countless hours with him, the both of you planning, scheming, organizing, a myriad of different operations to spread your influence through the western countries. Most of which had greatly succeeded, you were always five steps ahead of the Americans.

You don’t know when exactly it changed, when your relationship with the stoic, brutal man, changed. When you became something more, when he started looking at you with a glint in his eyes, when his face relaxed a little when it was just the two of you in the same room, or when he started removing his mask around you. Exposing the gnarled, scarred skin of his face to you, letting you see just how truly broken he was.

But you didn’t think he was broken, you saw a man that had overcome challenge after challenge, continuously coming out on top and never giving up. Your respect for him grew, as did your heart. Butterflies swarming your abdomen whenever he looked your way, not needing to say a single word to you, his eyes always speaking so loud in the silence of the room.

Then he started smiling at you, not a full-blown smile, you didn’t think the man was even capable of such a feat, but a small, subtle quirk of his lips. So small you thought you’d imagined it at first. A fleeting curve of his full lips towards you, gone as fast as it had appeared. The memory makes you blush slightly in the dark space of the office you’re hiding in, chewing at your lips anxiously as you wait for him to dispatch the men around him, giving you an opening to talk to him. Hoping your connection plays in your favour, hoping the man won’t shoot you where you stand, knowing that he would, knowing that he should.

Afterall, you’d not only betrayed your cause, but you’d also betrayed him. That realization had weighed heavy on your shoulders ever since you woke up from whatever trance Adler had you in, all of your memories coming back to you in painful bursts, flashes of images blinding you as they assaulted your brain. The pain you had felt as each memory hit you, still sizzling inside you, causing a shiver to trail up your spine.

You take a steadying breath as you watch him through the tinted window, his white, scarred eye, glinting under the artificial light emanating from the fixtures above him. You’d asked him once if he could still see out of that eye, out of curiosity, but also because he seemed to see everything, all the time. Nothing ever escaped him, you wondered how he was able to be so alert with half his vision gone.

“I see.” Had been his curt answer, not giving you anymore detail than that, leaving you to speculate in silence about it, you found it unlikely that his vision had remained intact after taking a knife to the eye, though you supposed miracle stories could happen and he might’ve just been very lucky.

What had surprised you the most though, was weeks later, when you and him had been working together late one night, both absorbed in your respective tasks, you weren’t really paying attention to him, too preoccupied with finishing your own paperwork. He was though, you’d come to learn that he always was, his eyes always straying back to you, no matter how many times he tried to scold himself. You remember it like it was just yesterday, the scene playing out in your mind like a movie. That had been the start of something that meant so much more.

“it’s colour. I can’t see colour.” He’d said suddenly, his voice gruff from lack of use, the heavy Russian accent wrapping clumsily around the syllables of each word, startling you out of your state of deep concentration and forcing you to look up at him, your mouth agape at his sudden answer. The dim, amber lighting of the light above you, bouncing off the discoloured surface of his eye as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze.

“I- is it, weird…? Seeing colour with one eye and not with the other?” You’d replied to him after a beat, your voice coming out unsure as you took a hesitant step towards him, his two-tone eyes following your every movement like a hawk.

He’d never really given you a clear answer, his shoulders lifting in a shrug before dropping his gaze from yours and going back to his work, pensive look on his face as he continued to meticulously organize the papers before him. You didn’t blame him for not answering, hell, the fact that he even talked to you in complete sentences was something to marvel at. Considering he usually only interacted with his men, and even then, he would only really bark orders at them before dismissing them.

He tried though, you could tell he did, his English was choppy at best when he tried to talk to you, sometimes jumping back and forth to Russian when he couldn’t find his words. You’d started to learn Russian that way, and he started to learn English. It was beautiful really, now that you thought about it, he would teach you words in Russian, and you’d teach him the same words in English. He’d get frustrated when trying to pronounce some words and you’d giggle in your sleeve as he grew more and more flustered, the tips of his ears growing red with embarrassment until he huffed out a curse and gave up.

Your throat grows tight at the memory, eyes starting to sting with unshed tears as emotion threatens to overtake you, he was a complicated, brutal man, and yet he was so patient and gentle with you when you were together, his naturally gruff voice growing softer when he spoke to you. It hadn’t always been that way, of course, at first, he dismissed you as just another body in the sea of men he had to direct, not giving you his time of day, and barking orders your way the same way he would the rest of the men.

But then you’d started to make your mark, your work within the organization gaining more and more recognition from your peers, whispers growing and growing until they became a loud roaring in each room you would walk into, eyes tracking your every breath. Soldiers hanging onto your every word like they were prophecy.

He noticed, like he always did, way before everyone else did. Taking matters into his own hands and tracking your progress, reviewing everything you did himself before approving it to be passed down the chain of command, reeling in the few men who thought acting like dogs would get them anywhere but six feet deep with a bullet between their eyes. And so, the whispers started to change, echoes of Perseus’ executioner leaking from the cracks in the walls, men thrice your size averting their gaze when you walked by, in fear of angering their leader, knowing him as the type of man to not make threats, only promises.

He would seek your advice more often, confiding in you and asking your opinion on certain aspects of operations he wanted to greenlight. You’d been privy to the birth of many successful missions, a lot of which you’d tweaked and reworked under his careful guidance, the subtle glint in his eyes growing more and more every time you managed to surprise him, the pride in his voice unmistakable when those plans came to fruition.

One of those nights after a successful mission, he’d finally kissed you, it happened out of nowhere and even he seemed surprised about it. He’d been watching you all night from across the room, ice cold eyes trailing after you as you mingled with men unworthy of your attention, men who had no idea just exactly who they were talking to. His own thoughts surprised him, the sudden possessiveness coursing through his veins startling him and causing him to stiffen up in the corner of the room he was standing in, the men attempting to congratulate him on yet another successful operation immediately backing up at the sight of their leader so wound up.

You weren’t paying attention, not really, the sudden peak in popularity you were going through quite hard to digest at that time, going from “just another body” to Perseus’ Executioner was already taking its toll on you. So when a harsh slap resounded from across the room, startling everyone into silence, you took a second to understand what the buzz was about, your Russian at the time not as fluent as it was now, add to the fact that your brain was fuzzy from the effects of the alcohol you were drinking, the only words you caught amongst the whispers of the room currently staring in muted fear at their leader were “fucking mongrel” and “kill you where you stand.”

He'd stormed out after that, his anger palpable in the now silent room, the man victim of his wrath left to lick his wounds on the carpeted floor of the decorated conference room you were all left standing in, he wasn’t one for parties to begin with, he’d told you as much during one of your many late night conversations, social gatherings made him feel uneasy, especially when they served no purpose.

The remaining guests had slowly started to leave after that, some of them throwing you a questioning look as they walked out, forcing a frown to form on your face, sure you were still considered an outsider to this whole operation but you’d been with this team for months now, your work was paving the way for generations to come, Stitch was the first one to back that statement, his trust in you unwavering.

With that in mind, you decided to follow after him, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible in your endeavours as the fuzziness in your brain started to dissipate from the alcohol you’d been indulging in earlier. His usual hangout place in the late hours of the evening tended to be in a room adjacent to his office, he used it for multiple different purposes, and right now, that room held most, if not all, of your joint findings for future operations. You decided to check there first.

You found him hunched over one of the tables, a piece of paper crumpled in his large fist, his shoulders heaving under the thick charcoal material of his jacket, the hood covering his head doing little to conceal the man’s current emotional state. You took a hesitant step forward, not wanting to startle, or anger him further in the state he was in.

“Vik…?” You’d called softly, the nickname somewhat new and foreign to you, but you’d taken to calling him that when it was just the two of you alone, his alias always felt wrong to say, you were never quite able to put a finger on why exactly you felt that way about him, but when he’d given you his real name after countless nights spent working with you, you’d decided to go with it, accepting the gesture as what you could only imagine meant something far greater to him.

He never did answer you, his hooded head shaking back and forth in the confines of the room, the flickering light above you doing very little in terms of actual lighting, mostly casting shadows on every corner of the room, illuminating his figure but not highlighting any of his features.

He was mumbling something under his breath, the heavy notes of Russian syllables registering in your mind and forcing you to get closer to him in an effort to understand his tense ramblings. He’d heard you for sure, but he was probably too far into his own head to really acknowledge you at this point.

You took another hesitant step forward, coming to a stop next to him, his words sounding clearer now that you were next to him, but your brain still couldn’t find the right associations at that moment, too overwhelmed with the events of that day to make sense of it all.

“Vik- Can you slow down? I can’t make out what-“

He’d turned around then, his bright eyes pinning you in place, his right eye as blue as the iciest lakes of Russia, and his left eye, as white as the tallest peaks of the motherland’s mountains. He rarely held any warmth in them, even when he looked at you, it didn’t surprise you, after all, the man was a product of his environment, and his environment had been nothing but harsh and unforgiving. All in all, he’d come out of it mostly unscathed, a smart and intimidating man with a steel resolve and an ambition for revolution, it was hard to not admire him in that sense.

“Fucking pigs. Have no respect for their superiors.” He finally answered after a long moment of looking at you, his breathing had calmed down some and he was finally able to slow down when he spoke, the harsh, grating sound of his dialect oddly comforting to you.

You frowned at him then, not understanding his anger, closing the distance between the both of you and gently grasping onto the scarred hand that was holding onto the piece of paper you’d seen him crumpling up when you walked in, extricating it from his grasp and straightening it.

Your eyebrows shot up as you carefully unfolded the paper to reveal the source of his anger; a crudely drawn stick figure with pigtails and enormous breasts, bent over in front of a hooded stick figure holding a knife. The drawing obviously representing you and him engaging in something obscene.

At the bottom of the piece of paper you made out the words “Perseus’ whore”, scrawled in sloppy writing, no doubt an attempt at humor from whoever gave this to him. You shook your head as a deep sigh escaped you, crumpling the offending art project and throwing it in the bin next to the table.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him.” You whispered as you gently placed your hand onto his broad shoulders, the soft fabric of his jacket warm under your touch, your head tilting slightly to catch his eyes. “The men closest to us respect me as they respect you Vik, this will not go unpunished.”

“No matter. I will not allow such vile conduct from lowly insects. He will pay with blood.” He’d said, carefully enunciating every word to make sure you understood his meaning well, his voice had grown rougher with barely contained anger.

The tension in the room had suddenly come to a boiling point, you remember the feeling vividly, his eyes had slowly dragged up your body until they’d landed on your face. The intensity he’d held in his gaze at that moment seared in your mind forever. You feel your breath hitch just at the memory, your throat bobbing as you swallow uneasily.

“My executioner. Together we’ll watch the world burn.” He had finally said, his rough hand carefully taking your much softer one from where it lay on his shoulder, fingers intertwining as he’d closed the distance between you and him. His mask long forgotten on the table next to you, he’d probably taken it off when he walked in, chucking it carelessly onto the pile of paperwork currently taking up most of the surface.

You remember smiling at his ruthlessness, the rough Russian words had somehow seemed so romantic to you in that moment. You remember the way his scarred lips had felt as he’d finally pressed them onto yours, so warm in contrast to the cold man they belonged to. You remember the way he’d held you that night, the way his muscular body had felt against yours, the way he’d whispered your name almost reverently in between soft kisses, his body gently crowding yours against the desk, pushing you up onto it so he could fit himself between your legs, his lips never leaving yours.

He'd taken you, right then and there, on the desk. Pushed everything off the wooden surface so he could have access to all of you without restraint. His lips explored your skin, worshipping every inch of it, every scar, every blemish as if the simple touch of his lips would somehow atone for the sins of others against you. The words he’d whispered to you alternating between Russian and English, he wanted to make sure you understood just how much you meant to him.

You’d done the same to him, ensured to kiss every scar you could see, your fingers gently traced the damaged skin of each and every one of them as you whispered your own words of worship to him, the taste of his skin burnt into your DNA, the shape of each of his tattoos engraved into your mind forever.

That night changed everything.

The memory fades, your heart clenches in melancholy at the knowledge that you’ll never be able to regain his trust, his softness, his love. All that you were eclipsed, and all that could’ve been was now nothing but wishful thinking on your part.

Vikhor didn’t forget, most of all, he didn’t forgive.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally dismisses his men with a curt nod followed by a rough command, the armed men hastily retreating to their assigned post, leaving the hallway deserted for the most part and the path to his office clear.

You follow his gaze as he sweeps the hallway himself one last time, the iciness of his eyes as they take in every detail one last time makes your heart beat faster in your chest, and you’re not sure if it’s out of fear or excitement. After a moment his critical gaze lands directly on the door you’re hiding behind, his eyes squinting at the tinted glass as you duck, a curse escaping your mouth.

The majority of his face is hidden by the gas mask he constantly wears outside, coupled with the thick hood obscuring his head, it’s hard to make out his expression as he finally turns around and enters his office, the door clicking quietly behind him. A relieved sigh leaves your mouth, you shuffle quietly, gathering your thoughts and trying to calm the storm raging in your mind as you get closer and closer to what you came here to do.

You hope he’ll listen, at the very least let you apologize and explain to him what happened to you, maybe even believe you when you tell him that your heart never left this place, that your purpose was and still is to be at his side, to rule the empire you helped him build over the years.

You know your chances are slim to none, but a small part of you hangs on to that sliver of hope that he’ll spare you, that he’ll accept the information you bring him. You swallow uneasily as you get up from where you were crouching on the floor, you throat suddenly dry and constricted. Most of all, you hope that he’ll remember his love for you, the love you both shared for one another before all of this went down, before your entire identity was ripped to shreds, before you were ripped from him.

You scan the hallway one last time before opening the door as quietly as possible, your eyes jumping from corner to corner to make sure no one sees you. You know this place like the back of your hand, spent countless hours walking through these very halls, working with some of these people, and yet, you’re nothing more than a ghost now, another soul lost to the cause, another name whispered, another body never recovered.

You step carefully, gracefully to his office, the blinds behind the tinted window are always closed and today is no exception. You strain your hearing in an attempt to decipher what he’s doing behind the closed door, nothing reaches you but dreadful silence. You grasp the door handle with a sweaty hand, fingers shaking as they wrap around the cold metal, your breath quickening as you slowly turn the handle and push open the door, one foot stepping in before you stop dead in your tracks, your eyes widening.

The sight before you is enough to make your stomach drop, you see the man you love lounging behind his desk, relaxed as ever, one foot propped on top of it, the heavy military boots he wears resting on the worn wood as he stretches his body out. His right hand wrapped around his gun, the metal glinting menacingly in the dim light of the room as he slowly rocks the weapon back and forth in his hand, dragging it over the surface of the desk every so often.

His other arm hangs on the side of the chair, out of view. His head is inclined slightly to one side, eyes pinning you to the spot as he glares at you with an intensity you’ve only ever seen directed at insubordinates within his ranks. The sword of Damocles hanging over your head in the very room you’d engineered Perseus’ most successful hits.

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, your breath rushes out of you as you try to find your footing.

“Close the door.” He finally says, his English rusty and broken, his eyes unwavering as he tracks your every move like a predator waiting to pounce. You fumble with the door for a moment before finally closing it.

“Lock it.” He tells you, his voice coming out as growl and forcing a shiver of uneasiness to trail up your spine, every fiber of your being telling you to run, to get away, to save yourself before it’s too late.

“Vik-“ You start quietly as you turn around to face him, not moving from where you stand in fear of angering him further.

“Vik? After all this time?” He interrupts you roughly in Russian, his tone dripping with venom and disdain at your use of his given name. You miss the way he flinches at your voice, the lighting in the room too dark to perceive the slight reaction.

“Please listen to me, I promise- I promise this isn’t what you think it is.” You answer back in Russian, your voice quivering with unshed tears as you take a hesitant step towards him, imploring him to find it in him to listen to what you have to say.

“Do you know how many men I have looking for you, executioner? Do you know the price there is on your head right now, my love?” He spits that last part at you like the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, like he can’t believe he ever called you that to begin with.

He gets up then, slowly, confidently, his foot slowly dragging across the desk before falling heavily on the floor with a dull thud, the weight of it making the desk tremble slightly. The barrel of his gun drags against the wooden surface as he slowly rounds the desk to come face to face with you, standing well over a foot above you.

His smell assaults you then, clean linen and a hint of fresh mint overshadowed by gunpowder that sticks to every piece of clothing he owns. A smell that was once familiar and comforting now eliciting a shiver of fear in you, pale eyes that once held your entire world now only hold anger and hurt, a hurt that runs so deep you feel your heart crack under the weight of his gaze.

“I’m sorry Vik, I’m so fucking sorry, you have to listen to me please-“ You whisper as your voice breaks under the torrent of emotion raging through you.

“The Americans, they took me, they experimented on me, forced me to forget everything, made me into their puppet so I could feed them information on Perseus.” You tell him, stumbling over your words as you try to make him understand what’s at stake. His eyes harden, the scar running through his left eye looks even angrier like this, the usually pale blue of his right eye now looks almost black as anger simmers in it.

You swallow uneasily as cold metal presses under your chin, forcing your head up and straining the muscles of your neck.

“And? Did you? Did you betray us? Did you betray me, my love?” He whispers as he presses the cold metal harder against the delicate skin there, the heat in his gaze igniting something inside you, it feels wrong, so fucking wrong but you can’t help yourself as a whimper escapes you.

“No. No, I- “ You swallow uneasily as you try to keep your head upright and your gaze on his, refusing the let him see how scared you are.

“I told them nothing, I invented false leads to throw them off your scent. I convinced them to let me come here to get information because I wanted to warn you- They’re coming Vikhor, they want your head, Adler wants your head.” At the mention of Adler his other hand shoots up to wrap itself around your neck, pushing you against the door violently, the hand holding the gun lets go suddenly, the weapon clattering to the ground.

His now free hand comes up to his masked face, ripping away the constricting contraption to reveal more of his scarred flesh to you, his full lips pulled back into a feral snarl as he lowers his head to your ear. “You’re telling me Russell Adler is outside this fucking building waiting for you to bring him intel on ME?!” He rasps out in a deadly whisper, the hand around your neck tightening as he slaps the other one against the surface of the door, making you flinch.

“No. Not here. I’m alone, I promise I came alone, they trust me, I made them believe they could trust me. You need to move to a different location NOW Vik, I’ll give them a random location to give you time to get your men mobilized but you can’t stay.” You reply, one of your hands closing gently around the one at your neck, squeezing gently, reassuringly. Your eyes pleading with him, trying to get through the thick layer of ice between you and him.

He smirks then, his lips twisting in a deformed grin, exposing perfectly white teeth from the corner of his mouth as his hand loosens and his thumb slowly drags across your lips, his breath fanning across your cheek as a humorless laugh escapes him.

“I should fucking kill you, make an example out of you, discard you like the dog you are.” He whispers seductively, his eyes fixated on your lips as his thumb continues to rub gently across the delicate skin there, trying to coax your tongue out to wet them.

“Vik-“ You whimper breathlessly, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“No, instead I think I’ll let you continue on this mission of yours, you keep feeding them faulty information and you keep giving me information like the good little bitch you are, and maybe, MAYBE, I’ll let you live.” He growls out, his lips now dangerously close to yours, a wicked glint in his eyes as his tongue pokes out, dragging across his own lips as hunger starts burning through the glaciers nestled in his eyes.

His mouth is on yours then, he’s kissing you like he’s never kissed you before, desperation driving his every move as both of his hands cradle your face, one of his knees pushing your legs apart, forcing your core against his clothed thigh, the thick muscle under you flexing to accommodate you.

Your own hands grab onto the sides of his face, his strong jaw speckled in stubble, the rough texture of it making you moan into his mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue meeting yours for the first time in almost a year. A guttural groan escapes him at the taste of you, his desperation increasing tenfold as he suddenly scoops you up, one hand securely around your waist, while the other grabs a handful of your ass, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

You hear commotion as he drops you on his desk, his lips never leaving yours as he sweeps everything off the wooden surface, in one swoop all the clutter occupying his desk is sent flying across the room, you hear what you assume is a mug, shatter as it hits the floor.

His hands are grabbing everywhere at once, pulling at your clothing as he tries to get as close as possible to you, his need presses insistently against your stomach, pulling a moan from you as you try to move against him, your own delirium getting the best of you, all previous thoughts or worries gone from your mind as you finally feel him against you once more.

“Need you, Vik, please” You whine out, your hips straining towards his for any kind of relief, the Russian words coming from your mouth in such a needy manner pushing him into a frenzy, his hands dipping under the fabric of your shirt, pulling away from you just long enough to tear the piece of fabric off of you, exposing more of your skin to him. His hands immediately going to your breasts, pulling the cups of your bra low enough to expose them.

“Shut the fuck up, don’t say my name like that, not when you ripped my entire fucking heart out when you left, not when you left and took my soul with you. I couldn’t fucking think without you, I can’t fucking live without you.” He growls out, his voice betraying him as it cracks with emotion at his own admission.

Your answer comes as a moan as his lips wrap around one of your nipples, tongue curling over the sensitive bud, your hands tighten around his neck as you throw your head back in pleasure, hips grinding against his pulsing erection, the friction not nearly enough to provide any relief through the thickness of both your pants, you let out a frustrated cry at that, deciding to take matters into your own hands, you slide your fingers down his muscular chest, the wild thumping of his heart vibrating through your skin.

You reach his belt buckle a few moments later, nimble fingers working through the loops of his belt in quick efficient movements, finally freeing it. You hurriedly unzip his pants, his hips push into your hands as he continues to explore your skin, kissing and biting every inch of exposed flesh, making you his once again, making sure you’re real and not just a figment of his imagination.

When your hands finally wrap around the thickness of him, his forehead drops against your sternum, a grunt escaping his mouth as you slowly pump his length, your own mouth leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along his jaw, his name like a prayer on your tongue, reassuring him that you’re actually there, that you’re real, that you love him.

“Can’t- can’t wait. Need you, right here, right now.” He breathes out, his hands fumbling with your pants impatiently, almost tearing them in his haste to get them off of you, not even caring to remove them completely.

“I’m here, I’m here my love, take what you need.” You whisper reassuringly, your lips catching his in another kiss as his big hand cups your core, fingers dragging through your arousal before pushing one thick digit inside you, the tight ring of muscles relaxing around him as he starts thrusting his finger in a steady rhythm, more of your arousal leaking out around his hand.

You push your face against his clothed shoulder to muffle the sounds you make, not wanting to get caught, your teeth sinking into the thick layer of muscle when he adds a second finger, the soft squelching of your wetness resonating throughout the dark room, coupled with the soft curses leaving his mouth occasionally as you continue your own assault on him, precum leaking steadily from his tip and onto your hand, making a mess of his own.

“Always so fucking wet for me aren’t you? Even when you betray me, this pussy knows who it belongs to.” He growls possessively in your ear, his movements growing more relentless as you start clenching around him, the degrading statement only adding to your growing arousal.

You cum suddenly, violently around his fingers. Tears spring to your eyes as you throw your head back, a broken half sob, half moan escaping you as he continues to thrust his fingers slowly inside your pussy, your legs shaking from where they’re still hooked around his waist.

His fingers slide out of you, forcing a hiss from you at the sudden emptiness, but the feeling doesn’t last long, you feel the thick head of his length pressing against your opening, the familiar feeling causes a shiver to rip through you.

“Look at me. Wanna see you when I make you cum.” He commands, breaching you with a steady thrust. You struggle to keep your eyes open at the onslaught of pleasure overtaking you, your eyesight blurry from tears of pleasure threatening to spill out, but you nod clumsily, one hand twisting into the material of his sweater when he starts working himself deeper into you, his breathing growing ragged at the feel of you taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust.

You lose track of the words coming out of your mouth, Russian and English coming out as a jumbled mess, different variations of his name as well as pleas to let you cum fade into one another, his hips stuttering every so often when your voice cracks around the syllables of your prayers to gods who gave up on the both of you long ago.

His hands end up around your jaw once again, the roughened skin holding your face softly as his piercing eyes hold yours, his own jaw clenched hard enough to make the vein on his forehead jump with strain as he wrestles with his feelings and with the pleasure coursing through his body, wave after wave assaulting his senses like an unrelenting storm.

When your release comes, it’s an all-consuming inferno, the muscles in your core collapsing onto the heavy thickness of him within you, forcing his thrusts to turn erratic in turn. Your head thrown back in a silent scream as you soak the desk beneath you with the proof of your pleasure, a pleasure that gets stretched out as he chases after his own release, pumping into you with abandon, strong hands holding onto your head as his own eyes roll back into his head as he finally cums deep inside you.

You both lay there panting for a moment, your minds reeling, your hearts clenched tight with emotional turmoil, wanting to stay here forever, and wanting to disappear at the same time.

When he finally pulls out, a hiss escapes him, his eyes fixated on the evidence of your coupling slowly leaking out of your abused cunt as he tucks himself back into his pants gingerly, the mask of tense indifference he wore earlier falling back into place seamlessly.

“Go. Grab your shit. I’ll find you when I’m ready.” He grunts, turning around and exiting his office without another word, leaving you there.

#call of duty #call of duty cold war #stitch call of duty #vikhor stitch kuzmin #bell call of duty #fanfiction #Stitch x Bell #Stitch x Reader #russell adler #adler call of duty

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snickerdoodlles · 2 years

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say hello to my current wip, making assumptions, aka the fic about chay's truly impressive collection of monsterfucker sex toys. i'm banging my head against my desk as i work on one of the emotional scenes, so here's a ~1k preview of the first chapter because i like validation 😂

The thing about fucking up a lot is that you get really good at identifying the little voice in your head yelling hey moron amongst all the alarm bells. It’s just that, if you’re Kim, the little voice can scream as loud as it likes, but it won’t change the fact that the stupid decision is so often the only decision available.

I, Kim thinks as he picks the lock on Chay’s door, am very bad at lying to myself.

It’s just, Kim is nosy. He doesn’t know how not to be, not with a childhood of secrets that kill and a father who lies more than he cares. So, when Kim had snooped through the family’s finance accounts and happened upon Chay’s bank statements, which showed no activity beyond Papa adding an allowance for months and then abruptly incurred multiple pages of mysterious payments totalling to several thousand baht in less than two weeks, which transactions could only be less obvious if they were plastered in neon DRUGS HERE! signs, well. What was Kim supposed to do?

…Not break into Chay’s room and scour the place for secret drug stashes is the correct answer, but Kim is so far past that now. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to do when he finds the stashes of drugs--probably throw them out, except then he’d have to tell Chay, because people rearranging your rooms and throwing out your stuff behind your back is the worst, and he won’t do that to Chay. But he’s also been trying to respect Chay’s fuck off boundary line, no matter how much it hurts, so Chay’s going to hate him twice as much for this, fuck, he’s really thrown himself into a right pickle this time--

He should turn back now. Before he makes this worse.

Then Kim thinks of Chay collapsed in his own pile of vomit, or passed out with blood dripping from his nose, or pale with a needle still sticking out of his arm, because Kim knows the shit dealers cut their products with, because Papa had wanted him to take over the gritty side of the business, and then Kim’s inside Chay’s rooms without a second’s hesitation.

Chay’s room is a mess. Not the type of mess Kim had liked to drop in on, back when he’d surprise Chay at home and get treated to Chay frantically tidying the place while making half a dozen excuses for why Kim couldn’t come over, despite knowing Kim was watching him clean through the front window, and then finally invite Kim in and pout at him until he did something nice to make up for his bullying. This mess isn’t small piles of debris and laundry and dirty dishes--it’s several unpacked boxes growing dust in a corner, a small hamper of clean clothes infront of an empty closet, a collection of dirty glasses atop a stack of textbooks before the nightstand. If Kim hadn’t known this is Chay’s room, hadn’t secretly triple checked the security of this wing and Chay’s position to it obsessively when Chay had first moved in, he might’ve thought this the room for one of Papa’s infrequent guests. It’s…unsettling, to see a space Chay spends so much time in be so empty of his presence.

…He’s wasting time.

The rooms in this wing are all outfitted with the same basic setup: bed in the middle, oversized nightstand between it and the corner, lamp and chair in another, entrance to a full bath and toilet in the last. Usually, long term guests customize their rooms into anything besides a soulless box, but Chay hasn’t even tacked up so much as a postcard on the wall. The only thing unique is the large wooden chest with a well-loved blanket tossed over it, so that’s where Kim starts. It’s too obvious as a hiding place, and Kim almost wants to scold Chay or give him lessons on how to hide shit he wants to stay hidden, but…it’s the one piece Chay’s chosen in this room. Chay could just grab a backpack and this chest and disappear--anything he wants safe will be in it.

…The chest isn’t even locked, and Kim returns to the urge to go find and grab Chay by his shoulders and shake him until he remembers something about situational awareness, or keeping secrets, or distrusting people, or a lot of other basic caution measures, except Kim’s one of the things Chay’s currently keeping himself safe from, so that definitely won’t do him any favors. Kim settles for closing his eyes and sighing deeply through his nose.

Then he opens the chest to reveal…tentacles. Literally dozens of plastic tentacles.

What?

Kim stares down at the chest full of…plastic octopus legs? Or, at least, the tips of several of them, in all varieties of colors, from coral pink to a deep, shimmery blue. Kim even grabs one that glistens like oil slick when he moves it in the dim sunlight. They all vary in shape too, some are more sleek with just tiny bumps and ridges in different patterns, some with thick bases and thin tips and others with thin bodies and flared heads, others with strangely realistic suckers that yield under his finger tips, and then even more underneath those that look far too strange to be called proper tentacles. Kim pulls out a deep green one with a cute flower at the base and a body that curls aggressively, another that’s mostly straight but has the look of chewed bubble gum, and yet another that’s shorter than the rest but twice as thick and covered in bulging bumps.

It’s not until Kim finally pulls out a toy covered in flared ridges, scales, and other alarming geometry, but also distinctly phallic, does his brain finally accept that all of these are dildos.

Chay…Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.

Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.

Kim’s brain gives up. His face is too hot for him to think, his ears are ringing with what he’s quite sure is literal steam coming directly off his brain. He keeps pulling out more new toys, unable to stop. There’s one that looks like a tongue, with twice as many veins and a bumpy texture that is much too real for the scraps of his sanity. An alarmingly long and bendy tube with a pretty rainbow gradient and a disturbing number of knobs. A dark blue dildo that seems strangely plain until it lights up with half a dozen glittery rings when he accidentally squeezes the base too hard.

Pretty, Kim thinks, then is so startled by the sound of his own thoughts he misses the sound of the door clicking open behind him.

“Kim?”

Kim actually startles, whacking his knee on the chest of sex toys, and comes face-to-face with Chay.

…While sitting in a half-circle of monster dicks.

Chay’s eyes dart from him, to the toys on the floor, to the chest, and blushes all the way to his ears. “Kim?”

#kinnporsche #fic: making assumptions #kimchay #me: i'll write this if i think it'll stay under 10k #first chapter alone: is ~7k #draft: is well over 20k already #me: am not anywhere near done #hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha #who thought this was a good idea #anyways please wish me luck as i work thru this emotional hurdle aaaaaaaa #if i get enough of the beginning done ima start posting at the end of the month #fingers crossedddddd

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ineffablydelighted · 1 year

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[Cute Omens #6.1]

The Supreme Archangel Aziraphale returns to Earth for the first time in five years to meet Beelzebub's replacement, the new Duke of Hell, aka... [Yep. I'm definitely not the first who explored this option, you just know where I'm getting at, don't you? 😎]

Aziraphale: *enters the Resurrectionist, a little worried* *does not show it, of course, he's supposed to emanate respect and authority* *has become quite good at it, actually* *salutes the pub owner* Hello, sir. I believe a seat has been reserved in the name of... Heavell, I believe. *understands the pun JUST NOW* *closes his eyes in pissed off by that new Duke of Hell already*

Pub owner: *uneasy* *rapid movements* Oh, hum... yes, yes, Heavell, of course, the person asked for the private area... one year ago? Or was it two? I am not sure, excuse me. Please follow me, Sir.

Aziraphale: *follows him in brand new clothes he learned to like and rearranges them* The... private area? *remembers the last time he came here* *feels something rather painful in his chest but chooses, as always, to ignore it* You have one, now?

Pub owner: Yes. It's been... three years or so? I no longer live upstairs since I reconnected with my dear wife Saddie so I thought it would be nice to... *has no idea why he gives so many unnecessary details* *stops* *clears his throat* Anyway, yes, I do have one! Mind the stairs, Sir, they are pretty narrow.

Aziraphale: *nods agreeably* *walks up the spiral stairs after him* And, have you... ever... met Mister... Heavell, before?

Pub Owner: Not that I know of, Sir. Have you not either?

Aziraphale: *calmly* *in theory* Not that I know of.

Pub Owner: Here we are... *opens a wooden door revealing a pretty cozy room with forest green sofas* Please be seated, you're in advance, I believe.

Aziraphale: Yes, I am. Thank you, Sir.

Pub Owner: Would you like a drink while you wait for your... contact?

Aziraphale: No, thank you, I will wait until they have arrived to make an order.

Pub Owner: Sure. *closes the door* *leaves*

Aziraphale: *sighs* Heavell, for Heaven's sake...

[Twenty-or-so minutes later]

Aziraphale: *looks at his pocket watch, again* *frowns* Of course, the Duke of Hell has to be late... Have they no decency?

Crowley: *pops on the sofa in a weird position because Crowley* *does not have his glasses on* *speaks casually* That's kind of the point of demons, Angel, don't you think?

Aziraphale: *startles* Ah! *recognizes Crowley* *eyes wide open* *strange movement at the corner of his lips that vanishes as quickly as it appeared* Oh. *severe final face* *sighs* Sir... Heavell, I presume?

Crowley: *grins* You sound as if you understood the joke only thirty minutes ago.

Aziraphale: *will never admit Crowley is totally in the right* *cold* No, I sound as if of course, I should have known it was you, of all demons, who came up with something as... lame.

Crowley: *presses his chest and opens his mouth, falsely offended* *sneers* Says the one who thought calling himself Mister Fell while being an Angel was funny. *theatrical arm movements* Come on!

Aziraphale: *wants to end the small talk asap* Can we, please, not dwell in the past? I'm not here for that, Mister-Heavell-Duke-of-Hell. I'm here to represent Heaven as we negotiate the terms of the upcoming War or Wars following Heaven's Second Coming.

Crowley: *half-amused half-annoyed by his attitude* *obviously chooses to be provocative* Wow, look at that, who's got already so full of himself with that new twinkly title of his?

Aziraphale: *eye-rolls with the subtlety of a 3yo* *colder than before* *also weirdly detached* Looks like you acquired quite the twinkly title as well.

Crowley: Yeahhhh... I still have no idea why they gave me this position, I haven't done anything to deserve i- *snaps his fingers* Oh, wait, that reminds me of someone... *runs his finger over his chin* Who can that possibly be, um... *tilts his head at Aziraphale* Oh! Found him. *waves sarcastically* Hell-o!

Aziraphale: *annoyed* So that is how low we've fallen, Crowley? Are you really going to spend the night mocking me?

Crowley: *looks at his nails* Well, you called me lame first, so...

Aziraphale: Could you stop acting like a child for two seconds and talk to me?

Crowley: I AM! *gradually gets up on the sofa* And that is already MORE THAN YOU DESERVE, YOU F- *points at him* You... *makes the most unsincere reverence* SuPrEmE ARSE-AnGeL...

Aziraphale: *hits the table with the palm of a hand* You're the Duke of Hell, for Heaven's sake, sit the fuck down and act like it!

Crowley: *more theatrical arm and leg movements* Oh, oh, of course, happy to oblige, my Lord... *walks until he is very close to Aziraphale* *does not sit back down though*

Both: *weird low-angle look*

Aziraphale: *closes his eyes for a little while* *sighs* *looks back at Crowley* Now, if you please could let me know when your tantrum has finished, your Dukeship, that would be lovely.

Crowley: *severe look* *suddenly grins* Actually? I'm not here to talk. I've never been here to do that.

Aziraphale: *raises one eyebrow* Huh?

Crowley: *abruptly jumps on Aziraphale with a human-sized sack and traps him inside* *dry voice* I'M HERE TO ANGELNAP THE CURRENT SUPREME ARCHANGEL, SILLY BOI!

Aziraphale: *has not the time to pop himself out of this situation that Crowley already popped both of them in Hell*

To be continued...

[Yep, I'm uncool like that. Nope, I do not regret a thing.]

***

Navigation time!

[While needing you to consider that, most of the time, the scenes are randomized and do not necessarily follow one another at all - OBVIOUSLY THOUGH 6.2 WILL FOLLOW 6.1 EVENTS I'M NOT THAT DEMONICAL OKAY?!]

Previous -Beginning - Next

#Cute Omens #Good Omens #Ineffable Husbands #Aziracrow #Good Omens fanfiction #Aziraphale #Crowley #Cute can also mean bantering now #Well “bantering”... more like scoffing #Mister Heavell and Mister Fell kinda sounds appealing to me somehow #How could Aziraphale not have guessed who it was FFS #Angelnapping is Crowley's new favorite hobby now #Supreme Achangel Aziraphale #or is it Supreme Assangel?#Duke of Hell Crowley #Never said I was a super original writer 2.0

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goldennika · 6 months

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Thoughts on Hueningkai's Lee Mujin Service Episode

aka fangirling over his vocals and rambling about the songs/genres we need to hear more of from him/TXT

youtube

In case you've missed it, TXT's Hueningkai appeared on the Lee Mujin Service series as part of their promotions for minisode 3: TOMORROW!

Although TXT has no official roles in the group (aside from leader), Kai and Taehyun are commonly regarded as being the "main vocals" of the group. That said, we don't really see a lot of group or solo activities for them to seriously show off their singing prowess so it's a welcome development to have them both star in Lee Mujin Service!

As an aside, I do adore the setup of Lee Mujin Service as it allows idols to showcase their vocals in a non-idol song or context. It's an opportunity for them to demonstrate their vocal range and their personal styles and tastes. I also like how they rearrange their title tracks to bring a new dimension to it, and the duet covers at the end are refreshing as we get to hear them sing with other artists (in this case, Lee Mujin)!

In this piece, I'll be reacting to the songs he performed in the episode and touch on previous covers and performances that highlight his perceived strengths. I'm no music expert so this could be a bit ramble-y and not very technical but I just wanted to highlight what I enjoyed about his feature and what I'd love to hear more of in the future. Let's get into it!

Deja Vu

The episode starts off with Kai's solo rendition of their title track, Deja Vu. If you've read through my earlier posts and reactions to TXT's music before, you'd know I love a good acoustic and/or band arrangement. I think it really allows you to focus more on the lyrics and the vocals. Kai has such strong vocals and with a stripped down arrangement, you get to better appreciate the power and emotions he pours into a track!

Ghost Town cover (originally by Benson Boone)

Mujin captured it perfectly when he described Kai’s voice as “far-reaching” because as I was listening to this cover, I thought that his voice was really carrying through my earphones.

I love hearing Kai singing in a lower register as I think his voice sounds so deep and rich, and what’s great about this track is that it also has moments wherein he goes in a higher and lighter tone and the contrast is so so beautiful, it's almost haunting 🥹

Mercy cover snippet (originally by Shawn Mendes)

Kai using his lovely lower register again. His voice really does carry and fills the entire room and that gravitas makes him a delight to watch.

A Flying Butterfly cover (originally by YB)

This may sound weird but when he was singing this, musical theater came to mind and I mean that in the best way possible!! I don’t speak Korean but it sounds like he enunciates so well, each and every word is so clear and there is palpable emotion in every line.

He makes those high and prolonged notes seem so effortless and powerful at the same time. And that last line?? Just... wow 😳

Mommae cover snippet (originally by Jay Park)

Kai before and after singing Mommae 😂

I'd have to agree with Mujin when he said that it wasn’t that Kai doesn’t suit the song, it’s just that he as being awkward about it!! If Kai had committed to the bit,Ii honestly think he’d have us all sweating over that Mommae cover 🥵

Gravity cover (originally by John Mayer)

I enjoyed the contrast between Kai’s fuller voice and the airy quality of Mujin’s vocals. They bring such different energies to the song but it works out well.

Idk how to explain it, but Kai's vocals in Gravity are so college band heartthrob coded 🙈

So it makes sense that before the Gravity cover performance, Kai mentioned that if he would debut as a soloist, he’d like to go the rock band route and recruit the rest of TXT to join him 😂

On a more serious note, I would really love if Kai got to use his lower register and powerful belts more, and if got more rock/rock-inspired tracks from TXT as I think it suits their voices so well! Let’s look at the evidence, shall we?

0X1=LOVESONG

We can't talk about (pop) rock TXT without mentioning the queen, 0X1=LOVESONG 👑 The energy, the growls, the emotions. It's all here 😩

youtube

Endless Rain

Everyone remembers where they were when Kai hit (and sustained!!) that chills-inducing high note at 6:39 😵‍💫 When he mentioned his vocal strength was in "screaming" (idk how accurate the subs were in Lee Mujin), this was the performance that instantly came to mind. I'm never moving on from this stage.

youtube

Good Boy Gone Bad 2022 KBS Song Festival

Love this guitar-heavy treatment of GBGB! And 4:51 marks the growl heard around the world. Around this time, there were lots of rumors about them lipsyncing so they said, let's show them our mics are always on.

I can't find the live or behind footage where they talked about this year-end stage performance but I recall Kai saying that he was playing around with his vocals even more for that adlib (note change and all) but decided against it bc it would have been a bit much 😅

And have you seen them do tiktok dubs/lipsyncs? They're hilariously bad bc they can not lipsync for their lives 😭

youtube

Skipping Stones

Couldn't decide on which version to include so I placed both bc the vocals and instrumental talent deserve to be highlighted!!

When the live clip of the maknaes dropped, best believe I was screaming bc wdym my fave track from Freefall is getting a promotion?? and we have beomkai on guitar and bass??? THEY DID THIS FOR ME

youtube

And then the Tiny Desk Korea video dropped and it was like everything was right in the world again. The vocals and live band were immaculate, I tell you 😩

And all the members love this song and that was evident during the ACT: SWEET MIRAGE Finale shows where you'd see them singing along to the song even when it wasn't their turn 🥺

youtube

Youngblood cover

Kai wanting to form a rock band is perfect bc can you see/hear the vision???? I also loved the OT5 cover of Youngblood they did during Freeze era. This cover was recorded in 2021 I think, so imagine how it would be if they redid this now that his voice has matured, their skills have improved even more, and they're more confident too 😵‍💫

youtube

Quarter Life

I have mixed feelings about this track but firmly believe this should have been Beomgyu's song if he had more lines bc are we all hearing him???? The growl and the emotion reminds me so much of 0x1=LOVESONG (wherein it was Taehyun's raspy vocals that got me in a chokehold) so when I say that TXT can pull off a (rock) band concept, I mean all of them!!

Anyway that's all I have for now. If you've read everything, thank you so much for taking the time to appreciate Kai's vocals and explore rock TXT with me!

If you have other performances you'd love to add or any thoughts to share, please reblog or leave a reply!

#manifesting more rock band TXT ✨#hueningkai #tomorrow x together #lee mujin service #ghost town #gravity #txt analysis #kpop analysis #Youtube

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where-theres-smoak-2 · 11 months

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I keep seeing posts saying that the sylki kiss from 1x06 was retconned. Obviously I don't know for 100% certainty, the writers/show producers would have to confirm if anything was retconned or not for us to be certain. But I don't think anything was retconned. It is a bit confusing with all the time skipping etc, you've also got the fact that when Loki went back and spoke to OB in the past it changed things in the future. But when he went back in 2x06 to speak to Mobius and then Sylvie after those timelines dissolved away, so what's the difference? Well here's how I see it, and I am going to try my best to explain it using a metaphor and hope it makes sense. So Loki at the end transforms all the timelines into a tree, so lets run with that imagery and look at time like its a tree. You've got all your branches, that's the different timelines, then you've got your leaves on that branch which represents different moments in time. These moments/leaves exsist on multiple branches. Here is a diagram for you, I apologise for the crudeness, I was only able to put on coat of paint and it is not to scale:

I think we see Loki travel two different ways on this time tree I think when he goes back and speaks to OB he is jumping between different points on the same branch like this:

When he jumps back to speak to OB it kind of rearranges slightly the branch from that point forward, so now future OB remembers the conversation but everything else stays the same.

HWR says the way the loom works is that it deletes anything that isn't supposed to be there and just keeps the sacred timeline aka the events that HWR wants to happen. We know that the events of season 1 and 2 were what HWR wanted to happen, he says he paved the way, which is why I think after speaking to past Mobius in 2x06 the timeline dissolves. I think the way Loki is time-slipping in this episode where he is trying to find the right actions that will solve the problem and save the day is more like he is skipping between branches as opposed to the same branch, like this:

Only when he skips out of that the branch falls off and dies like after he spoke to Mobius and Sylvie.

When it comes to him repeating the same moment I see as him kind of bouncing from say his branch to that same moment on a different branch:

When it fails he slips back to that same moment and tries again. And its the same with the citadel. I suppose it would look more like this:

With that moment as a sort of fixed moment.

Actually another way of looking at it (and probably a simpler way if I am honest) is like every time Loki skips back after a failed attempt he's hitting the return to factory settings button, when you do that on a computer it erases everything you have added, everything you have done. In this case the factory settings are season 1 and season 2 up to 2x4.

So the sylki kiss and citadel moment weren't retconned or erased, neither was that first interview with Mobius in 1x01 because when Loki slipped back to the loom room for the last time he had hit the reset button. So the events of season 1 and 2 up to ep 4 stay, they are the in universe canon you could say. So the Sylvie we see talking to Mobius at the end is the same Sylvie who kissed Loki in 1x06, and went through all of season 1 and 2.

So what parts were retconned/ erased. Anything between the end of 2x4 and the end of 2x6. So sadly we have lost the bar scene from ep 5, we get to keep the kiss and the pie room scene though. The other scenes that got erased in this episode is Loki's conversation with Mobius where he asks how to choose who lives and dies. Also the conversation with Sylvie where he tells her he might have to kill her to stop her killing HWR is gone too. Though to note Loki still remembers it all.

Anyway that's my take on it, I hope it makes sense.

#sylki #loki season 2 spoilers #loki #sylvie #loki x sylvie

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slowandsteddie · 8 months

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27 June 2010 - 8 February 2024

When I laid on my side, Emmett used to start at my feet and walk up my entire body before digging his tiny, little paws into my ribs. His stinky, old man breath would assault my nose, and then he would cram his entire tiny, fucking face into my armpit before purring so loud that I swear you could hear it in the next room. I’d lift my arm up at angles that actually really hurt because of my collar bone having been previously broken and drop my hand down at the right angle to be able to play with the fur that was from his mid-back. Grip and shake and tug while he is purring somehow, impossibly, louder. After awhile, I would adjust my arm, that always fucking popped, and cradle him on one side with it. He’d pull himself up just a bit and proceed to start licking/chewing on my chin and cheek. I’d use my other hand to half-ass cover us up. We’d fall asleep like that. I’d wake up on my other side with him laying across my face most days. Some days I’d wake up because he was trying to steal my nose piercing again. Occasionally, I’d wake up with him on top of my dresser. “Excuse the fuck out of me” was always met with the cutest little mew before he’d come running back to me.

I’d set my alarm for an hour early so I always had plenty of time to pet and snuggle my old man before I had to get up and get ready for work. As I walked around my room, making sure he had everything he needed, he’d follow me by walking quickly across my bed. Back and forth. When it was time for me to get dressed, I’d grab three random shirts and drop them on the bed. He’d pick the one I’d wear by laying on it. I always had to carry him to the bathroom with me, even if I was just going to pee, because he would cry the entire time I was gone and it broke my heart. Now he’s gone and I’m the one who can’t stop crying.

He was given to me when he was just 8 weeks old. My aunts cat had had a litter and I was promised one of the babies. My mom was taking too long to be “ready,” so her sister brought him to me. Zipped up in her coat. When she got out of the truck, I remember thinking “it’s so warm, why is she wearing a jacket?” She looked at me with a grin while unzipping it about half way and presenting him to me with a very smug “I brought you something!” I instantly pulled him into my hold and ran inside. I remember my mom saying something along the lines of “well, I guess I’ll be back. Have to go to PetSmart.” I was too busy giggling and introducing Emmett to his new space. I did have to rearrange my room a bit so that the dresser was under the window for him — needed to make it easier for him to see the backyard.

He had me keeping my room very clean because he would knock everything off of whatever it was on if it was out of place. His favorite place to hide was in the laundry hamper, and it was even better when there was clothes in it. He also liked to go into my closet when the door was opened. He’d crawl up and find a comfy spot. Most of the time, the comfy spot was on top of my Bag of Bags. Sometimes he’d squeeze between all the clear totes and then mew at me until I fixed it AKA either made more room for him or helped him get back out.

When I moved out of my mom’s house and couldn’t take him with me was the hardest two years of my life. I’d go see him everyday after work and would see him for at least an hour every Saturday. It wasn’t enough. When I moved in with my dad’s sister and was able to get my baby back, full time… I’m so glad I had him with me the last two years of his life. He got all of the loves and attention and vet visits he needed/wanted. He made friends with my aunts dogs, Gunner and Bandit, and fell in love with her cat Jackson.

Emmett left us a few days after Bandit did. I just know they’re together again and that Grandma is taking care of them.

I think it makes it a little easier for me, thinking that he’s not alone wherever he is. Picturing Bandit waiting for him and then slobbering all over him before taking him to Grandma.

A huge part of me is missing, but I’ll figure it out. I have to.

#personal #Emmett #my perfect little baby #he was 13 years old #and having to let him go was something that came so suddenly #he couldn’t breathe #now he’s a memory and I can’t breathe #death of a pet #stream of consciousness #unedited

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faceglitchsworld · 2 years

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Here's a report of me reacting at Oneus' participation at Gayo Daechukjae and losing my mind while doing it (｡･ω･｡)

Author's note: While writing this I've switched from English to Italian (my native language) here and there. Because I've gone feral and I needed to calm down. Sorry, my dear moots :(

If you want I'll give you a translation in the replies of what I wrote. Or just use Google Translate...

TW: delusional fan over here, don't interact

The red carpet and their outfits: I admit it, I cheated here. I already saw their outfits before the entire show started. And they are so pretty! ヾ(≧▽≦*)o I want to know the stylist who's obsessed with giving a chocker or a necktie to Leedo every time. They're doing the gods' job. Did you see Keonhee and Xion in white?! Men in white are my biggest weak point (❁´◡`❁) Not to mention that pearl necklace on Xion...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH è così bello aiuto, salvatemi.

Can I suggest RBW bring the boys here in Italy during Festival di Sanremo? With these outfits? Oh no, I can't? Oh...ok ╯︿╰ They were so cute during that little red carpet bit but there's a little thing that annoyed me the most: WHO HAD THE AMAZING IDEA TO PUT HWANWOONG AT THE CENTER? BETWEEN SEOHO AND KEONHEE?! Seriously I was laughing hysterically. Did the organizers know that by doing this they made him even shorter than he actually is? Gosh, I hate this, it's my biggest pet peeve. But I rewatched the bit twice so it's a win for them.

The opening sequence: Please, did you see how adorable they were? Just vibing and having fun

Keonhee amorino come devo fare con te, too much adorable for this world,

The Same Scent performance: I...I cried. NOT THEM REARRANGING THE SONG WITH THE TRADITIONAL SOUND! ಥ_ಥ NOT THEM BRINGING BACK THE LUNA (aka the reason why I love them so much) VIBES. Also, long hair Xion, my beloved, my LOML, you're back (but they were exte-I know that random user, just let me vibe and fall in love once again with him)!

Vorrei scrivere un intero discorso su tutta la parte di Keonhee e Seoho o tutto il suo bance break in generale ma massacrerei la tastiera nel farlo, ergo 'sto zitta.

The Sexy Back dance: ah yeah, the elephant in the room. I admit that the first time I watched it, my reaction was just like this

Then I noticed that I'd watched the performance in terrible video quality (thanks Youtube, you're always the best...) and I rewatched again.

And my reaction was:

SOHFSUFHSOUFHSfasiosIFHSDIVHASIUGYSEIDAJPSODKPSFUSEPT

LE SPALLE

LE SCHIENE

MANNAGGIA TUTTO

Then I discovered the fan cams. And I'd decided to watch them. Because of course, I would do that.

Hwanwoong: I've started with the safest one because yes, I need to start with the safest one. Oh well, help me call it "safest", he was flirting the entire time with the camera. BTW thanks again Youtube for the shittiest quality video ever, I needed to watch the fan cam twice. Not complaining though.

Seoho: again, watched the fan cam twice because thank you Youtube...

No sì, ok, se pensavi di toglierti la camicia con nonchalance e andartene ti sbagliavi di grosso frate. Cioè, te fai quella cosa e dovrei stare calma...seeeeeee come no, hai sbagliato persona. TU. NON PUOI. WRECKARMI IN QUESTO MODO!

I need to update the get to know me post now and put him in the bias wrecker list now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Leedo: I've looked myself in the mirror and cried. Of joy. I got pure bless...

EFSKEOIDFJALFJASLKFJALEKGADKFNSKDAKLSFJADLKFAVNAKLVNUU

Slamming the keyboard was the best thing to do, now I'm ok, maybe

And this is it, I'm emotionally devastated and my throat hurts because I've screamed too much. I'll just leave the last message for them before leaving and reblogging content here on this hellsite.

Vi voglio bene ragazzi, sapessi disegnare vi avrei dedicato una galleria d'arte ಥ_ಥ

Side note: today we also got a special video made by Yonghoon. Today was basically a WeUs family Day. I got blessed ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

Another side note: I swear, if I discover that Dongmyeong was there I'm gonna lose my mind and becoming emotional ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ

#btw there were three other groups that I stan #you know TxT SKZ Ateez #The usual #No I'm not gonna make a post about them #I'll just watch their stuff and slowly dying in the process or going feral #Making a post about Oneus it's enough #Gosh being a multi is surely a bless a struggle and a curse at the same time 😮‍💨#Be intelligent don't be like me #just stan a group or two #that's enough #Btw hope you had fun while reading all of this #oneus #pensieri random

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distressednoise · 8 months

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WIP ask meme

I got tagged in this by sweet summer child @notasapleasure, who has not yet realised that rather than ever "finishing" "fic" I just endlessly rearrange outlines in gdocs and resent myself.

Most of the things I laughingly call WIPs are about a hockey pairing that peaked ten years ago, because I am current and cool and fun, BUT let's say these the two (brassian in the balerics, 197 cabin fic) are real and will be written haha

I am bad at tagging but if you have read any of this please consider yourself tagged! I am ALWAYS down to have a sneak peek of a WIP and do some cheerleading, and also to explain the fics I will not write at great length, so feel free to comment, ask, etc etc etc

Veo Veo (aka the Brassian Magaluf AU, because Cassian is a terrible tourist in every timeline)

So this is a scene from after we meet Cinta and Vel, who are having a far more functional holiday romance than Cassian could ever conscience, and I will probably ditch this version of it for one with different geography and fewer references to masturbating over the queen.

Rich people don’t have any fucking manners, Brasso thinks, as the noises from the bedroom pick up. Or any fucking fears. Vel and Cinta are in there having sex, in front of each and every one of Pegla’s nan’s crocheted donkeys, even the French one whose eyes follow you round the room.

“Are they having sex?” Cassian asks. “They’re having sex.” He’s skinning up, compressing the last of Vel’s weed into one of his tight, neat little joints.

“Bit rude.”

Cassian shrugs, lights, inhales, exhales on a laugh when one of the girls swears. “At least they’re paying the tax,” he points out, taking another hit and then handing the joint over to Brasso. Cassian’s fingers are blunt and thick and bitten-nailed and have no business producing the kind of neurotically compacted, weirdly uniform joints he always rolls. They look too small for his hands. They look lost in Brasso’s, who finds himself holding the joint with slow, exaggerated carefulness and thinking maybe he’s smoked enough already. But then there’s a high, thin noise from the other room, and perhaps he hasn’t.

He inhales and lets himself slide down to the floor, eyes closed, and tries to astral project into a universe where he regularly said things like no Cassian and that’s not my problem Cassian, rather than this one, where he has to say -

“If you’re wanking when I open my eyes I will punch you.”

“No you won’t.”

“It’s grim, Cass.”

“They started it! If we’re all having sex - ”

“We're clearly not.”

“And whose fault is that?”

"The one who said we should talk to the lesbians, probably." Brasso doesn't let himself think about Cassian's reaction to that bit of news, the way he'd leant heavily back into their booth, somehow managed to find his way under Brasso's arm. It didn't mean anything. “You can’t rub one out behind the door like some kind of grubby -”

“I’m not anywhere near the door.” Cassian kicks at his ankle, hooks a leg over Brasso’s. He’s made it to the floor too, then. “I can’t even see it.” Shuffling, clinking. Not the sounds of a man not preparing help himself out. “All I’ve got is you and the queen.”

“As long as you come on the right one,” Brasso mutters. Things next door have really hit their stride, if the knocking is anything to go by. “This is grim.”

“Queen’s loving it.” Brasso cracks open one eye to reassure himself that the china plate with the queen’s face on it remains a safe distance away and instead sees Cassian, hand on his dick and eyes firmly on. Well. The only other person there.

the amount of work is the same (aka the endless Brent Seabrook/Jonathan Toews/Jonathan Toews' collection of chronic illnesses fic)

This would probably be the opening, if I ever actually finished anything!

The summer he was 21, Jonny spent most of his time feeling sickly and tired, drooping miserably along his friends’ lakeside properties and fidgeting his way around the decks of their newly tricked-out fishing boats, too wired to sit still and too tired to sleep, until Seabs had eventually snapped and railed him into unconsciousness during an otherwise disappointing fishing trip on Lake Comox.

The thing with Seabs had turned out to be a bright spot in a confusingly miserable year; one during which he was handed everything he’d ever wanted and while somehow feeling the worst he’d ever felt.

It was shocking, really, how little things had changed.

He owned the boat now, he supposed. They were on a different lake. But Seabs was still an excellent fuck and Jonny’s body was still a traitorous sack of shit, and -

He felt the sharp red sting of the slap before he even registered that Seabs had moved.

“I’m not doing this on my own, Jonny,” Seabs said, squeezing almost painfully at Jonny’s dick. “Get your fucking head in the game.”

So Jonny blinked his eyes open, focused on Seabs’ face, inches from his and so intent he looked furious, and let Seabs hook two fingers into his mouth and jerk his chin down so he could see between them to where Seabs’ hand was wrapped around both their cocks.

“Wander off again and you’ll regret it,” Seabs told him, and Jonny, stuck between the promise of feeling anything and the horror of letting yet another person down, bit down on Seabs’ fingers and came.

That still worked, at least.

#brassian #magaluf au #197 #brent seabrook/jonathan toews #my fic #i call it hopefully #ask meme #no i am not in control of the tenses yes i need help please pretend you do not see them

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lyraeon · 1 year

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I am still just fuming about my bed frame situation.

My mattress is currently sitting in the middle of the floor in my living room, and has been for over a month now.

You see, when I moved here last fall, we couldn't fit the box spring down the steps (big wooden platform thing about the size of the mattress), and my bed frame *needs* that or at least some kind of platform because it's only really an H shape of supports, so my mattress just went on the floor in my bedroom and the frame was left unassembled in the corner until I could afford a different frame or a platform that would fit down the stairs.

Several months later, it comes to the attention of my dad that my bed is still on the floor, and he freaks out and tries to help. Now, normally my dad is very good at helping, but in this specific case, he just. bought the first bed platform he saw that made him go "ah, that should be easy to get down the stairs".

Problem was, what that "platform" was was a set of wooden slats strapped together, meant to bridge across a frame but be foldable. basically the oversized lovechild of window blinds and a Jacob's Ladder. And more accurately than that, it was *two* of said sets of slats, meaning it was made for a frame with a support down the middle as well... but not the H kind of support down the middle I had, one going the same way as the sides. So I told him before it even arrived, "this isn't going to work, it's incompatible with my frame" and he was like "I'm sure you'll figure it out, but if not just sell it off and I'll buy you a different frame". aka while not perfect, my dad was definitely trying his best and trying to help me, so he is only in this story because his "I'm sure you'll figure it out" was only the beginning.

I told some of my friends that the situation was going on and they were like "surely you can jerryrig something" and I was like, there is no way to get these to support the bed, my frame is just not meant for it, etc. This went back and forth with multiple people telling me that I was just being pessimistic and I wouldn't know until I tried.

So I assembled the bed frame, unpacked the wooden slats, and laid them out to show how wonderfully they *just completely flopped* as opposed to being a valid bed platform.

At this point one or two people backed down but the rest were like 'eh just put something in the middle to hold it up" and I was like "do you not understand how heavy I am and that I need my mattress to support me well????"

problem was, at this point, my bed frame was already assembled, and I already couldn't pull it back apart on my own. and I really needed somewhere to sleep. So I begrudgingly did indeed find some other stuff to semi-support the gap between the two slats, but mostly because I couldn't get my frame unassembled and at the time there was no other space in the house big enough to lay out my bed, so it was the only logical way to get some sleep.

enter the next two months of people continually telling me they're gonna come over and help me pull it apart and never showing. Meanwhile I'm basically sleeping on top of a flaccid ladder that's propped up by my grandma's old super sturdy suitcases and stacks of cardboard and my shoulder is worsening again by the day because of it.

during that time I explained the situation to my dad and he apologized for not believing me originally and sent me a new bed frame, so I at least theoretically wouldn't have to just put my mattress on the floor.

so one day I finally get sick of it all, rearrange my living room furniture to make room, and drag my mattress into the living room on my own. There, now if I can convince someone to come over and help they only need to be here for like 5 minutes! the mattress is out of the way, I just need them to yank in one direction on the frame and I'll yank in the other and if we just get either the head or footboard off I can turn the thing in a way that I can get the rest undone by myself.

Except this is such an overexertion that I collapse the next day and wind up in the hospital from dehydration and exhaustion.

Which ripple effects into two weeks wherein I was hospitalized three times before they finally figured out I also had a kidney infection and that's why I couldn't seem to get hydrated on my own, and then I still wind up with a fourth time before it cleared up and by then I was so weak I had to be held up by the firefighters to get up the stairs.

And that also meant that any "hey can you spare 20 minutes of your week to do something for me?" "credit" I felt like I had with any relatives in town got used up on asking them to drive me home from the hospital.

So my bed remains on the living room floor, and my bedroom has been unused for about a month now, and by now I've had to just close the door because I start crying when I look in there. I sold off the slats the other day finally so I don't have to look at them rolled up in the corner anymore, but fuck I miss not being in this big open room every night and not being right underneath where the neighbors are at their loudest.

I could just go ahead and assemble the new bedframe here in the living room, put my mattress on it, surrender to the fact I'm just living in only one room of my apartment now and wasting the other. (and I can't move my computer into the bedroom because it's right under where the neighbor sleeps and since I work at night it'd keep her up) But I don't feel like I gain much by my bed being not on the floor, though it'll be hot enough soon that the air circulation would probably be welcomed. And I don't know if I'll be able to assemble or disassemble it on my own, and don't know if that kind of exertion is just going to break me again.

The landlord has a handyman coming over for some other stuff this week so I'll probably just offer him some cash to help me at this point. Which, mind you, I've offered money to my cousins to help but they just keep ending up too busy or forgetting.

Am I mad at the people who said they'd come over and help but didn't? Yeah, a little. But they have their own lives, and they aren't who put me into this situation.

The half dozen or so people, including my dad, who all insisted that I could make it work SOMEHOW and refused to hear it was impossible until they were actually shown photographic evidence? That's who I'm mad at.

Because as with so many other parts of my life, when I tell people what I'm earnestly capable of, or tell them something isn't going to work, I'm always told to not be a pessimist or that I'll never know until I try or that I'm just trying to get out of putting in effort or whatever else, and then I am pressured to try their solution that I already know isn't going to work before anyone is willing to help me in a way that actually could help. And then I have to pay the price for it in terms of time lost and ligaments injured.

Could I just have not listened to them and not tried to begin with? Possibly, probably. My therapist and I've been talking about why I felt I had to do what they said anyway, and when I gave examples of when I've had to do it in the past she pointed out that those were all at work so I was required to follow orders to some extent, but that if these are supposedly my friends then I should feel ok saying no to them, and if I don't feel ok saying no to them I should look for new friends.

And while I think she's right about the work thing, I also just know that this is going to be a forever part of my life. No one is ever satisfied with what I'm actually capable of, they all want an imaginary faster, stronger, more emotionally stable, not chronically ill version of me. And I made the mistake of trying to achieve that bar for far, far too long, and just tore myself apart even quicker, so now they all are like "but I've seen you do it!" and I'm just.

No.

If I say I can't, I can't. I do not give up easily. I am stubborn to an absolute fault (see, y'know, putting the frame together in a fit of "fine, look, I'll just show you!" for example) and will continue trying to do things for eons past when I should have given up or admitted something wasn't working. I am not "giving up before I've even tried", I've evaluated the situation and seen that that's not going to work within my capabilities (or just flat out the laws of physics in some cases!) and am not going to use up some of my limited reserves on something with a like 3% success possibility when I'm sure there are workable options out there.

ARGH!

#don't mind me just journaling in public #long rant about people treating me trying to operate within the limits of my body's capabilities as 'giving up'#ableism /#edit to add: well I got so mad about the whole thing that I managed to tip the whole thing over and just kick it until it came apart #so uh #step one done at least

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legoflowers · 2 years

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i should have bought a tv on black friday i dont know why i let my mom talk me out of it

#at the time it was like its okay u have ur ipad just buy a tv when we go to pakistan #but i sold my ipad a couple weeks back and watching videos on a tiny phone screen when ur used to a big screen is not fun #also i rearranged my furniture #so my dresser is directly at the foot of my bed #aka the best spot to put a tv #especially because ive been watching more youtube lately #and also pakistan seems a lot farther away now then it did then #i used to just watch tv in the living room but we moved it to my parents room last year when we were decorating for eid #and my dad likes having a tv in his room too much to let us put it back #my cousin was like you can just have my tv i never use it #???? where do i even start with her #like im not just gna TAKE ur tv bro

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pinkczennie · 3 years

Text

Dirty Mind | Yuta (m)

Part of this playlist fic!

Pairing: Yuta x female reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2k

Warnings: 18+ only, mature language, explicit sexual content, protected sex

She’s got a dirtier mind than my mouth.

Holy fuck, the man is hot as hell. I’d let him absolutely rail the shit out of me, you thought to yourself when a mutual friend of yours, Mark, first introduced you to his friend, Yuta, after a victorious soccer game.

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” he smiles, showing off his pearly teeth, as he extends his hand out for you.

His long, black hair tied in a low ponytail that you imagine threading your fingers in between to pull on, and his long fingers painted with black nail polish that you want shoved knuckles deep in your pussy.

You can’t believe you’re having such impure thoughts about someone you just met, but you couldn’t help yourself in the presence of such an attractive person.

“Nice to meet you too, Yuta,” you take his hand in yours and shake hands.

When his attention is no longer on you because someone else came to congratulate Yuta on his win, you continued to gaze at him from afar until you felt a nudge against your arm, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts.

“Hey, are you staring at Yuta?” Haechan asks as he follows the direction of your eyes.

“What? No, I wasn’t,” you quickly deny, hiding your flustered face.

“Oh my god, you totally were!” he gasps.

You groan, “Okay, yes I was staring at him. Sheesh, I didn’t realize how obvious I was making it.”

“Holy shit, are you into Yuta?” he asks.

“Maybe… god, he’s so hot,” you reply honestly. “He probably has a huge dick. Fuck, I would let that man rearrange my guts in all kinds of positions.”

“Ew, okay, I didn’t need to hear that,” he grimaces, disgusted. He wishes he didn’t have that visual in his head.

You meant it though. Bless Mark for introducing you to such a fine ass man.

As a celebration for winning the game, his frat house throws him and the other soccer players that are in the fraternity a party.

Thankfully, you had some connections, aka Mark and Haechan, so you only knew about the party through him and were able to get invited.

Throughout the party, as you mingle with other people and some friends, you couldn’t help but occasionally search the crowd for a certain someone.

Your eyes wander from people to people until you finally spot him with a beer can in his hand while chatting with his friends. Yuta sports a white tee and ripped black jeans, looking fine as always.

Your head is empty besides the thought of riding Yuta’s thighs, staining his pants with your juices while he showers you with praises for being such a good girl.

“Why don’t you just go up and talk to him instead of staring at him like a creep?”

You look at Haechan with narrow eyes, “And say what?”

“I don’t know. ‘Hey I think you’re hot. Wanna fuck?’” he suggests.

“Are you crazy? I just met him like a few days ago, there’s no way I can say that.”

“I mean it’s better than just staring at him like a creep,” he mumbles.

Was I being creepy? You wonder and mentally slap yourself.

You tried, emphasis on ‘tried’, to keep your staring to a minimum of just a few quick glances, but unfortunately, you were not very good at being subtle with your staring because, damn, was it hard for you to look away from Yuta sometimes, so said man has caught you multiple times. He notices you staring at him, and honestly, you peaked his interest. He wonders what you are thinking about when you stare at him like that.

He finds it cute how you would awkwardly look away when Yuta catches you staring, your face turning a shade of pink pretending like he didn’t just catch you.

“Dude, she’s been staring at you all night,” Jungwoo states as he leans against Yuta.

“Yeah, I know,” Yuta says as he takes a sip of his beer. “She’s pretty cute.”

“I can tell she’s into you. I even heard from Haechan that she talks about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Yuta perks up at this new information. “What does she say about me?”

“How you’re hot and that she’d let you rearrange her guts in all kinds of positions,” Jungwoo repeats Haechan’s words.

“Damn, that’s fucking hot,” Yuta mumbles as he bites the nail of his thumb to suppress the grin spreading across his face.

“Why doesn’t she just make a move already? She’s practically making it obvious.” Jungwoo wonders.

Yuta doesn’t think you would dare approach him first, so Yuta knew he had to make the first move.

I want to be the person that you do it to

After way too many drinks, you needed to pee so you excuse yourself to search for the restroom. You’re pretty tipsy but you can walk a straight line, so you can manage yourself just fine.

After using the restroom, you walk down the hallway, passing by the frat member’s rooms, and stopping dead in your tracks when something captures your attention.

You don’t mean to be intrusive and just walk into someone’s room, but when you notice a soccer jersey hung nicely on the wall with the last name ‘Nakomoto’ in full display, you realize this must be Yuta’s room.

You peek around to see if anyone is looking before carefully making your way into his room and close the door halfway behind you. You won’t stay long enough for someone to see you in the room, but you just wanted to see what his room would be like.

His room is quite simple, a bed, a desk, a laptop, a closet, and soccer gear scattered around his room. It was a little messy, like the blanket messily tossed on the bed, and some papers and textbook thrown around the floor, but honestly it was what you typically imagined a male college student’s room to look like. Honestly, it kind of just screams Yuta in your opinion.

You walk up to examine his soccer jersey, imagination running wild with thoughts of Yuta fucking you while you’re wearing his soccer jersey.

Oh, what you would give to make that dream come true to let Yuta do nasty things to you until you’re fucked dumb.

After examining his room and jersey, you turn around to leave but your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you see Yuta leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed around his chest staring intently at you. How long has he been standing there and how did you not even hear him?

“Hey, you. Whatcha doin’ in my room?” The man asks.

“Oh...I-uh was just- um- I wanted to admire your jersey up close,” you laugh awkwardly, cringing at your very lame and probably unbelievable excuse, but it was the best thing you could come up with under pressure.

“Oh really? What do you think about when you look at my jersey?” he asks as he slowly starts to approach you.

You gulp when he’s getting closer and closer to you. “I just thought about how cool you were when you won that soccer game.”

“Oh really?” Yuta stops when he’s standing right in front of you, blocking you from any escape routes. “I think you’d look cute in it.”

Are you just hearing things or did Yuta just say what you think he just said?

You blush, “O-oh, thanks.”

He unhooks his soccer jersey from the hanger and turns to you, “But you’d look even cuter wearing it while I rearrange your guts on my bed.”

You feel your heart skip a beat before your face turns beat red now as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

“So..I heard that you think I’m hot and you’d let me fuck you,” Yuta takes a step closer until his face is right in front of you, looking down at you with dark eyes, “Want to turn that fantasy into a reality with me?”

You feel yourself clench around nothing, and you feel something snap inside you. This devilishly handsome man right here is asking if you wanted to have sex, and who were you to say no? There was no way you were letting this opportunity pass.

“Fuck, yes,” you breath out as your lips attack his in a hungry kiss.

She just wants to fuck me all the time

That’s how you ended up in Yuta’s bed, wearing only his oversized soccer jersey, with your face down ass up, while his dick slams into your soaking cunt at an animalistic pace.

Both your lips are swollen red from kissing and eating each other’s mouths. Your original clothes and his clothes are discarded all around the floor as you both try to strip as fast as possible. You get into his jersey while he rolls a condom on.

The party is still going on outside but the door is locked, so no one can interrupt you two. But honestly, you and Yuta probably would not be opposed to leaving the door unlocked for someone to walk in on you while you’re in the middle of the deed. It just adds to the thrill of being caught.

The blaring music from the living room helps drown out the sound of skin slapping against skin, the moans, and the bed creaking with every thrust.

His length is stretching your walls and filling you to the brim that you can feel every ridge of his dick.

“Damn babe, you feel so good,” Yuta breathes. “Your pretty little pussy being stuffed full of my cock.”

“Y-yuta,” you whimper.

“God, I could fuck you all day until you can’t walk for a week and you’re covered in my marks to let everyone know what a dirty little slut you are,” Yuta purrs.

The dirty talk is making you even more turned on. You can’t believe that this man is actually fucking you right now after fantisizing about this moment for so long.

Yuta watches his member disappear inside of you as he thrusts forward. You look so small in just his jersey and he wants to absolutely ruin you. He couldn’t help but slap your bare butt, causing you to yelp.

You grip the bed sheets and throw your head back when Yuta repositions himself and brushes against a certain spot that had you seeing stars. The bundle of nerves in your lower stomach is ready to burst and you disregard any thoughts of holding back your voice. You were so overwhelmed with pleasure that you could cry. Your mind is clouded with lust and desire that you can’t think straight anymore.

“I’m close,” you breathe.

Yuta’s thrusts become even more harsh and his grip on your hips will surely leave marks. He bites his lips when he feels your walls squeezing around his dick because he feels his release coming soon as well.

With one final thrust, a silence scream escapes your lips as you release all over his cock while Yuta groans as he shoots his seeds inside the condom.

You both pause for a moment, just catching your breaths while Yuta remains still inside of you. Your heads are spinning after that intense climax just now. You both stare at each other’s exhausted and sweaty state.

After a few seconds, he pulls out of your entrance, leaving you feeling hollow and you whine a bit which makes Yuta chuckle. He discards the used condom into his trash bin and settles next to you on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

You turn to admire post sex Yuta, his hair stuck to his forehead due to the sweat that accumulated on his skin and his chest rising up and down as he inahles and exhales oxygen.

You smile before climbing on top of Yuta to take a seat on his lap, surprising the man.

“Round two?” You suggest.

Yuta stares at you with wide eyes, shocked by your stamina of wanting to go again, before bursting out into laughter. “Ride me this time.”

Hopefully, no one will be looking for you or Yuta because you two might be at it for a while.

#yuta smut #nct smut #nct yuta smut #nct fanfic #nct scenarios

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capricious-bastard13 · 2 years

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Love unconditionally

AO3

Tags: *Gasp* Purrrrn with Feelings! I tried making some scenes funny (keyword: tried, aka there’s an insignificant B-plot inserted for my indulgence)

Yup, comm-ed! I can say that word here, right? Well, I’m saying it anyway, lmao. @cebwrites

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It’s not obvious. Not at first at least. It started with little things, rearranging the little knick-knacks in his quarters, sifting through his clothes before ultimately throwing everything out unto the bed to organize them better, helping Rio out with putting cotton and cotton swabs into their respective jars and helping clean his scalpels and medical tools.

Then it proceeded to a day after where he spent the whole day holed up in his room wearing a smarmy grin on his face that barely reached his eyes when he comes out for meals.

Then it came to Kirin suggesting to the rest of the crew if they could scrub the deck as he watches from up above in the Crow’s nest.

Reiji’s the first to notice out of the three of them; not that Law not being with them physically means he’s at fault, but Kirin wouldn’t exactly come out right and tell them what’s bothering him until it’s gotten to a point where he becomes a recluse, trying to wave it off for later with a waning smile on his face and find the need to arrange furniture in specifications and preferred places.

And he has no doubt that Rio did too. Now, it’s been three days since he last contacted Law and a little about a week—7 days—before finally seeing an island to dock at and rendezvous at with the Heart pirates.

Kirin doesn’t know—Reiji didn’t have the heart to tell him because he knows Kirin could spiral even more if someone, more importantly his crew, noticed that something was bothering him.

So, they docked at the nearest island Reiji and Law agreed upon. Now with the crew settling in, and Kirin hiding in his quarters, arranging and rearranging his things—he only has a certain amount of time until Kirin notices that they’ve stopped and demands that the crew clean the entire ship now that they’ve docked.

Briefly, he recalls the way Kirin suggested that the crew should hang onto ropes to see if any barnacles are eating away at their wonderful ship and remove them. The crew had thought he was joking, Kirin chuckling along with the laughter, leaned against the railing as cast a look out at the ocean after a while Kirin had walked off with a small, dismissive wave toward his room.

Rio has made sure that the crew will keep themselves at a distance while he goes to pick their captain up from the hole he’s dug himself into.

It’s a quiet trek to the captain’s quarters, muffled mutterings, and the sound of moving furniture, before he can even knock on the wood, the door swings open revealing Kirin standing shirtless, his leather harnesses loosely hanging off his frame, something tired and melancholic lurking in the depths of his eyes.

“We’ve docked on an island. A local said that it would take about a few days for the log to set.” Kirin’s forehead creases, his mouth twisting and pursing, lips about to part and tongue to move, ready to say whatever it is he’s about to say that he cuts off immediately.

“Come with me. I’m looking for a place for the crew to take refuge in.”

Amber irises flicker with something—a refusal or some rebuttal—but it disappears just as quick as it came. The taller man instead gives Reiji a simple nod of his head.

He nods back. Kirin turns his head to look over his shoulder at his room, eyes scanning his things when his attention gets drawn to the hand slipping into his, palm to palm, fingers intertwining gently, tenderly.

Reiji doesn’t ask when Kirin blinks rapidly, licking his lips before finally taking the first step out of his room. Then another with Reiji taking slow steps back, each step taken out of the room Kirin’s hold on his hand squeezes, and he squeezes back in return.

When the door clicks shut behind the taller man, Kirin’s shoulders tenses just the tiniest bit but Reiji gives him a small smile, turning around and leads him out to the deck.

There’s very few people out and about—and Reiji tells himself to remember to thank Rio for whipping the guys into hiding—Kirin doesn’t seem to notice the fewer people and rather at the state of things which isn’t bad, they’ve had worse days where there’s blood stains on the wood and dried bird shit hiding in some nook they forgot to clean, but Kirin’s expression turns sour, his lips turning down into a frown at the couple of barrels hanging out in the middle of the deck, a sack leaning against one of them.

Reiji gives the hand in his hold a tug, turning in the direction of the gangplank. “Come, we still don’t know how big the town is.”

One more sweeping look around and Kirin meets his gaze once again. His expression is less sour but not entirely pleased at being pulled away from what he’s seeing. “Fine.”

They walk through the forest in relative silence, with Kirin’s shoulders steadily losing its tension, whatever it is he has on his mind physically growing farther and farther away, one step at a time. Carefully, Reiji starts losing speed, taking much slower, leisurely gaits that Kirin follows too, their hands swinging between them—he lets his captain breathe, slow down, restart.

From the corner of his eyes, he watches the way Kirin lets out a shaky breath, his hand relaxing in his hold, and although his shoulders are still tense somewhat, his overall complexion seems better. He can’t help but smile, to see and watch the way Kirin so clearly decompresses from his own thoughts, to break away from the repetitive cycle his thoughts must have become.

They take their time walking through the forest, lets it transform into a bigger groove of trees than it really is.

They’re at a blacksmith’s shop, Kirin asking about his claws and telling the blacksmith that he’ll come back to show his captain’s weapon of choice when a familiar ring cuts through his little moment of just taking in Kirin’s being. Quickly, he steps out of earshot before answering.

“Reiji.”

“Law.” Reiji exhales a breath of relief, “We’ve docked at the island, for the time being Kirin’s exchanging tips and advice with a blacksmith.”

The den den mushi’s lips purse before speaking, “Understood. We’re nearby but it would take a bit of time for us to dock properly.”

“That’s fine, we still have to get a room at a hotel.”

He and Law exchange quick farewells, hanging up promptly. Coming back, Kirin’s watching the blacksmith examine a blade, a smirk in place and Reiji’s chest becomes lighter upon the sight of it.

“What’s going on?” He asks lightly which causes Kirin to jump at the opportunity to ask him his opinions of the blacksmith’s techniques and comments how said blacksmith wouldn’t know a good blade even if it fell onto their lap. The blacksmith lets out a full-bellied laugh, gesturing to the blade on his hands before carefully handing it to Kirin to examine.

Reiji doesn’t join the light-hearted argument although he is impressed by the sharpness of some of the blades displayed on a wall—Kirin’s responses become the cause for the blacksmith to grin cockily, gesturing his hands wildly as he goes into a story of once polishing a legendary sword, free of charge. Kirin gets close enough, listening aptly, hanging onto every word and even asking what the blade had felt like to hold; Reiji takes hold of his hand once again and leads them away.

It’d be best to avoid any sort of derailing or even prolonging in the plan he and Law made for Kirin—if his captain found out that Law is coming to meet up with them, the taller man would quite literally run and jump upon the sight of their significant other, speaking from experience.

Kirin looks through the food stalls and some of the few other weapon-related stores. Window shopping, he’d said as he stopped and stared through a window of a shop or two.

Luckily, it doesn’t take them long to rent out a room at a hotel. Reiji having to make sure that Kirin couldn’t hear as he asked for an available room with a queen-sized bed and attached bathroom.

The person sitting behind the counter had simply looked at him then at Kirin a little way away sharing stories with an older patron before they handed him a key to their room.

“One queen and one bathroom for Law, your room is 0610. Enjoy your stay.”

Reiji gives them a polite smile, taking the key and swiftly tucking it into his pocket. He waves his hand slightly to grab his partner’s attention as he approaches him. “The person said that we’ll need to wait for a bit before our room is ready.”

An eyebrow raises, his grin crooked, “Before our room is ready?” He repeats, “What are you planning?”

Reiji raises his hands, “Not planning anything, some of the rooms just really became vacant, so.” Somehow, his words are convincing enough, but Kirin still gives him a curious little look then shrugs his shoulders.

==========================

It is when they’re at a food stall, trying out the island’s local street food that they spot Bepo, Shachi following behind him casually. And Reiji bites down on the smile threatening to bloom as he watches the way Kirin’s eyes light up subtly, his gaze moving to look around at their surroundings, but his excitement to see Law is as clear as the blue sky above them.

Honestly, he feels the same. That excited anticipation thrumming throughout his being at just the thought of being able to see Law again.

Being away from each other at sea; they may be traversing the same ocean but the distance between them is evident, the distance seeming like a wall insurmountable.

He and Kirin are lucky to have each other close, being the captain and the ship’s swordsman, they are locked together as a package after all—Law however is alone, he has his family with him to care and look out for him but now he can’t help asking himself what Law must feel at certain nights, in certain times. He shakes the thought away; he’ll just ask when the time is right.

Reiji casts a glance at Kirin briefly wondering if that’s what has changed Kirin’s demeanour for the time being before clearing that thought away. It’s not good to assume and to project thoughts onto other people—Kirin will tell them when and if he wants to.

“Kirin!” Bepo beams up at them, his fur as white as the clouds that Kirin immediately latches on to. Running his fingers through the soft coat as he coos at the younger man.

“Bepo.”

Shachi waves a hand at them, “I didn’t know you guys were here,” Reiji and the red-head’s eyes make contact. Ah, so Law informed his crew about them. “We docked just a couple minutes ago, restocking supplies and everything.”

Kirin lifts his head up, looking to Shachi, “How long are you guys staying?”

Shachi shrugs, his lips pursed that suggests he either isn’t sure or just doesn’t bother to know, “More than just a couple o’ days. Maybe closer to a week? Cap’n said that there’s going to be a lot of supplies that needs restocking, so.”

Kirin hums, nodding at his words. Reiji steps up then, a hand pressed to Kirin’s back. Bepo is still within the taller man’s grasp, his hands squishing the polar bear’s cheeks together. Bepo seems to be smiling throughout it all, though. “Where are you guys staying?”

Shachi’s eyes gleam with knowledge before it disappears by the redhead putting his familiar dark shades on from where it was perched on his head a moment ago. Instead, shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. His lips downturned into a quick moue, “Still looking for a place.”

==========================

Penguin is humming something very familiar that Law grimaces at; annoyed. “What are you humming?” He finally asks because he’s heard the tune practically on repeat now from Penguin.

The man looks at him with a cheeky grin, teeth seemingly gleaming under the sun, then with a glint in his gaze, he hums louder, mouthing the words but aren’t speaking—singing—them. Law’s grimace turns his lips downward even more as he rolls his eyes at the other’s antics.

He blocks it out immediately, no doubt the song would be stuck in his head if he heard it anymore. When they enter the hotel, Law makes a straight beeline to the reception desk, “Is there a room under the name Reiji?”

The receptionist looks up and with a polite smile, shakes their head, adding a verbal denial too. For a moment, Law’s face contorts into one of disgruntled annoyance.

“What about under the name Law?” Penguin asks, pausing in his humming to speak. The receptionist beams at them, nodding their nod.

“Yes, there is.” For a moment, the receptionist looks to be about to reach for the keys when they pause, looking Law up and down, then with a sceptical tone, they ask for some sort of relation. Law hesitates, glancing up at the walls.

There are no bounty posters posted, but that doesn’t mean this island wouldn’t call the Navy with hesitation. Penguin though, points a thumb up at him and cheerfully relays that he is Law. A moment of pregnant pause comes. Law bites down his growl, breathing through in his nose, Reiji must have forgotten to bring up what he looks like or something in relation to him.

It takes more time than he’d like but he somehow gets a key to their room—finally—burying the look of absolute hesitation and trepidation in the receptionist’s face, mixed in with a look of amused disbelief and experienced forced kindness at them.

Penguin had waved goodbye at him when he got to his floor whilst Law had to ascend higher to the sixth floor.

10 was easy enough for him to spot, and he is internally grateful when he closes the door shut behind him, finally able to shed off his fur coat and hat, gently laying them down on a large bed. Briefly, he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up further.

He eyes the bundle of pillows and blankets, smiling a small fond smile at the thought of Kirin, and for him to be able to nest for a week or so.

A clock on the wall ticks on by that he waves off as he lays down with relief for being surrounded by quietness. The bed is soft yet firm, he notes before closing his eyes.

==========================

Law is shirtless with his hair dripping—no doubt from a shower, his pants hanging loose on his hips that show off his v-line—when Kirin swings the door open. His eyes widen subtly before a charmingly crooked grin lights his entire face up, cocking his hip as he runs his gaze down Law’s figure before running up to Law and nearly jumping into his arms.

The brunette catches him easily enough—again, through experience of being with Kirin—holding him by the back of his thighs as the taller man’s legs wrap around his waist, a cheek pressed up to the crown of the Heart captain’s head, something suspiciously close to a purr rumbling Kirin’s chest.

Reiji closes the door behind him with a sweet chuckle, walking up leisurely to Law, their lips meeting and resounding with a wet smack in the peaceful quiet. The moment their chaste kiss ends, Kirin’s leaning back to peer down at the brunette’s face, cupping his jaw, thumbing his cheeks lovingly, leaning down for their own kiss. Close-mouthed and chaste, pouring affection and longing for each other into the press of their lips.

Kirin leans back first, looking at Reiji over his shoulder then back at Law, leaning in once again for a kiss, this time open-mouthed and less than just an innocent meeting of their lips.

Law opens his mouth with the barest lick of Kirin’s tongue on his lips, meeting Kirin’s entrance with a small rumble in his throat, their tongues dancing, locking. Reiji gives Law’s cheek a peck, his words echoing in the growing haze between him and the other captain.

When the two captains draw back from one another, dazed looks falling on each other before they turn to watch the way Reiji’s smiling at them, sly yet coy as he sits himself on the bed, patting the space next to him.

Law’s legs move without him realising, gently placing Kirin down on his back. Meanwhile Reiji crawls further up the bed to cradle his captain’s face, carefully tucking away strands of long hair, leaning down to press a tender kiss to Kirin’s forehead.

Kirin sucks in a shaky breath, to be faced with Reiji’s soft ministrations as the sensation of Law’s hands travelling the expanse of his midriff causes a pleased shiver to run down his spine, heat pooling and tangling into a ball of excited anticipation in the depths of his stomach, makes his toes curl in his boots.

There’s a soft exhale of breath when Reiji’s lips trail down the bridge of his nose, lightly pressing pecks to his cheek, then the other, travelling to his parted mouth, lightly biting down on Kirin’s lip.

A breathy groan escapes that Reiji chuckles a little at, then softly he shushes Kirin’s growing whines, leaning in to finally kiss his captain again, letting Kirin lead, lets his tongue explore, swallowing down the pleasured groan that Kirin lets out when Law’s hand massages his hardening cock through fabric.

Reiji looks up, eyes half-lidded as he catches the moment Law lays on his stomach, Kirin’s thighs within his grasp as he places their partner’s legs around his head, dragging lips across sensitive thighs, the scruff of the Heart pirate’s jaw sending jolts throughout Kirin’s body, his hips lifting on their own accord. Chasing after that sweet friction against his inner thighs.

Tattooed fingers make their way to Kirin’s shorts, unbuttoning and unzipping. Kirin pulls away from Reiji’s kiss to look down, his eyes dark, amber gaze eclipsed by his pupils, mesmerised by the way Law’s hands drag his shorts down, his cock twitching in the air.

Reiji looks down at his captain with a brow raised, Kirin responding with a smug grin before it’s replaced by an open-mouthed gasp as Law licks from the base of his cock to the head, swirling his tongue around the tip, teasingly dipping the tip of his tongue to his opening.

One of Kirin’s hands reaches up to grab Reiji by the back of his head, all but slamming their lips together into a sloppy lip lock. Resisting the urge to bury himself down into Law’s throat, Kirin does his best to focus on the way Reiji’s hands cradle his face, practically sluggish in their movements as it goes down to his neck, thumbing at his bobbing Adam’s apple as the other hand trails lower to his chest to cup him. Tweaking a nipple, pulling, and rubbing between a forefinger and thumb.

Law switches from licking and trailing his lips, nipping, to suckling on Kirin’s cock head, as he moves his hand closer to Kirin’s folds, thumbing and lightly pressing down on his hole.

Reiji pulls back leisurely, their lips smacking with the separation, watching for a moment as Kirin’s eyes flutter, breathy sigh exhaled before leaning over his chest, fondling the breast in his hold while he nips at the other nipple, sucking and playing the nub with his tongue.

Kirin’s hands move with Reiji’s body, his palms crawling to his swordsman’s approaching thighs, grabbing him by the back of his thighs to align his clothed crotch to his face. The brunette complies, moving further down with butterfly-light nips and kisses. Kirin nuzzles at the presented cock, briefly grimacing at the fact that his tongue is met with fabric when he tried giving Reiji a wet lick.

Law moves further down to give Reiji space, letting the swordsman focus on their captain’s pulsing erection whilst he laps, suckles at Kirin’s folds, heat meeting his tongue when he dips into his hole, to lick and taste him once again. A sweet moan shaking his entire body upon getting to taste Kirin after weeks, months of not meeting.

Kirin meanwhile focuses on trying to pull Reiji’s trousers down, just enough to get his dick to spring free from its confining fabric. The length nearly slapping him in the face when he succeeds.

The swordsman groans as he takes his lover deeper into his throat, moaning and swallowing around the mouthful, taking measured breaths to let the weight of Kirin’s cock settle on his tongue.

Kirin’s thighs quake at the double stimulation—his hole and his length so wholly focused on, slow and steady that he briefly forgets about the tip of the cock he’s nipping on.

Law emerges from Kirin’s legs just as Kirin swallows Reiji without any preamble, the two of them swallowing around each other.

The Heart captain unbuttons his pants, pooling around his ankle, hand wrapping around a red-tipped erection, pre-cum already leaking, stroking himself for a moment before stepping out of the pool of cloth, taking Kirin’s leg, dragging down to take his partner’s shoes off.

Reiji pulls away with a pop, spit-slick lips, slight sheen of saliva dripping down the corner of his mouth, down his neck. Kirin is pulled away when Reiji pushes himself to stand, out of the bed to take his clothes off too.

When Law’s done with Kirin’s shoes, he stands by the edge of the bed, gripping the taller man’s long legs, pulls him across the mattress, wrapping a leg around his waist and Kirin taking the initiative to place his other leg and perches it upon the brunette’s shoulder.

Law takes his cock in his hand, eyes locked on Kirin’s as he strokes himself, gathering the pre-cum into his palm with every upstroke to spread to the rest of his length, squeezing himself at the base and head every pointedly. Kirin’s eyes flutter as he watches on, digging his heel into the other man’s lower back to get on with it.

But Law simply ignores the demand, instead lets his pre-cum drip, leaning himself forward, sticky, and warm even on Kirin’s skin, mixing with the sweat, glistening against the light. With a sigh, he teasingly presses his tip to the other’s twitching hole, tracing his folds rather than entering. It makes Kirin roll his eyes, annoyed even through the haze of want and longing.

Just as he opens his mouth to complain, Law pushes in deep, swift, within a breath that leaves Kirin’s lungs as a gasp.

Reiji strokes his face meanwhile, both of their gazes following the way Law’s pelvis meets with Kirin’s, skin slapping skin, wet and messy, loud that vibrates in the air.

Somehow, Kirin’s starting to lose his breath, lifting his hips to meet the thrusts given to him, head trying to burrow into the mattress that’s interrupted with Reiji turning his head to face the side of the bed instead. Kirin doesn’t even need to see clearly for him to open his mouth wide, practically breathing Reiji’s length in, keens at the way the weight on his tongue sets, muffled moans as his swordsman hits the back of his throat.

It’s all so languid, unhurried despite the sting that Law deals onto the skin of his inner thighs, controlled in the way Reiji fucks his throat to the point that he can feel the way it stretches the skin of his throat.

Warmth blooming in his chest; revelling at the way his body sings with the attention, respect and reverence with each hand touching him, holding him. Caressing his skin, their lips haven’t left a mark, trailing themselves, marking themselves into him in a different manner instead. The heat of them searing down to the bone.

Reiji pulls away to let him breathe properly, hovering over him to kiss at the expanse of his shoulder and neck, nipping painlessly as he moves across him.

Law pulls out now too, divine in the way he grabs silver-haired man to turn on his stomach, tender in the way he positions his legs to bring his ass up, chest pressed down into the soft mattress below.

He can’t breathe, breaths stuttering, causing him to hiccup with each inhale he tries to make when a pair of hands cradles his jaw, thumbs stroking the skin beneath his eyes, shushing him gently against the haze of it all.

Kirin squeezes his eyes closed then, lips start trailing down his spine, leaving the softest butterfly kisses to his skin that leaves him sniffling, trembling out of his own skin as he tries to stifle the sob that leaves him.

“You’re okay, Kirin,” Law whispers into his skin, the words blooming like a tattoo, seeping to his bones, and leaving him breathless and shaking and his chest hurts and his eyes sting.

“It’s okay.” Reiji kisses the words to his cheeks, tucking his hair behind his ear.

He shakes his head because it’s not and how could they say it so easily; that it’s okay?

“Focus, Kir.”

Kirin does, he blinks through the pooling tears to look up at Reiji then to Law over his shoulder, catches the way Law nuzzles against his skin, dragging lower before he stands straight again, entering Kirin once again.

Reiji leads his head to face forward, thumb and forefinger gentle in the way it pinches his chin. Kirin doesn’t know when the swordsman had gotten back on the bed, but the thought is thrown out the window when he takes the brunette back into his mouth.

Kirin comes with a strangled groan, hips twitching as Law grinds down, Law’s balls pressed to his folds, pushing, and grinding down. There’s a hand on his lower back and a hand on the back of his head, carding through sweaty locks.

He pulls back from Reiji, meanwhile Law still stays buried although not as deep. He looks at them, the words silent yet understood.

Law grips him by the hips, purposefully digs his fingers to his flesh while Reiji’s hand on his hair grips him, silver strands tangled in his long fingers.

==========================

Shachi tilts his head side to side rather robotically, humming growing louder and louder. Penguin snickers, joining in on the humming. When Bepo approaches them, he cocks his head in question, the two of them shrugging their shoulders.

When Law meets Bepo in the lobby a few days later, Bepo is humming a very familiar song.

#My Writing #One Piece #Trafalgar Law #Trafalgar Law x OC #LawRin #Shachi & Penguin kept humming Rasputin #And infected the whole crew #Bepo is also humming Rasputin #Law doesn't say anything because he doesn't want Bepo to look sad

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