#how big is the sun in the sky?

[tanadrin]

the inability to use modern expressions like "jesus christ" and "oh my god" when writing people speaking in a modern, colloquial fantasy in fiction is actually really awkward sometimes. because almost anything you replace it with is going to sound naff as hell. tempted to just leave the culturally-contextual oaths in and trust people to understand that they're translation conventions. turn linguistic smeerps into rabbits, as it were.

[angelmush]

magenta smoothie 4 breakfast, vibrant vase of tulips 4 my gf, black dragon dog 4 sharing the couch with, and a big stack of notebooks 4 writing

[heliosphere-underthesky]

The Suns' reaction to Sunfish. Emperor Helios got himself a high tech modded Switch so it doesn't melt away (from Earth's home, and probably modded by the local mechanic, Mars). He played ACNH and that's how he finds out that a fish is named after him. Sun Dad? He's been there before. It was quite the experience.

@owlygem Hiii I saw you were open for spacey asks, idk what to ask (for now) so I hope you don't mind me drawing our Suns together!

I've always wanted to do so, but I was pretty shy. I hope you like! Your Sun is such a cutie, I've always admired him from afar 😅

[xenomorphicdna]

On the string propaganda

Heeellll yeah

Bestie is an entire PLACE

I look at those guys and let me tell you the soul of that thing ain't just in the puppet, it's in all the neurons carrying the thoughts and emotions, it's in the power rails that serve as the heart. All the memories in the memory conflux and all the numbers we see flicker across displays, the flux condensers, the puppet; a little avatar.

No way these massive machines see life the same way we do. They have their own experiences and senses and things they hold dear. A world we can't imagine, a way of living we couldn't even comprehend.

I could never tear an iterator apart to be just a puppet. Who am I to decide how's life supposed to be enjoyed or perceived?

You treat your creechurs however you want- I ain't gonna dictate that. But damn, hearing the thrums and buzzes of the linear systems rail? They are alive with so much power, these mechanical beasts are exactly what they should be.

[skyward-floored]

what sort of hobbies does everyone have? 👀 (IAU)

- hero-of-the-wolf

Lotsa stuff!

Twilight likes to read, though he likes sports a fair amount too. He’s good at throwing, and frisbee is a favorite of his (as a human or wolf). Also anything with the outdoors or animals, he likes hiking especially.

Legend likes just about everything as a hobby. Reading, gardening, models, sports, art, music, sewing, cooking... you name it, he’ll try it. Some he likes more than others though.

Wild likes to cook, of course. Dinner, dessert, sweet or sour, you name it, he wants to cook it. He also likes hiking though, and going on nice long runs.

Hyrule especially loves to do anything outside. Hiking is a big favorite, though he has to bring someone else or he’ll get lost. Very easily. He’s also got a little collection of rocks and some other little things he’d found over the years.

Wind likes flying kites, playing music, and swimming. Going to the lake, river, ocean, anywhere there’s water. Or wind. If it’s windy he loves it. He wants to get a sailboat when he’s older, he really wants to learn how to sail.

Four likes just seeing how things work. He likes taking things apart and putting them back together which is a fine enough hobby but is a bit of a problem when you’ve taken apart the toaster and haven’t put it back yet and it turns out everyone wants toast for breakfast. He also likes reading, and building little models, and... math. For some reason he likes doing math. His siblings don’t get it.

[hcdragonwrites]

River (Jttw-Monkeybuisness)

Ok I wrote another thing for @jttw-monkeybusiness there art inspires me and makes my brain itch and honestly I love Sophie to death so here you go!

And yes I suck at naming things when they are snippets of stuff I just usually name it what it’s about.

‘Getting water should be easy’ Sophie thought.

However it seemed that whatever gods were watching their trek today through China must have been bored and made this their entertainment for the evening.

Force the girl Buddha had plucked out of time to get water. Well it was unfair to assume it was the Buddha but whatever magical force actually had pulled her out of her time? Well that being was a massive dick. Sophie strained her arm, feeling the sway of the tree branch she clung to bobbed under her weight.

The banks of this river were steep as Trip and the group were making their way through mountains. The steep sides slide right into the dark water, rushing by in silent swirls of black- and offering no safe place for any traveler to easily reach it. The tree branch that Sophie now climbed upon, hung low enough off the steep riverbank, almost kissing the water with its bark. Moss had begun to grow from its limbs from the constant moisture. It offered Sophie a perfect opportunity.

She had both legs and arm hooked around the branch as it swayed, one free hand straining forward and dipping the water skins into the dark flow.

Jesus it’s freezing, she thought as her fingers dipped beneath the black current. Must be a runoff from a snow melt… If she fell into it she would be soaked and cold to the bone. Sophie shook herself, scattering that intrusive thought.

‘Only two more skins to go…’. She yanked the first one up, muscles burning. She lay flat, stomach hugging the branch and trying not to slip. Sophie wasn’t the most athletic person but she wasn’t a pushover either. Getting water was something she could do. Maybe she couldn’t fight Gods and humble the heavens like Wukong. Maybe she couldn’t breathe underwater and spear demons like Sandy.

Pigsy- well he was a fighter but mostly she had seen him run either away from a fight, pick a fight with Wukong, or fight to run towards women. Most of the time those women were demons in disguise that Wukong warned about. Sandy and her had a betting game going on silently between themselves as to which women were women and which were demons that wanted to devour Trip or herself. Mostly Trip but sometimes she would be mentioned.

So far the score was tipping in Sandy’s favor(who guessed mostly that the women they ran into were real women)- but only because the last village they had been in had been plagued by a child devouring rat demon. It was a morbid kind of way to make light of a situation that just kept recurring as Pisgy never learned.

Tripitaka even had his own abilities to commend, if some of those abilities didn’t translate over to combat. Staying still, meditating, being able to see the good in everyone - Sophie could hear Wukong now, thoroughly ripping into Trip for that belief- those were all traits that helped.

Sophie- a Girl out of time- was determined to have her own uses.

And if that was just doing minimal tasks then she would be GRAND at them!

She uncorked the last water skin and dipped it beneath the water as twilight began to descend into the gorge. The water turned black by the lack of light made Sophie’s stomach twist just a bit. There’s nothing in the water Sophie- nothing at all.

Her reassurances fell short. She had seen too much of demons and gods and magical mojo to really believe that nothing was staring up at her.

What happened next was a factor of several things. The first of those things we can lay blame at the feet of one Monkey King.

Sun Wukong had been given the task of collecting some fresh meat for the stew Trip was preparing and had sent Wukong to find some. The meat was mostly for Sophie and the rest but Trip would also partake. Being a Buddhist he usually kept to a strict vegetarian diet of noodles and soups. However, even he understood that on the road the pilgrims did not have much choice in diet.

So Wukong had gone, easily catching several rabbits and a large goose from further down the river. After his return and depositing them at Pigsys feet to be cleaned and prepped, Wukong was disappointed in the lack of praise. Usually bringing in a haul of food would give him some thanks- however the person that usually did the thanking was … missing.

“Where is the Reader?” Wukong demanded, arms crossing and tail lashing in annoyance.

Pigsy looked up at him from beneath bushy eyebrows. “Sophie,” Pigsy drawled, taking the first rabbit and cutting it clean of its pelt, “went to fill the water skins.”

“Alone? No one thought to go with her?” Wukong made a scoffing noise. Between her and the Monk there had been too many occasions where a demon had taken them as bait to lure out the infamous Monkey King. Didn’t she know by now that she couldn’t just wander off?

“She is not a Child, Brother.” Sandy interjected. The great water demon was sitting cross legged at the fire, stirring the pot. As Pigsy quickly and methodically cleaned the animals, Sandy was just as quick in adding them to the stew. The aroma was already becoming tantalizing. “She wanted a task and was given one. You know she does not like to be idle when there are things to do.”

“I wasn’t saying idleness was the correct answer.” Wukong picked at an invisible dust mote on his sleeve and flicked it away. He was feigning boredom when in reality he felt an itch under his fur. It was his responsibility to keep the mortals safe on this quest.

That included Trip and Sophie. The monk was easy to keep in one place, unless there were people that kept begging for help. Which - happened more than Wukong would care to admit.Sophie was … not so easily manageable.

That stupid women wanted to be as helpful as possible. Whether that be fetching supplies in town, carrying messages for the monk, or even tending to Yulong, she was always trying to keep busy. Which wouldn’t have been a problem for the Monkey King if it didn’t make his fur itch terribly so.

The itching would only go away after he knew she hadn’t gotten eaten by some wannabe river god.

“She needs to wait until I am back. Then she could have asked me for my help and I would have obliged.”

“I think the monkey likes Sophie.” Pigsy mock stage whispered, earning a murderous glare from Wukong. Pigsy flinched back, rubbing at the phantom pain on his head from the last time he had egged Wukong on a bit too much.

“She is only down by the river.” Sandy peacefully interjected before Wukong to react to Pigsys tone. “Just past the bend- I made sure she knew not to go farther.”

At least Sandy knew how danger inclined the mortals in their group were.

Wukong turned and left the camp, walking to the river not far off. The women wasn’t too far away to warrant an escort- she had learned from the last couple of times of almost being devoured or snatched up to not wander so far- but his fur wouldn’t lie flat on his shoulders. It itched terribly so. The sooner he could see her, the sooner the itching would go away.

As he came around the bend he saw her. Sophie was clinging to a tree that looked like it could be swept away into the river at any moment, legs hugging the branch as one hand dipped into the water. Her hair hung down, almost skimming the black surface. Wukongs fur stopped itching and he smoothed it down. Since no one but he was near Sophie to see, and she being too occupied by the river to even notice, he decided to indulge himself and stared openly.

When she had first joined their pilgrimage he had been pissed. Another human to take care of, to babysit, to feed was not what Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, had signed up for. If he was being honest with himself, none of this pilgrimage was what Wukong had voluntarily signed up for.

Sophie was strange to boot. Fair of skin, eyes and hair, she looked like a spirit from some heavenly court. However she did not act like any women in the Jade Emperor's Palace, because on one of the more ridiculous of their days where The monk had almost been married to a demon queen and Wukong had to break through and kill a little too much, Sophie had let loose a string of curses that were so foreign and colorful that the Monkey King had been momentarily shaken from his indifference at her to turn and inquire to what those phrases even meant.

It had been the start to something Wukong would never admit openly to. It had grown since that day as he learned that, while she may look pretty, she was no women in courtly garb or village outpost. She had a sharp mind, always asking questions and trying to figure out the why and the how of everything. Why did Wukong have a staff that could shrink and be tucked in his ear? Where had Wukong learned to shapeshifter? How had he been able to master duplicating himself with just a bit of fur and spit?

Sophie was open about questions of herself- where she had come from, what she had done before (something about being an artist) and why she looked the way she did (this last bit was rude on Wukongs part and had had the monk use the circlet around his brow as a reprimand. ‘We don’t ask why they look a certain way Wukong," he had said. The Monkey king had not meant it rudley- more or less he just wanted to know where in the world other people like her existed - that looked like her.)

She didn’t like blood so that was a bit of a downside. But an upside was she wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe when the Monk was being so incredibly and unreasonably unfair in his punishments. Wukong didn’t kill too much. Just enough.

Wukong hadn’t had anyone stick up for him like that.

So Sun Wukong decided to play- though no one else would see it as such. Tormenting and teasing and egging and goading were usually not considered human equivalencies of play. On Flower Fruit Mountain those had been the height of games and pastimes. Finding the little things that would itch someone’s skin, that could in turn get right beneath the armor of good words and embarrass the person enough to stumble out of their rehearsed facade and reveal the true self was a specialty of the Monkey Kings. He had done so with all the attendants in Heaven, with all the would-be demon conquerors that marched onto his doorstep. Dig at something long enough and you will find what makes them tick

So Wukong poked at Sophie’s person. He took things from her bag when bored and kept them away (it wasn’t hard and he didn’t have to even make himself bigger to do so). Wukong would try and goad her into playing pranks with him, sometimes even dragging her halfway through one before letting her know that it was a prank. He would answer her questions, insult her intelligence by calling her stupid women, and challenge her on her moral standings. He did everything in the monkey fashion that would be considered teasing and mildly bullying to figure out who she was.

He didn’t realize till it was too late that this had become more than a game to him. He was enjoying this.

Wukong didn’t get to watch her openly. Pigsy would think him infatuated with her and then he would become insufferable. That couldn’t happen. So Wukong would steal glimpses, brush shoulders, take hidden moments like when Sophie had turned to him, eyes shining and bright, and had begged to be lifted up so she could pet a few monkeys perched within a tree. Wukong could still feel the weight of her on his arm, the smell of her. She had been so enamored with the monkeys above that he didn’t have to worry. He could watch her without disguise.

Like he was now. Her face was screwed up in concentration, lip between her teeth as she corked the water skin and swung it onto the bank. She may be a weak mortal but she had good aim. Sophie placed the last one in the water, blue eyes glittering in the twilight. He would have to teach her how to properly hang. She was so limited in movement on that branch, clinging to it like a cat. It was improper and she could still easily slip into the water and be lost. It was a good thing Wukong was here then.

So it was, in part, the Monkey Kings fault for what happened next. And in part, Sophie’s mind is at fault. Wukong was as silent as a tiger, walking up and onto the tree without a sound. And as he was silent and watching, Sophie’s mind was loud and preoccupied.

She only had one more skin to fill but her mind wouldn’t let go of the thought of there being some beast or creature watching her. Waiting for her. It was just like the irrational fear children get when they swim into the deep part of a swimming pool- that somehow someway a shark would come from the clear cemented depths and devour them.

Only- this wasn’t a clear swimming pool. And this wasn’t some childhood fear anymore. Sophie had seen Tripataka almost go underwater from a river monsters grasping hands. If it hadn’t been for Sandy at that time, the monk would have drowned. She shivered. The sooner she got back to camp and away from the spooky dark water and the night, the better.

“There!” She felt the weight was sufficient enough and quickly corked the water skin. Sophie could get down now, off this tree and back into the warm and comforting light of the fire. Maybe she could ask Wukong for another of his stories- well histories as he called them. He was good at telling stories- if they were centered around himself. She went to throw the water skin, already calming down—

Eyes.

Glowing eyes watching her from above. Something human shaped in the foliage—

“Fucking shit!”

Panic set in and instinct. She flinched back, dropping the skin—

And slipping headfirst into the water. The cold shocked her body, screaming for her to get UP GET OUT DANGER- and she kicked back to the surface, spluttering. The current however was stronger than she thought and was already yanking her down to begin with. Her clothes were a weight that the water happily tugged down, mangling it with the current.

Something shot out and grabbed her around the middle and pulled.

OH GODS THERE IS A WATER DEMON THATS IN HERE! Sophie swung out, flailing wildly to get free. Her hands hit something but it was like hitting stone. She would not end up as someone’s meal or bride or servant or anything else. The thing that had a grip on her didn’t let go. But it didn’t haul her under- it hauled her up. As she breached the surface, she spat water from between her lips, her hair blocking her face.

She breathed in just enough air to start threatening.

“WHOEVER OR WHATEVER YOU ARE, JUST KNOW IF YOU EAT ME YOU WILL REGRET IT.” Sophie breathed in more air so she could get louder- if she was loud enough maybe Sandy or Pigsy would hear. If Wukong was back he would definitely hear her. She had to fight until she could get enough air in her lungs to holler louder. She swung again, connecting to what felt like a face- but it was like runing her hand into a brick wall. “I HAVE A FRIEND WHOS THE BEST MONKEY IN THE WHOLE WORLD WHO WILL SKIN YOU—“

Another hand caught her wrist, holding away. Sophie would just have to swing her free hand around and —

“Stop fucking flailing women you will bring the whole branch back into the river !” The person hissed and Sophie paused. She pulled the wet hair out of her face with her free hand.

“Wukong?”

The Monkey King was holding her close, one arm wrapped around her middle and the other holding one of her previously flailing wrists. His eyes were narrowed to angry yellow slits.

“You idiot who else would it be ?” His face was wet from where Sophie must have obviously punched him and splashed water at him.

“What are you doing out here- I thought-“

“I came to fetch you since you were taking so long and everyone was worrying about you.” He adjusted his grip, and hopped off the branch and back onto solid earth. “Then you had to go and dunk yourself into the river like a fool and I had to fish you out. I was also able to get the water skin you almost lost. ” He held up the skin, tossing it onto the bank.

“I didn’t dunk myself in the river !” Sophie pushed off of Wukong and he let her go, crossing his arms. “If you weren’t spookily hiding in the branches with your glowing eyes I wouldn’t have panicked and lost my grip!”

“I can’t believe you hit me…”

“Of course I would hit you! I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS YOU!” Sophie shouted.

“You should know me enough by now that I’m not like every other gripping demon out there!”

“Wukong how would I know when I’m half drowning in the water and I can’t see you?!” Sophie countered. He rolled his eyes, collecting the cast off water skins she had thrown onto the bank, grumbling about mortals and being blind.

“What were you doing?”

Wukong didn’t reply to her, his tail twitching agitatedly. Sophie looked down at herself. She was drenched from head to bare foot in water. Her skin was already starting to break out in goosebumps as the sun sank behind the mountains, casting the gorge into shadow.

“Why were you hiding in the branches?” Sophie pressed, collecting her shoes and holding them in hand. She would have to be careful walking back not to step on anything. Putting her shoes on now would only get them wet from her pant legs being sodden. Wet shoes were also not fun to walk in and they had a long trek tomorrow. Trip wanted to get to the next monastery and have as he liked to call it “an honest meal” which mostly consisted of mushrooms, noodles and broth. Trip was a vegetarian by nature but on the journey he did at times have to make sacrifices.

“Again I wasn’t hiding. The great Sun Wukong doesn’t hide.” Wukong replied, combing his wet fur back into place. “I was coming to fetch you and bring you back for supper. It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“Did you call out to me?”

“I was making enough noise a deaf and blind beggar could have heard me!” Wukong patted his pant leg where the majority of the water had gotten onto him. It wasn’t as bad as the full drenching Sophie had taken.

Sophie could smell the lie even as Wukong ignored her angry glower.

“Bull-bull s-shit!” She challenged but it came out between chattering teeth. Fuck it got cold fast.

Wukong paused in his own musings, hands pausing in inspecting himself and turned. He peered up into Sophie’s face, so close that he was almost nose to nose. The Monkey King looked at her eyes, down to her lips, then across the rest of her.

“Um… Wukong?”

“You're cold.” Wukong tapped his own lips, and pointed out the raised goose flesh on her arms. “Blue lips and bumps mean cold” His voice was much softer now. “Stupid women.”

He stepped back, hands crossing over his chest again. He looked her up and down then demanded “Take that off.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I���ll turn around, just take off your wet shirt!” Wukong shouted back. “You have those dry … er, shorts right?”

“Yes back in my bag.”

Wukong nodded once.

“Good. Take off your shirt.” He turned around, good to his word.

Sophie did so- shivering as the cold air clung to her skin. The cloth was heavy with water and she sighed. It wouldn’t be dry until well into tomorrow- she would be forced to wear her ‘otherworldly’ clothing. It was fine by her but if they stopped by a village it also meant she would have to wait outside. Sophie had learned the last time that walking into a village with odd clothes could be one of several different reactions, all mostly negative and involving the villagers calling her a demon or witch. Or throwing rocks at her. As she peeled herself free from the sodden clothing the night air kissed her skin and sent her teeth chattering harder. “D-done.”

Wukong hadn’t turned around but he had divested himself of his own robed shirt, holding it out and behind himself. Sophie tried not to stare at his back too long.

“Put it on.” It was kindness Sophie wasn’t expecting. Wukong, the last time he had given her his shirt to wear, had been an order from Tripataka. She had to wash her clothes after a heavy rainstorm had her falling in mud. Of course she had had no spare tops- they all needed to be washed from the travel smell and the dirt. So Trip had ordered Wukong to give up his shirt. It hadn’t been willing kindness but Sophie had still taken it as that.

But this? This was unexpected. Sophie opened her mouth to reply when Wukong continued, “I can’t believe I’m going to have to wash it again of your stink.”

Well so much for kindness. Sophie thought. First the monkey had scared her into the river. Then he had rescued her and blamed her for falling in? All because she couldn’t hear him? She didn’t believe that- not for a second. Great Sage Equal to Heaven Sun Wukong had not been walking loudly. He hadn’t even tried to call out to her to get her attention. What had he been doing when he was on the branch? How long had he been there?

Well, Sophie thought, I should be more aware of my surroundings- or at least not let my mind run away with the rest of my senses.

Though in all fairness if Wukong had wanted to sneak up on her, she would never have known. He was too quiet for his own good and it played into how well he could slip frogs into Pigsys blanket roll.

Sophie shrugged the shirt up and over her head, feeling the residual warmth from Wukong already transferring to her skin.

“At least you won’t get sick and worry the Monk.” Wukong said. Sophie tapped his shoulder and he turned. Without asking, he grabbed her sodden shirt and held it out in front of him.

He may have caused her to fall in. He may have been trying to scare her or something else. But he had pulled her out of the river. He had given her his shirt- free of an order. Sophie was beginning to read the guilt through his actions. Whatever Wukong had meant to do- he hadn’t meant to do that.

“…. Thank you Wukong.”

He grunted, holding Sophie’s shirt in one hand like someone would hold a gross bug.

“What would you do without me? You are completely incapable of keeping yourself safe. Too weak to fight, and too uncoordinated to even balance properly. What were you doing using only one arm for the water? You should have hooked your legs over the trunk instead. ” Wukong walked only a pace ahead of Sophie, slowing whenever she winced over the ground. At least the ground was only slightly rocky here.

“Maybe I wouldn’t fall in rivers because the person that is so worried about my safety didn’t just scare me half to death.” She shot and Wukong merely grinned wider.

“ It seems you forget how to say ‘You are Welcome Wukong’ ! It was just a dip in the water and I was right there to keep you from drowning.”

“Uh huh.”

“ It was needed.” He sniffed the drenched clothing and grimaced, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “You did stink.”

“Oh hahaha let me laugh it up- not like there’s soap and a bathtub waiting at every spot we stop.” Sophie rubbed her arms, pulling her hair back from her face to tuck behind her ears. “You stink too when you come back from slaughtering half a hoard of demons ya know?”

“I take care of myself. Unlike you.”

“I thought you were some river monster coming to drown me and eat my bones you ass.” Sophie tilted her head and squeezed some water off the edges of her hair. She was going to need a brush, the bits of hair already curling and tangling together. “Lurking in the shadows above me is not a way to reassure a girl you aren’t there to devour them.”

“All the more reason,” Wukong crowed, “Not to go without an escort. If you are going to go anywhere, you have to take me with you. You are in a King's care after all. It reflects badly upon my own standing as King and guardian of this pilgrimage if you end up between the teeth of some demon. Mortals like you and the Monk should know this by now.”

“Sandy knew where I was.”

“And look at the good that did you.”

There was no popping Sun Wukongs bubble of pride- he had already wrapped this story up as a great rescue of some kind. He didn’t grin about it, but Sophie could see he was indifferent to the chaos he had caused her. She wished she could throw him sometimes. Maybe he would think twice about scaring her if she could dunk him in a river.

“…stupid monkey.”

Wukong turned at that, grinning now with all teeth. The game was afoot now in full force and he felt it.

“What we’re you saying as I pulled you up? Something like “A friend whos the best monkey in the world?’”

“If he really was the best he wouldn’t have half drowned me.” Sophie pointed out, sniffing. They were nearing the fire, and the smell of Sandy’s stew was enough to make her stomach give an audible gurgle.

“I didn’t.” Wukong corrected, helping her over a bit of prickly thorn bushes without being promoted. Maybe he did feel a smidge guilty then. He usually had to be begged to assist - or ordered by Trip. “ You slipped. It’s not my fault you can’t hear or see, stupid women.”

“Keep telling yourself that Wukong. Maybe you’ll make it true.”

As Sophie entered the camp she was bombarded from all sides by the concern of her fellow pilgrims. Sandy rose from the fire- a bowl of stew already being shoved in her hands. Pigsy threatened and yelled at Wukong enough that both of them started to get into a spat. Tripitaka had to stand, to command them to stop before it escalated from mere name calling to physical fighting. Trip then held out Sophie’s bag and she gratefully took it and dipped behind a bit of greenery several paces beyond to change out of her drenched pants and into the comfy pajama shorts and a comfy hoodie. When she came back Pigsy was still growling out threats while a disinterested Wukong cleaned his nails. He looked up briefly at her then away.

“When we reach the next village we will grab you a spare.” Tripitaka spoke around a bowl of noodles. He had opted just for noodles tonight, leaving the meat to the rest of the group. His smile was kind and apologetic. “Sophie you will probably have to wait outside the village till we can get you a replacement.”

She nodded. She could risk going into the village with her regular attire on but … being chastised and poked at by the villagers was not a pleasant experience. Once was enough for her.

“When you guys go into the village could you ask for some healing balm- or maybe a big hat?” Sophie looked to Sandy. “The sun is really starting to burn my skin and I only have so much left of my other world stuff.” Trying to describe the items in her bag at times left different reactions from the group- or more questions. Sophie didn’t want to answer those questions at the moment, hungry and cold.

Sandy nodded, passing a bowl to Wukong on her right. “I will ask for you, Sophie.”

As the group dug into their suppers and then settled for the night, Sophie was glad the fire was banked high. The chill was being chased from her bones and, even if the ground wasn’t comfortable, she looked on the bright side. She hadn’t been eaten. As Wukong took the first watch and Pigsy already was snoring, Sophie closed her eyes—

And woke to the stars still shining in her face as something bumped beside her head. She startled up, blinking out the sleep that clung.

“Hello-?”

“Shhh.” Wukong was crouched beside her, his tail being the culprit of what woke her up. His face looked tired with sleep, the scowl deeper and more furious. He shoved something into Sophie’s lap. She looked down. They were new clothes- a robbed top and pants.

“If you tell the Monk I stole it, I will give you a thorough washing in the river.” Wukong hissed, pulling at Sophie’s bag and rummaging through the contents. Well there he goes again, just digging through my stuff. It didn’t bother her anymore since Wukong rarely kept any of the items of hers he pocketed. He pulled out the coin string, taking some of the bronze rings. “I’m taking some of these so it looks like I bought them. Got it ?”

“So you are feeling guilty for startling me into the water.” Wukong opened his mouth, to argue, to plead his case that no he was not feeling guilty he was Sun Wukong and he did not feel guilt, when Sophie smiled up at him and laid back down.

“It’s ok. Your secret is safe with me-“ she grogely replied, laying back down and curling over the clothes. Sophie patted the ground beside her. “Your watch is over right?”

“Yes.” His head was cocked to the side, like a dog confused.

“Good. Get some sleep.” Sophie closed her eyes. She didn’t hear him move off but she knew he had settled just a bit away from her.

“And Wukong?”

A grunt from behind her- already settling into his spot, back to her.

“Thanks. I forgive you for almost drowning me.”

“I didn’t drown you.”

“I’ll take that as ‘your welcome’.”

[spotsupstuff]

"Can off the string puppets get sick from viral or bacterial infections since they no longer have a whole can to give them immunity?"

i swear to god anon, when i read "can off the string" i immediately thought of iterator cans walking around

horrifying suicidal kaiju

there Was some iterator design out there with some kind of walking can so like...

[avalost]

I just want to go on a nice bike ride with my family but there are wildfires again and I can literally smell smoke outside

[bmpmp3]

why does everything i get really into always end up being so god damn niche. by the year 2035 i am going to be blogging exclusively about the interpersonal relationships between the pillbugs and snails hiding underneath the bricks lining the flowerbeds in my parent's garden.

[ikjun]

best song ever made 👍

[why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat]

See like, one thing most people outside of the Midwest don't understand is just how much Midwesterners put into Ope, and how polite we are. Like, at my old job (cross country) I said Ope because I walked into a desk and a coworker from NY yelled "That's actually a thing!?!?"

Something that I find funny is that most Americans don't know the layers of politeness to Midwesterners. We can be as complicated as high society or be as simple as media protrays us.

Another thing that most big town and up people don't understand is that there's words specific to some regions. I grew up in a small farming town that used Ho dunk, another town I lived in had Po dunk. The first town also used Rinky Dink but the second didn't have it or anything similar to it.

Word phrasing and intonation is also important here, because Midwesterners have mastered the art of being polite while insulting you. Depending on the context, having your home being called Rinky Dink can mean that it's quaint or you're being passively called trailer trash. Calling a strangers house Ho dunk? Straight up rude. But calling a friend house Ho dunk? You're friends and their house is your house so they won't make an effort to clean. Unless you're saying it behind their back and to someone else, then it's a stab in the back.

If you're at a house were you don't know the people all that well it's polite to say "Welp, s'ppose I should head out now" and slap your knees then stand up while saying it, after the event ended, and spend less than 5 minutes of goodbyes. Good friends are less than 10.

Close friends and family can spend up to 40 minutes saying goodbye, but 30 is the comfortable amount. If the guest stands up then the host should stand up to. If the host don't stand when you do, you're either very close friends/siblings and more than likely has keys to house or know how to get in, or the host just don't like you.

Being neighbors is another thing entirely, because it's a 'you scratch my back I scratch yours' type of situation. They mow your lawn after doing theirs? Send over a food item or do another chore for them. You are sick and they haven't seen you in awhile? Boom, concerned neighbors wishing you well.

Lost pets? Time to wrangle that dog/cat and wait on the curb for your owners! My grocery shopping can wait. Or even 'Hey, I just drove back into town on that road, tell your [family or friend that uses that road] to be careful!' and you only see that person like once a week.

If you think a (rural) Midwesterner doesnt like you, here's some ways to tell if they do: They dont apologize or excuse themselves when walking past you in an aisle. They stay seated during goodbyes. They don't try to catch up with you but catch up with others. They don't do small favors without being asked to do so.

But I'm also from central Midwest and grew up in small farming towns, and spent more time living in villages (less than a 1,000~ people) than I have cities. Where I live rn is so small and far away that there aren't any public transport, and I can walk from one end of the town to the other in like 20 minutes or less. The closest Walmart is 2 towns over and 30 minutes going 80 mph (128 km).

If you read all of that, the you're a nerd :)

Go drink water, eat, and sleep. Nerd.

Clark Kent, trying to leave a gala he’s covering: Ope, just gonna squeeze right past you.

Bruce Wayne, who heard Superman say the same thing at a Justice League meeting that morning: No fucking way

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than :O

You're more amazing than an EX Drilltusk Tetsucabra corpse.

Also I had another dream where I was menaced by the passive presence of a giant monster. This time it was Shara Ishvalda rising out of some hole in the ground and staring at me.

For context, this is what Shara Ishvalda looks like:

[yanderedrabbles]

I'm thinking about a huge ex-warrior of a yandere. Big and bulky and all too familiar with bloodshed. You'd think years in the king's army would have hardened him, made him callous and cruel. But that's not true at all.

An ex-warrior yandere who cares so much about preserving life because he knows exactly how fragile and easy it is to take. A huge, scarred, mountain of a man who gets soaked to the waist in the dead of winter to save a drowning kitten. Who holds the shivering, mewling, runt of the litter in his hands with a gentleness you've seldom seen.

An ex-warrior yandere who doesn't even eat meat anymore. Who doesn't accept work slaughtering and butchering pigs when the holiday season comes around, even though folk offer him good money for his strength.

A good man, despite it all. Too good for you.

War is a terrible thing and you end up a prisoner almost entirely on accident. Said to be a spy though you're nothing more than an unlucky commoner who angered the wrong people.

He ends up a prisoner too, hauled off the battlefield when he's too injured to put up a fight. Just another prisoner of war, a dime a dozen. He's thrown into the duke's lockup and forgotten.

Whatever fate had in mind, you end up in the same dungeon. Cells next to each other, with nothing to do but tell stories and shiver.

It's miserable there. The gaolers are cruel for the sake of it. The meals are scant, the drinking water not much better. It's the sort of place where dying is considered the lucky option. And maybe you'd have given in, the both of you. Just closed your eyes and let your bodies waste away.

But unlike so many others, you have each other.

You can't see him and he can't see you. All either of you have is a voice in the dark. And somehow, that's enough.

Maybe you manage to escape together or maybe the Duke is defeated and his prisoners liberated. Whatever the case, he's right by your side when you step into the sun again.

How many years has it been? When was the last time you saw the sky?

You were sweet once. Kind, gentle. But years in the lord's prison have changed you. You're sharp and prickly now, slow to trust and even slower to forgive.

An ex-warrior yandere who sees the hurt under all your layers of indifference. Who decides right then and there, that first moment in the sun, that his one goal in life is to keep you safe.

An ex-warrior yandere who says he'll be your guard until you reach your destination, wherever it may be. You're weak, you're unfamiliar with the changes in the world. Anyone can come along and take advantage of you.

An ex-warrior yandere who follows you with a sort of quiet, implacable devotion. It doesn't matter if you're prickly or sharp tongued or so ruined that you fear your heart is forever frozen over. He'll always be there - two steps behind you to guard your back.

You try to send him away. Try to tell him you didn't need a guard dog. He just looks at you and says he's not going anywhere. Not forceful, but gentle and firm. He isn't leaving you, not when you're so scarred from the war that most days you don't speak more than five words to anyone.

It's baffling. Why does he care about forgotten detritus like you? What good will it do? He's still strong, still handsome despite the scars. He can still have a normal life.

But no. He chooses you.

Chooses to walk with you from one village to the next. Chooses to sleep rough even though folk offer him work. Chooses to endure the rain and the cold and the long nights spent sleeping on hard ground. 

"Why?" you ask him time and again. "Why follow me? Why make me your purpose?"

He looks at you over the fire, a small, slanted smile on his face.

"Why do you think?"

You can't quite manage to puzzle it out, though anyone who sees him at your side can almost immediately tell.

Eventually, you settle down. A broken down old cottage at the edge of the woods. A place the villagers are all too glad to hand over. Better you than the vines, even if your eyes do frighten them.

An ex-warrior yandere who fixes the cottage for you, brick by brick. Who cleans out the overgrown garden and trades his labour to buy you seeds. Violets and lilacs and daffodils. Mint and thyme. All the plants you told him you missed the most when you were locked away.

An ex-warrior yandere who spends his evenings sitting next to you at the hearth, not speaking much, just resting his head on your knees and carving wood. Thinking how lucky he is to have this bit of quiet. That all the years of war and captivity were well worth the price if it means having you.

An ex-warrior yandere who slowly heals the broken parts inside you. Who teaches you to watch the sky and the path of the birds. Who teaches you to breathe deep when the nightmares come. Who sits awake with you when you're too afraid of your past to sleep.

An ex-warrior yandere who tells people in the village that you're his wife, even though you've never even kissed. When you ask him about it, he just shrugs his massive shoulders and says it's safer that way. And it's only the trees that know the truth - he calls you his wife because he likes the way it sounds.

For a while, things are good. You tend your herbs and make your tinctures. For a while, he believes he's put his sword behind him for good.

But your past follows you. The angry lover who called you a spy, maybe. Or a lord who isn't satisfied that his secrets are safe with you still around. Whatever the case, they come at night. Watch you, wait for their chance.

You don't notice them, too focused on your brews and potions.

But he does.

When evening comes, he picks up his wood ax and tells you he wants to bring back a few more branches for the night.

"But we've got plenty. And it's dark."

He smiles then, warmed by your concern.

"I won't be gone long, dove. Just a short walk. Keep the food warm for me."

And it is indeed a short walk. He catches them by surprise, awfully quiet for such a big man. They don't even have time to scream or grab their swords before he's cut them all down.

An ex-warrior yandere who wipes the blood off his face and inspects the blade of his ax.

"Ruined," he sighs. "She'll give me hell for it, I hope you know that."

The cooling corpses have no reply.

An ex-warrior yandere who returns home with a stack of firewood and a bunch of wildflowers.

You take them from him and breathe in their perfume.

"Lovely. Thank you."

That makes him smile again. Look at you, saying thank you. Accepting his gifts. It's been a long road to get here. If he closes his eyes he can still see you on that first day, too bitter and angry to even say please.

The flowers fill your whole cottage with their wild mountain smell, and you don't notice the faint trace of blood underneath the perfume. And if he has his way, you never will.

An ex-warrior yandere who swears off his old life. Who swears off violence and death and blood. Unless it comes to you.

He'll burn villages to ash for you. Cut so many throats he can drink the blood like water. He's a good man, but for you he'll throw it all away.

And those who are stupid enough to try it? To hurt the only good thing he's ever had?

Well, they find out awfully quickly exactly what happened to the Butcher of Brostick. They learn awfully fast that a man can change his name, but it's a much harder thing to change his nature.

An ex-warrior yandere who is the kindest, sweetest man you've ever met. Who doesn't raise his voice or pick fights. Who's always at your side when you need a place to lay your head. Who loves you with the deep, immovable devotion of an oak reaching for the sun.

An ex-warrior yandere who always washes the blood off before he comes home.

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

[apollosdrunkenmixup]

From what I understood of a two hour mutual infodump (I received kratos: god of war lore, he received greek myths)

Kratos is god of war bc he killed Ares (and a lot of other people/gods).

In better news no one is gonna tell the gods about this fuckup of a post bc you’ve assigned Hermes to a comedy club instead of his usual messages lol

this website’s easy watch. *dangles a bunch of greek gods like keys*

[bcksbarnes]

flowers in hand

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: unfortunately for bucky barnes, he is head over heels in love with you, and when you want something, it doesn't take much convincing.

word count: 3.6K cw: 🔞 some suggestive content (mdni)

a/n: based off of this request! lots and lots of fluff.

Bucky Barnes was an ex-brain washed assassin who had been broken down and beaten time and time again. He had seen horrors that would leave most people catatonic, he had done things that most people wouldn’t even dream of. This was not a man that wore his heart on his sleeve.

Stoic. Brooding. An absolute brute, to put it mildly.

But there was something that Bucky never wanted anyone to know. A secret he’d take to his grave and would deny if ever asked about it. 

What was this secret? Simple. 

Bucky was head over heels in love with you.

He knew it the second the two of you met. When you stretched out your hand and told him your name, he felt his knees buckle. When you asked him for his? A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. He was nervous . A reaction Bucky had never had before.

It sent him into a spiral for several days after the two of you met. Weeks, actually, if he was being honest. 

Everything after that had fallen into place pretty quickly. You had liked Bucky as soon as you met him and before you knew it months had passed, the two of you quickly found yourself in a budding romance that needed nothing but water and sunlight to grow. 

The hardest part of learning to fall in love again was that he was so taken aback by how his body and brain responded to you, it was a bit jarring. It was like his entire brain had awoken a part of himself that had been dormant for years. One yearning for love.

It showed in the way you would get home from work and your favorite flowers would be waiting on the kitchen table, powder blue hydrangeas, with a handwritten note alongside it. Bucky’s handwriting was a little scratchy and hard to make out, but you didn’t need to read it to know what it said:

Thinking of you always. - BB

Or when he took you on a joy ride on the back of his motorcycle, never wearing a helmet himself but making sure the straps were just right when he helped you get yours on. His hands would carefully click the buckle together, biting down on his bottom lip in concentration as he made sure it fit you perfectly.

He didn’t want you getting hurt, not on his watch.

That was it - his big secret. You had him wrapped around your finger. Something so mundane and, frankly, obvious.

Though you never went out of your way to use this knowledge to your advantage. Bucky always came running at the sound of your voice.

“Buck?” you called out one afternoon.

The sun was high in the sky, it was a beautiful day - maybe a little warmer than you liked, but the cool breeze offered some relief. 

You were sitting on the balcony reading a book in your favorite spot, overlooking the city that Bucky had loved so much, and that you’ve learned to love with him. It was different from the one he lived in all those decades ago, the apartment he had lived in as a child was small, cramped - to look out the window was to face a family he never knew, living their own lives.

Now, in this decade, the apartment was spacious, overwhelming, the view encompassing the bridge and the East River separating the two boroughs. 

A different life, a different time.

“Yeah?” he called back, the door to the balcony slightly ajar so you could both hear each other.

“Can you bring me my sunglasses?”

Bucky chuckled to himself at such a simple request. He was working on fixing some issues in the kitchen, a leaky faucet to be exact - the one that kept dripping. Bucky had a hard time falling asleep as it was, hearing the pitter patter in the middle of the night made him feel like he was going insane.

“Hold on, honey.” 

He was currently laying on his back under the sink, his shirt was discarded somewhere next to him and his black mesh shorts rode a bit lower on his hips than he had purposely intended. 

It only took him a few turns of his wrench to tighten the compression ring around the pipe in hopes that it would stop the leaking. 

“That should be it.”

A few moments passed as he placed the wrench down next to him. He held his breath, but Bucky, unfortunately, a second later felt another water droplet land on his forehead: unsuccessful.

“Shit,” he mumbles to himself before gripping the side of the counter and pulling himself out from under the cabinet. 

Bucky hated that this wasn’t working - honestly, he wanted to run to the store and grab some new PVC pipes and just fix the entire thing from scratch. But, your request ran through his head and he quickly pivoted his priorities as he stood up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Where’d you put them?” he calls, trying to look in the usual spots before finally stumbling on them. “Nevermind.”

You hear the door swing open, his footsteps alerting his presence but your attention stayed on the book in your lap, wanting to finish the page you were on.

“I couldn’t find them,” he says. 

When you finally finished the passage, you placed the bookmark in the between the pages, saving it for another time.

Your head turned to look up at Bucky, his metal arm glistening in the sun and your sunglasses sitting right on his face - that goofy smile of his plastered on his features as he waits for you to notice.

A loud chuckle passes your lips as you reach your hand out for them, shaking your head as he slides them off the bridge of his nose and into the palm of your hands. Once you grab them from him, you put the glasses on, the world dimming a bit, but Bucky still shines bright in front of you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, tilting your head back to admire his half dressed physique. You whistle lowly, causing Bucky to roll his eyes at you. “Were you working on the sink? Sorry, I didn’t even realize.”

“Yeah,” he responds, taking a step closer. 

Bucky gestures for you to move over and make room for him, groaning as he finally sits down. His arm rests on the back of the sectional while his fingers run through the hair on the back of your neck.

“I thought I’d be able to fix it by tightening it, but I think the pipe itself has a crack somewhere,” he huffs out, shaking his head. “I’ll have to go to the store later.”

You watch him carefully, your hand holding the book on your lap moving to rest on his thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You could see the concentration in his face, the way his brows furrowed until there was a crease between them. He hated unfinished projects.

“You’re not going to rest until it’s fixed, are you?” you ask, though it’s a question you already know the answer to.

“Absolutely not,” he shakes his head. “Why? Have something in mind for us today?”

“I thought maybe we could go to the park later” you hummed, your fingers tracing shapes into his skin. You tilt your head back to look at him, both of your eyes meeting. “They’re doing a movie night. Raiders of the Lost Ark, if I remember correctly.”

Bucky’s other leg bounced anxiously at the thought, it’s not that he didn’t want to go with you - it’s that he really wanted to fix this stupid sink. 

He peaked over at his watch, it was nearly 5:30pm. The store would be closing soon, he’d have to find the right parts then fix the sink, and shower at some point before he’d be ready to go. He didn’t know if he had time to do both the movie and finish this project.

His eyes trail back over towards you and he was greeted with the most beautiful pair he’d ever seen. Were you batting your eyelashes too?

“You play dirty,” Bucky mumbles.

He brings his metal hand up to your face, squeezing your cheeks softly as he leans in to press a few soft, chaste kisses to your lips. He mumbles something about how unfair it is, but you’re so wrapped up in the feeling of his lips you don’t even care what he says.

Bucky begins to stand from his seat, though he doesn’t remove himself from your lips, hunched over to make sure he stays closely connected to you. Your hands now resting on his abdomen as if to keep him in place.

“I have to shower,” he hums against your lips. “And if the movie sucks I’m coming home and ripping the sink apart.”

“You did not just say that Raiders of the Lost Ark is going to suck.” 

Bucky chuckles as he trails his lips down your jaw to your neck, giving it a few kisses and a quick bite before he pulls back completely, that same love stricken look on his face.

“I did. I mean it too,” he teases, backing up until he gets to the door of the balcony. 

“You’re going to be very upset when you’re wrong, Barnes,” you call out after him.

He gives you a quick wink before dipping back inside the apartment. 

You take one last look over the balcony, the cars that were passing over the bridge and the people walking on the streets below. All of them had their own little story. It makes you smile to yourself, thinking of this little life you had built with Bucky.

It kept you both going.

Finally standing, you stretched your arms over your head and grabbed your book before heading back inside the apartment. The cover made a soft thud as you set it down on the coffee table on your way over to the kitchen.

The sound of the shower trickling had your thoughts distracted, even as you began packing the tote bag. You tried to keep your focus on all the goods you wanted to bring and not your very naked boyfriend some 50 feet away from you behind one, probably not locked, door.

How easy it would be to slip in.

You shake your head and focus on the task at hand, packing the bag with: a blanket to sit on, two lime sparkling waters that Bucky had picked up a few days ago, and a mix of snacks to enjoy. The perfect picnic.

Right as you finished, you hear the door open and Bucky step out of the bathroom, the warm steam filling your apartment almost immediately. He looks striking with the towel draped around his hips, his almost freshly cut short hair now wet and combed back.

“You didn’t join me,” he teases, making his way past you and into the bedroom.

“I want to make the movie,” you say back, a smirk on your features. You knew well enough that if you took a step in that shower, Bucky would never let you leave.

The sound of shuffling comes from the other room as you can hear him looking through drawers and the closet for his clothes. Your feet walk you into the bedroom right as he slips his boxers on, a smile on his features as he catches your gaze.

He didn’t want to go out to the park and watch a movie. He didn’t even care about that stupid leak under the sink that he could still hear and was driving him up a wall. 

No, he wanted to stay here with you and show you all the ways he loved and adored you. He wanted to worship you with everything he’s got. 

His hand reaches out for you and he intertwines your fingers together before he pulls you towards him. You happily oblige.

“You’re still thinking about that damn leak aren’t you?” you whisper, your voice filled with jest.

“Every fucking second.”

The smile on his face is wide as he brings his hands up to your face and kisses your cheeks once, twice, three times, causing a soft laugh to leave your lips. In one fluid motion his hands are under your thighs and lifts you up, placing you on the dresser behind you.

He slots himself between your legs and watches you closely, your hands moving to grip his wrists.

“Let’s stay here,” Bucky pleads softly. “Let’s never leave this apartment ever again.”

“I’d love to never have to do that, but you know that’s impossible.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Not with that attitude, sweetheart.”

He manages to get his hands free from your wrists, sliding them down to your hips and pulling you forward until your legs wrap around his waist, your heels resting on the back of his thighs. 

“Bucky,” you groan.

Your head falls back softly against the wall, in the same motion Bucky rests his head on your shoulder.

“Wishful thinking, huh?” he asks, a sigh leaving his lips afterwards. 

It’s not that he hated the power that you had over him, it was that he didn’t know how you managed to affect him so much. You didn’t even put up a fight with him and he folded, all because you said his name.

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before he untangled himself from you and moved to get dressed - a pair of black jeans, a t-shirt that was a little too tight around his muscles and a sweatshirt he knows you’re going to steal at some point. 

Finally ready to go.

It only took a few minutes to get to the park. You’re greeted by a sea of people, most of whom have already laid out their lounge chairs or blankets. The sun hadn’t set yet, casting a warm glow as you two found a spot a little bit away from the rest of the crowd. More secluded, but you two would still be able to see and hear the movie just fine.

Bucky helped set up the blanket, a long red gingham pattern one that he may have muttered a sarcastic comment about how cliche it was. You may have, lovingly, given him the finger in response. 

The movie started only a few minutes after you and Bucky set up the snacks and drinks. Both of you were laying on your sides, elbows planted on the blanket while hands kept your head off the ground. 

Bucky was very into the movie, barely sneaking glances over at you like he normally did whenever. It captured his attention almost immediately. You watched as he popped a grape into his mouth, his tired eyes trained on the screen in front of him as he absentmindedly chewed. 

It was calming to see him in this environment. You knew that deep down he would never 100% be present, that he always kept one part of his brain active to scan for any potential threats. But seeing Bucky in a state of, mostly, ease felt like finding a diamond in the rough. Rare, but valuable.

Halfway through the movie Bucky moves to sit up, stretching his arms over his head before holding his hand out to you. He always seemed to be reaching for you. Once your hand is in his, one swift motion is all it takes for him to pull you into his lap, nestling you between his legs, your back now resting against his chest. 

His hands move to run down your arm and he can feel the goosebumps rising against your skin.

“You’re cold,” he mumbles in your ear.

You want to protest that it’s just from his touch, but the words die in the back of your throat as soon as you feel him sit back from you. He pulls off his sweatshirt and hands it over, watching as you carefully slip on the oversized material. Bucky wraps his arms around your torso once you’re settled, pulling you back as close as he can before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Much better.”

Your heart flutters, as it seems it always does when he acts this way. 

Cuddly. Soft. In love.

Bucky feels like his heart is bleeding out right through his shirt at this moment, you could tell him to do anything in front of this crowd of people and he would comply without hesitation. He didn’t even care.

Maybe that was the thing that kept him going in this life. The little pieces of calm he can get when you are around. When the tides don’t feel as strong.

He didn’t want to think about it, he wanted to enjoy himself: your presence, and the movie.

It’s a little while later when the movie finally finished, you craned your head back to look up at him, a smirk on your lips. He was staring ahead at the now blank screen, jaw slightly dropped. 

“I thought you said the movie was going to suck,” you teased.”

“I didn’t know I was coming to see a cinematic masterpiece.” 

You let out a laugh, and then another one as Bucky squeezes your sides as his response, falling back over his thigh as you wriggle to try and get away from his wandering, playful hans. 

God, he wished you weren’t in public right now.

“And here you wanted to stay at home to fix that stupid sink.”

“No, I wanted to stay home so I could –”

“ Bucky ,” you cut him off before he can finish that thought, watching as a family walks past.

He lets out a scoff that sounds more like a laugh and pinches your side again as you start to stand up from his lap. Bucky admires you from this angle, the way that you towered over him was so jarring compared to how small you normally were when he stood next to you.

“I was going to say so I could take care of you , but if you were worried I was going to say something more vulgar than you need to get your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

Bucky’s smile reaches his eyes this time as he throws his head back and lets out a laugh. You were so right and he loved being called out on it, because he loved how well you knew him.

He stands to help you pack the tote bag again, throwing it over his shoulder when it’s done. You grab his metal hand and intertwine your fingers together as you make your way back to the apartment. 

The city was dark now, only illuminated by street lamps and a few fluorescent signs. Surprisingly the neighborhood was mostly empty, you and Bucky seeming to take up most of the sidewalk and filling the silence with your chit chat about the movie.

Bucky was blown away by the story, the action … well the whole thing. 

You were biting back your tongue to not say I told you so .

“You always get your way, you know that?” he says once you're in the lobby waiting for the elevator. “I don’t think I’m capable of saying no to you if I really tried.”

“That’s not true,” you respond.

Though if you take a second to think about it, he’s probably right.

The elevator dings its arrival and dips slightly from the weight of the two of you as you step on. You press the button for your floor a few times before turning your attention back to Bucky. He’s standing right next to you, his hand slipping out of yours to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you against his side. Your head leans to rest against him, it always fits perfectly.

“It’s a little true,” he says with a shrug. “I’m not complaining.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“I’ve never had anyone to care about. Not in this way at least.”

“You cared about Steve.”

“That’s different,” he sighs. “I made sure Steve stayed alive. I didn’t dote over him. I look at you and I’d drop everything just to see that damn smile on your face.”

The blush developed on your cheeks at record speed, a smile accompanying it that was hard to hold back. Sometimes Bucky had a way with words that took your breath away. He could be deeply poetic. It made you wonder what he thought of in that brain of his. 

“There it is,” he whispers, his gaze flickering down to your lips.

The ding of the elevator snaps the moment back into reality, but that doesn’t deter Bucky in the slightest. 

No, instead he follows you down the hall and into the apartment, waiting for the door to shut before he picks you up from behind and walks you to the bedroom to toss you on the bed - the sound of your giggles filling the air.

The second you hit the mattress, and he crawls on top of you, your hands grab his face bringing him down to kiss him feverishly. It’s rushed and messy, tongues sweeping across lips, teeth biting and pulling. 

You don’t need to tell him you need him for Bucky to know it, he can read you like an open book. 

As he kisses down your jaw – his stubble scratching your soft skin, hands moving to slide your shirt up, ready to spend the night devouring you – all he can think about is how his love for you is the worst kept secret in the world. And not about the stupid leaky faucet.