#<- it makes a cameo in one gif

[itslilacokay]

CHOSENWEEK DAY 4&5 : FESTIVAL + FLIGHT

i dunno, this was just a little what if hehe

oh im not done yet! have another combined day

CHOSENWEEK DAY 6&7 : COMFORT + FREEDOM (glitch/flashing warning)

this one ive thought of for a whiiile while! you see my vision right guys

okay see you all on finale day!

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

what you see, i see (1)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

TW⚠️: teenage gojo is mean, angst, mentions of death

This is a repost in regular font bc people couldn't read the first! There are some changes but they are very minor.

Whenever she closed her eyes she would see where he would go, and see everything he would see, and if she focused she could hear his conversations, and yet only the voices were ever clear while everything in his line of sight was always obscured, tinted dark. Her soulmate was never not wearing sunglasses, but it did nothing to shield her from the horrors he witnessed everyday.

She didn't know what they were- monsters, creatures, or curses (curses is what he called those things) that he saw on the daily basis. She used to worry about him. She would spend sleepless nights wondering if he was okay, but now, she resented him for it. Her mundane life that was full of ordinary things had been turned into an inescapable nightmare.

She could not see those creatures with her own eyes, even when she concentrated on her surroundings. The city was noisy and loud but never terrifying with monsters lurking around every corner and alleyway, but then, she'd close her eyes. Not intentionally, never intentionally anymore, and see a world hidden within her own.

His world. He was unafraid of it and she was deeply afraid of it - the abandoned buildings, the dark alleyways, fighting, blood, ichor, and death; she frightened of it all. She supposed he was brave for being able to face those horrors at all. She knew she could never be able too.

Her world, she wondered, if he thought it was boring, or if it brought him some sort of comfort seeing her life be so normal. A regular routine of school, friends, homework, exams, watching television, going to the library, internet browsing, running errands for her parents bakery, and coffee shops.

No, Gojo Satoru, did not find her world comforting. He did, indeed, find it to be incredibly boring. He was matched with a weak soulmate that couldn't even see curses, much less defend herself against them. How tiring his life would become if he ever met her - always having to save her because she was just so weak. So he never paid her any mind after he realized that. Never searched for her, never even let the thought of her linger for too long on his mind. A weakling like her doesn't have the right to have any of his attention.

Geto Suguru would call him a pompous and narcissistic jerk for not seeking her out, for belittling her, especially when she was right here in Tokyo.

"It's an honor, Satoru," Suguru would tell him, "fate trusts you to keep her safe from harm."

Everytime Satoru would simply fake vomit at his best friends sentiments.

"Do you know how many sorcerers wish for a soulmate?" Suguru would say, "and you're just not going to bother."

"Jealous," Satoru would smirk, "or lonely? You can have her."

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but she was glad she had. She did her best to keep her eyes open after that conversation. If she wasn't worth his time, then Gojo Satoru wasn't worth hers either. Instead, she buried herself in school work, in running for class president, in multiple clubs, and volunteering in shelters, and cleaning up trash in public spaces. Her school transcript would be so stellar, so perfect she would be able to go to college abroad.a place so far away that the chance of ever running into him would be next to impossible.

It was a late night for her again and this time, she blamed her soulmate. She didn't care that he had made a building collapse in itself two days ago, or that middle schoolers were fawning over Satoru as they, clearly, didn't know he was rotten on the inside, and she, absolutely, did not care that he was having a fun beach day. She cared that he hadn't slept in three days, and now, she was a victim of his insomnia.

Why couldn't he go to sleep already? She was tired of closing her eyes seeing common beige hotel walls as he remained ever vigilant on his surroundings. She was seeing too much and nothing, all at the same time; it was exhausting. She didn't know when she fell asleep, but she did, still she didn't dream. All she could see was a dimly lit hotel room and a brief darkness everytime he blinked.

It was a miracle she woke up on time for school in the morning. Her eyes were heavy and it was a struggle to focus on any of her lectures but she refused to rest her eyes. Her stupid soulmate would not get any reprieve from her. Not when she was deprived of basic rest last night.

Of course, she would naturally blink only to see him cheerfully chatting on a plane. Whatever, her class was far more important. Anything in her life was far more important than he ever could be.

She tilted her head up to look up at the clock.

15:00:00

Class was almost over.

She blinked.

Satoru was complaining about having to take care of a 'brat'. She rolled her eyes and focused on the chalkboard at the front of the class.

15:02:08

She blinked again.

Blue had overtaken her vision as it pulled cobblestones and buildings into the vibrant cool hued color - forcing the buildings to collapse in on themselves as nothing but ruin was left around Satoru.

She opened her eyes. It didn't matter, she knew one thing about him for sure, he never loses.

15:02:15

She stilled. A dark chill consumed her as her body began to become numb. She continued to copy down notes from the chalkboard but she couldn't feel the pen in her palm. She dug her nails into her palm next and still, she felt nothing.

Her eyes widened. Death, this was how she imagined death would feel like. A silent sob went raked through her body - she hadn't noticed it before, how her heartbeat had been mirroring Satoru's until now. An aching emptiness filled her like a part of her had been ripped from her.

She covered her mouth in an effort to stop her cries. Her vision blurred with tears and one right after the other, they fell, seeping into her notebook and smudging the black ink.

Could Satoru see her now in his final moments? She sucked in a harsh breath. What about the girl he was protecting? She had only seen her briefly but she needed protection, did she not? That's why he was there to keep the girl safe.

"______" someone was saying her name, and then, a soft, gentle shake, "______, what's wrong? What happened?

Soulmates were so rare, so so so rare most people didn't believe in them. They would call her crazy, a liar, an attention seeking romantic, so she forced herself to wipe the tears from her cheeks, and said: "My mother just texted me," she hiccupped, "my grandmother died." She turned to face the teacher, "I'm sorry for disrupting class."

Then, the bell rang - loud and piercing, and the day had continued onward as if nothing had happened. As if her world hadn't just been turned upside down, as if the cold, icy grip of death wasn't looming over her - watching her every move, until the grim reaper, finally deemed to snuff her out one day as well.

A hot summer day and she was shivering cold.

Part 2: where you go, i go

Part 3: you know i adore

Part 4: i'm crazier for you

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

[harbingersecho]

[justanotherwriter140]

Kung Fu Panda 4 - The Movie

The last really, really long discussion post (for now).

Major spoilers ahead!

This review is full of spoilers, so please refrain from reading through it until you've watched KFP4. I would highly suggest doing so, as I want everyone to form their own opinions without my influence. The movie has its flaws (some of which admittedly being a bit distracting), but it's a fun film that has things to offer.

Kung Fu Panda 4 is a fun movie (take that as you will) that takes its audience on an action-packed, surprisingly funny, yet relatively contained adventure on which Po doesn't really do much. It's an inconsequential, safe sequel that doesn't really hurt the franchise but adds close to nothing.

I had a good time watching the movie. It was obviously produced with its theater experience in mind and the action scenes especially reflected that priority. The humor was actually funny sometimes and I enjoyed Po and Zhen's dynamic. During the film, I was able to put most (most!) of my grievances aside and take the movie for what it is. I've discovered that the best way to watch KFP4 is with low expectations and an open mind.

I have a lot of things to say about KFP4, both complaints and compliments (though the former might be taking the forefront in this review), and I hope this review can help those of you who have seen the movie organize your thoughts. I've been having a lot of trouble with that specific aspect of things myself. Those who get it get it.

With that said, let's get into my full review of KFP4! I've been waiting for nearly 2 years to write this and I'm so excited to share every single thought.

I'm going to follow the format of my first discussion post and curate a bulleted list of my thoughts, followed by an analysis of each of these points. Keep in mind that everything I say is IMO and this is more of a rant post than anything else.

Here are my main points:

The Furious Five's role is comically minuscule in the context of the film. Their actions are inconsequential and add nothing to the plot (a confirmed last-minute add), and they have 30~ seconds of screen time. Shifu is also largely irrelevant.

Mr. Ping and Li's presence has little to no effect on the movie (though I won't complain too much because they were pretty fun to watch and this movie has bigger problems). In almost any scenario, I am adamantly against having characters present that don't add anything to the narrative; however, Mr. Ping is an exception. I love Mr. Ping. James Hong is a gem.

Zhen's screen time is not utilized well and her character is underdeveloped. She definitely wasn't annoying, but I didn't find her either compelling or funny enough to warrant the screen time she was given, especially considering it wasn't used to establish a backstory/strong motives. This makes me feel bad for the character because the movie kind of screwed her out of any substantial development.

The Chameleon, while complimented greatly by Viola Davis, is an underwhelming villain. Viola Davis is amazing in this film and I would suggest watching it for her performance if for nothing else, but the Chameleon is underwhelming considering the super cool concept behind the character.

The film feels very rushed. Apologies to those who disagree, but I think the pacing is atrocious and the final fight is anticlimactic. The movie felt like a word-vomit with no discernible intermissions that stops abruptly when the film ends.

I felt as though Po didn't change/grow as a person and the audience never had a chance to either bond with or relate to his character. His internal struggle is kept to a minimum and we don't spend a moment alone with him as an audience, which is disorienting and distracting. Watching the film felt like running into an old friend at the store who's too in a rush to have a real conversation.

The action scenes were strong with few exceptions. Creative art direction was utilized and I thought the martial arts choreography was entertaining and dynamic. I love the color palette of the film and many scenes were very impressive visually.

With my main points established, I do believe it's ranting time. Strap in, folks.

Let's start strong with the Furious Five: I'm gutted. Chagrined, despondent, crestfallen, etc.

The lack of the Furious Five negatively affects KFP4 so much, because not only does their absence hurt the atmospheric integrity of KFP as a franchise, it also forces KFP4 to bring in a slew of different characters—all while still noncommittally including the FF at the very end because I believe the marketing team required it—that clog up the cast a bit. It all goes to show how important strong, established side characters are.

The Furious Five are side characters, but the role of "side character" does not equate to being irrelevant, expendable, or exchangeable. I recognize that the Furious Five aren't super developed as characters beyond a handful of lines that allude to traits sprinkled sparingly among the members; however, I believe that the tiny bits of development we have been given have proved impactful in the past. Tigress's development in KFP2 is a prime example of how much narratively conscious changes (however small they may be) can positively affect these movies.

Because of limited runtimes, the Furious Five often operate as more of a singular unit than five individuals. Even so, I don't think discarding them is valid. They're so important to the KFP universe (to Po's universe!) and not having them with him feels so wrong. The Furious Five are fully integral to the heart of Kung Fu Panda, which is why I believe a lot of those who have seen the new movie have expressed something feeling "off" or something being missing.

I agree with this sentiment. To me, KFP4 didn't feel like a KFP movie. I don't need a Furious Five spin-off movie and I can be fully content with a KFP5 centered around Po's journey as an individual as was intended from the beginning, but he can't carry an entire movie on his back. As strong as he is in every sense of the word, he is only one character. He's the centerpiece of the franchise, but a centerpiece can only go so far without the rest of the design, so to speak.

For me, the Furious Five's absence is one of this film's biggest faults. It's huge and glaring. I know I'm not the only one who feels this way, either, because the friends with whom I saw the film refused to talk about any other aspect of the movie after seeing it. Seeing them at the end was better than nothing, of course, but it was a disappointing culmination after eight years of waiting.

That all is to say I feel robbed. Despite all of this, though, I understand that there were reasons why the Furious Five weren't included in the movie. I don't believe the production team would exclude the Furious Five unless they weren't given a choice.

Shifu and Po's dynamic continues to be thoroughly delightful but their interactions are short and simplified. I would have loved to see more of them in this film, especially considering the extreme relevance of teacher-student relationships in KFP4. I (somewhat) digress, though, because the idea of Shifu having to live at the Jade Palace with only Po for an extended period of time is hilarious enough on its own. Maybe that's what the short film is about!

The comedy is odd but has some jokes that stand out. Po maintains a healthy relationship with his inner sass, which I think makes him more fun to watch and kind of eradicates the man-child verdict. Some jokes don't land, of course, but I genuinely thought KFP4 had some funny moments. Mr. Ping was consistently awesome and Po had some good lines sprinkled throughout the film.

As for Mr. Ping, he and Li Shan are the subjects of the film's B-plot as they follow Po to Juniper City out of shared concern for their son's safety. In my mind, they don't add anything to the story that couldn't have been brought about by other characters, but they had their moments of being entertaining. I enjoyed their silliness and thought they had a cute dynamic if nothing else.

Speaking of other characters, I want to discuss KFP4's deuteragonist and why I genuinely feel bad about the way her character was treated.

I want to let it be known that I'm still not on board with Po passing the Dragon Warrior torch to another character. While I agree that his arc is now calling for him to have a student, I disagree with the notion of him retiring from his DW role.

As I stated in my first discussion post:

Didn’t the initial significance and nuance of the title come from the fact that there is only one person who can be the Dragon Warrior, because the concept of the “Dragon Warrior” isn’t so much a title as it is Po himself? The universe (Oogway) must choose the Dragon Warrior because they are a singular being of legend. It is one person, and that person is Po. Wasn’t the point of the first film that the title ultimately doesn’t really matter because there is no “secret ingredient,” so to speak? The title doesn’t actually give Po anything. “It’s just you,” Po says, and that was the resolution.

When it comes to Zhen as a character, contrary to what I predicted I would think of her, I thought she was okay. While I was still a bit distracted by how out-of-place her design looks, I wasn't truly annoyed by her at any point and she and Po had some cute moments. Even so, I think their relationship could have been a bit more refined and developed.

While it's evident that Po and Zhen are meant to have a teacher-student/mentor-apprentice dynamic, I think their relationship feels half-baked. There were parallels that contradicted one another and ended up being confusing come the film's conclusion, and the nature of their relationship seems to vacillate depending on the scene. Additionally, the strength of their bond goes from zero to one hundred within thirty-ish minutes and left me with a bit of whiplash.

We're shown that Po and Zhen care about one another, but we're never shown why. They have a brief conversation during which they bond over being orphans, and Zhen says at one point, "You're actually a good guy," but that's it. This obvious lack of development is a bit disorienting because we're later led to believe that Zhen and Po care very deeply for one another when there's almost nothing to back it up.

A scene that sticks out to me when discussing this is when Zhen attack-hugs Po in a way that explicitly mirrors Tigress's hug from KFP2. This happens around the beginning of the third act, and while it had the potential to be an endearing moment, I think it fell flat.

The impact of Tigress's hug was brought on by her character's hardcore nature and reputation of being heartless, further strengthened with the knowledge that she was hugging Po (which was obviously way outside her comfort zone) as a show of companionship and fundamental understanding. Tigress hugged Po because he needed someone to recognize his strive for closure.

Zhen's hug had little to no impact because she had no reason to do it and it didn't indicate growth. She hugs Po because she's sorry for betraying him and doesn't want him to be killed by the Chameleon, but neither of these things are newly-established via this hug; we have already gathered by now that Zhen regrets betraying Po and doesn't want him to get hurt.

The hug is far from the movie's weakest point, but I think it's unnecessary given the context. I'm big on hugs in movies (an underutilized form of platonic affection, in my opinion), but it didn't fit here. I don't hate it, and I see it as an honest effort to bring emotionality to Po and Zhen's relationship, but it seems arbitrary.

Zhen and Po's relationship has a lot of potential and I'd be open to seeing more of them in the future, but I think some more thoughtful development needs to occur before I can humor it further. Even so, I can see myself featuring Zhen in some future post-KFP4 one-shots—sparingly, of course, because we have a lot of Furious Five content to compensate for.

Overall, they had a cute dynamic and some sweet moments but I'm not attached. I'm on board with Po having a student but I think their relationship needs a lot more development, something that this film unfortunately didn't give them time to either accomplish or earn.

Now, onto the Chameleon!

The concept of the Chameleon's character is admittedly super interesting. She's the deuteragonist's fastidious mother figure who feels that Zhen owes her a debt and as a result holds her to an impossible standard. That dynamic had the potential to be so interesting but I didn't think it was explored at all. There is no indication of Zhen having any internal conflict about fighting the Chameleon, no emotional complexity between them at all; it's disappointing because I think it would've added a bit of earnestness to the film.

Additionally, the idea of a shape-shifting villain is versatile. A shape-shifting villain gives those telling the story a lot of room to experiment with the protagonist and different ways in which the main character can be challenged and tested. It's yet another good idea utilized poorly. Just one idea: the Chameleon could have disguised herself as one (or several) of Po's family, friends, etc. and brought to fruition a new arc with his character (seeing as he arguably doesn't have one in this film), but she only disguises herself as Zhen very briefly in the movie.

Furthermore, the Chameleon completely relies on the powers of previous villains to pose any sort of threat to the main characters. She summons Po's former nemeses from the Spirit Realm (despite there being little logic in doing so considering Kai's literal evisceration) and takes their kung fu abilities for herself.

An excerpt from my first KFP4 discussion post that I think is relevant to the point I'm trying to make:

I don’t think it would be in the best interest of anyone if the past villains were to come back in any way that’s not a flashback (even then, I’m not sure I’d see the point). In all honesty, I thought that the whole point of the villains was that they died and stayed dead. They were defeated by Po once and for all as a testament to the idea of establishing Po's character growth and journey as a person through the bad things he’s able to overcome. It’d be highly contradictory to the messages of the other films if these villains were to suddenly come back.

While there was an honest effort made to portray the Chameleon as intimidating, I never felt as though any of the characters were endangered by either her or her army of lizard henchman. She's a visually appealing character (aside from her eyes, which I thought more resembled those of a gecko than a chameleon) and I greatly enjoyed Davis's performance, but overall I don't see the Chameleon as a notable villain.

The return of Tai Lung (had he been on his own) had the makings to be an excellent story, especially considering the importance of teacher-student dynamics in KFP4. To see him interacting with Shifu would have been incredible and could have led to further closure on Tai Lung's end (because I think that's kind of what the team was going for anyway), but it didn't happen.

It was nice to see Ian McShane reprise his role, but I wish Tai Lung's characterization had been more reminiscent of the way he was in the first film and more complimentary of his overall character arc. Tai Lung isn't a one-dimensional villain with a singular goal and motivation, and I couldn't help but feel as though the complexity of his character was simplified for the sake of KFP4's narrative.

Tai Lung's presence in KFP4 may be odd, but Shen and Kai's appearances are even more so. Kai, if I remember correctly, was fully obliterated by Po, reduced to literal particles on screen (which is kind of wild now that I think about it). Shen being in the Spirit Realm makes sense all things considered; however, Po and Li had no visible reaction to his presence, which seemed a bit unlikely considering Shen's deeds. This plot hole can likely be attributed to the fact that Shen and Kai's cameos (to my knowledge) were last-minute additions to the movie.

I have to talk about the pacing. I have to. I'm sorry, bear with me.

To me, the film's pacing is erratic and disconcerting. While I can appreciate a quick-moving narrative that doesn't dawdle on storylines that aren't interesting/important, KFP4 kind of flings itself too far in the opposite direction and ends up being frighteningly fast-paced. Once the credits began, I felt like I had been holding my breath for the entire movie.

KFP4 is confusing because while the runtime is standard for a KFP movie, it feels incredibly short. At the same time, the film's story moves at a breakneck speed and leaves little time for heart and development. These things culminate into a barreling boulder of a movie that simply doesn't have time to let its characters, story, or audience take a breath.

A fast pace is not inherently negative, but I don't think it worked in the favor of KFP4. The KFP franchise has always been very emotionally grounded (and just very grounded in general), so to see a film in which emotion/heart takes an aggressive backseat in comparison to action and comedy is jarring. While I think it's unreasonable for fans to expect the same emotional integrity as the original films to be present in the current and upcoming ones, I still think there's room for Po to grow and I felt as though the notion of him developing further was brushed aside in this film.

As for Po's growth, I felt it was nearly nonexistent. The previous trilogy wrapped up his character's journey beautifully and I know that KFP4 was bound to struggle with this particular aspect of making another KFP film; however, just because the strongest pillars of Po's character are established doesn't serve as a valid excuse to reverse his development and repeat what he learned in KFP3.

In KFP3, Po learned firsthand that he is capable of spreading wisdom and teaching kung fu. He also learns that he is constantly growing and that change is inevitable; there is always something more to learn.

"If you only do what you can do, you will never be more than you are now."

"I don't want to be anything more, I like who I am!"

In KFP4, Po pushes against this narrative despite fully accepting it in KFP3, actively reversing crucial parts of his character development achieved in the latter. KFP3 was non-ambiguously about learning to cope with change and responsibility, and I can't help but feel like KFP4 is simply copying this message while not adding anything to it.

Additionally, I felt that KFP4's Po generally felt less personal than he has in the past. In every KFP movie up to the franchise's most recent addition, I felt very connected to Po as an audience member. I felt like I was truly seeing the world of KFP through his eyes. I consider this to be one of the franchise's most impressive feats; it's incredibly difficult to build a universe around a character without making the audience feel limited to one perspective and one part of the world.

With KFP4, I felt both limited and disconnected. The world didn't feel as vast and all-encompassing as it has in the past and Po didn't seem fully like himself. This could be me nitpicking (as I'm prone to do), but I can't recall a single moment in the movie in which Po was alone on screen. Scenes like these are crucial for me because I see them as a meet-cute between the character and the audience, a moment for us to cross the bridge into their world in a way that's silent and intuitive. These little bonding moments are absolutely integral to feeling connected to a character.

Po's dream sequence in the first KFP movie is one of the best examples of this. It presents his aspirations, alludes to his way of life up to the point of the movie, and showcases his personality. During Po's dream sequence, the audience is quite literally inside Po's mind; we're there with him, seeing what he sees, subsequently feeling what he feels. Po is a dreamer at heart and makes the audience feel like dreamers, too.

In KFP4, I felt like I little to no point of reference when it comes to how Po was feeling. I didn't feel immersed in him and his world.

I know I've been very "doom and gloom" throughout this post, which is an exhausting mindset for everyone involved. I want to end my critique with something positive because I think some praise is deserved. Let's just say the movie could have been a lot worse, the details of which I'm sure you're all well aware.

Congratulations, you've reached the end! Thank you so much to all of you who took the time to read this unnecessarily long and detailed review. As long as I help someone translate their conflicted feelings into coherent thoughts, I'll call it a win.

KFP4 has its flaws and there are a lot of aspects that I dislike, but the I greatly admire and respect the hard work put into the film by those of the crew who put their efforts forward and tried their best to make it work. This does not at all excuse my issues with the movie, but it's worth saying.

As for the future of the series, I only hope that the next installment is more considerate of the franchise's origins and why Po's story is being told in the first place. I fully believe that another sequel could be good (even great!), but only given a strong, passionate crew with a great understanding of the characters and world (and I wouldn't be averse to some previous directors returning, just to put it out there).

Thanks again to those who took the time to read this crazy excuse for a movie review. Feel free to either disagree with me or add things in the replies/reblogs, I'm always looking for more thoughts to think.

Until next time!

[redcomet-stims]

Heya! If you have the time, could you do a board with the theme of old moviestarplanet? It's a game I really used to like as a kid and also I find it interesting coding and history wise lol. Along with that just on the topic, I would recommend the MSP iceberg videos by Lukyanova on YouTube!

Yes I can ^^ Thank you! I'll try my best <3

🎞️👠🌠 A stimboard based on (old) MovieStarPlanet for anon ^w^

Thank you for the request ^_^ I feel like this ended up being a bit more based around general MSP, and I hope that's okay...😖😖 I still really like how this turned out, and tried my best to capture the general idea ^^; And I did watch (or at least start watching...😓) the specific videos you mentioned, and I was genuinely intrigued! I didn't know that there was so much to the game and its history, community, all that sort of stuff...it really was interesting to learn about and made me understand more/have more background knowledge about this topic ^w^

Sources:

x | x | x

x | x | x

x | x | x

[milfweirdal]

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

🤪Wes looking like Bart Simpson🤪

[pastafossa]

🎄The Biggest Tree In All The Kitchen 🎄 (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)

Right so despite the craziness of the plagiarist and the BIGGEST BLIZZARD MY CITY HAS EVER SEEN IN ITS HISTORY, I managed to get this done! As promised, Matt and TRT’s Reader deserve a goddamn Christmas tree, and you all deserve some fluff after the rough few chapters we’ve just hit in TRT!

Rating: SFW, some language and slight innuendo and a few kisses, but other than that, just fluff and humor and Matt being absolutely determined to get you the biggest goddamn tree he can find and Foggy’s Christmas movie/ references. Wordcount: 5,855, you are going to get FED. Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader. Specifically TRT’s reader, but the fic isn’t required reading. Just know you haven’t had a Christmas in a very long time due to Enhanced Abilities reasons.

The second Matt heard your heart skip, he made his decision.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not a big deal?!’” Foggy bellowed, throwing his hands up as you circled the pool table for your next shot. “It’s absolutely a big deal!”

“It’s just a tree, Foggy.” You wrinkled your nose while lining up your next shot. “Ciro’s daughter was allergic, so we had a fake one. After I left at eighteen, I never saw the point of getting one if there was no one but me around. It’s not like it bothers me.”

Lie.

Matt, waiting at the bar for all of your drinks, tipped his head as he listened. Slowly, a devious plan began to form in his mind.

“I’m with Foggy. I call bullshit,” Karen laughed, her shirt rustling as if she’d just crossed her arms. “We’ve all seen you stopping at windows that had Christmas trees.”

“You look like a puppy staring up at a cookie jar,” Foggy sighed. “Tell me you and Matt are getting a tree for your first real Christmas together. I’ve seen your ceilings. You could fit a giraffe in there.”

“Or a giraffe-sized tree,” Karen snickered.

You shrugged one shoulder, eyeballing your next shot. “I figured we’d get one of those little plastic ones and put our ornaments on it. I haven’t really thought about getting a big one.”

Lie.

“I swear to God,” Foggy said grimly, “if I walk in there and see some sad little Charlie Brown plastic tree, we cannot be friends. Just admit you want a big tree.”

You took your shot, your stick sliding smoothly forward. The crack of the cueball rang out a moment later. “I admit nothing outside a court of law.”

“Or inside the court, let’s be honest,” Karen said, biting her lip. That turned into another snicker when you rolled your eyes without actually denying it.

“Swear!” Foggy demanded, jabbing a finger towards the bar where Matt stood. Matt helpfully waved. “Swear on Matthew!”

You snorted. “Foggy, I do not—”

Lie.

“—want—”

Lie.

“—a big Christmas tree.”

Huge lie.

Matt frowned.

“Besides,” you said, moving to your next shot. “All I need for Christmas is Matt and you guys. That’s all I need to be happy.”

Truth.

His lips quirked up in a little smile.

Foggy sighed. “That was sappy, even for you. Get it? Sappy? It’s because you’ve got Christmas sap inside you, I just know it. You’re one step away from dancing yourself into a Christmas movie.”

“Hey, Joe,” Matt asked, tilting his head at one of the regulars at the bar. “Do you know if those guys with the Christmas trees have set up on 43rd yet?”

“Think so,” he grunted, reaching up to scratch at his beard. “Saw them hauling their shit by earlier. Got some big fuckers this year.”

Perfect.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he hummed as he crawled up over your blanket-covered form, dropping a fond kiss here and there to the blankets as if it were your skin.

You let out a muffled grunt but didn’t otherwise stir, buried somewhere beneath the mountain of blankets. Like this, to his senses, you were a sleepy lump, only vaguely shaped like yourself, and a lump that barely moved even when he straddled your waist. Or what he thought was your waist, anyway; it was a little hard to tell, even with his senses. He’d already tried and failed to lure you out with the scent of coffee, which meant it was time for a more serious attempt.

He leaned forward to nuzzle at what felt like your head, a sleepy growl buzzing beneath him. It took him a minute to get the angle just right as he hunted for where the heat from your breath had warmed the blankets, but eventually, he managed to orient on just how you were laying. Then he veered off to the side, aiming for what he hoped was your ear, and murmured, “I know you’re awake.”

“Birds are awake,” came the muffled, grumpy reply. “The love of my life is awake. I am not awake. ‘S eight. Come back at nine when I’m open.”

He snorted, rearing up and grabbing the blankets. Before he could so much as tug, you’d burrowed in deeper. From there it became a tug of war, as he yanked and you squirmed around beneath him, the motion oddly familiar.

“You… are you rotating—” he laughed in disbelief, and you were, growling and spinning, rolling over and over again like a rotisserie chicken, winding the blankets around yourself. A moment later he lost the blankets as the edge was yanked underneath you, every last blanket on the bed now wound around you.

“Checkmate,” you said, your smugness losing some of its impact now that you were shaped like a particularly large and beloved burrito.

He shifted around until he could pick up the massive, fuzzy cocoon you’d become. Your noise of protest was muffled, but he ignored you, settling himself back against the headboard with your blanket cocoon in his arms. But that was fine; he knew exactly how to lure you out.

“I suppose we could stay in today,” he said innocently. “I may have had something planned, but it’s not important.”

The you-shaped blanket cocoon vibrated, as if mildly curious. “…Planned?

There it was. You could never resist that tone.

“Mhm.” He sighed theatrically so that you could hear him. He had you on the line. Now he just had to reel it in, very slowly. He adjusted you until your blanket-covered legs lay over his, your body tipped sideways to lay against his chest. “I thought maybe we could go out and do a little shopping.”

You grumbled, settling in as if you were determined to fall asleep again. “‘S too early. Shops are closed.”

“Not this one.” He laid his head atop yours, and with your head still covered in blankets, there was no way for you to see his grin. Still, he kept his tone innocent as you squirmed around, getting comfortable. “Besides, Foggy told me all the good trees go early.”

The rustling went still, and even beneath all the blankets, he heard your heart start to race.

“…Tree?” you said hopefully. And yet the barest edge of skepticism lingered beneath the word as if you couldn’t quite believe you’d heard him right. “Like… a real tree?”

“Real as I can find. They open at nine.” He rolled one shoulder, his smile softening. He wound his arms around you a little tighter. “I thought we could… go look for one.”

There was a long pause, and he rubbed his hand up and down the blankets over your back. He knew this was something of a sensitive topic for you—allowing yourself to do what you wanted after having been in hiding for so long, after being alone for years. But if this was something you wanted, he’d find a way to make it happen. You deserved this, after all the things you’d missed out on in your life. It wouldn’t make up for all of it, not even close, but it was a start.

And maybe… maybe it was for him, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a tree. Even as a kid, it was a rare thing to have enough money laying around for one. Him and his dad made do where they could, and every now and then managed to snatch up a small tree for cheap. God, those Christmases had seemed so magical, no matter how many needles fell off the patchy branches strung with paper ornaments and glittering tinsel. Funny how all that magic could drain away so quickly in a darkened alley, drain away like drying blood over cracked asphalt.

He’d lost interest in Christmas for a while, after that.

Foggy’s insistence on a dorm tree had been the first time in years he’d had one, and after that, the Nelson and Murdock office tree had been enough for him. There’d been no reason to put one up in his apartment. It wasn’t like he could see it, and he hadn’t… had anyone else who might want one. The few ornaments he’d managed to save from before his dad died hadn’t been enough of a reason to get a tree, not when it would feel… feel so empty, and remind him of just how alone he was in the world.

But now…

What would it be like to have a real Christmas, one with someone he loved, in the home that you and he had both created?

God, he wanted that with you.

“Wouldn’t the smell bother you?” you asked hesitantly, your face still hidden. The blankets, if he had to guess, had now become less of a tactic to retain warmth and more of a defense mechanism as you hunted for the catch. “Some smell really strong. Or so I heard, I haven’t, uh, really looked.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, “you’ll need more blankets if you want to hide a lie that big.”

You snorted, the blankets shaking as if you’d sneezed. The mountain of fabric began to shift as you squirmed around inside, and eventually, your head popped free, a ball of warmth and scent and stirred air currents. You rocked yourself around a little until you could get one arm free, too, and then you lifted your hand to cup his face. You considered him for a moment, as he leaned into your hand, pursing his lips to kiss your thumb fondly when it swept over his mouth. The taste and scent of your skin made him sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. And when you spoke, your heart beat truthful and steady. “I don’t want one if it’ll bother your senses. The tree’s not worth it if you’re miserable.”

Something in him softened at that, and he leaned in, dragging his nose against yours just for the way it made you smile before he tipped his head and pressed his lips to yours. He stayed there for a time, sighing with you as he pulled you in, his mouth working gently against yours. You stroked your thumb against his cheek, stubble rasping under your touch, tingling ripples of pleasure when you curved your fingers to gift him a little scratch with your nails. He let out the softest little moan, content as he’d ever been, warm and happy and loved here with you. “I love you, and thank you, my little burrito alleycat.”

“A burrito alleycat that loves you, too, Devil-man.” You kissed him again, short, fond kisses that made him feel slack and lazy, the usual aches and pains in his body fading beneath the warmth of your touch. You lifted your hand to scratch lightly through his hair, making him purr into your mouth. “Tree. Bothers those senses or no?”

He tilted his head to lazily kiss your wrist, before he groaned and lolled his head back into your hand when you hit a sore spot, his voice growing thick and glutted beneath your affection. “I, mm, may have called ahead and asked about some trees with gentler scents. They’ve got some that should work. Big ones, too.”

And oh, the way you drew in a slow breath, your fingers pausing in his hair. He knew, then, that even if there hadn’t been a mildly-scented tree for miles, it would have been worth it to travel farther still.

“A big tree?” you whispered, something like awe in your voice. “How big?”

“How big do you want?”

“I measured the apartment, we can fit an eighteen-foot tree in here right by the stairs, it’d have room to go up and spread out and there’d still be room for you to get your suit and also I found bulk ornaments for sale that we could use to fill it out until we have enough special ones of our own—”

“You… you measured—”

“I drew a diagram, do you want to feel it?” You lurched away from him and before he could catch you, you’d rolled yourself out of bed with a thunk and a low grunt, the blankets padding your fall. He listened in disbelief as you rolled along on your side, the blankets unwinding until at last, you were free.

Abruptly a laugh burst out of him as you scrambled up, darting out the bedroom door.

“Matt, put a shirt on!” you shouted, practically bouncing as you tore around the kitchen. “They open at nine, there might be a line!”

“I’m going to point out that you’re also still in your pajamas, sweetheart.”

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump—

You raced back into the bedroom like a tree-obsessed gazelle, and he caught you with a grin as you leapt back onto the bed with him. That grin only got wider as you kissed him, kissed his cheeks and his forehead and then his smiling mouth, your hands in his hair, affection he soaked in with a quiet sigh as you whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he huffed in amusement. That huff turned into a groan when you dipped to kiss along his throat, too, blatant affection along vulnerabilities that he bared only for you. He melted beneath the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, head rolling back in invitation when your warm lips passed over his pulse. “Mm, we still haven’t figured out how we’re going to get it into the apartment.”

“Trust me. I have ideas.”

 “Not this one,” he said with a hum. “Smells too dry.”

“Not this one either.” You stepped back to narrow your eyes in thought. “Trunk is crooked.”

The worker had long since left you both alone to browse the tree lot. Even though you both had a short list of preferred trees, it had seemed wise to work your way from the front to the back and inspect every tree currently available, just in case there was a surprise hiding somewhere. One by one, the two of you had gone through a rigorous, solemn inspection with all the gravity given to one of Matt’s legal cases.

Too small.

Too many open spaces between the branches.

Needles smell like cat pee inside.

You hadn’t known that was something to worry about, but you trusted Matt’s judgement, just like you trusted the stinky cat face he made upon circling that tree in particular.

Neither of you were looking for perfect. Perfect didn’t exist, you knew. All you wanted was good: a large-ish, relatively-healthy tree, and one that wouldn’t make Matt’s nose itch or fill the entire apartment with prickly needles. You’d made note of a few potential trees, keeping them in mind as you approached the back of the lot. You’d seen a noble fir halfway down that had looked promising—it wasn’t all that tall at eight feet but it would still look good by the stairs. You were halfway into a turn, intending to track the tree down again when you saw it.

The one.

“Oh,” you breathed, your head tilting as you stared up.

And up.

And up.

Matt taped his cane as he stepped up beside you, his head tipped as he considered the tree with you, his brow furrowed.

“Scent level?” you asked him softly.

He twitched his nose, the tip of it red from the cold. “Not bad. It’s a white fir, I think. I can definitely smell it, but it’s not unpleasant. The scent’s a little like citrus, actually. Density? Shape?”

“I can’t see the trunk at all. Room for ornaments. Perfect triangle shape. Rot? Damage inside?”

He started a slow circle around the tree, his lips parted minutely as he tasted the air. With each step he tapped his cane a few times, his head tipped towards the tree as he listened to the way it resonated. You watched nervously, biting your lip as you waited. There had to be a problem with it, there had to be. No tree was perfect, especially not your first real tree.

Matt came back around the tree, humming as he returned to your side. “It’s fresh. One of the freshest here, I think, or it sounds like it. And it smells clean. No rot.”

You reached out to take a branch gently in your hand, and when you pulled your gloved fingers down the line of it, your hand came away clean and free of needles. Another test passed as you sighed longingly. “Oh, Matt, it’s perfect.”

You both stepped back, staring up. Or, well, you did. Matt stared in spirit, if not in body.

It was perfect.

It was also… absolutely huge.

If it wasn’t eighteen feet, it was damned close, easily one of the tallest trees in the lot. The tree easily towered over you both, thick branches reaching up towards the heavens as if it longed to achieve the same height as the trees of the steel-and-concrete forest around it. That presence was undeniable, and even bound as it was, it was wide: broad and thick, its branches as big around as your wrist, each needle a vibrant blue-green touched with silver. It was the type of tree you’d only ever seen in movies, likely meant for building lobbies.

Or…

…for a couple with really, really high ceilings thanks to roof access.

“We could fit so many ornaments on it,” you breathed.

“How big did you say the ceilings were?” Matt asked, the cock of his head making you think he was running the numbers himself.

“Technically twenty. I left two feet for space at the top,” you said absently, already envisioning just how you might decorate this tree. Which was ridiculous.

It wasn’t even your tree yet, the common sense voice in your mind said. Besides, there were smaller, more suitable trees back up the lot.

It would cost too much, the sensible part of you said, even though you’d… maybe sorta been setting aside money for a tree this size for months now.

It was too large to be practical, the logical section of your brain howled. It would be a nightmare to get inside. An absolute, full-fledged, Christmas nightmare.

But it could fit.

You could make it fit.

You would make it fit.

“I can hear your pupils dilating,” Matt chuckled, the corner of his mouth tilted up into a small smirk. That smirk grew into a full-blown grin when you poked him, and he leaned over to press his mouth to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is this our tree? I know you’ve been setting money aside just in case.”

You reached out longingly to pet the branches, soft needles kissing at your gloved fingertips as if to return your affection. God, even the needles were perfect, far less prickly than some of the other trees. It would make it easier for Matt to help you decorate. This tree… it was like it was made for you and him: made for your home, for his senses, for your first real Christmas since fleeing Los Angeles years ago. It had everything you wanted. It was healthy, and ready for a mountain of ornaments and tinsel and as many strings of lights as you could get your hands on.

“Do you think we can?” You bit your lip again, daring to glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I know it’s big, and it’ll be hell getting it inside. More practical to get a smaller tree.”

“When has practicality ever stopped me?” He tipped his head, kissing your temple as you laughed, letting him wind an arm around your waist. He tapped his cane again a few times, humming thoughtfully. “It doesn’t sound like it’ll fit through our front door, but the new rooftop door’s a bit wider. If we come through that one, I think we can get it inside. We can make this work.”

“Jesus,” you breathed, staring up as he set his chin atop your head. “We’re really gonna do it. We’re gonna drag an eighteen-footer into our apartment.”

“We are.” He let out a pleased noise when you sidled in, nudging at him until he wound both arms around your waist, draping himself contentedly against your back. “There is admittedly one thing I’m not sure about.”

“What, transport?”

Matt shook his head. “I had Foggy drive over. He’s borrowing one of his family’s delivery trucks. Him and Karen should be here in about ten minutes, and they’re very excited to see what we picked out. No, the real question is…”

Oh.

“How,” you said slowly, “the fuck are we going to get this onto the roof?”

  “Pi-vooooooot!” Foggy howled from one flight up.

“I understood that reference, so ha, but also: which way do we pivot?!” you wheezed, shoving at the tree. “Matt, push.”

“I am pushing,” he groaned from down near the base, his teeth grit, feet wide.

“I’m sor—” you started.

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Matt growled, ducking his shoulder and heaving. The tree shivered and moved a half-inch. “You-you wanted… a-a big tree for our first Christmas, and we’re getting one, so help me God.”

“And he’s Catholic so he means that literally,” Foggy puffed, yanking at the ropes. The tree sympathetically moved another inch, its needles shivering as if in apology over its own size. “And he’s—gah—right, cause this’ll take an act of God to-to get it inside. Ok, I don’t know what direction you’re pivoting, but it’s the wrong pivot. Pivot the other way. Pivot.”

“You guys are doing great,” Karen said innocently. Probably because there was only room for three of you on the stairwell and she’d drawn the good straw.

Matt groaned again. “There are three other directions we can pivot, Foggy.” And yet he tried, tendons straining in his neck, his jaw clenched as you and him tried to shift the tree in a new direction. He was, admittedly, taking the majority of the tree’s weight of the three of you since he was the strongest, but he was also the only one who’d rather let the tree crush him to death than admit he couldn’t simply levitate it up the stairs through masochism and sheer stubbornness, so you got your own shoulder farther under it, taking more weight while Foggy decided where to go.

“Uh, left pivot, left pivot.”

There was a crunch as the three of you hit the wall.

“I swear to Catholic Jesus, Foggy,” you announced grimly, “if you Friends-pivot our tree into breaking, I will come up this tree at you like a rabid squirrel.”

“Merry Christmas, shitter was full!” Foggy bellowed, yanking hard enough that the tree, surprisingly, moved another inch. “Karen, how we lookin?”

“I’m going to get so many views on this,” Karen snickered, her phone aimed upwards.

“Karen!” Foggy barked, and you squawked beneath the increased weight of the tree as Foggy let go with one hand to point back down the stairs. The motion almost took you out until Matt shoved a leg out, bracing when your feet started to slide back, his face covered in sweat, teeth bared as if he were fighting someone in an alley and not the laws of physics and the equally dangerous laws of girlfriends who wanted very large Christmas trees. “Don’t you—ok, actually, send me this video later. But mechanics first! Status?”

“Right, you guys are, uh…”

“Are we almost to the landing?” you wheezed hopefully, spitting out a pine needle that had, somehow, wound up in your mouth.

Unfortunately, Matt was below you.

“I love you, too,” Matt said tiredly, the wet pine needle now stuck in his hair.

“Sorry.”

Karen cleared her throat, and you leaned your head over the railing… to meet her eye where she stood, roughly two inches below you. She gave you a weak thumbs up.

Matt groaned, leaning forward to faceplant on one of the branches.

“Right,” you said. “I have… a different plan.”

  “You stole this from While You Were Sleeping, didn’t you?” Foggy said, his voice crackling through your cell’s speakerphone where you’d set it on the rooftop’s A.C. unit.

“Admitting to nothing,” you wheezed. “Just-just keep an eye on the-the tree. Right, again!”

You, Karen, and Matt all yanked.

The ropes groaned once more, drawn up taut as the three of you attempted to pull up the massive tree over the side of the building. You’d been at this for ten minutes, and managed to make it to the second story, according to Foggy. But it had taken a lot out of the three of you, even Matt. He, of course, declared that he was fine, but you’d once heard him say the same thing about a bullet wound roughly three minutes before passing out, so you took that with a container’s-worth of salt grains.

Karen growled, digging her heels in as you all huffed and puffed, Christmas spirit driving you forward like the crack of a whip. “W-when did you—ugh—say your friend was… gonna get here?”

“Not quite a friend,” you grunted, leaning back so sharply you almost rammed into Matt behind you, who was making a strange wheezing sound as he no doubt attempted to pull the entire tree up by himself despite there being two additional people. “And she just kinda—ngh—shows up if she feels like it. Fifty-fifty chance. Matt, do not tear something.”

“Can meditate—”

“No!” you bellowed, gritting your teeth as you all yanked, the rope slowly coming with you. “N-no meditating! Need your-your back healthy for ornament hanging—”

“I knew you loved me for something,” he mumbled.

“—and tree-topping—”

“And the other kind of topping,” Karen said, somehow sly despite the fact that you were all soaked in sweat and wild-eyed, smelling like pine needles and rabid determination.

“Oh my God, Karen,” you wheezed, your feet skidding on the cement.

“What? It’s true.”

“It’s fine,” Matt grunted. “She can top if my back goes.”

“Are we talking about trees or…?”

The wind picked up.

Which wasn’t that unusual. But then again, you weren’t normally all hanging onto ropes tied to an eighteen-foot hanging embodiment of all your Christmas hopes and dreams.

Just like that, the rope snapped you all forward as if a giant had taken hold and yanked. Matt crashed into you, and together, your tangled bodies took out Karen at the knees. You all tumbled forward, the rope flying free.

Oh, no you don’t.

You did not go over a decade without a fucking Christmas tree just to lose your first eighteen-footer.

You were going to have a merry fucking Christmas if it killed you.

You leapt for the rope with a snarl, and Matt, predictably sensing that, for once, he was the one with an excess of self-preservation, darted after you. You only just managed to snag the rope, throwing yourself back, your feet shoved forward to brace yourself against the edge of the rooftop. Unfortunately, while you did a lot of walking and running, you didn’t quite have the muscle to hold it. Few did.

Matt caught you a moment later, bracketing your own legs with his, his arms around you until he could grab the rope, too. And, not for the first time, you found yourself grateful for all the muscle in those massive thighs of his when he shoved his feet up against the wall, locked up with a growl, and held.

The tree lurched to a stop.

"Fuck, I love your beefy thighs," you panted. "Remind me to show them appreciation later."

He groaned, trying to lean his body back farther. "Now's not the best time—nngh—to make me think about you and my thighs, sweetheart."

“Right,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “Unless that was intentional and you tried to throw your tree down like Hans Gruber off the Nakatomi Building, I’m glad to inform you that you stopped it six inches from the ground.”

“Matt—” you panted, shoved up against Matt's chest. Karen had already caught the slack behind you both, but there wasn’t enough leverage for you both to back away. If even one of you let go… “I don’t know if we can-can make it—”

“Don’t say that!” he hissed, muscles straining, his chest heaving at your back. “I-I can save it, we need the tree, so we can have Christmas like you wanted—”

“The only thing I need for Christmas is—nngh—you, Matt.”

“Should I be filming?” Karen panted. “This is-is touching, but—”

“Really?” Matt asked you quietly. “You’d be happy… even if we—”

“I’m always happy with you.” You leaned your sweat-soaked head back against him, twisting as best you could to kiss his chin. “Tree, or no tree.”

“Jesus Christ, that was disgusting. You owe me an extra bottle for this.”

The rope suddenly tore free from your hands—

—and snapped taut as someone lifted it up and began to pull.

And it went, with all the ease of a dog being tugged along on a Sunday stroll.

“Holy shit,” Karen whispered.

“Karen, Matt,” you puffed, waving back. “This is—”

“I’m not drunk enough for introductions so don’t bother,” Jessica grunted as she walked backwards, casually winding the rope around one hand as she considered the bottle in her other hand, one you’d left by the door as an offering in hopes that she might smell what amounted to paint thinner and show up like the world’s most foul-mouthed elf. “Not my usual shit, but it’ll do.”

“Second one will be delivered to your office as promised,” you panted, still leaning back against Matt.

“Now it’s three for having to listen to that sappy display. Now unless you want that tree to fuck you into the ground, I’d get the hell away from the edge before it comes up.”

You and Matt both scrambled out of the way as the first branches appeared over the edge, and even Karen took a few steps back.

“Right, I have no idea what’s happening,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “But holy shit, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“Open this,” Jessica said, shoving the bottle into your hands as she walked back down the rope, hand over hand before she got to the edge. She shoved one hand over the edge, snorting once she got a good look at the tree. “Shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? Christmas psychopath.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unscrewing the top of the bottle—God knew it wasn’t expensive enough to need a cork or have a bottle cap. “If I’m in, I’m in.”

“Go big or go home,” Matt said, his grin only barely hidden behind mock solemnity.

“Applies only to good fucks and bottles,” she snarked back, casually lifting the eighteen-foot tree in one somehow-disgusted hand, pulling it up and over the roof like one might pluck up a filthy, crusted spaghetti noodle from the floor.

Karen’s eyes were wide, and even Matt had tilted his head beside you. “Is she…?”

“She is,” Karen breathed. “Jesus. I guess that’s one way to get the tree up here.”

“Don’t count on this next year. And you owe me, even with the booze.” She grunted and tossed the massive tree down, dusting her hands off. The sap on her fingers made her scowl. “Why everyone’s obsessed with nature is beyond me.”

“Christmas nature,” you corrected. “At least it’s not the giant turtle guy. I heard he’s gone to you since I wouldn’t go down again.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He’s been in my office three times in the past month ranting about them coming up out of the sewers.”

You handed her the bottle as she passed you by, throwing her a salute, as did Karen. “Thanks for the help.”

“Remember: two bottles, my office. Then we’re even.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth tilting up as if he already knew the response that was coming.

“Nicer to leave,” she said, waving one hand before disappearing down the stairs, leaving nothing but the tree and the scent of discount whiskey in her wake.

“She sounded lovely,” Foggy said. “And also hilarious. Can we invite her to the Nelson and Murdock Christmas party? Is the tree up there at least?”

You stared at the tree.

The tree now on the roof.

“Matt, I’d open your arms,” Karen said with a grin. “Incoming.”

Matt grinned and pivoted, throwing his arms open as you leapt up into them. He spun you both in a big circle, your laughter torn away by the wind, the first snowflakes of the day beginning to drift down. “Fuck, we did it, Matt! We got our Christmas tree!”

“If my girl wants a big tree, she gets a big tree,” he said, his grin softening to a smile when you buried your hands in his hair, dark strands dusted with white, and tipped his head up so you could kiss him warmly, safely held in his arms, and if your eyes were maybe a little wet, he wasn’t willing to say anything but, “Love you, sweetheart.”

There was a quiet click as Karen took a picture.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as his nose brushed against yours. “Thank you for giving me a real tree, Matt.”

It took time to get it inside, but once you managed, things came together perfectly. It was the perfect height, filling the open space with a mass of brilliant blue-green touched with silver, its branches stretched wide. It took you and Matt a good ten strands of lights to wrap the whole thing and at least five boxes of standard ornaments. Here and there, between them all, hung more personal touches:

Paper ornaments, carefully folded and cut by quiet memory alone.

A little penguin couple in Santa hats, flippers held tight above both script and braille that read, ‘Our First Christmas.’

And now…

“I like this one,” you murmured, hooking the final ornament onto the tree and standing back. Matt wound his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. “I’m glad Karen took that picture.”

“Do we look happy?” he asked you quietly. “Is it… does the tree look right?”

And you heard the unspoken:

Did I do this right?

You turned and let your gaze slide over his face. He looked… more content than he had in a long, long time. And yet there was a hint of vulnerability there, too, hidden beneath the softened glow of the Christmas lights, painted in shades of red and green and blue. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his cheek, and he turned, nuzzling in so he could kiss you back. “It’s the perfect tree,” you told him softly. “It’s bright and full of colors with all the lights and our ornaments. All our little ones look even more special. It looks like something out of a movie, or a Christmas card. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder and relaxing at last, as you lifted your hand to brush through his hair. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Merry Christmas, Matt. And here’s to many more, until we’re old and grey.”

[iristial]

reiwa fancam mode melo (geats) | 4 aces & the black fox

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: SUR'KESH

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Urdnot Wrex With: Lt. Steve Cortez, Dr. Mordin Solus, Major Kirrahe, and Urdnot Bakara And a Special Guest Appearance by: Adm. Steven Hackett Alliance R&D has officially begun construction on the Prothean device. The team has dubbed it: "Project Crucible". We're throwing everybody who knows how to throw a hammer at it. This is gonna be the most ambitious undertaking in human history. I'm not saying it won't be a challenge- but we can do this, Shepard. You can do this. Never doubt that. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

+BONUS (the smirk™️)

[ennaih]

Every Film I Watch In 2023:

274. Kho Gaye Hum Kahan (2023)

[petrovna-zamo]

[lizardthelizard]

@naivesilver's Court of Misfits in her Thousand Problems verse

[rickgrimesdoingrickthings]

Send in ♔ for my muse’s reaction to yours pushing mine up against the wall (( hehehehe ))

Oh he had been waiting for that. He just let her push him. There was even a sense of happiness since she finally had decided to break that tension that had started to build up since the day he had joined her community. He was tired due to the day of work, but he didn't mind. It was always by that time of the day, by sunset, that Vega would show up by his house- each time she had a different "excuse" to visit. And he appreciated every single time, no matter the subject. By talking to Fox since days before, he knew Vega had these affection outbursts, sometimes even without proper context- but he didn't shake at her tackle. He enjoyed it- he secretly liked her roughness and strength- she was a warrior above all else. Rick stared her, almost challenging, excited to feel her pressure, her body against his, wondering what else she was going to do. He already could feel anticipation building up, his heart rate firing, oh he wanted her, he wanted her so bad, since quite some time. Rick wouldn't shake in front of her, no. He was a leader too, by heart- he had his own pride to defend. The sheriff let her pressure his chest, and whatever part she wanted to, feeling her hands on him in that context, she had no idea how much touch starved he was-

@sxbaist

@vuulpecula (look Fox has a cameo hehe)

[bbbrianjones]

rob hirst of midnight oil - red sails in the sunset era (1984-1985)

[screampied]

#THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY. g. suguru

☆ sum. the last thing you’d expect for a surprise birthday present by your friends was a visit to a men’s strip club. geto suguru—your dancer’s got it all. tall, handsome, and he wants waaay more than just thirty minutes with you.

wc. 6.9k (h.. haha)

warnings. fem! reader, stripper au, stripper! geto, unprotected, lap dancīng, dry humping, switch geto, lots of riding, 69, finishing too quick, choking, geto has nīpple piercings, hair pulling, spīt, dirty talk, he licks champagne off you, nīpple play, breedīng, praise, **** cameo :), petnames.

an. ty to the ppl who voted on my poll <3 kinda scared to post this LOL. this came on a whim ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

➤ kinktober mlist.

“i understand your body wants it. i know your thoughts, oh you ‘bout it ‘bout it . . ”

the erotic lyrics that blared through the club’s abject speakers nearly deafened your ears the moment you stepped inside. you were flashed with a plethora of luminescent jade lights as you read a glowing sign near the bar that read ‘welcome to the vixxxen lounge.’ your friends, who decided to surprise you for your birthday with nothing more than a girls’ trip to a men’s strip club told you they’d be getting drinks if you need them. of course . . that was probably code for: going to spend time near the private rooms.

apparently, it’s ‘happy hour’ which meant countless discounts—and you’d already had your two individual sessions paid for by one of your friends. crisp aerating air waves from the air conditioner chills against your skin as you lean against the bronzy brick pillar. you gather your surroundings, eyeing the oily attractive glossed men that entertained the screaming crowds of thirsty women. the wide stage was spacey, and it almost looked like a concert—you started to wonder just who you were paired up with. but right as you’re pondering deep in thought, there’s a light tap on your shoulder.

“miss.”

you turn around to face probably the most attractive man you’ve laid your eyes upon. he’s tall with lengthy long hair — tangled black tresses of strands that reach just about past his shoulders. you couldn’t help but openly gawk a bit . . finding your eyes to leisurely trail down toward his skimpy attire. near his neck, he had a stained smooch of a lip stick mark that was a dark shaded red. you then noticed a few hundred dollar bills stuck in between his red thin straps.

this guy, it appeared he was dressed as some kind of firefighter. he had on the helmet along with the matching baggy yellow pants, but was completely topless. the only thing that went against his chiseled pecs was the skinny straps that attached onto the belts of his pants.

“heyy,” he waves a hand in your face, arching a brow.

“o- oh, sorry,” you bashfully murmur, mentally cursing yourself out for wandering off into space again. embarrassing, embarrassing. fishing for your vip pass that gave you direct access to one of the secluded private rooms—you dig it out your pocket, staring down at the assigned dancer and room number. “are you uh . . geto?”

“i am. but ah, suguru’s fine,” he murmurs, and he takes your pass, putting the temperature lanyard over your neck. geto’s fingers brush against your skin and you nearly shudder.

his touch.. it felt like sparks of electricity, and near the far distance by the crowded stage, your friends waved at you. with a throaty, “follow me, birthday girl,” he swiftly turns his heels and starts making a beeline toward the back of the club. you follow him, continuing to eye his costume.

but phew, he had quite the ass.

but anyway—that’s not the point.

it never really occurred to you how all the male strippers had specific costumes—you were far too entranced by geto. it was probably because of how halloween was only a mere few weeks away, so it’d make sense how they’d be ordered to get into the spirit of things.

“and imma let you do it how you wanna girl i’ll riiiide with it, riiiide with it . . ”

the lyrics of that catchy same song that resounded through the speakers of the club grew louder—and as he guided you inside the dimly red lit room, he makes you lie back against a cushioned sofa. there’s a few piles of money scattered near the front, and you didn’t count but that amount could make anyone filthy rich.

geto rubs the back of his neck, rolling it around to stretch before he glances down at you. you struggle to look him in the eye and a faint smile creases across his lips.

you’re new, and he could tell you weren’t used to such carnal provocative environments.

“relaaax, pretty girl,” his voice was low purr. the way he talked was soothing, a good amount of teasing and playfulness. right at his words, your shoulders slumped and you lean back.

the air around you seems to close in, getting thicker ‘n thicker before he makes you haul your arms over the edges of the couch. “comfy?” and he doesn’t do anything else until you give him a subtle complying nod. geto takes off his amber-colored helmet before putting it on your head. “lean back. just focus on me.”

“o . . okay,” you exhale, and your eyes finally meet his.

the fake firefighter helmet crooks, tilting a bit to the side over the crown of your head as you watch him starting to sway to the bass dropping beats. you gulp as he gets closer . . and closer, following the exact steps to his usual routine before he gets on your lap.

he’s so pretty, and now that his helmet was off of him, you got an even more view of his face. geto starts to slowly grind against you, one hand resting near back of the couch that’s next to your shoulder. he’s fully in sync with the song that booming blares in the background.

the friction. he was moving up against you, and you couldn’t help but glance down his glossy chest. his legs were huge, and you didn’t even notice the clamped silver piercings that stuck against his reddened nipples. “is this okay?” he whispers, and you already feel yourself starting to heat up. the a/c was blasting—and yet, you felt like it was over a hundred degrees.

“ ‘s okay,” you breathlessly say, feeling your facial expressions serene. geto swiftly gets off you, and he starts to rock and grind his hips against the floor.

he’s slow and precise—each movement matches the following before he sits up, flicking against the straps of his costume. fuck, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. you knew he was probably used to this . . seeing so many women at a time, giving them a thirty minute private dance and going on with his day.

geto had charisma and lots lots of it.

it was ironic because he didn’t even have to say anything. throughout the duration of his entire routine, he let his hips do the rest of the talking. speaking of hips, you’ve never seen a more a slutty waist.

it’s unapologetically snatched, and you start to envision seeing his face plastered on every cover of a a men’s vogue magazine. he’s gorgeous—and the second he’s back in your lap again, he leans into the crook of your neck. “hey,” he repeats, and his voice was a lot more pitched and lower. it’s a dirty kind of husky that makes you clench your thighs together. as he’s up close—you get a whiff of his cologne. it’s quite loud, and you’d guess the scent was something between bergamot and rich aromatic oak moss. “do you wanna touch me?”

a breath gets trapped in the back of your clogged throat at the question.

geto continues to gradually grind his hips into you as pretty black strands of his hair tickles near your shoulders. “y- yes,” and the words smoothly flow from your lips like smooth molasses of chocolate.

geto was patient, and he wanted to make you comfortable—that was his number one priority.

he speaks in a more rough yet sly tone. “ ‘m gonna grab your wrists okay? just feel me,” and you feel mentally prepare yourself. biting down on your bottom lip—you mouth a soft, ‘okay,’ and geto gently grabs your wrists.

he’s still slowly jerking his hips against you, matching each sultry beat of the song. the base of the chorus rang through your ears and the lyrics flowed through once ear ‘n out the other.

as you stare up at him, he makes you press your hands firmly against his shaven flexing chest. sheets of slicking sweat that covers the top part of his body coats on your hands and you cutely furrow your brows. “heh, oh sorry love. ‘m a bit sweaty, hope that doesn’t turn you off.”

“it’s f . . fine,” you utter, and he resumes to guide your hands. his chest was as hard as a brick, and you felt how his muscles would freely tense.

god, geto was a literal sculpture. you probably looked stupid with how you kept openly staring at his perfectly carved abs. an entire six pack - each section even more strenuously ripped than the first.

as you continue to gawk, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets—you feel him shifting his weight a bit so he wouldn’t crush you. your thumb snags against his pierced nipple and he grunts, breaking character for a second. he lets off a cute snarl. “sorry! i didn’t-”

“sweetheart, it’s okay,” he hums, releasing a low puff of air. so he was sensitive there, noted.

as he continues, he makes your hands reach lower. the thin straps of his costume glide against your plump fingertips before he stops at his fading raven-colored happy trail.

black ‘n bushy . . you could make out every single tiny speck of hair that stuck against the lower part of his abdomen if you squinted, and you did.

the rest was hiding underneath the upper hem part of his prop turnout pants. “now ‘m gonna let go of my hands,” he whispers, eyeing you intently.

it was so much lustful ardor in the air. the more you stared at the dancer, the more you started questioning why the hell you never visited a strip club sooner. a question that was probably gonna remain unanswered..

“ . . ‘n ‘m gonna let you do whatever you want while i finish.” he concludes his sentence, and as if his hands were attached to your own with adhesive velcro, geto slowly pulls away.

now, it’s just your two balmy palms pressing against his chest. you take it upon yourself to drag an invisible line down his flat sleek cheek with your fingers.

your hands then find themselves reaching for a few papery fifty dollar bills, tossing it at his glossed grinding body. geto sighs with a cunning simper, continuing to rock his slim hips into your lap. “that’s it, feel me princess. ‘m all yours.”

and in a way – he was.

it was only you two in the room, and yet it felt like you ‘n suguru were the only people on earth. the entire mood was sensual and you could almost smell the libido that radiated off his skin. it was a scent you couldn’t describe—but you didn’t want him to stop.

as your hands kept roaming down his puffed out chest, you stop right at the hem of his pants. poking out, his sharp carved-like ‘v’ shaped pelvis arches within each muscle he moves forward.

the crimson red lights that flicker every three seconds narrowly spotlights toward geto’s fit body. for a quick moment—you get a good glimpse of his face and he’s inches away from your shimmery twitching lips.

geto leans up to your ear and he hoarsely whispers. “birthday girllll,” and he huffs out a drawn breath, feeling you eagerly tug at his pants. a snicker leaves from him before he gets a nice smell of your citrusy perfume. “ah. is the pants gettin’ on your nerves?”

“a bit,” you murmur honestly, and you were already undressing him with your eyes. you were sure geto was most likely wearing a thong underneath but you imagined otherwise.

filthy - you couldn’t believe the thoughts you were having.

to think, if you hadn’t accepted this little ��girls’ trip’ with your friends, you’d probably be sleeping the entire day away. after all, they did want you to get out more. especially for your special day. with a pout twisting across each part of your lips, you sigh. “can i—”

“what, undress me?” he tries to play coy, seeing your pouty expression increase. geto hums, amused as you lightly hook a finger underneath his hooked strap before he shrugs. “go ‘head, princess. knock y’rself out.”

geto found your hesitance cute. you didn’t wanna seed ‘needy’ but you were showing all signs of it. at the moment, you completely forgot you were at a strip club and he was just a dancer.

but fuck it.

you went slow as he still straddles your lap, slowly pulling down his loosely fitted pants. they were baggy.. a flashy color of yellow, and the more you tugged them down, the more you got a glance at his scanty thong.

it’s dark purple with his name embedded on the thin white strips.

from all sides, it spelled ‘s u g u r u,’ in bold lilac plum colors. he even had custom made thongs? as if you couldn’t get even more aroused—

yeah, you were aroused. leave it to your legs that remained glued together starting to swelter up with … stickiness.

not everyday did you have a man grind against your lap, and to be fucking frank you didn’t think you’d last.

“you’re so pretty,” you pant, watching him shimmy his pants down to where it flops down to his ankles. and oh, he had quite the bulge.

it looked almost painful—so swole and round, you just wanted to kiss it. it looked like at any second it was about to just burst through the cottony stretched fabric. the scenery grows more hedonic as the red lights dimmer. you could barely see his face anymore, just a silhouette that grinds against your lap at each beat of the song playing loudly.

as you nearly slip out a moan, you lean back before your heaving breaths start to accelerate. “suguru.”

“aw,” he coos, feeling your arms wrap around his slender waist. geto’s still swiftly grinding into you, feeling your cute nails claw into his back. the back of your brain kept chanting ‘more, more, more!’

you still have the helmet on, and with the way it’s crooked and could barely fit your head—he found that small detail adorable. as he remained seated on your squished thighs, it was embarrassing to think you were starting to feel yourself erratically throb.

leaning into your neck, he could loudly smell your sheer arousal and it makes him lowly chuckle against the soft shell of your ear. “not satisfied, yeah?” and he lets off a quiet bellowing grunt, feeling your hands trail down his sweaty body once more.

he’s so built, parallel to a literal tank.

geto’s rocking against you in rhythm with the same song that still trumpets through the speakers before whispering. “just say it ‘n i’ll give it to you.”

“you always come to the parties. to pluck the feathers off allll the biiiirds. . ”

the lengthy song continued to drag on—and the busted speakers in the private room sounded like it was about to break from the distortion. it was loud, but your panting breaths was even louder the more geto dances on you.

letting off a longing three second moan once a leg of yours voluntarily hooks around his slim waist, you mewl out a sweet, “i want you. suguru, fuck me.”

“oh. sounds like a demand, sweetheart,” he purrs, and he stills his hips against your lap.

geto’s got a plethora of rings on each of his fingers. pretty silver ‘n gold bands that would wrap around his digits. he had long fingers, thin and perfectly slender.

the more you stared, the more you thought how good they’d fit insi—

“eyes up here,” he cuts you off, and you shudder feeling his palms cup your face. your leg still wraps around his waist before another shortly follows.

he’s barely rocking into you now, and with a bumpy shimmy, you feel his bulge rub against you. “mhm,” geto grunts before meeting your needy gaze once more. as a thumb strokes your bottom lip, pulling it down gingerly, he whispers. “ask nicely. say pretty please.”

“you won’t … charge me extra?” you sheepishly say, beads of perspiring sweat trickling down all sides of your forehead.

geto smugly smiles, grumbling a subtle, ‘nah,’ before making you lean all the way back against the padded sofa. “okay,” you breathe, and you just didnt care anymore.

you wanted him – maybe even needed him..

geto’s hardened bulge that presses against his thong throbs harder before you sweetly murmur,“please, fuck me, suguru.”

“anythin’ for the birthday girl.”

and those words were the same exact words that ran through your mind as you now found yourself in . . quite the risqué position.

you’d be the one straddling geto now. he’s got you in a classic 69, and your pretty perked ass hovers over his face. right in front of you was his weighty fat cock, and it’s a pretty flushed pink with rosy-lime veins prodding from the sides.

you’re whimpering out sweet harmonic keynotes as his long pointed tongue slithers its through your inviting entrance, two broad arms clinging onto your hips. “fuuckk,” he’d groan, feeling you smear a thumb over his leaky mushroomy tip.

you’ve already got him sopping wet from the chin down thanks to your wet cunt – glossy pearly drool seeping from the sides of his dick.

geto’s shaft remains idle, and you wrap a hand around his base before pumping it, rotating your wrist – once, twice, thrice..

he was aching, and the entire time he was giving you a show he had a boner. it was rare, usually whenever he gave lap dances—he was one to never really crack, he was a trained professional and yet here you were.

“mmch,” his swollen puckered lips smack against your cunt as he eats you out entirely from the back.

your mouth drops, jaw dangling— goofily hanging open like a cartoon as he resumes to extends the length of his tongue inside the outskirts of your warm room-temperate-tastin’-pussy.

lolling it out all the way, he licks from top to bottom—stopping at your clenching hole. geto gives it a five second kiss, a sloppy one that glues a mixture of his spit and your slimy juices on his mouth. “sweetheaaart,” he rasps, biting back a greedy groan once he feels you starting to take him in your mouth.

your throat’s seraphic warmth draws a hot sharp breath out of him as he swats a hard palm against your ass for you to start. “when i say move your ass against my face, i fuckin’ mean it. move,” and you let off a candied whimper the second the temporary sting sends singles toward your weeping whiny clit.

feebly, you start to flop your ass up and down against his face and you hear a satisfy ‘hmm’ purr from his lips. you’re moaning, sinking his cock down your throat in the process before your sticky tongue swirls around his angered crownhead. “mmph,” and you take a few inches before you feel his tip swipe against the scaled roof of your mouth.

going back up, it loudly ‘pops!’ out as a bit of sheeny saliva trickles down your chin. you’re taking him deep within no time, and you let off a cute hiccup once his swollen sack paps near your jaw.

so full ‘n round…

you’re breathing through your nose, still shaking your ass against his face, swipin’ his nose occasionally like a credit card with your honeyed-slathered cunt.

his wide flat tongue felt so good that you felt your toes curling each time he playfully nibbles on your sensitive throbbing clit. his tastebuds felt each pulse and it was so hot. “sugu, fuck.”

“i know, i know,” he gruffly whispers against your runny folds. bringing a pair of long twinned fingers towards your pussy, geto strums it down the pulsating slit in a straight pillaring line.

with a bit of pressure—he spreads your lower lips apart, getting a front row seat view of your clit pumpin’ pumpin’ away.

you had such a pretty throb, the prettiest he’s ever seen.

“god, you’re pretty but you’re even prettier down here too,” and not only do you hear him swallow but you feel it too.

a long full gulp, and he’s making sure to savor as much of your sweet slick on his tongue as possible.

geto’s just nasty, and a proud eater. he zigzags his tongue everywhere until your vision’s murky and clouded. you’re left crossed eyed with puffed up cheeks, barely able to focus on his dick that’s laying flat on your tongue.

a hand of his squeezes against your ass before with a mean ‘whack!’ he spanks it again just to see the bouncy recoil. the way a ‘lil fat portion of your ass would jiggle all due to the hasty-rash contact of his palm makes him throb.

and you feel it right in your mouth.

as your head bobbles at a more quick yet languid pace, your tongue skims down one of the many veins that paint down his cock. your repeated moans become muffled, and geto groans at how sloppy you sound—from the front and from behind.

the more he slurps every syrupy drop that dribbles out from your gurgling pussy, his precisely-thorough licks turn into exaggerated four second sucks.

geto softly caresses a hand against the bare skin of your exposed flesh, tugging on your pulled up skirt. pulled to the side were your panties that had a pretty pink star imprinted on the back decorated with glimmery rhinestones. you moan as your back slowly arches inward ‘n out and your knees become to buck.

his tongue, he definitely knew how to eat.

“ ‘s good, juuuus’ like that princess,” he huffs, feeling minuscule dewdrops of your saliva pour down the sides of his cock, slicking all over his base.

your thumb traces a heart over his hefty sack, massaging his tender full testes before you hear geto whine out a sweet, “o- oooh shit,” he was tender there too, huh..

and the sound catches him completely off guard because he grunts, the swaying of his tongue gradually slowing down. geto’s pretty lashes flutter before he grunts, taking a second to breathe. “don’t . . stop, play with ‘em some more,”

“pf—” you pop your mouth off his dick again, wet slimy sounds following as you stroke him off with an closed palm. “are you sure?”

“yeah yeah, ‘m sure,” and there’s a bit of sass in his gruff tone.

geto’s getting flustered, and never in a million years would he admit that you playing with his balls made him feel so good but fuck, it did.

geto paws a hand against your ass before letting off a hurried breathless, “fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

you went back to bobbling your head up ‘n down, pumping his fleshy pillar of length in your free hand before you start writhing your ass against his face even more quicker. geto moans, a surge of a trill nearly escaping out his gruff vocal chords before he grunts loudly. “mmp,” and your throat was so wet ‘n warm.

it enveloped him entirely, and as your cunt’s sitting over his slick lips—every so often rubbing against his nose and slick-streamed chin, he peppers it with a few kisses.

your hips were arched ‘n askew, and as your tongue occasionally darts down his sensitive slit you hear him grunt again. the burgundy colored sofa pathetically dips inward due to the stacked weight of both rutting bodies. geto’s eyes start to roll their way back as you continue, nearly sucking the soul out of him.

“fuck, baby. spit on it,” he groans, clasping his teeth at your needy clit.

he slides his tongue against your cute bulbous-shaped nub before sucking on it for the umpteenth time. you moan, still tossing your ass around for him in a slow meandering manner, feeling his tongue drag down the slope of your ass again.

geto’s pussy drunk entirely, and he didn’t care if this was against policy, having a customer touch him. when you tasted this divine, he couldn’t help devour your cunt like the starved, starved man he was..

at his words, you spat out translucent globs of saliva from your lips, pasting the slightly curved sides of his dick with your slick mess. “pff,” and you drench him from the base down, twisting his shaft with your wrist before hearing him groan.

geto’s about to finish and you could feel the vigorous pumps of his dick in your mouth growing weaker … and weaker – until, he cums.

geto’s jaw goes slack the moment his peak abnormally reaches, and growls out a husky ‘fuuuuuck,’ with the muscles in his neck tensing.

within a blink of an eye and a snap of a finger, the flat tip of your tongue’s now being sprayed with spritz of waxen cum. it’s a bittersweet taste that coats on your judgy tastebuds, and as you close your eyes with a humming moan departing from your lips, you hear him hiss. his body’s violently shaking, and his hips start to hungrily thrust into your mouth.

you wriggle your ass in face as he’s barely eating you out anymore, frantically heaving as he dumps his all down your pretty tight throat. “fuck, fuck, take it,” and his body still sporadically tremors.

as your mouth’s still full, geto gives your teary wet cunt it’s last few lapping licks before his head collapses back in lecherous defeat.

with cheeks still plumply puffed — his cock remains shoved inside. his aggravated red tip’s just swiping ‘n erupting near the roof of your mouth as you slurp him clean.

you swallow instantaneously, luxuriating in the mildly honey taste before feeling him shudder underneath you. “goddamn, so fuckin’ good. fuckin’ filthy, princess.”

with clammy palms, he turns you over and you lean in to kiss him. geto’s taken by surprise, and as you make him flop back against the velveteen cushion, you made your way on his lap. rough edges of teeth clash and roughly clatter against each other as each tongue plays a more salacious version twister.

geto reclines back, his hands moving toward your rocking waist as he grunts—tasting himself on your tongue. its bitter, but with the help of your lip gloss—it turns far more sweet within seconds. feverish breaths ghosts inside each mouth before you watch him reach near the side of him.

grabbing a half filled up bottle of mousseux, he flicks off the cork with a flick of his middle finger. geto’s eyes still closed as he’s delving his tongue right into your mouth.

the merciless smacking of lips grew louder before he pulls away, huffing breathlessly. “wan’ more of a taste real quick, princess,” and it sounds more like a needy plead. you see how flushed his face was, and geto’s eyes dart straight toward your bare chest. the top you wore was pulled down, clinging near the very bottom of your waist. “c’mere..”

and as you lean in, you watch as geto starts to pour down a small stream of champagne all down your chest. right between your tits, cupping underneath your tummy so none wouldn’t spill further down.

he makes sure a few glosses over your pretty round breasts before he grunts, closing the distance between your chest.

geto buries his face in between the valley of your tits, licking it right up. the bubbly fruity taste lingers on his tongue as he laps you up from top to bottom moaning at the spicy sweetness.

a mixture of your skin and champagne—better than any cocktail this club’s ever served.

“f- fuck,” he moans, lying his tongue flat. geto stares at you the entire time too, and his mouth gradually trails it way toward your damp neglected nipples. he cups his lips around the first nipple—slowly transitioning to the next before slurping the drink right off your body.

a tight breath gets caught in your throat as he continues to lick the rainy drops of sugary champagne off your body. geto groans, savoring the taste before with a loud ‘plop’, he pops your tender wet nipple out of his mouth.

there’s nothing but utter lust and infatuation in his eyes—and he then gets up to kiss you. the room’s nearly pitch dark without the help of the dim effulgent red lights that shined against you both. it added to the mood perfectly.

as tongues continue to try to assert dominance, you moan right in the dancer’s mouth, returning the gesture of swapping gauzy strings of gossamer spit.

abruptly though, you pull away, gently pushing geto back against the sofa.

with a raspy ‘ugh,’ geto lands on his back as you give him a light shove. he’s at your mercy, and you stand up from his lap, a wind of confidence coming out of nowhere and nearly pulling you forward.

he stares at you with hooded cunt-drunk eyes, watching you do a figure eight with your body.

“what’s . . this?” he huffs, burly arms stretching over each edge of the sofa. you looked so pretty, eyeing him up and down as he does the exact same to you.

the luminescent lights started to beam on you now, highlighting your curves and entire physique.

“lie back,” you murmur, slowly sashaying toward him. geto runs a hand through his hair, his dick twitching from the cool air wafting against it. you teasingly drag a finger down the scarred middle line of his bare-puffed chest, stopping at a hardened row of his brick-made abs. “i wanna try your little routine.”

“yeahh?” geto snickers, sucking in a sharp breath once you spin around, bending all the way over. the helmet that was still on your head—you put it back on him, watching him scoff at your audacity.

so you stole his profession now, great.

as you’re turned the other way, you slowly wriggle your ass in front of him, putting a hand over your sopping pussy and he kisses his teeth. “tch. don’t tease, sweetheart,” and geto’s allured stare fixates on you the entire time. his dilated irises frantically roamed around every and any part of your body like a laser. “fuck,” he grunts, watching you finally make your way on his lap.

geto’s all submissively underneath you—bare ‘n exposed with his poor tip flushed. its color was a sheeny carmine red that’s akin to a ripe cerise rose.

a few dried up splotches of cum stick near his weighty sides before he shudders. your ass sits on his flaccid dick before you start to move.

slowly,

you’re rutting into him—just like he was to you, grinding back and forth. geto looks so pretty though, underneath you. he’s still panting a bit, sweating bullets as you tease him with your crazed hips.

you weren’t at his level quite yet, but fuck could you move. geto groans, feeling your sloppy pussy rub off against his dick. you were so close to his tip that his foreskin would peel back a bit. “do you wanna touch me?”

touché..

geto narrows his eyes at you as you tease him, repeating his exact words from what he said to you earlier.

he doesn’t just touch you, he fucks you—

but in this case . . you fuck him.

geto holds back a moan as he’s watching his claret-colored cockhead disappear between your sappy folds. it’s like a magic trick, and with a ‘poof!’ half of length vanished within you.

you let off a soft shrilling whine, trying to writhe yourself around his length.

his dick was fat. ‘eyes-rolling-tongue-lolling-drag-your-nails-down-his back-’ type of fat.

and his girth only made things ten times more intense. you felt him rearranging your guts within each prolonged inch you took – literally.

you’re as slow as a snail with the way you try to take him wholly. even as you’re gingerly sinking your bare ass down with his cock snug ‘n deep inside you, he easily kisses against your g-spot.

it’s happening already, and you don’t even realize he’s fully in before a cooing whimper rawly snatches from the back of your dry esophagus. “oh fuck,” you huff, tossing your arms around the dark haired man.

geto’s got the same wide-eye-jaw-dropped reaction to you, and with one arm snaking around your waist—another’s tightly gripping onto your right ass cheek.

he spanks it, giving it a short squeeze afterward. your chest starts to heave in quickened intervals, and once he feels you starting to move it’s game fuckin’ over..

“god, pussy’s ‘ta die for,” he groans, eyes sexily rolling back until his sockets show nothing but white.

you had him whipped, and he can hear your cunt trying to have a word of its own, squelching out cute gargled squelches. you start to ride him at a mere hypnotic rhythm—and geto’s a lot more vocal now.

with his adam’s apple bobbing, both hands of his were now gripping onto your waist now. piles of money surround you too, a few sticking against his sweaty beefy thighs. “fuck me,” he grunts, and it’s more like he’s begging.

geto locks eyes with you, shaggy long bangs running past his eyes before he securely grabs your hips—trying to keep up pace with you. “mhm, thaaa’s it. ride it, ride . . the shit out of me, uuughhh.”

“ ‘m trying,” you moan, biting your lip each time his swollen cockhead plummets its way deep.

he’s just so big—you couldn’t wrap your head around how a guy could be so damn big.

the good kind of big, and each time he’d seep a single girthy inch into you, your stomach would churn like butter. he’s in sooo deep, your legs could barely support yourself anymore and he had to hold you steady.

as he pulls you all the way down, geto reaches waaay inside of your sloppy gripping cunt that’s oh-so desperate to wring him like a vice.

his thick cock greets your pretty fleshy cervix, mimicking a soft ‘knock’ before introducing itself with a welcoming pound.

he holds your hips, pumping himself into you again, and again, until your pussy remembered each stroke, each thrust, each fuckin’ letter of his name—front to last..

slow but fucking deep.

you gasp, clinging onto his neck before soft hurried pants of ‘yeah, yeah’ ‘s scurry past your glossed lips.

geto’s dewy eyes were half lidded and he’s never felt more pussy drunk in his life. trust—he’s had his fair share of women but oh, you were far different. it was something about you, and he just wanted more after each carnal second passed.

you’re so into his dick givin’ your pussy a fuck of a lifetime that you don’t even realize your hand was now wrapped around his thick neck. not too tight, but geto’s reaction time was slow also. once he realizes seconds after you did, he sheepishly scoffs before slyly humming.

“goddd, y’r so fuckin’ hot when you choke me,” he purrs, tugging at the panties that pull to the side of your thighs. of course he’d enjoy it, and as his dick’s still massaging your gummy walls, he moans. “harderrr.”

“don’t be greedy,” you mumble, burying your knees into his bulky thighs.

the way you rocked against him was hypnotic—and geto’s hands remain on your waist.

you nearly shudder, feeling the various cold bands of his rings run and tickle down your skin. he’s in love with your body, and even more in love with the way you feel from the inside.

leaning in close until you’re just inches away from his spit-slicked lips, your thumb runs its way down the bulging ball that lies inside his throat. “say ‘pretty pleaseee.’ ”

“tsk,” geto scowls, and even with a pout he’s effortlessly attractive. your hips continued to champion its way up ‘n down at a deranged pace as you moved, and his cock’s pumping you full over and over and over. with a vexed grunt, he utters. “pretty please, choke me harder.”

leaning in to kiss the side of his mouth, you whisper a crooning, “good boy,” and geto whines the moment you add a bit more pressure around his neck.

his hair’s all in his face, and your ass was just ruthless.

ferociously slamming down onto his stout cock, you’re drenching him from the base down with your syrup-coated slick. a bit of your own sloppy arousal glues against the pried apart crevices of your thighs—pasting against his as well.

it’s a mess, and with how close he was getting, he was about to create an even bigger one..

geto felt like he was ascending—and with how you were riding him, it didn’t take him long before he’s close again.

yet this time—so were you, and you could recognize the feeling all too well. geto’s cock stretched you to capacity, and he grabs the few dollar bills that scatter on the sofa, throwing it at your body whilst you rode him. he makes it rain on you, spanking your ass with a crumbled up hundred rubbing against your stung skin.

“fuck, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum again,” he grunts in your ear, feeling your pace accelerate by a mile. you were draining him, preparing to milk him and the thought of him stuffing your cunt full made you pulse.

your tongue salivated at just imagining it..

the warmth, the stickiness, the way it’d spill between your thighs. you’re moaning out sweet noises yourself as you both rut into each other at a demented overzealous pace. geto’s thick thighs clench—and while you’re letting out cute blubs of his name on repeat until it’s the only syllables your dumb brain could register—he pulls you close. “ngh, same time, pretty girl. cum with me, let’s make a . . hah, mess together.”

“okay,” you mewl out, both hips pivoting in lascivious unison.

both sweaty mounds of flesh blissfully bounce into at other and each squelch makes you whimper out in ecstasy.

you cup geto’s pecs, smearing a thumb over his pierced nipples and he whines instantly. you lean in to suck against the bars that slash through his tender areola. geto leans back manspread, growling out husky, ‘fuuuuck!’ ‘s as you hum, giving both his nipples its few seconds of attention.

it lasts for seconds that felt like years, and one you pull away he lets out a cute blasé huff.

as your cunt’s in the midst of overflowing—your hips tremor once more time before within milliseconds, you both cum.

it’s quick..

and with your jaw dropping and geto’s shoulders fatally sagging after his big, heavy sigh—he starts to fill you up ounce after ounce.

it’s patching hot, and the second he’s beginning to spill ‘n dump out his perfect ivory ribbons of cum inside of you, you grunt out a melodic finishing, “fuuuck.”

swinish, weak hands grab at your ass as you come undone also—whimpering soft defeating babbles from the sensitive feeling of your cunt spasming right between your jittery numb legs.

you feel static … shock, electricity pulsing through your veins all at once. your entire body was turning haywire. as you start to grow limb right with geto underneath you—nirvana runs through each individual axon on your body before you hear a loud ‘pop.’

it’s more of a sopping squishing sound, and you were so dumbed down from his dick that you didn’t even realized how full you were..

peeking down, he filled you to the brim. wads and wads and wads of cum went inside of you and you moan, spreading your ass apart while craning your neck around just to see for yourself.

“ ‘m so full, suguru,” you pant, sliding a thumb down your sputtering cunt that’s plugged with both his cock and his thin oozing seed. you lick your lips before turning back towards geto and he’s absolutely fucked stupid.

you rode him so good to the point where he’s just stammering out inaudible whines. it’s cute, and you lean in to kiss him once more.

oh.. he was hooked.

he deepens with a few clingy hands feeling at your chest. the kiss gets more passionate rather than sloppy, and as he’s still buried inside of your cunt—he slowly starts to trail butterfly kisses down your neck. you moan, turning your head before you pull away. “shit, i almost f- forgot.”

“forgot what?” he hoarsely rasps, watching you unalign yourself, plopping down on the sofa with a big content sigh.

geto leans in, allowing his thumb to draw circles around your hips before you reach in for your purse, pulling out another decorated vip pass.

sheepishly, you utter. “my friends bought me two sessions with two dancers. so i have another one after you,” and you glance at the clock, squinting before you let off a bashful titter. “. . . oh, that was way past thirty minutes.”

“who? what dancer, sweetheart?” geto utters with a pout. he was still aching, already missing his you felt from the inside. he watches as you squint at your pass that reads the dancer’s stage name and / or full name on the back.

“uhh, it says t—”

“she means me,” and the both of you spin heads, ogling at the glittery red carpet and decorated pathway that was once covered up.

you could hear geto that laid beside you muttering out a jealous, ‘fuck,’ as you meet the other dancer’s gaze.

he’s wearing a leopard thong with an added on accessory of the most smuggest grin you’ve ever seen.

a slashed scar runs down the right side of his crooked curved lips and you spot bills sticking at both sides of his halfway on thong that nearly shows his sharp hips before he hums.

“name’s toji,” and you’re suddenly being lifted up by strong, tatted brawny arms before he turns around, winking at a very pissed of geto before trodding out the private room with you in his arms.

“i’ll take it from here,” and feral green eyes with an even more feral grin. “ain’t that right, birthday girlll?”