#ABOUT FUCKING TIME!!!!‼︎
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isdalinarhot · 6 months ago
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This August it will be 3 years since I started being in gay autistic love with Dalinar. This is the longest anybody, real or fictional, has held my Favorite Person Ever position. At this point Dalinar and I are straight up married. I am legit just Mr Dalinar Kholin. I think I might die with cosmere/Stormlight/Dalinar as my special interest. Dalinar I love you!!!!!!!‼︎ I know you will never love me back but that’s okay!!!!!‼︎ we can 69 in my mind palace <3
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nbmudkip · 2 months ago
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rehyperfixating on a children’s game that came out in 2015, is one of the least popular entries in its series, and has minimal content, the vast majority of which i’ve seen before. the series has been dead for nearly 10 years, nothing has happened recently that would warrant anyone’s returning interest in it, very few of my friends give a shit about this specific game, and those few who played and liked it in the past have no reason to give a shit about it at all right now. i have been coasting through on a playthrough i’ve been doing with a friend who’d never seen the game before and who was kind enough to let me show it to them, but we just beat the game, and after we play the epilogue we will have nothing left to do, and on top of that they really have just been humoring me as they have their own very strong current hyperfixation they would much rather be thinking about. also i am depressed enough right now that literally nothing else except for waiting to play this game with them and playing this game with them and watching them enjoy it at least a little has been able to briefly quiet the constant cacophony in my head screaming how much of a worthless, lazy, constantly-failing miserable excuse for a living person i am and how much better everything would be, especially for myself, if i stopped existing lately. would anyone like to volunteer to ����💥⚒️Kill Me With Hammers🔨💥⚒️ because i would really like for someone to 🔨💥⚒️Kill Me With Hammers🔨💥⚒️ right now
#me.txt#delete ltr#and i like hearing my friends talk about and show me their interests but it isnt enoughhhh its not enough right now to make my head SHUT UP#right now the only thing that can give me energy is a hyperfixation like this#but with enough content and engagement from others to keep subsisting me without hitting a wall#SOMETHING THAT IS EXTREMELY DIFFICULT TO DO WHEN YOU CANNOT DRAW OR WRITE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️#BECAUSE WHEN NOBODY IS MAKING ANYTHING!!!!! AND YOU CANT MAKE ANYTHING FOR YOURSELF!!!!!!!!! ALL YOU CAN DO IS CURL UP AND STARVE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼#immmm so sick of the only thing that makes being alive feel worth it being hyperfixations theres nothing REAL tying me down i cant stand it#because i am!! too broken!!!! to ever achieve any of the things that WOULD give me a real solid tangible reason to keep living!!!!!!#like a stable job!!!! a place of my own!!! a partner whos dedicated to me above everyone else and me to them in return!!!!!!!#a LIFE that isnt just constantly failing over and over and waiting for the shoe to drop and to lose everything all over again!!!!!!!!!!!!#i dont have that!!! and i cant have that!!!!! because im too broken to be able to cultivate and maintain it!!!!!#and the only way. to fix myself enough to be able to do so.#would be to HAVE ENOUGH STABILITY THAT ID HAVE THE TIME AND ENERGY TO PUT INTO FIXING MYSELF AND HEALING#i cant fix myself without stability and freedom. and i cant get stability and freedom unless i’m fixed#so it is. literally impossible!!!!!!!#impossible to create my own concrete solid reason to be here.#impossible for me to even create anything to feed the fixations that are my backup reasons.#theres nothing!! nothing!!! i have nothing new to leap to and ive been dwindling for too long and i think i am about to drown#im just waiting for time to tick out. for me to fuck up too badly to come back from one last time and get found out and punished.#and then? theres nothing left. theres literally nothing else left for me
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tenpixelsusie · 2 years ago
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"Rick is the better scientist!" "actually, Reagan is the better scientist because-!!" shut up shut up shut up we all know the best fictional scientist is ALPHYS from UNDERTALE
#jeremy hater moment#hate hate HATE looking up reagan on anything and seeing her compared to rick like leave my girl alone !!!#STOP BASHING HER!!!#istg anytime i see rick and reagan in the same post i'll think ''god help me''. this is making me hate r&m fans so bad#where was i. oh yeah#in comparison to both of these characters i personally think alphys comes out on top both in a better written and better story arc stance#like don't get me wrong!! i love reagan!! but alphys will always be first in my heart#alphys is an amazing example of the ''good person who's done bad things and has to live with themselves'' character archetype-#what with the amalgamates and locking them away and hiring mettaton to stage stuff for the human just so alphys could be apart of it all-#and her arc about forgiving herself and finally giving the families closure and bringing their relatives back home and confessing-#what she had done and just. overall- everything about her story and her time interacting with frisk and undyne and everyone-#it's amazing how toby fox created this- this AMAZING little dino gal and wrote her with so much love and. just. AH!!!#alphys is. an amazing character. and i wouldn't have had her story go any other way.#(also if any of the details here are inaccurate please be nice 😭 i haven't replayed undertale in fuck knows how long)#like i said i think she comes out on top for any fictional (mad?) scientist in any media tbh. she's so sillay ♡#(sorry to reagan. even if i love her character and overall just. her in general i'm giving alphys this one. she's the og 💥‼)#one last thing: outside of everything i've mentioned alphys is just SUCH a charming character overall !#alphys appreciation club 4eva *peace sign*#(also i think reagan and alphys should meet and become friends right... neow!!)#(should i tag rick and reagan??? i'll tag em for organizational purposes)#reagan ridley#rick sanchez#tw rick and morty#<- for blacklist#inside job netflix#im not tagging r&m LOL#alphys undertale#undertale#dr alphys#this is ok to reblog by the way
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reinabeestudio · 1 year ago
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meow :]]
MIAU MRRRRRRAA MIAUUUUU‼‼‼‼ HISSSSSS MRRAAAMRMG MRRRAU MMAAAAAUUUUUUU
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bitchkay · 5 days ago
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This whole fic series altered my brain chemistry.
🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track five: the battle of the bands
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guitarist!ino x drummer!reader
summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.
warnings: language, alcohol, DOGGOS, yuji literally is just a ray of sunshine 24/7, mentions of drunk driving, so much fluff, ridiculous amount of kissing tbh, short time skip at the end, FINAL CHAPTER! || sfw. 8.8k words.
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FOR THE FIRST time in a long stretch of busy days, you wake up not to the chirp of your alarm but to soft rays of Saturday morning sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, painting your eyelids orange-gold. You crack an eye open and find Takuma stirring beside you. Right.
“Morning,” you whisper. For a moment, when Takuma opens his eyes, he looks surprised, and then he seems to remember why and how you got here and his expression melts into a soft smile.
“Morning, Skip.” He yawns. “Time’s it?”
You shrug. You’re pretty sure your phone is dead.
“Eh, it’s Saturday,” he mumbles. “S’fine.” You chuckle, daring to reach out and ruffle his hair. You don’t know what this is, the unspoken thing in the thin slice of air between you. You know what you want it to be, though.
For a while you both lie in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the awakening house float up the stairs toward you. Murmuring, clattering around in the kitchen, the front door opening and closing, cars outside.
“Hey,” you say eventually, making eye contact. His eyes are a very deep shade of brown, dark but warm in a way that reminds you of old bookshelves or tree bark after the rain.
“Hey back.”
He’s relaxed, every part of him unhurried, and you take the image of it and stamp it into your mind over the memory of the night prior. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Takuma smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Maybe it should be more awkward, the fact that you’re here in his bed in his clothes and you haven’t named whatever it is that stretches out in the silence. But it’s not. It’s just… easy.
“Skipper?”
“Hm?”
“I really, really like you,” Takuma whispers. The words wrap themselves around you, warm when you didn’t know you were cold.
“Yeah?” You bring a hand up to his face, trace the line of his jaw. His cheeks are a little colored in the mix of light slipping through the window and the cracked door. “I really, really like you too, Takuma.”
He cups your face in both hands, pulls your lips to his, and your whole body responds, pressing up against him in the too-small twin bed. Your hand goes to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and this is what people write love songs about, you fucking get it now, all the metaphors and cliché words you thought were exaggerations but no, they’re not, because you’re feeling all of them all at once and you don’t ever want to leave this moment in time.
“Like” doesn’t feel strong enough, not for this. You’ve only known him for a month. Is it really possible he’s already become so integral to the structure of your heart?
You’re kissing in the early morning light and it’s hungrier than you thought your next kiss would be, because even though all the rest of your days are rolling out before you, you don’t know how many there are. He twists so he’s above you on his knees, one of them between your legs, and it’s like a reversal of that night on the roof, like you can feel the night air even in the golden midmorning hours.
“Kuma,” you murmur between kisses, and he grins against your mouth, takes your next breath and makes it his.
At some point you’re interrupted by the startled growl of your stomach, and you break apart, unable to stifle the giggles rising up in your throat. “Well.”
“Well,” Takuma echoes, grinning. He stands and offers you a hand. “Breakfast?”
Downstairs, the house is alive with idle chatter and the clinking of silverware. Kirara is seated atop the counter, legs swinging as she eats a plate of eggs, and Hakari stands beside her leaning against the cabinets. Megumi scrolls absently through his phone at the table, the dogs looking up at him expectantly from either side, and Yuji is digging through a bunch of take-out boxes. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.
“Morning!” he practically sings. “Here, eat food.”
“Where’d this come from?” Takuma asks.
“My friend dropped off breakfast,” Yuji chirps, pushing a Tupperware container of pancakes toward you. If it weren’t for the brace wrapped around his wrist, you’d have no idea anything happened. He’s his usual golden retriever self.
You smile, forking one of the pancakes onto a plate. “That’s sweet.”
Your phone buzzes, and it’s Tsumiki sending you the link to the news brief. You frown at the headline, not out of any disrespect for the writer who stepped up to cover it, but more at the fact that it’s unfortunately true.
JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night
“What’s up?” Takuma asks, immediately noting your expression. You slide the phone across the counter, watching its screen catch the light from the kitchen window. Kirara leans over it as well and starts reading off Junpei’s story halfway through.
“Zenin, who according to a campus police report was driving under the influence of alcohol, was on the phone with an ex-girlfriend when he swerved into the opposite lane.” Her dark brows knit together in some combination of anger and disbelief. “Jesus.”
“That’s fucked,” you murmur.
Someone’s phone rings, and Megumi glances at his screen and blinks, seems to hesitate. Then he gets up and disappears down the hall. You glance at Takuma, but he just shrugs. It’s probably Gojo.
The rest of you eat and eventually make your way to the living room, scattering yourselves across the couch and carpet and chairs.
“That single last night,” Takuma says, letting Kuro jump up beside him on the couch. “Concept. Make it the title track of an EP.”
You blink for a second, startled. “Wait, for real?”
“Yes!” Takuma says, sitting up straighter. “Think about it. Cover art is one of those name tag stickers, you all sign it, wrinkle it up and crease it and take a grainy film photo. And you put the song on it with Next Fix and a couple of your older singles you and blow up.”
“Or you print one off that says hello, our name is,” Kirara pipes up, seeming excited by the idea. “Ooh, you can have an intro track like that.”
“All caps. Just to match the energy,” you say, picturing the EP cover in your mind. “HELLO MY NAME IS. No punctuation either.”
“I like it,” Kirara nods. Takuma’s got that excited shine to his eyes, and you realize he’s very in his element in this conceptual space—he really will be a good producer. He has the mind for it.
Megumi slips back into the room looking a little haphazard, disgruntled, looking anywhere but into anyone else’s eyes, and Yuji cocks his head in question. Not Gojo, then. “Who was that?”
“No one,” Megumi lies, waving him off and turning back toward the kitchen to avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Hm.You know better than to ask, and it seems that’s the consensus, because nobody pushes it—Megumi will open up in his own time. You hope he figures it out soon.
For your part, it’s a lazy Saturday, hanging out with Takuma, Yuji, Megumi, Kirara, and Hakari, gaming and talking and generally just existing in each other’s presence. After the chaos of last night, it seems to be exactly what all of you needed.
It’s not until late afternoon that Kirara broaches the topic of the band.
She gestures at Yuji, a flapping motion that misses the mark a little because Kirara is sprawled upside-down in the beanbag in the corner. “Itadori, can you, like… drum with that?”
He shrugs, looking down at his injured wrist. “Yeah, probably!” You frown. So much of drumming is in the wrist, and you kind of figured Kirara’s question was rhetorical. You realize abruptly that Shibuya Incident is still going up against Black Flash in the finals on Friday, and if they don’t have Yuji, they’re fucked.
“Psh, don’t look like that, it’s fine,” Yuji insists, grabbing two Wii remotes and wielding them like drumsticks. He goes to bang them around, mimicking a rock beat, and you watch as his face twists into a grimace and he drops one of them. “Okay, so, update: never mind!” He grins sheepishly.
Kirara is the first one to look at you, and by the time you’ve processed what exactly it is she’s trying to say, everyone else has their eyes locked on you—including Yuji.
Oh, shit.
“Whaddaya say, girl drummer?” Kirara asks, pointing a finger gun at you.
“Oh, guys, I don’t… I don��t know, it’s your band. Yuji—”
But Yuji is the one who seems the most excited about it. He’s abandoned both Wii remotes on the floor and is now looking up at you with bright eyes and his eternal grin. “No, Skipper, please? It would be so fun! I can still do aux and stuff. But we could play together! It would be so awesome!”
“Is that even allowed?” you ask, glancing at Takuma, who’s trying and failing to hide a boyishly excited smile. “I mean, I already got eliminated.”
“Hang on,” Hakari says, pulling out his phone. It takes you a minute to realize who he’s asking. “Yeah, no, Panda says it’s whatever. Better that than not have a battle at all.”
Takuma nudges you with a knee, looking at you with steady eyes. It’s your choice, he seems to say.
“I think,” you say slowly, “I should talk to my band first. But… I’m not opposed.”
Yuji whoops so loudly you flinch a little and Takuma grins, putting his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder.
“I probably should head out,” you say, a little reluctantly. “Kinda left the roommates high and dry last night.”
Kirara salutes you, her face red from the blood rush of still being upside down, and Yuji chirps out a happy see ya!
“I’ll walk you out,” Takuma says, standing when you do. You say bye to the band and the dogs and he follows you to the front door, going as far as to step just outside with you. The door stays open just a crack as you linger, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. He pulls you in and kisses you right there on the front step, and you smile against his lips.
“Are we, like…?” Takuma murmurs when he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the question or the cold, you can’t tell.
“Are we what?” you tease, shoving lightly at his chest.
“You know.”
“Well, if you don’t say it I’m gonna beat you to asking—”
This seems to zap whatever hesitation Takuma had right out of him, and he cuts in, “Willyoubemygirlfriend?”
“Sorry, what was that?” You know you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face, but you can’t stop it. “Couldn’t really hear you—”
“Oh my god. Will,” he says slowly, drawing out the word, “You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”
You can see your laugh fanning out before you in a puff of warm air, and you tip your head forward into his chest, grinning. “Yes, Takuma, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You pull back and look up at him, lacing your fingers together. “I was kind of trying to get you alone all week so we could figure out what the fuck was going on. But it worked out, huh?”
“Yeah,” he grins. “It worked out.” He reaches up and ruffles your hair, laughing when you go to swat his hand away. “I was trying to get you alone, too,” he admits. “I like spending time with you, Skip. I’m pretty sure you’re the coolest person I’ve met, like, ever.”
“Ever,” you echo. “Those are some pretty lofty expectations to live up to.”
He shrugs. “You meet them all.”
Despite yourself, heat creeps up to your cheeks again.
“That was less scary than I thought it was gonna be,” Takuma confesses. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you glance at it and see Maki’s name sliding across the screen.
“Think that’s my cue.” You plant one last kiss on Takuma’s lips and turn around, throwing a “bye, boyfriend” over your shoulder. You glance back and catch him mid fist-pump, and he sheepishly shoves his hands into his pockets when he realizes you saw.
You’re still wearing his clothes, you realize as you answer your phone. Guess it doesn’t really matter, since they’re your boyfriend’s.
“Hey,” Maki says in your ear. “You comin’ home anytime soon? No rush, but we’re making lunch so we figured we’d ask.” In the background, you can hear Toge singing what you think is a dramatic rendition of Kristoff’s song from Frozen II, but you aren’t entirely certain because none of the words are right.
“Yeah, I’m literally walking through the door in thirty seconds,” you say, and Nobara’s face appears in the kitchen window. She waves excitedly and you raise a hand in return.
“Oh, sick.” The line goes dead as you open the front door. “Hey!” Maki shouts when she hears it click, and you slam it closed against the rush of cool air trying to sneak inside with you.
“Hi!” you call back.
Yuta pokes his head around the corner and grins at you. “Welcome home, our favorite breaking news reporter.”
“I didn’t actually report on anything,” you admit, kicking your shoes off and padding into the kitchen. Toge is somehow balancing cross-legged on one of the high stools, and Maki is making tacos. “Conflict of interest once I realized who it was.”
“Yeah, I saw the article,” Nobara chimes in, glancing up from her phone. “Yikes. Frickin’ Naoya Zenin. What an asshat.”
You snort. What an understatement.
“Hope he rots in jail,” Maki says in a sing-song voice, not even looking up.
“I love family,” Toge says.
You fill your friends in on the crash and the aftermath and Yuji’s wrist, leaving out some of the details about Takuma, because that feels a little invasive. And then Yuta asks the big question: “What about the band?”
“About that,” you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not exactly sure why this makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s just that these are your people, your band, and you all worked so hard and then went down together. It doesn’t seem fair that you get to go back on stage and try again and the rest of them don’t. “So. They asked me to fill in—“
“Yes!” Nobara shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”
“Well, I didn’t say yes yet—”
“What? Why?” Toge asks incredulously. You laugh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. Of course they’re okay with it. These are your best friends. They’ll always have your back.
“I wanted to check with you guys,” you say, feeling silly about it now. “Just—I don’t know, to make sure. Since it’s not our band, and I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was, I don’t know, like…”
“Musically cheating?” Maki chuckles. “Skipper, this is great. You should say yes.”
Yuta solemnly puts a hand over his heart. “Avenge us.”
“Thanks, guys.” You grin as you hop up on the counter next to Nobara, pressing your shoulder to hers. “I love y’all.”
“Sap,” Maki says, which means love you too.
Using a drum set that isn’t yours is always a weird experience. You feel like everything is just ever so slightly off, and Yuji’s kit is an absolute patchwork of different brands of heads and shells and cymbals. You have to lower the stool because he’s taller than you. But it’s just for rehearsal, at least—you can use your own kit at The Fix.
It’s your first time in the shabby basement of Takuma’s house, and it looks distinctly different than your own. They’ve pinned old rugs to the walls as a type of sound deadener, not dissimilar to your own setup, but their lighting is a collection of Facebook marketplace floor lamps and a little disco ball that’s apparently Yuji’s. Your basement has string lights and a bunch of stools and beanbags, and this one has extra blankets all over the floor where Yuji and Kirara have made themselves at home.
Learning Shibuya Incident’s songs isn’t difficult—you’ve heard enough of their music to anticipate what’s coming, and Yuji’s there to give you pointers. Their three-song set for the final performance isn’t actually done, because they don’t feel like they have a good enough finisher, and after you’ve run the first two songs several times you mess around with potential chorus lines.
“What about that?” Kirara says after plucking out a new melody. “It’s hype enough, I think. Or it will be, once we add the rest of you.”
“I like that.” You tap out the rhythm on the snare rim, humming. “You have lyrics?” You look at Takuma, who’s staring at the ceiling like it might have all the answers if he just squints hard enough.
“Somethin’ about, like… losing your head a little bit because you caught feels,” he says. “Like, you’re down so bad you can’t function, to be dramatic about it. That triplet at the beginning of the chorus, Kirara—”
She plucks it out again, down-up-down. “On my own,” Takuma echoes, down-up-down. “Every little move I can’t pin down…”
The words tumble past your lips before you can stop them, because they’ve been circling your head for a week now. “Friends with all the dead in my ghost town.”
He spins around to look at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! It’s like I’m going…”
“Going,” Kirara echoes, and they go back and forth—going, going, “out of my mind!”
“Whoo!” Yuji cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit. That was crazy.” Takuma grabs the nearest beat-to-hell spiral notebook and starts scribbling.
Megumi starts laying out a bassline, subtly driving the beat forward a little, and you clamp the hat down on two and four to keep time. Kirara comes in with something that must be the verse, and Takuma reads off, “You left in the morning after eight, I got into work two hours late, I can’t see the sun without your face.” Bass, bass, bass. Megumi nods along and Yuji is practically dancing from his spot on the floor.
“One day and I run fresh out of light…”
Hm. You add, “Twelve hours without your hand in mine.”
“I’m dizzy and overworked and tired,” Kirara sings lowly. All three of you sing the chorus again, and you feel just like you’re at home in your own basement, writing a song in real time with Nobara and Maki and the boys.
“Oh, that slaps,” Takuma practically shouts. “Jesus. We’re gonna win.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Megumi warns, a wry quirk to his lips.
Kirara glances at her phone. “Food’s here. Break time, freaks.” She bounds up the stairs and Megumi follows to help her grab the bags—you DoorDashed Taco Bell, since Yuji never got his beloved crunch wrap on Friday.
You leave your sticks on the snare and move around the drum set, flopping down on the ground beside Takuma. “You’re good at that,” you tell him honestly, pulling the notebook away to read what he’s writing down. I met you across the darkened stage, you shook up my life, you got me made, you’re drivin’ me crazy night and day.
You can’t help thinking of the night you met him, locking eyes while he sang from the edge of the low stage at The Fix, lit up by purple-red stage lights and putting you in a trance. You scribble a few more lines after his and hand the pen back.
“You’re a poet,” he tells you, and you laugh.
“I’m a journalist.”
“Woman of many talents,” he says, echoing Maki’s words from that first night you met.
“Itadori!” Kirara shouts down the stairs.
“Coming!” Yuji leaps up and disappears up the rickety basement staircase, leaving you and Takuma alone.
“Hey,” he says, tapping the pen on the page. You glance up at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Can I take you out? Like, on an actual date?”
Something light and quick kicks around in your chest, a hummingbird loose in your ribcage. “I would not be opposed,” you say, as if the idea doesn’t make you want to kick your feet like a little kid. “When are you thinking?”
“Mm, you’re in night class prison tomorrow,” he says, tapping the pen against his lip now. “Tuesday?”
It shouldn’t make you so irrationally happy that he remembers your schedule, but logic seems to go out the window where Takuma Ino is concerned. “Tuesday’s good. Where do you wanna go?”
He shakes his head adamantly, tapping you on the nose with his pen. “Leave it to me.”
The only things Takuma’s told you about your date tonight are dress warm and bring your board. He meets you outside your place at four, his bag definitely bulkier than usual, his own skateboard under one foot.
You’re wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and your favorite cargo pants with your boots, and you tucked a beanie and gloves into your bag just in case, but it’s surprisingly balmy out for late October. The wind is the worst of it.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Takuma says when you coast down the driveway and come to a stop beside him. The greeting makes you blush as much as his smile does, and he chuckles as he pushes off. “This way.”
“Where are we going?”
“Crazy,” he says. You roll your eyes. Sounds like the kind of dad joke Yuta would make.
“Well, then.” The two of you make your way down the street and around the bend, and you realize he’s taking you to the skate park. But at the entrance he keeps going, around the pit and a few of the ramps and to the largest one, back in the corner—not the one Sukuna deals under, but the one opposite. And you stop in your tracks, your longboard making a protesting schkk under your feet, when you see it.
Battery-powered string lights loop around the posts and down the underside of the ramp, and blankets and pillows are spread out across the ground. The area is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and you know your jaw is hanging open a little as you watch Takuma unload his bag—JBL speaker, two thermoses, and a bunch of food.
“Takuma,” you say, not knowing what other words suffice. “I—oh my god.” You did not peg him as being this romantic.
Then you think about his song lyrics and think maybe you should have.
He grins at you from where he’s sat down on the blankets, holding out one of the thermoses. You leave your board by one of the poles and sit down beside him, taking it and letting the warmth seep into your hands. “What is it?”
“Hot chocolate.”
“Mm.” You scoot closer to him, staring up at the layers and layers of graffiti and marker art covering the underside of the ramp. “This is maybe the sweetest thing ever.”
“I’m glad,” he says. “I had no idea what I was doing.”
“I wouldn’t know.” You take a sip of the hot chocolate—still warm. “It’s romantic. Big fan.”
“Really?” He points to where somebody drew a dick on the far side of the ramp.
“Okay, well, you didn’t have to point it out,” you smirk. “You ever done graffiti?” Looking at his mischievous smile and the beanie tugged over his head, the skateboard abandoned a few feet away, he does look like the type.
“Tagging?” He shrugs. “No. I would, though. Maybe we should.”
You hum, staring up at the arcing bubble letters and jagged black lines all over the ramp. You think you’d be horrible at graffiti, but you’ve always appreciated it, the way it sends a message and doesn’t ask for anything in return.
“This is like… alternative aesthetic stargazing,” you muse, lifting a finger and tracing the sharp lines of one of the illegible words in the air. You could stare at all this art for hours and never find all the intricacies of it.
Takuma digs around in his bag and produces a Sharpie with an “aha!”
“You’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie?”
He throws it at you and you catch it in one hand, instinctively twirling it like a drumstick. “We’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie,” he corrects.
And so you do.
The nearest part of the wall is covered in bright pink paint outlined in black, and it takes you a moment of squinting and tilting your head to realize it says LEAVEYOURMARK. Seems as clear of an instruction as any. So you do—scooting forward, you start to draw flowers into the thick bands of pink lettering, and soon they’re shifting to music notes, percussion notation, aimless squiggles. Takuma queues up a laid-back playlist with a few artists you recognize and many more you don’t, and you pass the pen back and forth, adding tiny notes to messages around the ramp, doodling in the empty space.
You’ve been on dates before, but this feels wholly different. With Takuma, you’re not stressing over conversation starters, worrying about commitment, wondering if you picked the right outfit, trying to gauge your shared interests with carefully planned questions. It’s just easy, existing with him like this.
After a while, you’re on your back in the mess of pillows and blankets, staring directly up at the massive painting of a skateboard with a face. Takuma is drawing something on the wall behind you.
Squinting, the green streaks under the skateboard look like that loss meme Toge sends you at least twice a week. You take a photo with the intention of showing it to him later, though maybe you shouldn’t—he gets way too proud of himself for versing you in what he calls Reddit culture.
You crane your neck to see what Takuma’s drawing and find the thick, dark strokes of a city skyline, towers and domes and boxy apartment buildings.
“Artsy,” you tell him, smiling when he appears in your line of vision upside-down. “You sure about this computer science thing? You’re too creative.”
“That’s what my mom said,” he chuckles, capping the Sharpie and sitting down beside you. As you sit up, he leans back on his hands and glances over at you. “I told her about you. She’d love you. I mean, I’m pretty sure she already does.” He hesitates. “Is that weird? Too soon?”
“No,” you grin. “I—that’s really sweet, actually. I would love to meet your mom.” Your gaze softens at the relieved smile that crosses his face. “Gotta thank her for raising a guy like you, anyway.”
You realize you want Takuma to meet your family too—you want to show him all the corners of your too-small town, show him the place you grew up. It made you who you are—it led you here, to him, after all.
“So,” you say, tilting your head. “When you say you wanna be a producer. Where do you mean? Like, LA?”
He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m sure it’s more competitive there than anywhere else. I feel like the major hubs are there and New York, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter, either.” He loops an arm around you, and your head finds its way to his shoulder. “What about you, world-class journalist?”
You grin, thinking of all the places you haven’t been, all the places you want to go. “Anywhere and everywhere. I just wanna see it all. I wanna travel.”
“You should!” He sounds genuinely excited about the concept, and you lift your head, taking in the expression on his face—he looks the way he did when he was talking about making an EP, like the world is full of possibilities and he wants to see them all play out. “You’d be so good at it. Being a travel writer or international correspondent or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I read some of your stuff, y’know.”
“What?” Suddenly you’re racking your brain for every piece you’ve published in the JU Journal, overly critical of your own work in hindsight. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s good. Really good, Skip, seriously.” He reaches out and tugs a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself leaning into the contact.
You aren’t sure what to say, so you settle on a soft, “Thank you.” Somehow, the idea of Takuma going out of his way to read your work feels personal on the same level that writing a song together does. Taking in your words, your ideas, internalizing them. What is intimacy if not that intellectual exchange?
“I think you’re going to be a really good producer.” It’s his turn to blush. “I mean it. Not everyone has the perspective for it, or the ear. But you do.”
“Ah, well, I—”
“Am not good at taking compliments?” you cut him off, raising a brow. “Mm, we’ll fix that.” He laughs, and you’re leaning in to kiss him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is the most natural thing in the world.
It’s late October, and you are not the least bit cold.
Your hands need to stop sweating before you lose a drumstick or something.
Shibuya Incident has about twenty minutes before you’re all due on stage for the finals, and The Fix is alive with students and lights and drinks and music and chatter. You’re out on the floor tonight, off to the side for easy access to the stage once Black Flash clears out.
“We’re kicking off with the reigning champions of the Battle of the Bands,” Panda booms, throwing an arm out as the band takes the stage. “You know ‘em, you love ‘em, they’re every genre and no genre, covers and originals, brass and wind. Give it up for Black Flash!”
You whoop just as loud as anyone else here, grinning at Nobara’s animated cheering from closer to the center of the floor. Miwa walks right up to the mic and takes it off the stand, the neck of her white electric in her other hand. “Hey, folks!” She brushes her bright blue hair out of her face and shouts, “Y’all ready to hear some good music?”
She has the sort of infectious enthusiasm that could work on pretty much anyone, and before you know it you and Kirara are spinning each other around to the beat of a synth-heavy pop song that sounds like it came straight out of the 80s. The instrumentals are simple but tight, and Miwa jumps around, engaging the crowd, belting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
“They’re good,” you catch Megumi saying lowly, probably to Yuji, but Takuma’s the one who answers.
“If I tell you the power of friendship will lead us to victory—”
“No.”
“Well, okay, you’re no fun.”
Kirara turns around and plants a hand on her hip, looking at Megumi. “Fushiguro, we’re fine. We’re going out with a badass new single and not one but two percussionists. We’ve never sounded this good.”
“Just being the token pessimist,” he sighs, cracking a reluctant half-smile. “I know we’re good.”
Yuji elbows him playfully. “Mr. Realist.”
Black Flash segues into a second track, an ABBA cover that has you dancing without thinking, and Takuma catches your eye and grins, moving along with you. And all too soon it’s over, a third song come and gone, and Panda’s back up on stage and the five of you are hopping up over the side to make your way to your places. Hakari and another tech have already swapped out the kits, and you settle yourself in the comfort of your own throne, your own pedals, flipping on the snare and pounding the kick a few times.
Yuji’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at you. “You got this,” he mouths, shaking his tambourine at you.
You truly have no idea where he got a tambourine.
“What happened in Shibuya? Who the hell knows?” Panda shouts, riling up the crowd. “Give it up for Shibuya Incident!”
That’s your cue. You look at Kirara, who nods with a conspiratorial smile, and then Megumi, who plucks out a few notes in answer. Yuji’s already giving you a grin and a thumbs-up. And Takuma… he’s already stepped into his on-stage confidence, all relaxed, easygoing performer, and the look he gives you has energy coursing through your fingertips like an electric shock.
You hold your sticks above your head, clicking them loud on the lower end of the shaft, and shout, “One, two, three, four!”
You are alive.
The first track is another pulled from their EP, and you’ve listened to it probably an embarrassing number of times—you know Yuji’s part down to the sixteenth note, the roll, the rest, but you don’t hesitate to put your own spin on it, and he’s alight with the same energy beside you, messing around with a tambourine and a few other aux instruments near a mic of his own, since he’s also doing backup vocals tonight.
Your hands are moving fast, your feet pumping the pedals of their own accord, an instinct, and it’s over before you know it, a sheen of sweat already forming under the stage lights. You grin, catching your breath, wiping your hands on your jeans as Takuma introduces the band.
From your place near the back of the stage, you get more of the low feedback than anything else, but you definitely hear when he says Shibuya Incident and the crowd responds raucously in kind.
“That’s Kirara Hoshi on guitar and vocals,” he says, pointing to her as she does her little riff.
“Yeah, Kira!” You have no idea where Hakari’s voice is coming from, but it’s unmistakable.
“We got Fushiguro back there on the bass,” Takuma continues, and Megumi gives the crowd an unbothered nod, showing off his own instrument for a moment. “Itadori’s back here on aux and vocals.” He pauses to let the crowd shout for Yuji and then adds, “And filling in for him on kit, we’ve got the legendary drummer from Cursed Technique. Everyone give it up for Skipper!”
You do a quick roll, laughing as your own band goes crazy—you can’t see them in the glare of the lights, but you (and everyone else) can definitely hear them.
“I’m Ino, we’re Shibuya Incident, and this next one’s gonna slow things down a little.”
This one starts with Megumi, a laid-back track with a similar vibe to the first song you ever heard Shibuya Incident perform, but a little smoother. It’s over before you know it, and then you and Kirara are launching into the new single. Even Yuji looks like he’s having the time of life on backup vocals.
“On my own,” he and Kirara harmonize, Takuma taking the lead, and you nail the next two lines with punchy cymbal-tom hits, “all the shadows look like a death threat, everybody’s waitin’ to get hit, it’s like I’m going (going) going (going) out of my mind!”
All your worries melt away as the beat drives your movements. You’re not thinking about dropping a drumstick, missing a measure, losing the competition. You’re doing what you love with people you love, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.
“Think I’m seein’ double in one eye, startin’ to think this air is spiked, no one told me that’s what love is like.” Takuma lets the guitar hang and grips the mic in one hand and the stand in the other, leaning with it as he engages the crowd, and you definitely hear Nobara screaming. “You got me going (going) going (going) out of my mind, yeah, yeah.”
It’s over so fast you can barely breathe, and you’re laughing before you know what’s happening, Yuji throwing his arm around you and shouting, “You killed it!”
Takuma turns around and locks eyes with you, and you see that same adrenaline high in his gaze that you know is in yours, and when the band stumbles off stage in Panda’s wake, he grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “That was crazy!” he practically shouts, which is probably good, because your ears are ringing so much you probably wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.
“Guys,” Megumi says, deadpan as always, but you can see the effects of the performance even on him, his usually stoic expression unable to mask his own excitement. “I think… we might have a shot.”
“Holy shit,” Kirara says. “Skip, write the story. Resident pessimist breaks vow of negativity—”
“Oh, shut up.” Megumi elbows her as she dissolves into laughter. In the wings, you can hear the indistinct sounds of Panda’s instructions as he starts voting, and music kicks up over the speakers. Ten minutes. Ten minutes.
It’s the longest and shortest wait of your life, and then you’re back on stage with Black Flash and Panda, and it’s fucking time.
You wonder if everyone else can hear your blood roaring, too.
“Once again, an insanely tight vote,” Panda says, a hush falling over the crowd as they wait for the verdict. “Phenomenal performances from both of our final bands, but someone’s gotta win. Give it up for the champions of this year’s Battle of the Bands…”
You imagine Maki hissing under her breath for Panda to hurry it up, Nobara’s hands clasped together as she anxiously bounces on the balls of her feet, Yuta biting his lip and trying to get Toge to shut up.
Takuma’s hand is on your shoulder, Yuji on your other side, Megumi and Kirara behind you. You glance at Miwa, and she gives you a knowing look that you can’t interpret.
You almost don’t hear it.
“SHIBUYA INCIDENT!”
You don’t know which screams belong to who—maybe one of them’s yours—but you’re swept into a massive pile of musicians drunk off victory, and you’re laughing, and Miwa’s jumping up and down and saying how that was insane, guys, you were amazing, and even Mai nods at you in congratulations, and Yuji is abruptly on Todo’s shoulders, and as the stage lights turn down a bit you finally catch sight of your own band, losing their minds on the floor.
“That’s our girl!” Maki hollers, and Yuta whoops as Toge pumps a fist in the air. You realize you can’t see Nobara, and two seconds later your questions are answered when she somehow materializes on the stage, launching herself at you with a massive grin on her face.
“You did it!” she shouts. “Holy shit, Skipper!”
Everything around you is chaos and laughter and noise, but something in the center of your being is incredibly still, and you think maybe it’s contentment. In this moment, you would ask for nothing else. It is perfect.
Nobara detaches herself from you after more profuse congratulations, turning to Miwa, and the bands make their way gradually off stage. Takuma’s hand is in yours—you don’t know when that happened—and he pulls you past the band, past the wings, all the way into the drum storage room backstage.
“That was fucking amazing,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.” His beanie is off, tucked into his pocket, his hair as wild as his eyes as wild as your heart.
You close the door.
It’s a pulse. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with kissing Takuma Ino behind the stage of a shitty campus bar, the heat shooting through your veins in time with the throb of the bass from distant speakers. Breath on your teeth and hands in your hair, the warmth in your gut from skin-on-skin proximity, ears ringing with the sound of your name on his lips and love-blind eyes, you’re alive and addicted to a feeling you know you’ll chase forever.
TWO MONTHS LATER. DECEMBER 19.
The house is alive with laughter and chatter and Michael Bublé’s Christmas album spinning from the record player. The semester is over, and tomorrow you’ll scatter for winter break, home for the holidays. Nobara insisted on throwing a party before all the inevitable road trips and flights, and the main floor is strung with multicolored lights and tinsel—Yuta’s plant, Rika, even has a tiny Santa hat on.
In addition to the actual residents of the house, Takuma and the band are here, as well as Hakari, Panda, Tsumiki, Miwa, and a handful of other friends. Megumi’s even brought the dogs, who have both taken a liking to the loveseat by the window and claimed it as their own. You’ve informed Megumi that they’re going to stay here with you forever (he said no, but you don’t take orders from him).
“Okay, I’m dropping you off at ten, right?” Yuta quadruple-checks. You’re huddled in the kitchen with him and Maki—Toge was here a minute ago, but he heard someone in the living room mention Just Dance and ran off to assert his dominance or whatever.
“Oh my god, yes,” Maki answers for you. “Yuta. You wrote it down. It’s in your calendar. You live in the same house as Skip, you’re not gonna forget.” She bumps her shoulder with his and he sighs in admission.
“I know.” He smiles at you. “Just gotta make sure she gets home for the holidays. Can’t have you turning into a sad Christmas cliché on us, Skip.”
You salute him with half a gingerbread cookie. “Appreciate it.” He’s taking you to the airport tomorrow for your flight home and refuses to take your gas money, so you’re already planning on beating him to paying for the first grocery run when you get back.
“Things with Mai are good?” you ask, glancing at Maki. She shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t correct you, which is a good sign. She and her sister met up the week after the Battle of the Bands for coffee, which you genuinely thought was a joke when she told you about it. They’re both going home for Christmas and have apparently decided to try and like each other a little more openly. And she actually showed up tonight, which you have to admit you weren’t entirely expecting.
“Yuta!” Toge hollers from the other room. “You have to come do Rasputin with me!”
Yuta groans, looking pleadingly at Maki like she can get him out of this, but she just grins. “You heard him.”
“You hate me.”
“Yeah,” Maki says fondly. Yuta, defeated, goes to join Toge in the dance of death. Maki whispers to you that she’s going to record it for blackmail and slips out after him.
Tsumiki appears beside you, drink in hand, and leans against the wall. She tilts her phone screen toward you and you see it’s the Journal website analytics.
The top story right now is yours. You grin. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.”
“I expected it,” she admits, tucking her phone back in her pocket and gazing out across the room. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We won’t start the application process until spring sem, but, if you want it,” she glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I really think you should apply for editor-in-chief, Skip.”
Your mouth opens and closes without anything of use coming out, and Tsumiki laughs. “You don’t have to, but—”
“No!” you blurt, grinning. “I—I want to. I would love to. I was planning on it. I just didn’t know you… wanted me to.” Kusakabe’s just the advisor—when it comes to actually hiring the next editor, Tsumiki has the final say. Her endorsement is as good as a job offer. “I… thank you, Tsumiki.” You look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the words. “Big shoes to fill.”
“Aw, none of that,” she says, stealing a cookie from the tray on the counter next to you. “I literally can’t think of anyone better.” With a wink, she disappears through the doorway, where Kirara and Nobara are talking animatedly. Nobara gestures to you when she catches your eye.
“Dude, our listens are shooting up!” she says, shoving her phone into your hands. Your EP dropped mid-November, six tracks recorded in the studio with Takuma and Hakari, and you’ve performed better than you ever expected. The analytics show a sharp uptick that’s probably in large part due to Panda playing your stuff on the radio station.
You whistle, leaning on Nobara’s shoulder. “Awesome.”
Kirara leans against the wall, considering. “You guys thought about what you’re gonna do next year?”
Truthfully, you’ve really tried not to. The idea of Maki and Yuta graduating is so bittersweet. But graduation means Shibuya Incident will have a hole in their band, too. Kirara will be gone.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nobara muses. “We could join forces. If we lose Maki and Yuta and Kirara, the only thing we’re doubled up on is drums and lead.”
It’s not a bad idea. And if Yuji is track captain next year and you get that editor job, neither of you will have as much time for the band—switching off could actually be very helpful. You hum, considering. You’ll have to talk to the others.
“Oi,” Kirara says, reaching out to poke you with a socked foot. “Your boyfriend’s in lost puppy mode over there.” You glance into the living room to see Takuma scanning the room next to Megumi and the dogs, probably looking for you.
“Dumbass,” you say fondly, and nod goodbye to Nobara and Kirara before making your way over to him. The boys are halfway through Rasputin and Yuta is, much to Toge’s chagrin, kicking ass. Toge looks like he’s just run a half marathon.
Takuma lights up when he sees you, a mischievous smile appearing on his face as he intercepts you by the hall entrance.
“Oh, wow, what is that?” he asks cheekily, and tilts your chin up to see a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That was definitely Nobara’s doing. “Crazy that we just happened to—”
You cut him off, dragging him in by the shirt and kissing him, and makes a surprised sound that has you smiling against his lips.
“Crazy,” you repeat after you pull back, relishing the flush on his cheeks. Even after dating him for two months (as of today), every reaction you get out of Takuma makes your heart rate bump up a few beats. “Oh!” he says, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, c’mere, I have something for you.”
“Takuma!” You swat at him. “I told you not to—”
“Boo hoo,” he says, sticking his tongue out and dragging you toward your room, where he dumped his stuff earlier. You quietly close the door behind you as Takuma digs around his bag, standing up with his hands behind his back. “It’s Christmas and it’s been two months. You have no defense. Close your eyes.”
You do, giggling a little as he grabs your hand and presses something into it—something soft. “Okay,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a little stuffed penguin perched in the palm of your hand. It’s fucking adorable.
“Oh my god!” you cry. “Oh, he’s so cute! Takuma.” You cradle the penguin to your chest with both hands, grinning.
“It’s you!” he says, laughing. “Not official Madagascar merch, but I thought it was pretty cute. Your own lil’ Skipper.”
“I love it,” you say, making the penguin do a little dance in the air. You grab its tiny wing and poke Takuma on the nose with it. “Thank you.”
“Merry early Christmas.” His nose scrunches up a little in thought. “Early Merry Christmas? What’s the right way to say that?”
“Happy early nondenominational holiday of your choice,” you say teasingly, because the public university won’t actually say Christmas despite the decorations all around campus.
It’s a running joke among the entirety of the student body that the massive tree in the arts lobby is not a Christmas tree but a secular modern art installation. There are variations of insane alternate tree names on the school meme accounts. The knockoff JU Barstool page even got in on it, and the student groups hosting the Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrations.
Takuma’s answering laugh is bright and it follows you as you cross the room to your desk, pulling a box out of the second drawer. “Your turn.”
“What?” He has the audacity to look confused. “Skip—”
You hold up the penguin. “Objection denied!” The box is light and square, and you watch excitedly as he opens it.
“Oh my god,” he says when he realizes what’s inside. “No way. These are the exact ones—how did you even—?”
You had to do some investigating to figure out the precise guitar strings he uses, but what's your journalism degree for if not this?
“Who knows?” You shrug playfully. “Maybe it’s the psychic powers, maybe it’s the housemate I begged to sneak into your room and find out.”
Kirara was more than willing. “Good thing you came to me and not Itadori,” she laughed. “That kid can’t be subtle to save his life.” Takuma’s strings have been on the brink for a while, and you’re honestly shocked none of them have given out yet.
“They’re perfect,” Takuma laughs, setting the box back on your desk. “I love them. I love you.”
He says it so easily it takes you a moment to realize what just happened. He freezes, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what words he’s looking for.
“I—uh,” he says eloquently. “It’s—I mean. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that but I did mean it, you don’t have to say it back, if it’s too soon or you—”
Instead of cutting him off verbally, you grab him by the shoulders and press your lips to his. His eyes are wide when you pull back, despite the way he relaxed into the kiss on instinct.
“Hey,” you laugh, one hand trailing up to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”
The excited smile that spreads across his face is slow and hesitant, like he can’t believe you reciprocate. You pull him back in and feel his grin against your lips, his hands coming to rest at your waist, warm.
“Thank god,” he murmurs between breaths. “Because I keep almost accidentally saying it, and it was gonna happen sooner or later.”
“Least it didn’t happen over the phone,” you grin, your hand skating down his arm and coming to rest in his.
Sheepishly, he admits, “Almost did. Yesterday.” Your laugh is bright and so is his answering one, and you perch your little stuffed penguin atop the guitar strings and tug Takuma toward the door.
“Okay, lover boy. Back to the outside world.”
“Lover boy, huh?” he teases. “Kay, pretty girl.”
“Couple of cheesy ass romantics we are.”
“Mm.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the action so casual and unthinking you want to melt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The second you step back into the living room, Yuta grabs you by the elbow and presses a Wii remote into your hand.
“Oh, no. Yuta—”
The song’s been chosen for you, and Toge has passed the remote to Maki, who looks like she’d rather die than give a rousing performance of TiK ToK by Ke$ha.
“Well, at least it’s you,” she says. Toge tries to discreetly pull his phone out, but Maki gives him a death glare that could send a grown man to his grave. He nearly drops it in his hurry to shove it back into his pocket.
You snort, patting Maki sympathetically on the shoulder. “Let’s kick ass.”
Three hours later, everyone has somewhat settled down, sprawled across furniture and countertops and the carpeted floor. Yuta’s grabbed an acoustic from the basement and it’s being passed around, goofy Christmas songs overlapping with the still-spinning record player.
You enrolled here with the intention of building a new life, finding a new purpose—new faces, new music, a new place to call home. And you feel like you’ve found it. This is the point of college. You’re surrounded by the best people you’ve ever known, and your heart is practically overflowing with how much you fucking love them all.
After all, your heart is not a finite thing. You’ve just got an endless supply of affection, and you’re not scared of it.
Love is the right word, you think, letting your head fall onto Takuma’s shoulders, legs tucked up beneath you on the couch.
“I love you,” you whisper, just to say it. When he whispers your name, your real name, in the shell of your ear, something in your chest sparks a little. He makes it sound like a song.
“I love you, too.”
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@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222 @honeyyhuggs
a/n: that’s a wrap on out of my mind! ahh! i loved this one a lot, and it has so much spinoff potential i’m going a little crazy with it—keep an eye out for the megumi spinoff dropping soon. if you want to be alerted when it drops, lmk and i’ll put you on the jjk taglist. also, greta wrote a sukuna spinoff here—go read!
@bitchkay i need you to know your reblog tags give me life and you were fucking RIGHT ON THE MONEY with these developments
i’m not sure if i’ll start writing other fandoms or not—if y’all would want to see attack on titan or blue lock do let me know!
#this is such a good conclusion im gonna jump off a cliff#the worst part about this fic is that it ends💔#ME MAKING CORRECT PERDICTIONS‼‼‼‼‼#honestly i thought the drumming thing would be a bigger thing#like i didn't think they would fight about it#but in my mind i saw yuuji be like wym guys im fine it dont even hurt cus hes built different i guess????#then try to drum before HOWLING in pain like sir please step away from the kit#WE CONFESSED WE BECAME BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND WENT ON A DATE AND YUUJI GOT HIS TACO BELL⁉️ WE WINNING🥳🥳#yuuji deserves that taco bell😤#i love yuuji and his tambourine cus i just know he was having fun up there#went ever i think of tambourines i think of church ladies just feeling the music you know those church aunties#CURSED TECHNIQUE × SHIBUYA INCIDENT COLLAB EXCEPT THEY JUST MERGE#im curious on how that would potentially work cus obviously the seniors are graduating but people going to get busier with non band stuff#me and takuma are getting married yall#ino nation is so fed with this fic we were so hungry#yuta beat toges ass at rasputin is iconic actually cus i know he was cutting it tf up#and then me and maki doing tiktok by kesha so fun#there's one song on just dance I think it would be so funny i think its timber by kesha one of the dancers is a panda💀#you probably guess what im gonna say it would be funny if panda did that one with someone even better if it was the opposite#like panda was the girl and someone else was the panda💀💀#does this have to be the last chapter what am i going to hyperfixate on now🥺🥺#takumas date idea was so cute like the fairy lights at the skatepark with some blankets and food#i feel like I have so much i wanna say#i love tag ranting can you tell#i was talking to myself the whole time i read this i was so excited#THEY WON THE BATTLE OF THE BANDS YALL LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO🥳🥳🥳🥳#i need to shut up now im almost at the tag limit#ino takuma#takuma ino x reader#kay's reblogs
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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 2 months ago
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Omg omg, can you please do a daddy!chan oneshot x babygirl!reader (pls make them married) based of when the reader cant take his cock(too big)😩
you can take it. can’t you baby?
pairing: daddy!husband!chan x babygirl!reader
genre: smuuuuuut, no plot. oh you guys.. this is filthy. we are so back.
word count: ~1.5k
warnings: daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, squirting, dirty talk, fluffy silly little bit of aftercare at the end
an: oh my gooooodddd i love requests like this. i love thinking about this. i love the opportunity to write shit like this. inject daddy!chan directly into my bloodstream atp. love love LOVE. need him asap. “big dick chan. big dick chan” we all chant in unison.
masterlist
‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼
“it doesn’t fit again, baby?” he teased. “we just did this last night.” he’s slowly inching his cock inside you, but not having much luck. the stretch is too much for you. “baby’s pussy is just soo tight.. huh?”
you’re nodding, doing your best to answer his question, your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on your tongue. he’s already got you fucked out and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. “s’too much daddy..” you whined. “too— too much.”
“i know, baby. daddy knows.” he cooed, pulling out of you, though he was only head deep. “let’s prep you a little better, yeah?” he brings his hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks in between his fingers. your tongue lolls out of your mouth, spit dripping down to your chin. he takes his middle and ring finger and places them on your tongue. you immediately wrap your lips around the digits, swirling your tongue over his skin.
“there you go, baby. good girl. get em nice and wet.” you moaned around his fingers, the praise shooting right to your core, your pussy dripping onto the sheets. he shoves them deeper into your mouth, down your throat until his knuckles are hitting your teeth and you gag around him. his eyes roll slightly at the sound, struggling to keep his composure when you’re so pliant for him.
he pulls his fingers out, a trail of spit connecting them to your lips as he brings them to your pussy. “let’s try and stretch you out a little, yeah?” he rubs soft circles around your clit, teasing, before he travels lower and plays with your drippy hole. “it’s daddy’s fault for not prepping you better. i just get so excited, baby. i get so excited to feel your little cunt wrapped around me.” he slowly slides his fingers inside, pumping them a few times before spreading his fingers apart, doing his best to stretch your little hole.
“it’s hard for daddy to wait sometimes. i just need my baby so bad.” he speeds up his fingers, curving them to hit the spot he knows you like so much. the sounds coming from your sweet mouth make his cock ache. it’s red and leaking onto his tummy where it rests, not so patiently waiting for its turn. he can feel you starting to flutter around his fingers, your legs beginning to shake. he brings his free hand up to your tummy and gently presses down, making sure you feel everything.
“daddy..” you cry. “gonna cum..” your little fists grip at the sheets, then grip onto his firm bicep, your nails digging into the muscle that’s doing most of the work. “b-big one..” you whine.
big one. he knew what that meant and it only made his cock angrier. “big one, baby? fuck. you haven’t done that since our wedding night. mmm. daddy loves it when you do that. you gonna make a mess, sweet girl?”
you held onto him like he was the only thing left anchoring you to this world, rolling your hips up to meet his thrusting fingers. “fuck. that’s it baby. fuck daddy’s hand. such a perfect girl.”
and then it hit you. it comes in waves, the initial orgasm hitting you, the first little gush of liquid around his fingers and he knows that’s when to pull them out. and once they’re out, that’s when you squirt all over his thighs, his arm, his waiting cock. he’s lucky he doesn’t bust right then. he brings his fingers to your clit, quickly rubbing back and forth, coaxing out any little bit of cum that’s left in you.
you collapse on the bed, completely spent, but ready for more. your hole spasms around nothing, practically begging to be filled. chan hovers over you, placing sweet kisses along your jaw and neck. he lines himself up with your entrance, your warm cum coating his tip. he drags it up and down through your folds, slapping it on your clit a few times. you whimper under him, your body still recovering.
“i think you’re ready now, princess.” he says, the head of his cock poking your hole. “wanna see if you can take it now, baby. daddy knows you can. you can take it, can’t you baby?” he’s babbling as he slowly starts to push in. you still feel the stretch but not as much as last time. “that okay, pretty girl? how’re you doing?” he brushes his fingers across your cheek and your lips. “talk to me, baby. come back.”
you whimper as he sinks deeper and deeper, the stretch feeling so good, his words feeling even better. “s’good daddy.” you mumble. “i can do it. i’m— i’m a good girl, daddy. i can do it. promise.”
he bottoms out, his hips coming in contact with the back of your thighs and he stills, giving you time to adjust and drinking in the feeling of you squeezing him. “that’s right baby. you are a good girl. such a good girl taking all of daddy’s cock. fuck. letting me stretch out this little pussy.”
after a moment, he’s unable to wait any longer and he begins to rock back and forth, his cock dragging your walls in all the right ways. you can feel every inch, every vein, as he slowly pumps in and out of you. savoring the feeling. he looks down at where your bodies are connected (heh connected. get it? sorry.) and he groans at the sight of the creamy ring of cum that surrounds the base of his cock. he’s not going to last.
“fuck.. baby girl..” he throws his head back, his eyes closing as he focuses on the way you feel around him. and you’re focusing on the way he looks above you. his toned stomach flexes with every thrust he makes, sweat dripping down his chest, his black curls clinging to his forehead. his nose and his full parted lips are enough to bring you close to your high again. you tried to make a mental note in your foggy mind to ride his face next time, feel his nose bumping against your clit. maybe squirt in his mouth. you bet he would like that. you clenched around him at the thought, at the visual of his tiny trail of hair that runs from below his belly button to the base of his cock. “you’re squeezing me baby. fuck i’m gonna cum.”
he looks back down at you, dark eyes meeting yours as his thrusts become harsher. skin slapping against skin as he pounds into you. he leans down and wraps his arms around your head, protecting your skull from smacking the headboard as he fucks you. “gonna cum in this little pussy baby. gonna fill you up, yeah?”
you nodded, gripping onto his shoulders as you teetered on the edge of your own bliss. “yes daddy. yes please, cum in me.”
“such a sweet baby.” he grunted. “using words like please. begging for daddy.”
“want your cum. please. please can i have it?”
you were so close. you were sure you would cum with the next words out of his mouth. it didn’t matter what he said, as long as he was the one that said it, you were going to cum.
“can you take it all baby? daddy’s gonna cum but don’t- fuck.. don’t you let any of it escape.”
and you came, your release squirting around his cock, but he refused to pull out. he kept fucking into you, the wet noises loud as they echoed off the walls of your shared bedroom.
“gonna pump this pussy full of cum, baby.” he rasped into your ear, his breath warm, but your skin still breaking out in goosebumps. your nails dug into his back, your head empty, unable to beg him anymore. but that’s okay, he was already cumming in you. his twitching cock dumped his huge load into your aching pussy. and it just kept going and going. “so much cum, baby. fuck. fuck.” he whimpered. “such a good girl. fuck. daddy’s perfect girl.”
his thrusts finally rolled to a stop, his body collapsing next to yours, his breathing heavy against your neck. he kissed your flushed skin. “are you okay, baby?” he asked quietly, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck with his words.
your answering contented sigh told him everything he needed to know. he giggled. “you feel good, princess?” his arm was around your middle, holding you closer to him in an awkward post coital embrace. “feeling a little spacey?”
“mhm.”
he kissed your jaw before pushing himself up on weakened arms and slowly pulling out of you. his cum spilled onto the sheets.
“baby!” he playfully scolded. “i said to not let any of this spill.” his fingers tickled your sides, causing you to squirm and giggle. your squirming caused more of his cum to leak out of you. “baby! you’re letting more out!” he teased as he continued his tickle attack. “oh my gosh and here i thought you were my good girl.”
“i am!” you fought back, pushing his tickling hands away. and he let you.
he looked down at you, his eyes sparkling, literal heart eyes as he stared at you. “i love you.” he said.
“i love you.” you answered.
he leaned forward and pecked your lips before retreating to the bathroom for a warm cloth.
ᯓᡣ𐭩
i really didn’t expect so many people to be so stoked about this post. it made me nervous! lol i hope it lived up to everyone’s expectations. pls let me know your thoughts.
♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡
©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.
@httpdwaekki @bangchansslut6 <33
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fungateshortcakes · 2 months ago
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Friendly competition NSFW
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Pairing: Wade Wilson x worst!Logan x fem!reader
Summary: Breeding kink with Wade and Logan LETS GOOOO 🗣🗣‼ They both want to knock you up. That's it. That's the fic. Have fun
Wordcount: 1.3k
Warnings/tags: english isn't my first language, porn without plot, threesome, breeding kink, impregnantion, Logan is in a rut, Wade ist just horny as usual, creampies, unprotected penis in vagina sex, dirty talk, double penetration, cum eating, praise kink, belly bulge, slight cum inflation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, A LOT of cum, squirting (lmk if I forgot something)
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"Gonna cum first. Gonna fill her up before you do" Logan grunted under you, his voice thick with pleasure as he bucked his hips up into your sopping cunt, his cock brushing Wade's with every thrust.
"Like hell you are." Wade answered with a groan. "Doubt that she wants some- fuck so tight, some hairy ass babies with your face on 'em and an innate alcohol addiction" he pressed out while pounding into your hole with purpose and determination.
You were sandwhiched between both men, your pussy split open with two big cocks as they each had the same goal - knocking you up. Logan had gone into a rut. Everything you did turned him on, just the smallest whiff of your scent made him hard, just hearing your voice made him want to turn you over and breed you until the sun came up. And Wade, well, he was always horny.
There was this unspoken competition Logan and Wade had going on, either one wanted to be the first to get you pregnant. They wanted to breed you so badly it hurt. Your body couldn't decide which direction to rock into as you were taken from behind and from the front. The stretch in your pussy was maddening and you couldn't get enough of it. Deeper, you wanted them to completely scramble your guts like this. You whimpered out a soft plea that was more of a slurring of words than anything else.
"What's that, pumpkin?" Wade purred into your ear, biting on it. His hand snaked from your clit to your abdomen, feeling how his and Logans cock nudged your womb with every thrust, creating a subtle bump every time they were buried to the hilt. It took everything in him not to just blow his load right there.
You gasped out, trying to grasp a single thought in your head but it was all so clouded and fogged with lust. "M-more. Want your cum" you babbled out to the two but also no one in particular. You felt Wade grin against your ear. "You hear that, peanut? She wants my cum" he panted smugly to Logan who gave a scoff. "Keep telling yourself that, mouth" he snarled but not without a competitive grin. You couldn't care less about who's baby it would be in the end, all you wanted was to be filled up.
Logan pulled your body down to lay flush against his chest. You whimpered and whined so cutely in this position, the way he bucked up into your sweet spot was enough to make you smother both of their cocks in your never ending arousal. "Gonna give you some pretty babies, bub" Logan growled to you, a shiver running up and down your spine at his words. You tightened even more around their cocks, if that was even possible. "Fuck yeah, that's it. You'd like that, huh? Getting so tight for us" Logan moaned, his hands grasping your hips to make you bounce faster on his cock and simultaniously rock you back against Wade.
"She is taking us so well" Wade rumbled deeply in his chest, taking shallow breaths as he felt Logans cock throb against his. "Getting close already, old man? Even though she hasn't cum yet? Shame on you" Wade tsk'ed and shook his head, only for his eyes to roll back as he felt your walls pulse around him.
Logan huffed, smirking. "Not going to be a problem, she is close, too. Aren't I right, bub?" Logan purred and lifted your head up from the crook of his neck by your hair, your lips plush and wet from spit. It took a few seconds until you focused your eyes on his, whining. "Gonna cum around our cocks, baby? Gonna squirt all over us while we breed that pretty little cunt?" he cooed to you, the sting on your head from his grip paired with his words made you cry out, your orgasm rolling over your body in strong waves.
Your pussy shuddered and trembled around them like never before. You slumbled forward into Logans arms, your back arching as you milked the men for all they were worth.
"Fuck, yes, take it. Take our cum like a good girl" Logan growled, Wade and him fucking their seed deeper into you. "You're gonna look so pretty with a baby bump, pumpkin" Wade whispered to you, sighing as his cock throbbed against Logans with every rope of cum filling you up.
You didn't count just how much you came after that. Logan and Wade took turns using your gaping pussy and breeding their cum deep into you. Sometimes one watched while the other pounded you in various positions, sometimes they abused your hole at the same time. You didn't know when an orgasm started and when it ended.
Every limb was burning with pleasure, your mind fucked completely dumb.
"Come on, baby. One more. You can take one more" Logan gasped for breath, his hips slamming against your ass while Wade was jerking off above your face. The noises that came from your pussy every time Logan plowed into you were obscene. It was so slick and wet between your legs, your whole lower half being covered in cum and squirt. It was all dripping out of you, but the boys were determinded to bury it back deep into your cunt, making your womb take their seed without mercy.
Another orgasm rippled through you, your cheeks as puffy as your overstimulated clit that Logan was rubbing to completion over and over again. Your legs trembled as you were filled up for the...how many times have it been? You didn't know, you didn't even know how long you had been going at it. Hours, days?
All you knew was that your abdomen was painfully full, especially when Logan pumped himself into you yet again like he hadn't emptied his balls in a while. Wade came over your face with a yell and you got to taste the familiar essence of his, licking it off your lips in a desperate manner.
You felt Logans cock throb deeply against your cervix for a good minute, him panting heavily over you. Finally he slowly pulled out of your hot cunt with a hiss, the mixture of both his and Wade's cum bubbling and spurting out of your pussy.
They had worn themselves out as best as they could, which often took a while. Your head was reeling, your body was buzzing with warmth and your tummy was full. Wade and Logan cleaned you up, but not without plugging up your pussy so nothing would go to waste. "Keeping it where it belongs, sugar. Right in your womb. Gotta make sure it sticks, ya know" Logan softly shushed your whining after he nestled one thick digit alongside Wade into your pussy to keep everything inside. Your pussy felt so raw and sensitive, but the two handled you with delicate care.
Logan kissed your neck soothingly from behind while Wade rubbed the little bump on your abdomen, created by all the loads they had forced inside you. "Look at you, already so pretty, pumpkin" he cooed.
You felt safe in their warm embrace, as they pampered your aching body. "I...I love you, guys" you croaked out, your first actual words in an hour or so as you regained some sense. They grinned softly, each kissing one of your cheeks. "We love you too, sugar" they said.
"And our little baby deadpool" Wade whispered to your tummy in a baby voice, to which Logan scoffed. "You mean a mini wolverine" Wade shook his head "Nah, baby deadpool"
"Mini wolverine"
"Baby deadpool"
"Mini wolverine!"
"Baby deadpool!"
"Mini wolve-" you stopped their back and forth by placing a hand on each of their mouths. "Quiet, we don't even know if I'm pregnant yet" you yawned, settling back into the pillows. The boys snuggled up with you. "Then we have to try again tomorrow" Logan said. "Just to be sure" Wade purred.
You were in for a looong weekend.
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I'VE NEVER WRITTEN A THREESOME BEFORE, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW I DID
The real question is though, would you rather want a mini wolverine or a baby deadpool? I'll take the mini wolverine🤭
And here a lil taglist also. Support me by liking, commenting and reblogging if you like my stuff! Inbox is open
@whistle1whistle @ghostytoasty17 @bpmiranda @chocolategiverzombie
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iwasdear · 7 months ago
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I'm coming in with another thought about Matsukawa cus he lives in a penthouse in my brain and bro is not moving out any time soon
he did not truely grasp how big his meat was until he lost his virginity
sure he's not dumb he knew it was definitely something but not until he got a girl in bed did he realize his shtick was built different
and lemme say that did more than just inflate his ego, he was a changed man
And doesn't just slang it all willy nilly and expect his size to do all the work, he learned the motion of the ocean and was a certified sex god from that point forward‼
Not just cocky for cockys sake, he promises a good time and sure as hell lays it tf down too😼
On a similar note can I ask how you think all the seijoh 4 first times went? when? how? what do you think?
oh i definitely fuck with this thought, anon. he's not cocky just because he can be cocky, but it's because he knows he can be cocky. matsukawa isn't like those annoying mfs that are cocky because they think they're the shit. he is the shit. after that encounter where he lost his virginity, he became a god and nobody could stop him no more.
now, here is how i think seijoh 4z first time went ( with reader ) ★
oikawa had his first time at a party. since he's very popular, he gets invited to parties often. i feel like he def had no idea as to what the fuck to do, but i mean, you're not bound to knows when it's your first time, right? he was really excited about it, though, and spoiler: he came really fast! we understand, king. hormones are everywhere, there's a rush that's hard to ignore, its a first time sensation, how could he hold back? he had a round two after that because he reached his own high, but reader didn't even get to enjoy theirs, and let me tell you. his second orgasm hit him ten times harder. i know this messed up with his ego so he's been participating in every no nut november like a loser because he says it will help him last longer (it really doesn't).
mattsun had a pretty decent first time with a date, and it went absolutely amazing for both of them. the amount of stamina this guy has is insane. they met on a dating app, both of their profiles specifying that they didn't want anything serious, much rather looking for a quick hook-up. it was then when matsukawa realized his cock was in fact not your average dick. the fact that his huge buddy could make someone cry in pain fascinated him. my guy has morals so he held back so reader could adjust but god was his ego over the roof. ever since then, mattsun proudly carries a weapon between his legs.
makki had his first time in a damn club HANDS DOWN. unlike oikawa, who had the commodity of a (strangers) bed, hanamaki went at it in a bathroom. oh yeah. ngl i feel like he's a sucker for head, so they went with that first! he loved it, btw. lasted quite long but not too long, iykwim. then he proceeded to fuck reader on the sink. some clubs tend to have full body mirrors and my gut is telling this mf had a second round but this time full view on said mirror. the ones above the sink weren't it for him. out of the 4, i personally think makki is the most experienced. he knew what he was doing the moment they walked into that bathroom. if you're wondering, they waited for it to empty out and locked the doors and didn't let anyone in for a good two hours, teehee.
this one may be a little too biased because i love iwaizumi a little too much, and in my eyes, he's a gentleman. unlike the other 3, iwa had his first time with someone he was in a stablished relationship with at the time. it was actually quite romantic and beautiful and SIKE. hajime had his first time in the lockers. stressed from dealing with oikawa and his annoying fangirls, mattsun and makki holding him back from beating the shit out of his best friend, and just built up stress from other things. he was over it. the stablished relationship part is true. he asked reader to meet in the lockers a little earlier than the time practice usually ends because he heard from others (mattsun) that sex was a good stress reliever. by the way, iwaizumi was the last to lose his virginity. the gentleman part was also true because despite being someone who doesn't speak his mind outloud, my man still had the courage to confidently ask reader if they could do the deed right there and then. tbh i feel like he likes his privacy, and i mean, anyone could walk in any second, so they both went with the showers. great experience if you ask him, but he would NOT do it in an open space like that ever again.
© iwasdear | more thoughts are welcome!
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isdalinarhot · 6 months ago
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None of the loved ones I know irl are sentimental in any way so it kinda sucks because I’ll think about “ooooh what if Dalinar got super injured and had to get medical attention but sadeas stuck by and was the first human Dalinar sees when he comes to >:)” and then I’ll think “nah Sadeas would never give a shit that much tbh” and then I’ll think “just like my parents pretty much every time I’ve almost died” and then I’ll think “:(“
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xxlady-lunaxx · 8 months ago
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I love you; I don't pt.2 | {SaneGiyuu}
part 1
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Theme: Fluff+Angst
Note: uhh cw death 
a little uzusane friendship 
ooh hi its been a while since i posted writing that wasn't a reblog ‼
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×××
Previously: 
Giyuu didn't look back, pressing a hand to his mouth to stop a sob that threatened to spill out. He should've expected this. There was no way in hell Sanemi would've stayed in love after years, it was a miracle he'd loved him in the first place. Of course.
×××
Sanemi visited after a couple days. He had sent no warning letter—because he couldn't write coherently yet—and simply arrived at Giyuu's door. 
Giyuu had opened it and then proceeded to lead a couple minutes of a staring contest in which they both blinked several times before regaining his composure and letting him in.
"What're you doing here, Shinazugawa?" Giyuu asked. He shifted his hair to cover his cheeks which burned red with embarrassment. Their last encounter hadn't been quite so successful and he had a hunch that that was exactly why Sanemi was here.
"Are you alright, Tomioka? I'm sorry about last time," Sanemi said, though his gaze was tracing around Giyuu's house. It hit him then that he'd never actually been inside here before. He'd only known the address but never wondered about what Giyuu might look like doing idle things.
"Sorry?" Giyuu frowned. "I should be sorry. I ran away like a child, I'm sorry."
Sanemi shook his head. "That was... reasonable."
"Well, what you said was also." 
"Right. I still shot you down, though," Sanemi said pointedly.
"Didn't I do that to you too?" Giyuu asked. It wasn't Sanemi's fault, it was his own. 
Sanemi's lips quirked in a smile. "Then we can call ourselves even, no?"
"...fine."
A moment of silence.
Giyuu watched as Sanemi took in their surroundings. 
"Do you want some tea?" he offered.
Sanemi nodded slowly. "Sure. Although something cooler would be nice. The weather's insanely hot."
Giyuu nodded back. "Okay." He walked down the hall, turning to the kitchen. "...cold tea?"
Sanemi followed him, rolling his eyes. "Whatever is fine."
"Alright." He supplied the two cups of 'cold tea,' dropping several ice cubes in them.
Sanemi took the cup he was offered, taking a sip. "So...?"
Giyuu tilted his head. "Hm?"
"Are you alright? You never answered my question," Sanemi said, leaning against the wall.
"Oh. I'm... fine." Giyuu considered the question again. "I'll be fine."
Sanemi let out a breath. "If you need anything, we can talk."
"I didn't know you were so considerate."
"...well I can be if I want to." 
Giyuu cocked his head to the side. "You want to be, now?"
Sanemi shrugged. "Isn't it my fault you ran away crying?"
"That's mine."
"Yeah, well, I haven't seen you cry in my whole life." 
Giyuu dipped his head down. "I used to be more... emotional? I don't know. I let down my guard, so it's my fault."
Sanemi put his cup down. "Let your guard down more, then. There's no demons fucking with us anymore, you don't have to be on constant watch."
"It's more like a habit now," Giyuu murmured.
"I know. So try letting go of it."
"I can try."
Sanemi smiled. His smile was gentle and so... unlike him. Giyuu's cheeks were brushed pink and he forced himself to look away.
"Good," Sanemi said. "Anyway, this tea doesn't go good cold. I'll be going now. See you later."
Giyuu nodded. "See you later."
×××
To his surprise—which, according to Sanemi, shouldn't have been a surprise—they became friends. Nothing else, as muh as Giyuu longed for it. But it was nice. Sanemi would come over sometimes, or vise versa, and they would talk. Like they were normal people on a normal day. And he loved seeing into Sanemi's character. It was a change, for the better. Sanemi was much more open with him—as Giyuu was as well—and it was interesting to see how different he was when he could be relaxed. He smiled genuinely a lot more, too. And, despite himself, Giyuu found that he couldn't let go of his love for Sanemi. He loved him; he did. He couldn't stop it. He didn't try to, anymore. Best let it fade out.
It didn't fade, however. Though it wasn't much of a burden. It just made him love spending time with Sanemi more. Receiving letters in broken Japanese asking him if he wanted to come over. It was like falling in love all over again.  He didn't mind. It was a wonderful feeling, in other perspectives. It made him happy.
Time droned on.
Four years had passed since Muzan had died. Four years, already. He didn't know what to think about how much time had passed. He was unwilling to think about it.
It was his birthday tomorrow. He prepared.
×××
He wrote letters to the Uzui's. He wrote some to the Kamado's—and shorter ones to their friends, whom he didn't know well. He wrote one to the Butterfly mansion—Aoi. To Kiriya and the other two Ubuyashiki's. To the Rengoku's, Urokodaki. He had them all stacked up neatly, tied together and placed by a crow. Kanzaburou was far too old to be carrying anything now, so he had put a different crow to the task of delivering the letters.
Then there was one.
He had hesitated before sending Sanemi a letter. He didn't know what he would say. In the end, he simply invited him over. He was sure that none of the others knew of his birthday. In the previous years, he had simply said, vaguely, that his birthday was in February. They brought him gifts in the beginning of February. They had done it this year, as well. When they asked about the timeline, though, he brushed it off. He told them that his birthday was later in February, that they needn't worry. He would tell them. And he would. Only... after.
Sanemi arrived at his house late in the afternoon of his birthday. He didn't know that Giyuu would die today—he couldn't, right? He had with him a package. He placed it on the table in front of Giyuu, sitting down across from him.
"Happy birthday," Sanemi said, leaning onto the table. "Forgot to give you something when the others did."
Giyuu tilted his head, smiling slightly at him. "Thank you." He struggled to untie the cloth and Sanemi reached over to help him.
Inside, there was a photo album. It was pretty, looking homemade and adorned with cut-out photos of Giyuu. He opened it and found pictures slipped inside it. Pictures from the past four years. With everyone. He turned the pages, a bittersweet smile curving his lips as he gazed at the photographs. He paused at one, his eyes tracing the picture. It was of him and Sanemi, eating. At that time, Tengen had taken the picture. Claiming they looked like best friends and wondering what they would've said about this in the past.
He looked up at Sanemi whose eyes were averted, embarrassed.
 "Thank you," he repeated. "I... love this."
Sanemi looked up, offering him a shy smile. "That's good. I was going to keep it blank but... you wouldn't have time to fill it. So I went to Uzui and took all the pictures he'd taken. Had them printed, et cetera." 
Giyuu nodded. "I really appreciate it, Shinazugawa. I... Yeah. Thank you. Thanks."
"You keep saying that. But, uh, you're welcome," Sanemi said, dipping his head down.
Giyuu laughed softly. "I don't know what to say. It's great."
"Then hopefully you'll enjoy it till the end."
"I will."
×××
Night came. Giyuu urged Sanemi to stay, setting up another futon for him. There weren't any other rooms and it was February; too cold to sleep on the porch or elsewhere. So the extra futon was placed in Giyuu's room.
Time came for when they would sleep. Giyuu lay, staring up at the cealing. He hadn't told anyone but lately, he'd been losing a significant amount of weight and blood. And lately, as in, in the last week. He was thankful to not have gotten another spasm of coughing in front of Sanemi, but he knew it was only bound to come. And it did. Blood had come with it, dotting his clothing red.
Sanemi must've been awake for he was at Giyuu's side in an instant. It was dark, but the red was a large contrast to the white of Giyuu's clothing and he must've seen it. "Tomioka? What happened? Are you okay?"
Giyuu answered by doubling over, the metallic taste of blood going sour on his tongue. When he looked up, he realized Sanemi had scooped him up in his arms. 
Sanemi's eyebrows were furrowed in concern and he frowned. He seemed to be thinking. Understanding.
Giyuu coughed against, moving his arm up to cover his mouth so he wouldn't get blood on Sanemi. 
"Tomioka," Sanemi said suddenly, once Giyuu's coughing has stopped.
It was close to midnight. The two had stayed up quite late talking, only getting into the beds around 11 pm.
"Tomioka, when is your birthday?" Sanemi's voice was tight. His eyes were focused solely on Giyuu's. "When is your birthday?" he repeated.
Giyuu bit his lip, wincing. It hurt to breathe. "Today."
"Today as in... as in the eighth? Or today as in... the ninth. Tomorrow?" 
"Eight...th. Eighth," Giyuu mumbled, he closed his eyes.
"...what. Tomioka—why the- Why the fuck did you not tell anyone?! What the hell is— Oh my god- I knew something was—" Sanemi was stumbling over his words, cutting himself off. "No. No, why today? I didn't- Does anyone else—?"
Giyuu shook his head slowly. "No one else knows. I think. I didn't want them too. I invited you over because..." He paused. His breathing was heavy. He was struggling to breathe in. His lungs hurt and strained as if he'd been running for hours. "Shinazugawa.... Shinazugawa, I still like you—I lo-"
He coughed, no longer trying to cover his mouth. Blood dripped from his lips, coating them a deeper red than they'd ever been. 
"Tomioka, I'll take you to Aoi's," Sanemi mumbled, rocking back on his heels. He felt weak. Giyuu was light, however. Lighter than he should be. He started to stand.
"No. No—it won't work, you know it won't work, leave-" Giyuu sucked in a shaky breath. "Leave me here. Shinazugawa. Shinazugawa—I love you, okay? I don't care that you don't like me back but I needed you to know this before I died."
Sanemi shook his head. "No. No, you're not dying now. Maybe Aoi can figure something out. I'll figure something out. You're not dying in my fucking arms, Tomioka. I won't fucking let you." His voice became desperate. 
Giyuu was vaguely skeptical. Why did Sanemi care so much? "Then put me down, Shinazugawa," he said quietly. It was taking all his strength to talk. He couldn't afford losing his last precious moments. 
"No, I won't, I won't," Sanemi insisted, clutching him tighter.
Giyuu's eyes fluttered open. He caught Sanemi's panicking gaze. "I... appreciate you being my friend, Shinazugawa. Thank you for the last years, you truly made them... wonderful." 
Sanemi blinked rapidly. "No, no, I- ...I liked being your friend too," he mumbled. He seemed to have given up. 
Ah. That was it. Giyuu nodded slowly, a small smile forming on his lips despite the pain stabbing his lungs. "I'm glad... glad you did too. I enjoyed every moment with... with you. This included."
He figured, then, that Sanemi was acting like this in his form of friendship. Sanemi cared for him—though perhaps not romantically anymore. But he cared. He had liked being his friend. That was good. Giyuu was glad.
"Thank you," Giyuu repeated. 
Sanemi was quiet, leaning his forehead down against the pale palor of Giyuu's. "You should've told me it was today," he whispered. 
"I couldn't," Giyuu mumbled. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Sanemi said. "I-"
He hesitated. And that was all it took.
In the small moment he paused, Giyuu's breath shortened. He was barely breathing. And then he was not. 
There was a moment in which Sanemi vaguely registered this. He didn't understand it for a moment. Only that the ragged breathing of the man in his arms had stopped filling the silent room. Then it hit him and he struggled to keep himself up, his arms tightening around Giyuu's still-warm body. The warmth would fade soon as Giyuu's blood stopped pumping through his body.
A silent sob ripped through Sanemi's throat and he realized he was crying. His shoulders shook and he bent his head down, tucking his chin against his chest. He hadn't gotten to say it. 
He didn't know how long he sat like that, almost motionless, clutching onto Giyuu's body. But then there was a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up.
Tengen was there, frowning, kneeling by his side. "I'm here, Shinazugawa," he murmured. 
Sanemi must've looked like a mess. Tears streaking down his cheeks, blood staining his clothing. Tengen said nothing of it, only sitting next to him and holding his hand. They sat together for what could've been minutes or hours. Then Tengen stood silently, looking around.
"We have to bury him," he said quietly. His voice cut through the silence of the room. He sounded tired. 
Sanemi nodded slowly. He was hesitant to move away.
"I'll... go and get some of the others. Put him on his bed when you're ready, okay?" Tengen said, gazing at him one last time before leaving.
Sanemi's eyes went back to Giyuu's face. It was slack, but a ghost of a smile still lay upon his lips. He paused then slowly bent down. Sanemi's lips pressed gently against Giyuu's cold, plush, blood-stained ones. He moved, dropping Giyuu gently onto the futon. Then he stood, willing his legs to work as he moved to the door Tengen had left from, making his way out of the room and away from the man whom he had thought he would never love again.
×××
« Word count: 2265 »
right so this took weeks to actually get ideas on how to write it, so i delete my progress and try again and finish it in one afternoon? 
i was struggling with how to word the last paragraph btw!! its supposed to imply that he fell back in love with Giyuu but the last sentence was icky 😃
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moonchild701 · 9 days ago
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Deck the Halls
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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<
Summary: You have a lot of fun decorating for Christmas
Pairing: Dabi/Fem Reader
Content Warning: Smut, Christmas Sex, Begging, Dacryphilia, Edging, Overstimulation, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Dom/Sub Undertones, Touya's a bit mean but we love it lol
Word Count: 1.1k
Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi
A/N: This is the 3rd part of 12 fics for a 12 Days of Christmas event. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!
My Masterlist
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"Don't drop the ornament, Dolly~" Touya taunts with a hot whisper in your ear, his front pressed up against your back. Two fingers curl inside your cunt sharply and trembles wrack through your body, his other arm wrapped around your torso and cupping your breast beneath your shirt, squeezing and kneading it while holding you in place.
"I'm trying!" You whine, grinding your hips down to chase more pleasure, only to whimper pathetically when you're denied it. In your distraction, the little plastic snowflake-shaped ornament in your grasp slips, clattering against the floor when long fingers suddenly press against your sweet spot.
He tuts and sighs, "You dropped it, sweetheart.", stilling his movements but keeping his fingers stuffed inside you.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to~" You cry, sweat sliding down your forehead and cunt clenching around the digits. "Please, please, I'm good, I've been good."
"Mm, I don't know about that. You've only managed six ornaments on the tree. You have twenty total, though I suppose nineteen now. Do you really think that's good?" He heckles, tracing shapes into your sweat-damp skin with blunt nails.
"Mmn, 'm sorry, 'm sorry, please, I wanna be good for you." You simper, legs trembling as you reach a shaky hand out to take another ornament.
"Hmm, we'll see." He hums, tone all mocking amusement as his thumb rubs firm circles into your clit, without moving his other fingers.
You whine and shake and moan, but you try your best.
It takes another half hour before you're finished hanging the ornaments, all while trying to concentrate, but not as well as you'd like.
The second ornament to slip and fall is a pretty little angel, when he scissors his fingers within you, stretching you out
The third is an adorable reindeer, falling when he abruptly curls his fingers right up against your sweet spot again, while sucking a mark into the junction between your neck and shoulder.
The fourth, you no longer care what it is, drops and bounces away when he gives a hard pinch to your nipple while simultaneously playing with your sensitive clit.
And each time, you apologize tearfully, and each time he tuts and mocks you, licking up your salty tears.
All that time, for almost an hour, he never lets you cum once. Every time he noticed you were close, he'd stop his movements or pull out, and every time, you'd cry and beg so prettily for him.
You manage to put the last ornament on the tree with trembling limbs, sighing shakily as you look at it through tear blurred vision.
He's been edging you, playing with you, for so long that you feel like you're going to shatter if you don't get to cum soon, if he doesn't fuck you soon.
He coos at your glassy eyes peering back at him, chuckling when your lips wobble. "Please?" Your voice is broken and so very sweet as you plea with him for anything, for everything, and he buries his face into your neck, sighing against you there. "Alright baby, you tried your best, I know." He presses a kiss to your flushed skin as he slips his fingers out of you, fully removing his hand from your pants, and you can't help the small whine that escapes you at the prominent emptiness.
Turning you to face him, he captures your lips in a slow languid kiss that makes your legs jelly and your pussy throb.
Your fingers tangle in his snowy hair, tugging and pulling him as close as possible, trying to melt into him, and he allows it, warm hands gripping your hips, keeping you close.
He trails kisses down your throat as he guides you down to the floor, onto the tree rug beneath the Christmas tree, laying you out like the gift you are.
And like a gift, he tears off whatever hides you from view, opening you up and admiring what he was blessed with.
He slides in slowly, seeming to want to still tease you even now, and all you could do is take whatever he decides to give. Because no matter your sweet pleas of more, harder, faster, he'd just swallow your words with a deep kiss, murmuring against your lips, "You shouldn't have dropped them, hm Dolly?"
He fucks you slow and deep under the colourful Christmas tree, trailing kisses wherever his hot mouth can reach, admiring the pretty colours of the Christmas lights dancing across your face and shining in your glossy eyes.
You cum with a sob, your sensitive walls pulsing around him, dragging him over the edge with you and he paints your insides white with a deep groan.
Chest shuddering as you try to catch your breath, you gaze up at him dazedly, before dragging him down into a flithy kiss; licking into his mouth when he allows it.
His cock barely begins to soften from his orgasm when you feel him twitch to full hardness again, grinding into you.
Gasping at the overstimulation to your sensitive cunt, you drag your nails down his back. "Touya wait—" your words are cut off with a choked moan when he pulls back, leaving just the head inside, before shoving back in with a hard thrust.
"Aww, you thought we were done baby?" He coos, licking up the tear trickling down your cheek. You look up at him with glazed eyes, lips parted on a silent moan and shaking as he rolls his hips, grinding against your sweet spot.
"You dropped four ornaments, silly girl." He murmurs, brows furrowed in fake disappointment, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing your cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear. "So you need to let me see your pretty pussy cry for me four times, yeah?" His grin is sharp as he punctuates his words with a thrust, chuckling lowly at the way your expression crumbles into bliss.
The overstimulation hurts deliciously, the pain and pleasure melting into one as he picks up his pace, fucking into you hard and fast just like you begged earlier.
In the dancing, colourful lights, he looks like art. His hair and staples shine in different colours, his eyes glow, with their intensity and his smile is feral and mean and beautiful.
By the time he's done with you, your vision is just a blur of colours, with the most prominent one being the burning blue of his eyes.
Your apartment is nicely adorned with holiday decor of all kinds and colours, the tree being the last to be decorated, and you drift off to sleep right there; half under the faux tree with a dopey, fucked out smile, naked and debauched covered in sweat, slick and sticky cum.
You did hope for a white Christmas after all.
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mukbangg · 1 year ago
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Helping stressed out Billy the kid.
Billy the Kid Spoilers‼
18+
(Eh kinda died halfway...but I need more billy the kid sloppy porn)
Tunstall's shot dead and everyones gathering at the ranch, looking to Billy to lead them.
With so many eyes on him, so many responsibilities and to add on, the upcoming war with Murphy and him having to face Jesse? Billy is stressed through the roof.
But hes Billy the Kid, cowboy outlaw and one hell of a gunslinger, hes been on his own all this time he can do this cant he?
Now you, being one of the people Tunstall had hired, a cowgirl if you will, well you're acquainted with Billy alright. More than acquainted if him pounding you harshly into the bed a few weeks ago means anything. Not an exclusive relationship, yall never talked about defining whatever the hell is going on but you're familiar enough with his quirks to see that his clenched jaw and that heavy close-lipped sigh means hes got himself wound up tight.
And you know just the way to help him out.
"What're you doing, I can't-"
A click of your tongue had him huffing and letting you tug him into the barn, out of sight.
The moment whatever tense meeting was done in the house, people filling away to busy with their business, you took the chance and stole Billy away, dragging him out like he owes you money.
"I haven't got the time doll, what d'you want?"
Ever the sweetheart, Billy could never get too harsh with you, his unofficial girl. His voice strains, and his eyes can hardly focus on you but theres a softness to his question.
You roll your eyes, backing him up against the flimsy wall and kicked his legs open impatiently.
Whatever protest he had died on his tongue the moment you sank down onto your knees, one brow raised as a challenge for him to push you away.
He doesnt.
Billy swallows as you yank his belt loose, unzipping his trousers just enough to see his half-hard bulge in his boxers.
"Doll- we cant- not here-"
But all it took was for you to place an open mouth kiss on his bulge, mouthing at his cock through his boxers with that hard glint in your eyes staring right at him, and his jaw was falling slack eyes fluttering in a heavy lidded gaze ,that glazed out look in his eyes.
You take your time playing with him, getting him all hard and needy till his precum leaks through the fabric of his boxers mixing with your saliva.
His palm cups the back of your head, pressing you down with a shaky groan that almost, hips bucking into your face for more.
You chuckle, before finally taking his cock out and he hisses at the contact, voice tapering into a throaty groan that was a little too loud for you.
"You can stay quiet, cant you billy?"
And despite your doe eyes and pouty lips, all innocent and soft staring up at him like hes the most precious thing in the world, the edge in your voice made him swallow hard, whispering out a raspy "y-yes".
"Good,"
And then you smile all sweet like honey, kissing his painfully swollen tip slick with pre, and he squeezes his eyes shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he prays to mother mary he doesnt cum the moment you fuck your mouth on his cock.
His eyes practically rolls back when you swallow him down your snug throat, teeth clenched as he struggles to gulp down his heavy groans and whimpers.
Your head bobs expertly, cheeks hollowed out as  you suck him sloppy.
"Fffuuuuuccckkk..."
If you moan one more time around his cock hes gonna burst.
You pull back, tongue swirling on his tip, one hand holding down his bucking hips while the other thumbs at his balls.
"C'mon Billy...."
You drawl, smiling as you drag your glistening lips up the underside of his cock.
You know he isnt going to last.
"I want your cum..."
And he moans brokenly, head lolling back as he presses your head down to his base, cock twitching once, twice, and hes squirting cum down your throat.
He jolts, hunching over you as you try to swallow the copious amount of thick built-up cum, so much it leaks out the corners of your mouth.
Billy's heaving, face flushed and he groans as you pull off, slumping down against the wall so hes level with you, eyes fuzzy and loopy, watching you swallow his cum.
You lean forward to peck his lips, earning a lopsided smile from him when he tastes himself on your lips. He whispers a "thank you", pulling you against him to bury his face into your neck.
"Lemme return the favour later doll,"
And you grin, knowing full well you both wont be sleeping tonight.
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sweetcollywobbles · 11 months ago
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my yandere!leon headcanons so far MDNI
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hello! these are just a few headcanons i had about leon as a yandere and a person in general. there is nsfw below the cut, so MINORS AND AGELESS BIOS FUCK OFF ‼ also feel free to send me your thoughts on yandere!leon and your personal headcanons if you have any!!
xx
sfw
⟢ he's self-aware that what he's done to you is horrible. he knows you have every right to hate him, but that doesn't stop him from wishing you would love him back. he never meant to hurt or deceive you, but he's lost and given too much. leon wants someone to come home to, share a meal with, and feel needed and wanted. to receive a sliver of what he's given out. so forgive him if he's being selfish when it comes to you, but he deserves happiness too. so why not help him play house?
⟢ smells of bergamot and lavender. it’s nice and relaxing, but also musky and woodsy. he read somewhere that lavender calms the nerves, so he just absolutely lathers himself in the scent. Sometimes you swear he smells like sleep personified. unfortunately, he’s still a man, so he uses old spice lavender body wash. for cologne, he uses sauvage by dior. 
⟢ normalcy is hard. how can anyone go back into society as if the amount of  horrors you’ve seen, aren’t there? like you’re fine and everything is fine? so, leon has found a pretty good remedy, company. each friday, a sit down dinner with claire, chris, and jill. pizza, wings, and beer every sunday with chris watching whatever football game is on. sometimes they may not know the current standings of teams, but it’s fun to pretend that they do. yet friends can only fill the void so much, maybe with you, the world won’t feel so lonely. 
⟢ he has a major sweet tooth! likes his coffee with cream and sugar, won’t drink his coffee black unless he really needs it. leon will always have room for dessert lmao. has tried to bake, but he just doesn’t got it 💀something just always goes wrong. a big ice cream/frozen yogurt guy. once a month, leon will make a “everything under the kitchen sink” sundae. he’ll dump whatever pints of ice cream into a large bowl and top it off with whatever candy, syrup, and whip topping he has. leon is usually on a very strict diet, so why not splurge?
⟢ leon on his off time has taught himself how to smoke/grill meat. only knows how to make small side dishes to go with the meat that he’s made. mashed potatoes and grilled veggies are usually his two favorite go-to sides. 
⟢ i'm a firm believer that leon's receiving love languages are quality time and words of affirmation with a hint of acts of service. leon works a lot, whether at the office or away on another mission, this poor, tired man is always working. so when he's home be prepared to be attached at the hip. leon also has a lot of self-doubt and guilt about what he's done to you, so by telling him how much you love and appreciate him, it feeds his growing delusion that what he's done is necessary. you need him just as much as he needs you. it also adds to the reassurance when you do small things for him to show your love and appreciation, whether it’s real or not. like cleaning and folding his laundry, making him a cup of coffee in the morning, back rubs after a long day, or even packing his lunch for the day. 
i’m giggling at the thought of leon keeping all the small notes you add to his lunch, reading them when the day gets tough. or maybe he has one or two in a go-bag when he has to take small out-of-state trips for work. 
⟢ building off the one before, he won't admit it but he's clingy. he prefers showers, but will choose a bath if it means he gets a small intimate moment with you in the morning. not in a sexual sense, more in a “let’s bask in each other’s presence”. never sits across from you at a table or booth, always next to you. same thing for the couch. there could be a thousand pillows on the bed, but he always chooses yours. leon will also never lets you sleep facing any windows/doors for security reasons. there is no such thing as personal space with this man.
⟢ since leon is a yandere his reciprocating love language is all of them. he wants you to stay with him, so he is willing to drown you in his love until it's the only thing you'll ever know. i'm going to break this down a little in sections.  
⟡ leon isn't the best when it comes to choosing the words that relay how he feels. the words feel wrong and it leaves him awkward. so any sort of verbal praise from him is rare. the most you would get from him is a thumbs up and a "sure" or a pat on the back with a nod.
(😀👍🏻 <— leon fr) but, put a piece of paper infront of this man and all of a sudden he's writing words that’ll make shakespear blush. it's words so sickly sweet it gives you a toothache. leon really hates himself for not being able to verbal relay this to you, but maybe you can feel what he wants to say?
⟡ leon is just really good at showing you how he feels than telling you. I KNOW THIS MAN WOULD GIVE THE BEST HUGS BECAUSE HE SO DESPERATELY NEEDS ONE. just imagining leon giving you a bear hug, fully enveloping you, and he can't help but hold you a little closer. maybe even holds your head a little more to him. his eyes are closed, soaking up the loving moment, he might even do a little sigh of relief. because with you, he's safe. with you, he's loved. and he just wants you to feel the love he has for you through every action. to feel what he can't say. (SORRY I GOT OFF TRACK!!) leon also always has to be touching you in some way. his favorite places for kisses; nose, cheek, neck, or hand. every morning, when he's holding you close, he'll leave small repeated kisses on your neck until you wake up giggling. not really into lip kisses, but will sometimes start a lazy make out session. just loves holding you whenever he can and making sure you feel loved at all times.
⟡ leon will also do the most for you. having a hard time sleeping? he's awake with you, lightly scratching your back in small circles or holding you close while he's running his fingers through your hair. leon just can't sleep knowing that you're having a hard time sleeping. hungry but don't want to cook? he's in the kitchen cheffing it up. putting love in every plate that he makes you, even if it isn't restaurant quality. i feel like leon will also leave you small notes around the house in places that you would find, but it's little drawings instead of words. in the slow cooker, a picture of a flower. in between the dryer sheets, a bad stick figure drawing of what you think is of you and him. at some random page of the book you're reading, a simple heart. 
⟡ leon loves spending time with you. it doesn't matter what it is, even if you're doing nothing. he wants to do nothing with you. his favorite thing to do with you is listen to you. whether you’re rambling about the latest tv drama he knows nothing about or it’s late at night and you’re reading whatever book you’ve picked up. he loves being in the kitchen when you’re cooking/baking. he’s your dedicated sous chef, so feel free to boss him around like your gordon ramsay. although, i’m so sorry for the amount of “my name is sue” jokes he’ll make. loves watching movies, putting together legos/ doing diy crafts, and playing mario kart. 
I NOTICED THIS WAS GETTING LONG AND IDK IF I EXPLAINED THIS WELL BUT IM HOPING I DID. THIS WAS SOOOO SELF INDULGENT.
⟢ when it comes to pet names, leon will add a “my” to the start of it. he’s possessive and it shows in his actions. will often say: my girl, my sweetheart, my baby, my angel, etc.
nsfw (i’m not good at smut sorry)
⟢ the praise problem does not equate to what happens in the bedroom. i'm sorry, i just simply refuse. a complete 180, he's a talker. whether it's saying something so outlandishly lewd like he wants the whole world to hear or sickly sweet nothings in your ear, this dude will NOT stfu. (and it makes me giggle and kick my feet) I WILL PUT MY LIFE ON THE LINE AND SAY THAT THIS MAN IS ABSOLUTELY FERAL IN BED. he's always stressed. from his job, from the lack of self care, from the past that just never seems to leave him. he's on edge. he has healthy ways of releasing it, but sometimes the gym or extra training isn't enough. 
⟢ which can lead to leon being a little mean in bed. he’s absolutely degrading the life out of you while also giving you whiplash with the praise that he gives you as well. leon is a lot more aggressive and at some point you’re just a fleshlight to him. spanking, choking, biting, spitting, you name it, it is on the table. also licking whatever drool comes out of his mouth makes him lose his mind fr.
⟢ i'm not good at writing smut, but i do have an idea of what i think leon's favorite sex positions would be. the first one would be mating press. it's extremely intimate and it allows him to be close to your face and neck than the regular missonary position. again, he really gets off knowing that he's the one getting you off. another postition would be cowgirl, it gives him full view of your chest and face, except you're not really riding him. again, he just using you as a fleshlight like giving you the perception that you’re in control. another would be you on your belly and him basically putting you in a headlock. IDK WHAT IT’S CALLED BUT IF YKYK. and leon just saying the most down right atrocious things in your ear would make me go crazy. 
YOU’RE GONNA SIT THERE AND TELL ME YOU DON’T WANT HIS HUGE ARMS AROUND YOUR NECK, YOU’RE INSANE. 
⟢ last but not least, ✨moaning✨. i like to think that he’s a grunter and whiner at the same time. idk if that makes any sense? he’s loud but not obscenely loud. but sometimes when he overstimulates himself, he’s a complete whiner like lovi (again if ykyk).
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fategoflatass · 11 months ago
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I used to be so against the slow burn trope. Not because I thought it was shit; it's just, I usually don't have the patience to wait whatever-amount-superior-to-three damn chapters for my dear ship to finally be able to look at each other without blushing and/or hold hands. Thus why you often times see me reading oneshots or fics with the "Established Relationship" tag on them.
So you can imagine just how surprised—or maybe not, maybe I just didn't think enough about it—I was when I realized my newest fixation's main pairing is—canonically—the embodiment of slow burn. Because holy shit they're taking their time.
Nothing against how Kusuriya develops its love story—quite the opposite, actually. The relationship between Jinshi and Maomao, two characters that are written as beautifully as their romance, is a rather realistic approach as to how the same or a similar dynamic would developed in real life. In such a complicated situation, with such complex feelings about emotions—both external and their own—and attachment, makes sense that it takes so long for the relationship to finally sail.
The problem is, I didn't know I was signing with the Devil the moment I decided to pick up the light novel. Ten volumes and nothing has happened. Nothing.
And you can say that technically things have happened, because they have. I mean, Jinshi is just so desperate for Maomao to give him the time of day, you know what I mean? And even that isn't enough anymore and thus he has committed some of the craziest shit I've seen in any romance. Which okay, I don't usually read these type of romances but still.
What I mean by "nothing" is just, their relationship hasn't changed status. I could also say that it seems to go nowhere, but that'd be lying. Since, you know, it has changed quite a lot—just not in the way my impatient ass wanted it to. Because he can be as honest with his feelings as he pleases, and those around them might be heavely conscious of the tension and thus constantly tease those lovebirds (as they should), but babygirl's not helping, you know?
And I get it, Maomao's not the best at expressing and understanding herself, and she's also way too busy worrying about going as unnoticed as possible (she should give up on that one already, tbh) while keeping her head where it should be. But like, I can't help feeling frustrated over it like ‼‼
GIRL, FUCK THE RULES. TAKE THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A MAN AND RUNAWAY SOMEWHERE NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY YOU. YOU THEN CARRY THAT BITCH BRIDESTYLE TO THE CLOSEST CHURCH AND MAKE HIM YOUR WIFE. PROCEED TO FROG AROUND, EXPERIMENT WITH YOUR UTERUS AS MUCH AS YOU'D LIKE, AND THEN TEACH THE PRODUCTS OF YOUR PRACTICES AS YOUR OWN GUINEA PIG THE WAYS OF HERBAL MEDICINE. AS EASY AS THAT.
But she won't. She'll take her sweet ass time being in denial about both Jinshi's and her own feelings, then maybe she'll proceed to analize herself and find out that maybe, just maybe, that affection that she'd been feeling for that loser became something else. Did said affection also become something more complicated? Absolutely. Does she know how to deal with it? Hell no, but fuck it. If I learned something from school is that you always leave the hardest parts for later.
Now you see why I was so against reading slow burn?
And you wanna know the worst part? I loved it—I loved every second of it, every word, every page. Every scene that seemed to help the relationship advance, only for Maomao to say nope and leave like she owns the place, which at this point she fucking might.
It feels like I, as the reader, am in the middle of a heatwave and some sadistic bastard won't stop teasing me with ice cream—they put it in front of my face, close enough that I can smell the cold. Then take a spoon and eat little by little while staring directly to my eyes. At times they seem to show mercy and feed me a spoon, only for it to be a rather small quantity of serving—serving that tastes so damn good at first, only for it to have such a bitter aftertaste. But if I gotta have something in common with Jinshi is that I'll never be able to beat the masochist allegations, so I'll wait patiently for the next spoon and its corresponding and seemingly enless teasing from that faceless being.
So yeah, I'm still against it, only that now I understand the appeal—even if I have yet to find out about the whereabouts of my sanity while still mananing with the little I've left.
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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 1 month ago
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Omg can I please get husband!bangchan x fem!reader plsplspls. My scenario is basically reader is stressed and can’t stop studying (uni) and bangchan sees that and helps her relax. (Daddy kink and praise plsplspls)
let me help you relax
pairing: daddy!husband!chan x fem reader
genre: smut with feelings
word count: ~1.3k
warnings: daddy kink, praise kink, tiny bit of size kink, unprotected sex, implied subspace, i think that’s all.
an: i’m finishing this and posting it while im half asleep so im sorry for any mistakes or if it’s absolute trash. but i’ve been feeling particularly feral about him today and he’s been on my mind. so here’s some daddy!chan for you. ♡ love ya.
masterlist • consider leaving me a tip
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your eyes were betraying you. they burned, closing of their own accord, begging for rest. you reached for your coffee, an empty energy drink can falling to the floor. you needed to study more. it’s finals time and you’re stressed. the exam you have tomorrow could make or break your degree. you stomach churned at the thought.
“baby, why don’t you take a break?” your husbands voice approached from behind, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. you were on edge and he wasn’t helping.
“oh that’s rich, coming from you.” you snapped. and you realized your mistake immediately. his grip on your shoulders tightened ever so slightly. it would have been imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know your dynamic. but his voice is what gave you chills. it changed from sweet and doting, to serious. “oh really?” he said. you weren’t looking at him, but you could visualize his expression in your mind. he had at least one eyebrow raised, maybe both. it was the type of look that said: is this really how you want this to go?
and it wasn’t. you didn’t like being a brat. you were just stressed. “i’m sorry, daddy.” your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. “i didn’t mean to snap at you. i’m just under a lot of pressure.”
“i know you are, baby.” he said, his hands on your shoulders starting to massage the knots out. “you’ve been studying so hard.” his hands felt amazing and you started to relax in his hold. he hummed a sweet sound and then placed a kiss on the top of your head. one of his hands started to snake around your shoulder and down under the neckline of your pajama top. “i think it’s time for a break.” he said, his fingertips finding your bare nipple. “don’t you?”
your breath caught in your throat and you nodded, all thoughts of exams lost. he was pulling you deeper and deeper into that soft, fuzzy space that you loved so much. he knew exactly what to do to get your mind off of things.
his other hand tilted your chin up, so you were looking at him. he was upside down, but that didn’t matter. he kissed you gently anyway, before pulling away and helping you stand. he led you from the desk, to your shared bed, pulling your top over your head along the way. your legs hit the bed frame and you let your body fall back onto the mattress. you pulled him down with you, your hands wrapped around his neck. he chuckled against your lips as he kissed you, his hands wandering.
“baby’s been working so hard.” he said, kissing down your jaw to your neck. he nibbled at the sensitive skin there, mumbling his words. “let daddy take care of you. let me help you relax.”
his fingertips found the top of your shorts and began dancing in and out of the material, teasing you. his lips travelled further down, his breath warm against your skin, as he took your nipple into his mouth.
“yes daddy.” you panted.
his tongue swirled around your hard nipple, his teeth grazing it ever so slightly. his hand finally went under your shorts and started playing with your most sensitive area. he tugged gently on the small amount of hair you kept. “mmm..” he hummed. “daddy’s gonna make you forget all about school baby..” his kisses were wet against your nipple. “gonna fuck you till your heads empty.. yeah?”
little did he know, your head was already empty. your mind was cloudy with nothing but him. his smell, his taste, the feel of his hard body against your soft one. he rutted his clothed erection against your thigh, groaning deeply.
he moved his tongue across your chest to your other nipple as he slipped a finger inside your wet hole. your hands balled in the sheets. you wanted to beg him for more, please more, but you couldn’t find the words.
“pussy’s so wet baby..” he mumbled around your nipple. “perfect little pussy.. wants daddy’s cock so bad, huh?”
your answering moan told him he was right, and he slipped another finger inside. he needed to prep you at least a little bit. he kissed his way back up to your lips, letting his tongue play with yours. you started to grab for his curls, to pull him closer, but he pulled away. you whimpered at the loss, pouting.
“don’t pout baby.” he said, poking your jutting bottom lip. “i’m just going to give you what you want.” he pulled his fingers out of you, and removed his shorts. that was the only thing he was wearing, a courtesy to you, as you told him you can’t focus on studying when he walks around naked everywhere. but now, you basked in his nakedness. stared at him and admired him. he truly was beautiful. and so incredibly sexy. he kicked his shorts to the floor and pumped himself in his hand a few times before kneeling between your legs.
he slid the head of his cock up and down between your folds, teasing your entrance and bumping your clit with every pass. “gonna let daddy stretch you out baby?” he asked. he smiled warmly down at you when you didn’t answer him. you just stared up at him with big, glassy eyes, silently begging him to fill you. “can’t talk, baby girl?” he cooed.
the tip of his cock slowly entered you, and he brought one of his hands up to cup your face. you turned your face toward his hand, finding comfort there. “here we go, baby. deep breath, okay?” you nodded and inhaled deeply through your nose. and as you slowly let it out through your mouth, he pushed until he bottomed out. it kicked the breath out of you at first and he knew to give you a moment before he started moving. “good girl baby. there you go. taking me so well.” he rubbed your cheek with his thumb, before slowly bringing that thumb to rub against your clit.
you whined under him, your body unable to hold still, it just felt so good. he started to move. started to thrust in and out of you, his length hitting that perfect spot over and over. “you’re so perfect, baby. daddy’s perfect girl.” his thrusts were getting faster now, your high quickly building. “that’s.. fuck.. that’s why i married you baby.” he grunted in between thrusts. “nobody takes daddy’s cock like you do, princess.”
you reached for him, trying to hold onto anything to help ground yourself. he gave you his hand. you gripped his smallest finger as he fucked you, his muscled chest and abdomen gleaming with sweat. “good girl, baby. hold onto daddy’s pinky.” your walls fluttered around him, your orgasm was right there.
“cmon baby.” his thrusts were harsh now, his skin slapping against yours as your arousal slipped down onto the sheets. “let go for me. squeeze my cock.”
you held onto his hand for dear life as your orgasm rocked through you, your body quivering with pleasure. “thank— thank you daddy.” you blabbered.
“fuck-“ he was starting to get sloppy, unable to control his hips when you felt so good cumming around him. “fuck- i love you baby. im gonna- fuck.. gonna cum.”
he stilled as he released inside of you, his cock twitching as he filled you up. your body fell limp against the mattress, and he reclined back on his heels. he pushed the damp hair out his face before looking down at you. you looked so fucked out, so happy. he smiled.
he leaned down and kissed you gently on the lips. your sleepy eyes fluttered open to look at him. he brushed your own hair out of your eyes and kissed the tip of your nose. “are you coming back to me now, baby?” he chuckled. “come back to earth, sweetheart.”
you smiled a dreamy smile at him. “love you.” you mumbled.
he said something else that sounded like “love you more.” before he climbed off the bed in search of something to clean you up with, but you were already drifting off to a very much needed sleep, dreaming of him.
your daddy.
ᯓᡣ𐭩
♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡
©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.
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goatunderthebridge · 2 months ago
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Pride & Hysterics || aka, what if Fukunaga saw Yamamoto fall?
I have fukutora on the brain and I've gotta sleep. So, enjoy this short (~1700 words) fic idea that is barely edited and has not been read through more than once. bon appetit ‼
Inspired by this post by @anoant-haikyuu-dump .
Quick tags/info: some fukutora, slight kuroken, mostly yamamoto getting into a stupid situation because of pride, fukunaga finding this hilarious, kenma is done with both of them, and kuroo is in love with kenma.
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The three of them were standing outside the school gates, having finished their evening volleyball practice. Kenma was sitting on the half-wall, hunched over to block the sunlight from obscuring his phone screen as he flicked through a random game. He was waiting for Kuroo to walk home with him, the boy having been caught in a conversation with Nekomata. Kenma didn’t mind. It gave him time to text Hinata about how he had found the new game in their mutually liked series. However, there was one thing that he disliked about waiting for Kuroo after school and the thing manifested itself in the form of his, sigh. Friends.
“I bet I could jump to that cola can,” Kenma hears Yamamoto say to Fukunaga, a tinge of pride in his voice. Already Kenma could tell that this wasn’t going to end well, not when ‘bet’ and Yamamoto’s pride were ever involved.
Unfortunately for both of them, Fukunaga loved hearing those things put together.
Kenma discreetly glances up through his hair just as Fukunaga turns to Yamamoto, eyes shining. The excitement was practically vibrating off of him as he stared at Yamamoto, as if daring him to do it. Kenma shifts slightly in his seat to see what Yamamoto was talking about, leaning forwards past their backs to see a discarded coca cola can on the pavement around 20 feet away from them. Kenma immediately groans but mentally berates himself for it when two pairs of shining eyes look at him.
“What?” Yamamoto roars, puffing out his chest to Kenma as he stands squarely in front of him, “You don’t think I can do it?”
Kenma rolls his eyes as he looks up at him, hair falling away from his face. “I didn’t say that…”
“But you were thinking it!” Yamamoto says, crossing his arms in front of him.
“No…”
“Well, I’m going to prove you wrong!” Yamamoto announces triumphantly, placing his hands on his hips as he nods to himself, as if affirming the belief that he could somehow jump as far as to that red, crumpled can and all he needed was one disbeliever to motivate him to do it.
Kenma sighs. He hated always being the disbeliever that Yamamoto goaded into motivating him.
Fukunaga rests his head on Yamamoto’s shoulder, peering over him to Kenma. Yamamoto freezes slightly at the touch. It’s almost interesting to Kenma, the way he didn’t even seem to be breathing, if not for the distracting fact that Fukunaga was smiling widely.
“Tigers can leap when pigs fly.” He teases, earning a surprised snort from Kenma.
Yamamoto starts at that, rocking Fukunaga off of his shoulder and spinning to face him with a pointed finger, exclaiming loudly, “I’ll show both of you!”
Fukunaga toes a line in the dust between them – a starting line, it dawned on Yamamoto and Kenma – before he drops into a seat next to Kenma on the wall, folding his hands in his lap. He looks up at Yamamoto expectantly with his wide eyes.
Kenma sighs. This was not going to end well. They’d gotten his pride too involved.
Yamamoto grunts at both of them sitting down and awaiting his spectacular jump. He turns to face his rival – the red can ahead – and judges the distance by eye more thoroughly now. He blinked. It was a long distance to jump, very long, and it almost made his self-confidence falter. But the pride coiling within his chest tightened around his heart and it was then his resolve was fortified. He could make that jump. He was Yamamoto Taketora, for fuck’s sake!
With that, he takes a few step behind him from the starting line, keeping his eyes locked on the red can ahead. All he had to do was gain enough momentum and jump. He could do that, he had the guts. Truly, how hard could it be to do something as simple as jumping?!
Yamamoto takes a deep breath, clenches his hands into fists, and yells as he runs, passing the wide-eyed Fukunaga and disappointed Kenma who watched him with turning heads like spectators to a tennis match. Yamamoto jumps from the starting line, his feet making a loud ‘thud’ as he sprang off of it. And to his credit, he does actually leap, spreading his legs far in the air as he soared. Fukunaga’s mouth opens slightly as Kenma’s eyebrows furrow in disbelief. Yamamoto was actually going to do it. He was using his pride to dismantle the very laws of gravity.
Yamamoto felt weightless. Time seemed to slow down since he had jumped, his legs stretched as far as they would go in perpendicular directions to his body, his arms locked in to his sides like a Super Mario character jumping in those games Kenma liked and beat his ass at every time. He turned his head slightly, catching the surprise on Fukunaga’s face as he flew through the air nearer and nearer to the red can. He felt his ears twinge red as he grinned, slowly.
But then time sped back up and he was dropping to the ground. Yamamoto braced himself for his right foot to hit the ground first, leaning his weight forward. But he noticed his foot continuing to soar past the red can and instantly cheered for himself, yelling so excitedly that he hardly noticed where his foot was landing.
Fukunaga stood up as Yamamoto dropped to the ground and immediately slipped on a banana peel.
His foot slid on it, making him screech like some deranged beast as his body pelters backwards at the momentum with which his body came crashing down to the ground. He falls down, hitting his head on the red can and his back on the pavement loudly, instantly groaning at the fall. Kenma stands up with his phone gripped tightly in his hands, unsure whether to check if Yamamoto was okay or if they should call someone. He looks to Fukunaga to see what they should do and he stills in movements.
Fukunaga’s face was red and contorted in silent laughter. He was gripping his sides with his mouth wide open and his body shaking with his laughing fit. Kenma almost took a step back in shock if it wasn’t for the high-pitched peals of laughter that managed to escape Fukunaga that knocked him back down onto the wall instead. The laughter stole Yamamoto’s attention as he sat up with a groan and looked to the duo, rubbing the back of his head. He froze again when he saw Fukunaga howling with laughter, doubled over now, the laughter filling the air. It struck Yamamoto as he watched in silent shock that he had never heard Fukunaga laugh like that before. He had never seen how Fukunaga’s entire face relaxed as he laughed, nor how pink his cheeks got or how he threw his head back to the sky as if he couldn’t help but let everything within him be entirely moved by the hilarity before him.
And the laughter, Yamamoto had never heard anything like it. It sounded like a mixture of shrieks and gasps and an endless stream of barking laughter as Fukunaga dropped to his knees before shoving a hand to his mouth, desperately stopping his laughter from escaping him as he bowed his head, his body still wracking with silent giggles. Kenma met Yamamoto’s eyes over Fukunaga’s head and it was easy for them to communicate in that moment the single thought passing through both of them:
What the fuck was that?
As Yamamoto stepped towards them, Fukunaga wiped at his eyes and stood back up, mostly composed once Yamamoto was closer to them.
“Are you alright?” Kenma asked, noticing the way it seemed to take actual effort for Yamamoto to drag his eyes off of Fukunaga to look at him.
Yamamoto nodded, rubbing the back of his head still, “Y-yeah. I’m… fine.”
Kenma arched an eyebrow at the redness creeping on to Yamamoto’s face as Fukunaga turned to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Mr Banana Peel, huh?” Fukunaga barely managed to squeak out before laughing again, body shuddering under it as he laughed into his shoulder, hand squeezing Yamamoto’s shoulder.
It was infectious, then. Kenma snorted, instantly turning his head away from the glare Yamamoto sent him. That seemed to shake Yamamoto out from whatever spell Fukunaga’s laughter had on him because he was suddenly roaring.
“HOW COULD I HAVE KNOWN IT WAS THERE!? I STILL WON! STOP LAUGHING AT ME!”
It just made Fukunaga laugh harder, dropping back down to his knees and dragging his hand down Yamamoto weakly as he goes, barely able to breathe. Kenma can’t help the laughter that escapes him as Yamamoto goes fully red and practically slams his own face into his hands, yelling incoherently.
“Whoa, what the hell is going on here?” A curious yet amused voice calls out to them.
Kenma turns to see Kuroo strolling towards them, his satchel slung around his shoulder. Kuroo glances at Kenma’s glistening eyes, Fukunaga bent over with laughter on the floor, and a Yamamoto who refused to look at him, instead choosing to cross his arms over his chest and turn his head away from the rest of them.
Kuroo slings an arm over Kenma’s shoulder as he plops down next to him on the wall.
“So?” He asks, looking between the three of them.
It’s Fukunaga who glances up at Kuroo with tears in his eyes, still clutching his sides.
“Tora- Tora is going to quit volleyball,” he says, gasping it out as he slows his laughter.
This makes Kuroo a bit more serious as he furrows his eyebrows at Fukunaga. Kenma bites his lip and turns his face into Kuroo’s chest, preparing himself. But Yamamoto turns to Fukunaga, confusion crossing his face.
“What?” They both say, glancing at each other before back at Fukunaga.
Fukunaga takes a breath, and risks a look up at Yamamoto. A snort escapes him.
“He’s studying to be a clown.”
And then he’s stifling his laughter again into his own hands as Yamamoto reddens and kneels next to Fukunaga, balling his shirt within his fists as he jostles him, half out of anger and half because Fukunaga’s laughter made his intestines curl inside of him and it felt weird because he wanted more of it.
Kuroo watches this display with a raised eyebrow, knowing he’s missing something but equally certain he’d be getting no answers out of the duo before him. He lets Kenma take his attention instead, feeling Kenma curl in closer under his arm, his body shaking with laughter. Kuroo smiles at that and rests his head on Kenma’s, turning to watch Yamamoto shake Fukunaga before him.
God, who knew when the three of them had gotten so close?
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