#Best Travel Pipe

[songofstrawhats]

The THING about one piece and one piece fic is that if the characters are sitting down having honest conversations about their feelings I'm like 'eh its kinda ooc' which is an absolutely hilarious problem to have

[tonycries]

FEVERRR?!

Synopsis. Oh no! Getting hit with a séx technique gave him a fever - babyféver.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, séx cursed technique (he’s affected), PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, bréeding, cúmplay, matíng presses, clan leader!Gojo, ínnapropríate use of jujutsu, manhandIing, marathons, maIe squírting, overstím, dúmbifícation, best friend!Choso, proposals, marking, phéromones, HÉATS, true form Sukuna, Sukuna’s second mouth, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Skibidi alpha Tony is baaaack (and ovuIating.)

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - No running!

That pesky, low-grade curse he happened to encounter on a gig today? Tch, Toji Fushiguro didn’t even break a sweat before finishing it off. Didn’t even flinch at its weak cursed technique, didn’t- didn’t even…

-didn’t even make it to your bedroom.

“You’re lucky.” A pained wheeze spits from Toji’s clenched canines as soon as his hips bully your own into the soft carpet of your doorway. And his clammy core sticks feverishly against your back - burning hot, desperate. He’s inhaling your honeyed fragrance and stuttering- “Y-you’re lucky you’re lucky you’re lucky I didn’t- oh.”

Your husband jolts once he’s catching the hazy sight of you mindlessly crawling away, a rugged snicker leaving him as he claws a massive palm on top of your scalp to draaaag you right back down.

Slurp! goes the way his round, cherry-red circumference circles your sloppy entrance, and you’re whining over your shoulder. “T-Toooji–! What’s gotten into you t-today?”

“Y-you’re about to find out, ma.”

“What do you…” 

That question on the tip of your dampened tongue didn’t even have a chance to formulate, before you’re gathering up every ounce of strength in your body to meet Toji’s jaded stare and- oh.

Oh, it hits you.

You were fucked. 

Oh-so-very vulgarly fucked, he’s ramming his painfully aching length just mere sultry inches past your saturated folds and it’s enough to leave you dizzy. The swollen spheroid of his crownhead scraping your walls rawly open, Toji’s shivering above you.

Sharp jaw bitten at the tight resistance of your elastic hole. Sounding fucked out of his mind– “Feel that?” You’re gasping when one of his palms travel halfway down your tummy, searching for that familiar nudge of his stout cockhead. “Yeah- feel me all inside? You’re luck- ngh- you’re lucky. Sooooo fucking lucky-” 

Was…you could feel your slobbering pussylips grow ever-wetter, glossing out a slick coating that glues to his sagging hilt in a ring. Was the Toji Fushiguro pussydrunk right now? Already? 

With the calloused ends of his fat digits clasping ‘round your throat, he’s reeling you to him like some cute toy. Drinking in your every piping shrill, kissing, gnawing- “L-lucky I didn’t catch ya right then and there, doll.”

And maybe Toji was just so big that it rendered you stupid.

Because with your spine bowed up against the ridges of his abs, you’re huffing n’ puffing with every glissade of his beefed-up muscles. “Wh-why–?”

“Why? Why?” His baritone comes out broken, octaves higher. He slouches over to breathe in a heavy gulp of your sweetened scent and almost sobs in disbelief, “‘Why’ m-my wife asks- why-” And before you know it, Toji’s holding tightly onto your cute throat n’ siiiinking his fat shaft deeper inside. Shoving and shoving his toned v-line into you with every snug resistance from your cunt, “Ohhh fuck- fuck! I can’t even- you don’t even know- because m’gonna break ya, doll.”

“Gonna break- ngh- gonna– fuuuck, why are you so big?” You’re so fucking full that you can feel his steaming dollops of pre fill you up to your lungs, damn near splitting you in half. 

Grinning savagely, “N’ yet she’s still begging for more. She wants me- needs me-” With a coo, Toji hikes up one of his meaty thighs to plant down on your sweaty skull and make you arch. “-and I thought I’d die without this p-pretty pussy.”

“Hck! Inside- w-want every inch, Toji–” The wooden floorboards underneath creakily sing with every rummaging drill. 

He was fucking you like a madman. “That damn curse- fuck, wanted to fuck you right there. Right in public- right in front of e-everyone.” Truly, he was burning every nanosecond he wasn’t jackhammering you silly. 

That cursed technique working overtime to make him tense his front and slap sloppily into the mounds of your ass. Over and over in jagged, animalistic ruts just trying to fit himself in. 

More more more more - and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“Take it all- gonna break-” The rotund curve of his left thumb roams down, curling past your soppy crevice to smear open your droopy folds. Wiiidely agape to push his squelching cock further, the snagging stretch felt feral. “-gonna break me.”

A fat line of saliva escapes from one end of Toji’s unfastened maw once you clench, dripping down to target your leaking hole with a loud splat! splat! splat! The impact so sudden and scalding hot that it has you flinching-

“O-oi–” And has Toji immediately digging the fringes of his fingerpads deeper upon either side of your throat and tugging- you weren’t even creeping away this time, and yet he was letting off a pained grunt as if you were. 

Couldn’t even bear the mere thought-

“No no no no no, don’t run-” He’s gritting his teeth, precisely skidding his vein-decorated length until Toji’s pointed mushroom smooches your most sensitive spot. A direct strike, “Don’t run from me, mama. You have nowhere to run tonight.” 

Finally, finally bottoming out. 

BANG!

Toji’s palm comes slamming down on the space of floor right beside your head, hard enough that the entire floor shudders. Just as much as he was. 

“Fuck- fuck.” He sounded so fucked-out that it made your own ears ring. Long, raven lashes shuttering, cheekbones flushing, scarred mouth falling into an oh! at the feeling of your hot cunt.

“O-oh my god…fuuuck Toji–!” You’re sobbing at the taut stretch of your poor walls, bruising with the slip n’ slide of his rock-hard length. Toji’s cock was probin’ in so deep that you’re counting every lecherous ba-dump! of his racing pulse down under. 

A few black tendrils of his happy trail rub on your ass cheeks as he’s tugging you closer, furiously blinking his hooded eyelids to clear his vision. 

“M’gonna…” And just as soon as the words are forming on his tongue- they’re falling flat. 

Because Toji’s only just raising his white-knuckled hand from the sizzling carpet to find that he’d left a smashed crater in the shape of his hand. 

Strength so overwhelming, powers so out of control - he didn’t know whether it was the technique or you that had him so…ruined. 

“H-heh.” He barks out a hoarse breath of shocked laughter, that very same heated palm drifting down to cup your bulging pussy. Stretched and stretched and stretched around his barreling size–

You can only squirm at the way his touch is so unintentionally hot, almost simmering out the branding of his handprint. Dangerous. 

One hand massaging your tearful cunt, the other letting go of your craned neck to pat that outline he was fucking into your tummy with every- single- slam. The shape of his glazed tip creamin’ into your insides, Toji coos. “M’gonna haaaa fill this cute bulge up with Megs’ new younger sister, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Big big BIG

“You- you know I respect you- right, my love?” Nanami’s seething out with a sharp bite of his handsome jaw, nostrils flaring at that saccharine scent you were giving off. “Right?”

Slowly, you nod– vision blurred with the glassy film of your own stimulated tears. 

What? What happened to make your dear, gentle Nanami Kento so…feral. 

Only for your husband to spank down a hold on the curve of waist and draaaag you bodily down the silken sheets- “Because- because m’gonna fuck you right now. Hard. Fast. Disrespectful.” 

Oh. 

Nanami wasn’t just big - he was teeth-clenchingly, mind-numbingly big. So wide n’ swollen that just a brush of his pretty pink tip against your mushy walls left you ruined from the inside out, whining. 

And right now he was bigger. 

“Ken–” Your brows furrow adorably tight, and you’re swearing that that made your husband grow even fatter. Prolonging a few sultry inches that made your toes curl all the way, “-Ken y-you’re so…”

“S’biiig, huh?” He’s softly swabbing away that thin trickle of drool decorating the side of your lips. Free hand loosening that satin yellow tie of his that he didn’t even bother taking off - couldn’t. “Keep those- hah! legs open, s’alright-”

And every breathy word comes out in a murked pant - heaving, desperate. Gasp after hot gasp departing from his stern mouth every time Nanami’s squelching his girth inside, he spits wetly down your slit. 

“See?” Thumbing inside that translucent splatters, “You- you can take this, then you can take this, my wife. You can- haaaah you hafta. Let me- let me.”

“Oh, p-pleeease!” You’re squealing as he laces an overlarge palm on top of your sweat-matted crown and pushes you onto his throbbing, aching length. Ogling away at the beefy flex of his biceps as he does-

The intensity of your gaze makes him jolt. Body shocked, heat burning- his carnal fingertips itching to squeeze your puckered pussylips together, “C’mon-” Tighter, cock pulsing fatter. “C’mon.” Tighter. 

Just to watch the way your moans pitch higher, face polished with a wave of fucked-out drool - your husband was so mean.

“Hafta fill you up.” His scorching pants make your forehead humid with perspiration. Words sharp, narrowed down where his mushroom tip was slimily mazing inside of you, “Hafta make her f-full, hafta ngh- breed this cute lil’ cunt right here.”

He’s never been this…depraved. 

Never been this vulgar, never this impatient as he keeps clinging onto the nub of your clit with his ring finger, making you yelp at the chilling touch. And you had half the mind to wonder what the hell happened on his mission today.

“What happened? What- ngh! I’ll tell you wh-what happened, my love.”

Shit- were you talking out loud?

His bludgeoning thrusts were so rawly good that it had you stupid, your pupils circling your eyes in a way that was almost silly. “Wh-what…”

“S’a curse- a technique- a- fuck! I don’t even know.” Something stupid when he was rushing to get home to you. And something even more deprived cracks at the back of Nanami’s dry throat, syllables slurring together in a way you’ve never heard your eloquent husband do before. 

“Just wanna fuh-fuck you, darlin’.” Soft, plump lips graze yours tenderly, and he’s drinking in your sweetened scent. The taste of it enough that he ruts - without even knowing. “Want- no, need it. S’like this pretty pussy’s hck! holding me hostage. Gonna die without her.”

He needed you. He needed you. 

The very moment that Nanami finds himself sheathed all the way to those curls of tawny gold lining down his washboard abs - filling you up so much you could barely motion your lungs to breathe - he’s gone. Gone. 

And he was fucking you straight into the mattress, until you felt like you were on the very verge of being swallowed up by the creaking bedsprings. Until you felt like you were going insane-

Bottomed out yet pushing and pushing and pushing.

Your trembling fingers latch ‘round Nanami’s dangling tie for dear life, and it only makes the sculptured man above you grin. “Yeah- yeah that’s it–” One of his roughened free hands clasp over your own and let you puuuull and tug to your lecherous heart’s content, “-roughen me up.”

He wanted to be strung around, he wanted you to scrape your nails all over his muscles every time his deeply scouring cock was hitting your innards. 

“Oh- my god, Kento–!” Comes out your answering whine as he slouches his sturdy weight on top of you until you’re press-press-pressed down with his core. Heels of your feet snagging on the bindings of his thigh suspenders, “Please- please please m’so close.”

Harder. Faster. 

Gazing down at where you were slobbering in great heaving dollops with such greed, Nanami was so needy that you see him drool in thin slivers. 

He didn’t even realize. 

“S-such pretty birthing hips. We’re gonna have s-such gorgeous kids.” He almost whimpers - whimpers out - blond strands sticking in an uncharacteristically unruly manner to his forehead. Nanami plants yet another sweet mass of spit on your sensitive cunt until it had you squirming, “That- yeah like that- c-can you spell my name, darling?”

And he wasn’t just asking - he was manhandling you into it with a few thorough pushes of his toned thighs. Shaking. Unsteady. 

Nanami’s breath catches in his breath once your gyratin’ hips manage to move in something that resembled a slurping K-E-N-T-O - giving extra care to let his vein patterns massage your sweet spots on that last ‘O’.

“O-oh, Ken–” Your hips keep repeatedly bucking and he finds it so hypnotizing, “-m’close- m’gonna- fuck fuck fuck m’gonna…”

K-E-N-T-O

One set of thick fingers rolling on your clit, the other pushing those fogged-up glasses further up his blushing face. 

“Fuck-” Curved mound of his breeder balls kissing your cunt over and over, stinging. Something in him twitches as he feels your fleshy walls squeeze n’ clench n’ cum. “Fuuuck k-keep doing that and m’gonna…make a mess. M’gonna-”

The wave of your high only punctures with one of your shrilling moans as Nanami’s tunneling shaft gives an animalistic twitch. You’re hauling him by the tie to crash your lips into his, open-mouthed and raw. “P-please Ken…inside…?”

Barely even coherent over your euphoria and it still manages to shock him to his very core like a zillion volts. 

And maybe he’s cumming - maybe he’s cumming twice- but fuck. He doesn’t even know right now, doesn’t even feel anything other than the clingy splatter of something wet and oozing out of his geysering tip - and the cold, cold taste of your wedding ring. 

Being brought up to his snarling mouth so that he can bite down– “-m’gonna p-put another one of hck! these on you, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “S-sweet…”

That soft gasping whine tumbles out of Geto’s pretty lips like he didn’t even mean it to - like he didn’t even fucking realize until it was too late. 

And your tearful eyes are cracking wider just a smidge, a sweltering hot gasp sprinting from your mouth and straight towards his tender shaft. Where your leader was ravenously fisting his reddened length in front of your face - rapid, sloppy tugs while he straddled your head.

Practically goading that pearl-sheened droplet of precum to splatter down onto your face, “Sweet.” His nostrils flare as he’s gulping in your scent even further, and now that he’d started he couldn’t stop.

That all-new cursed technique the sorcerers used on him was driving him mad, dolloping out a stringy wad of sap that leaks from the strawberry-pink orifice homed at his very tip. Down, down, down to glue your puckered lips together, “You’re so sweet.” Spank goes the ringing impact of his vein-covered length slapping your cheek, until you feel every winding pattern. Gasping, “Why? Why the fuck are you so sweet?”

Agonizing, he was genuinely asking.

Spank spank spank- 

Geto’s slender fingers fly up n’ down from the raven curls at his pelvis to thumb his curvaceous cockhead, “Gonna- gonna be the death of me.” His thick, milky thighs shiver where he hovers over your face, dark brows furrowed. “-gonna ruin me. Gonna fuck- fuuuck–”

Your tongue flops out readily as a few speckles of pale white ooze out onto your face, spittle overflowing at the way it was so hot you could almost see steam.

And it wasn’t enough that you’re making him cum like this - your glittery pussy just looks so delectable that Geto Suguru feels like he could die if he doesn’t shuffle himself down your body and plug you full right this very second.

So that’s exactly what he does. 

Fast enough that your stupidly muddled brain wonders whether your boyfriend had teleported, because in a split-second he’s thwacking his ruby-red tip between the leaky crevice of your pussy and cumming.

In ropey, white mases that cobweb your entrance- Geto’s spit-stringed maw falls open at the way your glistening hole quivers greedily. “God, you love it like this, huh?” He seethes, canines drawn in a snarl. “You love it. Sucking me up like that- ya have noooo idea what you do t’me, huh?”

“J-jus’ want you so bad, Suguru–” You’re whining out, the caps of your knees hitting your tits once you’re being folded like a lawnchair underneath him. 

“Fucking slut.” Trying for his usual predatory leer but he sounds feral, gone. Sounding off the most primal slurp as he coats his achin’ tip with the lustre of slick dripping down your boneless thighs, Geto leans over until you could practically taste his expensive cologne. “S’worse than that t-technique. You…you like it like this, huh?”

And the ‘yes yes yes’ is just starting to formulate on your tongue before he’s smushing your cheeks together with his left hand - and barreling his fat, rock-hard cock into your sobbing cunt with the right.

Inch after inch.

So big that just the first creeped-in plop! of his ridged tip scours your gooey wet spots and leaves you keening. His rotund tip stout and wiiide enough that your mouth falls into the same agape oh!

It wasn’t enough - just getting himself off would never be enough. He needed you you you–

“S’that it? S’that what you want?” Geto’s grouching sounds just as merciless as his pace was starting up, flexible hips swirlin’ aaaaching drags of his heavy cock against every nook and cranny of your pussy. “Ta ruin me? Huh–?” And his eyes blow wide, shuddering thighs coming to press up against yours, he grins. “Well- you’ve got me ruined. Fuuuuck you’ve got me ruined.”

“N-nghhh– Sugu- s-so deep.” You cry out once his cherry-red tip swabs your cervix in a prolonged line, your sanity fraying at the edges with each rummaging push. 

“Shit- you like being fuh-fucked like this.” Pounding every wiry sput of ivory into you so hard that you can feel it swirl inside of you and make such a mess. It wasn’t lost on his cottony brain how that only made you even wetter, prattling. “Like this- all- all sloppy.”

“Yes- yes yes yes, want it- want it all.”

And your ruthless leader doesn’t know whether it’s that damn technique or simply you that makes his heart race so rapidly. 

Giving your cushy walls yet another slam, “Oh yeah? Ya like it when I make this ngh- cute cunt all sloppy? Then you better not w-waste a single drop.”

You’re mewling at the probing feeling of his slender fingertips pushing apart your claggy folds to treat your pulsating clit like a button. Tugging and toying. “D-did you just stutter?”

“Shut up.” And for all your mouthiness, it earns you the biggest slap of Geto’s split-ended head bruising your g-spot. So hard that he was almost a magenta purple at the drooling tippy-top, “Shut up shut up shut up-” 

His soothing bass cracks, his hips shudder. Your calves almost ache where he’s manhandling you easily into a mating press, “N’ take it- t-take it- Hck! gonna be all full with me…full with my kids.”

Plural - and that is almost enough to make you babble out nonsense all over again.

“Fuh-fuuuuck– Sugu–”

Geto’s hazed amethyst eyes falter shut as he buries his face to your throat and draaaags in a deep inhale of your honey-dipped pheromones. So sweet. “H-heh- maybe that’ll stop all that backtalk- huh, gorgeous?” 

The curvy lines of his veins slip across your walls as he drills into you oh-so-relentlessly, and the only response you can give are a few gurgling gasps of his name. 

He was insatiable - nothing like himself.

“Yeah? Oh yeah?” Something in his voice hatches primally, and Geto leans over almost mockingly. Harder. Plump, pink lips curling with every squelch! your stretched-out walls sing, “Tell her ta s-stop drooling n’ talk to me straight-”

“B-but I am-”

“I meant her.” Cutting you off, you can feel your ears pop with the sheer pressure of him ravaging your tender insides. The mound of his crownhead pushes into your cervix and you whine– “Shh- she’s talking-” 

Fuck, he wasn’t even talking to you. So fucked-out that you wondered whether he even realized. 

“She’s talking- telling me that she wants it- ohhh she wants me ta fill you up e-even more-” He has the audacity to giggle - giggle - out something octaves higher and maddened, “-ta breed you, my p-pretty cumdump. To make you all full and round and- and full. Full of my daughter, gorgeous.”

Only dabbing the hand at your clit upwards to sliiide along your ajar maw, gathering a few gumdrops of creamy cum that had decided to slip free earlier— he glosses over your lips and makes you let off the loudest wet noise yet. 

Your lashes grow heavy with tears of sensitivity as that very same sensory pad sneaks down to your swollen folds, gliiiding it all over in a lustrous coating. Thick and hot. 

“H-heh.” 

His parched Adam’s apple bobs at the treacly wet glazes decorating both pairs of your lips, looking so unfairly pretty. All dark strands of black sticking to his clammy forehead, dimples displayed, blush devastating. “Almost looks better on her.” Half-opened eyes narrowed down at your soppy pussy, now all glittery and moistened. Geto growls, “Gonna hafta give her a second helping ta make sure, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Got milk?!

“B-baby-” Choso’s puffy, ruby-red lips flap wildly as your hips swerve gently arooound his aching hot cock. That swollen mushroom tip of his stirring your goopy insides in a snug heart until you didn’t know whether you were more fucked or he was. “Baby- hck! baby.”

“Yeeees, Cho?” You’re cooing downwards, planting a sweet, sweet kiss that leaves your poor best friend blushing. 

He was just plain cute even after a mishap with his own cursed technique - one that left his curse-like powers out of control and him…in heat. Thankfully you knew how to help. 

Whining breathily as he gnaws on your lower lip like candied gum, “N-no…”

You watch on with your head tilted prettily as he lowers his chestnut gaze shyly, a silvery line of sweat roaming somewhere down his temple. “I-I meant-” Choso’s stuttering out needily, the blushing curve of his shaft pounding oh-so-rapidly inside of you, pulse racing. He’s creeping a hand up the sides of your hips - your womb. “-I w-want a baby, baby.”

Every second that you’re stilling in slight shock felt like agony to him, every soft clench you’re instinctively smooching over his rummaging circumference was heaven.

And Choso was damn near letting his heavy lids burst with a waterfall of desperate tears before you blink your lashes in such a sensual way– 

“Awww, Choso–” Leaning over his toned pectorals until your honeyed scent overwhelms him and makes him throb. You pat the sexy incubus-looking inking that’d burned over his curly brown happy trail, “-of course you c-”

He doesn’t even let you finish your sentence - doesn’t have the patience to.

Not even the fucking sanity to do anything but clamp down his honed, animalistic canines into the crook of your neck and cum. Just from those words shrilling out of your mouth– he’s wafting out guttural grunts upon grunts into your heated flesh with every splat! of creamy seed covering your insides.

“I-I’ll take ngh- care of it.” You’re making out his scratchy words, “I’ll take care I’ll— oh.” The plump pads of his fingers smear a wet wipe down your leaking slit, scooping up oodles of cum. “I’ll take take of you- take care of our daughter take- take–”

Shit, you looked so sinful with your pretty pussy drooling down on him this way.

Spraying out a shiny sheen of glossy white that dripped down either side of his slender hips, your greedy entrance gulping up every wiry web of seed he was pouring inside you. 

“Need to fuck you- gonna fuck you. Feels like m’fucking burning up if I don’t…” Overtaking him - overtaking his pace.

You’re squealing at the splosh of wetness pooled inside your walls, “P-please, baby.” Head throwing back stupidly once the fat of his thumb slithers to stuff your hole with so many copious wads of sap. “W-want more-”

“D-don’t say that.” A hefty digit finds itself stuffed inside your slackened mouth, and you can’t help but slurp up the caramel salted taste of Choso’s cum right off of him. “-s’not good t-to talk out of your cute c- oh…”

And he’s so ready for you to squirm your body even closer and spit that ivory frosting back over into his mouth, striking his pinkish tastebuds with a resounding splatter. And he swallows. His eyes rolling all the way backwards until you could only see pure white- humming, “But I want more, Cho. Inside.”

“M-more.” Choso gazes up at you - blank-faced, mouth agape. Gone. Shaking his head, gasping to free himself from this cursed technique, “Really- really want more.”

Nodding, “Mor- mmpf–!”

Choso’s slouching over right in half - he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn���t want anything but more. In an instant, all the murked air inside your lungs is being squeezed out once Choso sits up on the silken mattress and hugs his strong arms ‘round your body.

Face pushing into your neck, breath scorching your skin. “More- more.” A high-pitched - almost crazed - sort of laughter departs from his adhesive-like lips, “She wants more- my-” Groooaning at the sultry smooch of his weepy orifice accurately into your cervix, “-my baby wants more fuuuck–!”

Mouth watering with a syrupy wave of spittle at your fragrance, so sweet that he could almost taste it. With a creak! of your aged bedcoils, he’s pounding up into you-

Hard. Fast.

Every gyrating motion massaging his tense core all over your front n’ sweaty inner thighs, “Milking me- milking me- ohh, my baby can f-feel all of it, huh?” 

“I can- hngh! C-can…” Your arms throw over Choso’s broad shoulders as you hold on for dear life. He was just so veiny that every whack! whack! whack! of his bludgeoning crown left your dangling knees weak.

Curtained by silky bangs, glassy eyes of his catch yours, “You can- y-you can, h-huh? Feel every inch, every v-vein-” Almost as if he himself couldn’t believe it, Choso’s trekking over one of his splayed palms to feel for where he’s rummaging your insides and hisses. Sharp tattoos on his nosebridge crinkling, “-every push-” His puffily veined shaft slips over your g-spot with a delicate sluuuuurp, “-right here?”

“Oh- ohhhh fuck! I can–”

“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah- feel it. Feel me.” Now slobbering like a damn dog with every cloudy puff of your pheromones, he can feel the heat overtaking him and making his glistening tip swell. “Gonna fuh-fucking die before I don’t fill ya up-”

It was almost hard to remember that this was your best friend. You’re thumbing away one of the pearly translucent tears that slip down his burning cheeks, “Then you better not hah! miss.”

So looong that every rugged thrust reaches your deepest, tenderest insides; spearheading your poor pussy until you felt your folds rub raw. And the sloppier his cadence gets, the more rapidly your hazed irises are circlin’ your eyes dizzily. 

Choso’s sweet lips glue to each other with a lustre of spit and wobbles, a furious blush overtaking his features from the tips of his ears to down under. “N-ngh!”

And it’s all that he has to say- all that he can breathe before Choso’s not just cumming for the second time - he’s squirting. 

You made him squirt out hot rivulets of sticky sap that clings onto your cunt lovingly, trickling down every ridge of his washboard abs. So much. So heavy.

His bulky tip slips out of your entrance at the sheer momentum and Choso whines- “Sh-she’s gonna have your gorgeous eyes- I love your eyes…” Angrily fisting the chubby base to froth out more and more milky ribbons that scorch your slippery crevices, you’re being flooded to the very brim. “-your smile- y-your beautiful skin- your hair- alllll of you. M’gonna take care of it allll.”

Thighs twitching, you’re barely even talking at this point, your pussy letting off more than enough chatty squelches on behalf of you. 

Choso grips a handful of your right asscheek to tug you closer before- with a noisy splatter, a few viscid tendrils of cum drivel out of you. And oh, his tear-filled gaze is hypnotized by the sight of the mess he’s made below. 

Jaw-dropped. Heated. 

“Oh- marry me.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Suffocate me, woman.

The King of Curses didn’t know how he got here- he didn’t even know why. 

One his damn court subjects was showing off a cursed technique, and the next thing y’know is that you’re seated right on top of his plush, puckered mouth whilst the Ryomen Sukuna begged for your dripping wet cunt. 

“O-oh but, Kuna-” Your lower lip wobbles cutely as his clawed fingers grip each side of your hips like a vice, he’d already been driving you mad with his tongue and his dual cocks for hours now. 

And yet - he still needed more.

“Fuck ‘b-b-but’.” Your hulking husband snarls from down below, and just the sight of his gleaming, honed canines is enough for you to shudder out a gasping oh! The edges of his plump lips tickling your perked pulsing clit-

“If I suffocate y-”

“Then fucking s-suffocate me.” You don’t even have the time to register that you’d made the big, bad king stutter before he’s gripping a bruising handful of your ass and draaaagging you down. Plopping, sitting. Grouchy baritone cracking, “Wh-who do ya think I am, puny human?”

It was a rhetorical question, and the only answer you’re able to give is a jumble of mashed ‘fuck!’ and “Kuna!” 

Bellowing out a throaty groan at the honeyed sap beading down his tongue, Sukuna’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs and gasps with every gulp. Every slap of his scratchy tastebuds, every smooch. 

“S-smells so sweet.” And as if he wasn’t lewd enough, you’re feeling the frigid breeze of him inhaaaling the fragrance of your candied pussy. Grunting, “Wanna kiss? Sloppy- w-wanna kiss, don’tcha?” The slivery edge of his tongue slips past your folds and laps up the remnant excess of his creampies from before- “Mmmm- s’not enough. Not- not enough.”

“N-not enough?”

And it really wasn’t enough for him.

Shoving himself even more nose-deep between your puffy folds meant that Sukuna was hypnotized, his crimson peripherals barely peeking out between his pinkish bangs. 

“Cleaning you up t-ta put in more-” A webbed wallop of cum slips between his lips, and he’s taking a few seconds to sniff your honeyed, raw cunt once more. Senses sensitive twofold, “-gotta put in more. S-sooo much more. Gotta fill you up.”

His mouths - both his mouths - were fucking restless. The slimy tip of his second cursed tongue weaving upwards until you’re flinching at its touch, slopping a wet sheen all over your inner thighs. You’re shuddering as the very berry-pink muscle prolongs to slap your clit, “W-wait that’s ngh! Unfairrrr–”

“Didn’t think I would be nice, did ya?” He’s grumbing out, and the length of his other tongue was so loooong that it could stretch all the way until you’re being smeared wide open. Up, up, up just to taste you. 

You’re halfway through screaming as you feel the tiny hearts that he’s drawing over your inner thighs, faster. Faster. Cracking open a heavy eye, “What? Hm?” Not talking to you - but to his other cursed mouth. “Keh, greedy thing. Go on then.”

Oh. 

Oh, you only get what he meant when his winding muscle starts pokin’ your rubbery entrance. Playfully nudging once - twice, before splitting you so open. 

“S-so deep-!” Sukuna’s mazing his tongue down your dewy dampened walls so deep, glistening hot tip searching like a headlight. He scratches the ridges of his tastebuds right over where he could just pinpoint your g-spot, “W-wait there- hck! There–!”

And usually he would snipe back with something smug, usually he would mock your wailing whines.

But right now, Sukuna was so gone on your dizzying pussy that his nostrils flare as he pushes further face-deep between your jittery legs. 

“There- there there there.” 

Chin dribbling with a lustrous glazing of slick and cum and slick, your fuzzy brain sparks with so many stars with every thrust. Faster. “Does it please you to drench me, brat?” Making out with your slobbering cunt like a man parched. Faster. “Does it p-please you to have me like this? Begging and cleaning out your sloppy haaaa pussy- only to fill you up again?”

Overstimulated tears saturating your eyes, you can only throw your head back and whine– “Y-yes–” Legs twitching where they were fully cushioning Sukuna’s handsome face, “-please…won’t last, Kuna–”

It’s like both his drooling maws only get more eager at your declaration.

Jaw spanking the front of your cunt, he’s sucking on your cute clit like a lolly. “Won’t last, huuuh?” Leering grin reflected upon both mouths, Sukuna’s second tongue dares to draw a swooping pattern- no, his name. His name in a sizzling hot motion on your battered g-spot, “Cum then.”

And when you do, it’s with that very same name trilling from your spit-slicked mouth until your lips are buzzing. 

Peak after peak of white-hot euphoria that leaves your head spinning, heartbeat thundering down all the way to your hot core. And the king is soooo much more than happy to let his features brace your every sloppy drag. 

Creaky joints ricketing at the sheer force, the backs of your thighs aching, “S-s’too good-” Your throat clogs with a few wads of saliva that overspill, so filthy. “-feels like m’in heaven, Kuna.”

And it’s only once your tingling high has simmered down, only once you’re just beginning to catch your punctured breath that he’s finally, finally wrenching himself away with a claggy mwah!

“Well don’t tap out just yet, brat.” Heavy lids hooded - the smile he’s gifting you is so drunken. Chuckling gruffly, “Look at this mess.”

Calling it a ‘mess’ was an understatement. 

Sukuna was ravaged from the apples of his high cheekbones - all glossy with a lacquer of your juices - down to his slobbering second mouth. Still licking its monstrous lips with the cloying remnants of you, tongue flicking wet swipes at your thighs for more more more. 

“Clean it up.”

His tone is sharp, stern- but the way that the man himself hiccups once two of his four beefy arms pick you up and manhandle you over his matching cocks was anything but. 

Hell, he was already wondering whether he could get that damn curse to hit him with this cursed technique a second time.

“O-oh.” Sukuna stutters - stutters, at the heated warmth of your pussylips being spread open over his swollen, pre-topped cockhead. Both so big that not even how much his secondary mouth had tugged on your hole could prepare you for the streeeeetch–

“That’s it- that- that’s it-” His broad, meaty pecs heave, his crimson eyes dilate, his own mouth drools at the snug clench of you. Looming so big, you’re being hovered down like a pretty porcelain doll to maze his rovering strawberry divots tight inside your wet cunt, ravenous. “The king can’t have an heir without filling ya up, human.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - HEIR

It wasn’t the Gojo clan leader’s fault this time - it wasn’t. He swears with every sparking, pussydrunken ounce of his brain that he didn’t purposefully let those damn elders hit him with a sex technique-

“Y’know why I l-let them haaaah- use that technique on me, s-sweetheart?” Gojo’s pert, pink lips twitch as they struggle to keep holding his cocky smirk. Snowy brows furrowing at the splashing wave of his own cum that greets him at your entrance, rumbling bass low in your ear. 

And a sensual squelch sounds as he draaags his ruby tip all the way down and up your slit, sluuurping in a way that makes your husband lick his own lips. “Because this sweet pussy was ngh- begging to be bred. They wan’ an heir, they’re gonna get one.”

And before you can even let out another saturated gasp! he’s hovering his clammy palm over your tummy - your skin crackling with the sizzle of cursed energy before-

“Not yet.”

Not yet not yet not yet.

You’re whining, it’s been this way for hours - days? - now, and Gojo’s leveraging his glowing Six Eyes to check whether his repeated, milky creampies had finally taken. “T-Toru, you’re so mmpf-!”

Unable to even finish your sentence before his beefy, impatient arms are looping around your restless body and hauling you halfway down the soft tatami mats. Both boneless legs thrown over one shoulder, Gojo hadn’t even bothered to take off his expensive yukata. 

Hadn’t even bothered to think - to breathe before he’s plugging you up until you’re overflowing. The curving fringe of his mushroomed tip smacking open your glutinous walls, he hugs your thighs. “She’s begging- she’s saying ohhh…”

“F-fuuuck, Toru!” The whack of his slimily-topped cockhead into your cervix makes you keen, gushing out in so many spurts of thick white that it forms a puddle below you. “Satoru, it’s the hck! technique-”

“S’not.” He’s gritting his pearly teeth, and there’s a little tremble in Gojo’s voice that makes him sound as if he’s on the verge of sobbing. Tender ribbons of his veins bursting out shockwaves- “She’s talking t’me- telling me h-how badly she wants ta be bred.” Sneaking a deeeeep gulp of your saccharine pheromones, gasping. Dizzy. “Don’t you hear that- don’t you- fuuuck, listen.”

Drilling into you until your popped eardrums flood with those noisy squelches, and to the strongest it wasn’t just lecherous music to his ears. 

No, no, no no- it was a full-on conversation that he was sluggishly nodding his head along with. “Right- right.” Smile dangling with strings of lustrous saliva that seems to water his mouth after every vulgar rut, “Says sh-she wants ta be all full- all round n’ glowing with my hair. Nghhh– oh, she’s purring.”

Words crackling with a bout of crazed laughter, you’re gulping at the sexy way that Gojo’s azure pupils bulge ever-so-slightly with stimulation. 

Thighs thrashing on top of his broad shoulder- but Gojo’s too strong. He’s pinning them down on one side and trawling you to meet every mazing thrust, leaking divot digging inside your wet cunt like a searchlight. 

“Satoru- hck! Satoru–” Your trills pitch upwards in both volume and pitch again and again and again with every slapping slam of his rounded girth inside. Gummy walls rubbed raw after so many hours, your body twitches every time you feel the remnants of his goopy cum dribble down your entrance. “I-I want-”

“-more?” Gojo finishes for you, octaves higher. Feverish - and it wasn’t just the technique any more.

And the look in his eyes told you that he wasn’t going to back down any time soon, he wasn’t even growing close to slowing down once he rovers a hand down to your clit and pinches. 

“H-heh, more.” He’s sputtering wetly, knobbly ends of his fingers buzzing with cursed energy. Making you see white-hot, “More more more more–” Gojo twists his dextrous wrist and pulls on your clit, “-my wife w-wants ngh- more, riiiight?”

“Yes- yes yes yes yes-” But more than that you were so close - you were about to cum.

But, of course, the Gojo Satoru knew that.

It’s exactly why he’s tugging on your perked clit a few repeated times more, flickers of blue lightning bolting from the ends of his pretty eyes as he gazes down at your tummy and watches his fat, meaty cock part your slippery walls and target your g-spot dead-on. 

Powers working overtime, “Hit iiiit~” Going out of control, he couldn’t stop watching every syrupy smooch right into that cute bundle o’ nerves, “C’mon- scream my name every time I hit it- don’t be haaaa shy, sweetheart.”

You do you do, with every stinging smack! of skin sticking onto skin - Gojo’s hips were so ruthless it’s as if he was trying to brand your ass with the imprints of his v-line, bruising himself red. 

“More- heh- n’ you’re gonna g-get more.” Cooing at your glittery pussylips, he strikes your clit with a pap! of his thumb. Rubbing in your scent, “More more more- more-”

And Gojo counts underneath his strained breath to exactly three before you’re hitting your overwhelming orgasm. Startling your tearful eyes wide open with the sheer force- it’s enough to make him hitch his breath and collapse his sweaty body on top of yours. 

The squeeze of your strobing walls so tight, the toe-curling pleasure enough for Gojo himself to rub his washboard abs in sultry gyrations like he was melting into you. Stirrin’ his rotund crown deeply inside with every blissful wave, as if he could see the stars bursting cartoonishly around your head. 

Face furiously flushed, long lashes flapping, maw agape. 

“Yeah c’mon- c’mon c’mon c’mon–” He’s hissing into your open mouth, sharp canines leaving your poor swollen lips bruised. “-milk me. Milk me- This time- this time s’gonna take, my girl.”

It’s so much - both your peaked highs and the way that Gojo’s crashing into his own. Not hitting, no- crashing. 

Because all it takes is a few more sloppy strokes of his uneven cadence and his strawberry glazed orifice is bursting with jetstreamed squirts of cum - squirting. 

“O-oh my- fuck!” Your throat scratches at the sheer volume being animalistically stuffed inside of you, creamy white seed and sap and- and you’d just made Gojo Satoru squirt. 

The idea itself was enough to drive you wild - and so was the splashes of puddling torrents that bawled out of your sopping wet pussy. So much that you were leaking, thick. Gushing–

Splat!

You don’t even realize that you’re fucked stupid until it takes a wet splatter somewhere near your heaving chest for you to be brought back into heady reality. Lashes blinking back some semblance of your blotchy vision, “T-Toru are you-”

He was tearing. Those pooling salted tears staining your skin just as much as his goopy white cum was soiling the yukata slipping off of his broad deltoids.

“Oh…” 

“Wh-what–?”

Gojo’s drool-covered lips sag open as he veers his misty gaze to that tummy bulge he’d just pounded ruthlessly into you, aching hips still slithering his swollen inches back and forth. 

Fully wrung out, voice breaking- he sniffles, “-it took i-it took and…oh” Before you can let out anything more than a few whimpering hiccups, you’re just stuffed so full you can barely articulate. “Wonder- wonder if she’ll be gorgeous like her mama- ngh! W-wonder if she’ll be e-extra powerful if I breed this ngh- sweet pussy twice. ” 

He’s giving you a squeeze to your clit that makes you whine at the faintly buzzing cursed energy, fully babbling now. “Wonder if I can use cursed energy on my cock-”

“Satoru.”

A/N. MWAHAHA I feel somewhat better now babygirls n’ it’s all cuz of y’all <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[arolesbianism]

Played some oni on the home computer and holy shit it's a magical feeling playing oni on a computer that isn't constantly shitting itself

[silkentine]

Me when they are the sisters ever: 😭😭😭 They came out soooo freaking well. I won’t lie, they took me a thousand years to finish but through the constant support from all of my buds (and my latent bisexuality), we made it 😤

Hopefully you guys know the deal by now: design choices, easter eggs, and (NEW!) closeup shots below the read more. ⬇️

I wanted Ace to have a very down-to-earth vibe and looked at Aussie beach-girls, coastal cowgirls, and vaqueras for reference. (IDK, I’ve just always envisioned Ace as part-Australian🌺 and Mexican 🏴‍☠️) Her clothing choices are mostly natural or utilitarian materials like the painted wooden beads on her top, her woven fabric and leather belts, and her denim jumpsuit. I gave her bikini top a zen-garden kind of feel because I read the first Ace’s Story Novel and I loved how idyllic and peaceful they made Sixis Island sound so I wanted to invoke that in some way.

Speaking of her painted wooden beads, they hang off the back of her top and represent her connection to Sabo and Luffy. They watch her back once she sets sail. She only wears one red glass bead earring because the other one got ripped out of her ear when a child, leaving her earlobe torn (don’t think about it too much 😢). Also, YES! she does wear a hibiscus flower just like Rouge (because I hate you and I want to make you cry, muhwahahahaha).

Also, I really wanted her to have super textured curly hair that licks behind her like flames. I am always considering whether or not a character should have long hair or not because I don’t want it to be a hindrance if they’re in a fight (or if they ARE a fighter with long hair, how to they avoid an enemy making use of that?). Ace is, of course, a Logia-type Devil Fruit User so I think she wouldn’t have trouble with people grabbing it LOL I get the feeling that she doesn’t take very good care of it even though it looks amazing. Like you’d think it would be soft and bouncy just by looking at it but if you ever get the chance to run your fingers through it, it’s a total rat’s nest and there’s sand and food all up in it. She still falls asleep while eating 😂 but she tries her best to only do it around people she can trust (woman moment 😔).

Honestly, her design is not that different from Ace’s canon look. It feels really vital to Ace’s character to have a lot of skin showing. And he’s always hanging all over himself with his hips all cocked like the weight of the world is too much to stand up straight. It is certainly not my OWN preference to make her an absolute smoke show. That’s just the character, okay? (I’m partially lying and the proof is that I turned the emblem on Ace’s hat strap into a sternum tattoo for no other reason than that it is sexy af.)

Here are some closeups of Ace:

Now for Sabo, I’ve made her very girly. I tried putting her in pants or something more militant but she told me that she’d wear the big poofy sleeves and hiked-up ruffled skirt. I think Sabo has always had a strong grasp on his fashion sense and individual flair and I truly believe that his personal style is one of the major influences for the rest of the Revolutionary Army resulting in the very flashy, queer, steampunk aesthetic (aside from Dragon’s plain-ass cloak). So of course I had to implement her nonconformist look when reimagining her as a woman and dress her up to the nines.

I’ve given her very ornate jewelry that is there to tell a story, even if she herself doesn’t know it. I like to think she picks up stuff from her travels that resonate with her, such as a damaged set of earrings with one stone missing or red cup-shaped shells featuring three nestled pearls. Another accessory that cannot go unmentioned is her dragon claw hat pin that keeps her top hat resting on top of her hair (and is definitely used as a weapon when the situation simply doesn’t call for trusty metal pipe). She also has a veil that obscures her prominent facial scar. I imagine she’s not very keen on the reminder of the incident from her childhood that took away her memories. I also kept her chipped toothed because 1) it’s fucking adorable and 2) is a visual reminder that she no longer aligns herself with the nobility who would have gotten such a thing fixed. She is so poised in almost every outward facet of her life from her dignified role as the Chief of Staff to the elegant materials in her clothing that it can be easy to forget she was also a rough and tumble forest dweller. Every time Koala remembers this, he lets out the biggest sigh.

Her hair is inspired by Gibson Girls and Elizabeth Swann from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I wanted it to be fussy and tidy but fall apart when she’s in moments of distress. For example, when she remembers her sisters, her hair starts to look like Ace’s flaming mane. I’m so in love with her, I think she looks like an adorable little porcelain doll that would fuck you up. I made an effort to keep her eyes a little bit manic. I get lost in her steely black orbs (and also Ace’s warm brown ones, but we’re talking about Sabo rn).

Here are her close-ups:

Plot notes for this AU:

For this series of character designs, I wanted the expressions and outfits to be aligned with the canon plot but I don’t know if I have the heart to kill fem!Ace in my AU. I’m too attached and ASL has suffered enough!!!!! But Ace’s death is also a major defining moment for Luffy so it feels disingenuous to completely avoid it. Also a huge aspect of Sabo’s character is carrying on Ace’s will and I have so many thoughts about how the Dressrosa Colosseum scene would play out if they were all women. Oh well, I’ll cross that tragic bridge when I get to it. I’m definitely going to draw some Modern AU Girl Piece ASL though. They deserve to hang out with no stakes 😭 They are sisters!!!

Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog for my other One Piece genderbends! 🥰

[fairy-angel222]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo’s single and geto’s a good friend. good friends share everything.. including girlfriends

pairing: gojo x fem! reader x geto

content: crack, smut, threesome, praise, cum eating (gojo), pussy eating, blowjobs, cream pie, throat bulge, throat fucking, tag team, playful banter, squirting

Geto thinks he’s a great friend. Being willing to share his precious girlfriend with his best friend. He’s seen the way Gojo looks at you. And he’s not mad, no, he’s quite happy. It makes using you as a gift so much easier— especially when he knows you get wet at just the thought of a threesome with the white haired man.

“I am not lonely. I could go get a quick fuck right now if i wanted too.” Gojo defended, taking another gulp of the beer in his hand as he leaned back into the couch.

“Hmm, i smell lies, you’re very lonely this season.” you teased, giggling softly when Gojo glared at you with the flip of his middle finger. You gasped dramatically, turning to Geto with a pout, “Baby your friend just flipped me off.”

Geto simply smiled at you with the shake of his head, taking a quick swig of his drink before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into him and placing an especially wet kiss onto your head. “Don’t disrespect my girl bro.” He joked along, Gojo only scoffing before flipping him off too. “I’m being targeted by weirdos. Great.”

“Weirdos who aren’t single. Can’t relate now can you?” you retorted with a grin. Gojo finally letting out a chuckle, “Ya got me there.” downing the remaining contents of the bottle. “I’m gonna get another one, you guys want any?” he questioned, standing up to head to the kitchen.

“Oo, yes please.” you piped in cheerily, Geto’s head snapping towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Uh, no. She’ll just have a coke or something. But i’ll take one.” Geto corrected.

Gojo nodded, making his way past the dining area and into the kitchen to open the fridge.

Geto winced lightly when you pinched his side. “Why can’t i have one?” you whined. Geto pinching your cheeks with a faux frown, “because your alcohol tolerance is too damn low.” You simply huffed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of your boyfriend’s sweater.

“So, is it still happening?” you questioned in a whisper, a smirk forming on your boyfriend’s face as he brought the bottle to his lips to empty it out. “Mhm.”

Gojo came strolling back into the room with two opened drinks and a cherry flavored soft drink. And you fought the urge to roll your eyes when he handed one bottle to Geto and the red colored drink to you. A smile on his face as he bit back his teasing words about Geto not letting you drink alcohol.

Geto cleared his throat, setting down the drink and placing his hand on your thigh. Squeezing as he travelled it higher and higher, his breath hot on your ear when he leaned in. “That’s your queue baby.”

Your face heated up, watching as Gojo raised an eyebrow across from you, taking a swig at his drink after mumbling “fucking weirdos i swear.”

Getting off your seat, you bit at your lip as you looked back at Geto. Your boyfriend only giving you a reassuring nod before his drink was at his lips, watching as you almost shyly walked up to Gojo.

Sitting yourself on his lap with practically no warning making the man’s eyes widen. “What are you-” being cut off by your lips on his, your ass lightly grinding on his cock as you gripped his shirt. Gojo’s eyes met Geto’s in panic, the latter simply tilting his head, “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Gojo groaned, your hands slipping under his shirt to run your nails over his hard abs. Slowly bringing them down until you stopped at the bulge in his sweats, groping it through the fabric before smiling as you pulled away. “You’re already hard?” you giggled.

“Shut up.” His face flushing red as you got off of his lap, situating yourself on your knees between his legs. Your hands working to pull his pants down mid thigh, your head in his crotch as you licked a strike along his cock through his underwear. Looking up at him through your lashes before freeing him from the thin black fabric

Gojo nearly choked on his spit, watching as you ran your thumb over his tip. Collecting glistening precum before using it to stroke him, circling your wrist while you moved it up and down. “S-shit.”

Your eyes met his cock with a hard swallow at the length. Taking in a breath before sucking him into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his leaking tip then taking him in deeper. Bobbing your head up and down as your drool coated his veiny skin.

You could hear Geto standing up behind you, reaching your kneeling frame in two large steps before his hand was stroking your hair. “She’s good ain’t she?”

Gojo only letting out a cracked moan as he nodded. Geto’s hand suddenly grabbing hold of your hair to quicken the pace of your mouth. “But trust me, she can be better.” Roughly pushing you to take Gojo down your throat before pulling you back up again. Repeating the process as you slobbered onto the man’s dick with muffled moans.

Your eyes pooled with water each time your boyfriend forced you to take his best friend all the way. Gojo’s cock bulging in your throat as your nose pressed at his base. “See that?” Geto hummed.

Gojo’s mouth hung open in breathy grunts as he began thrusting his hips upwards. Head falling back onto the back of the couch with his breathing speeding up. Basking in the way his best friend used your warm mouth to fuck his twitching cock. “F-fucking hell— ahh.”

“Good girl” Geto dragged out. “gonna make him cum already.” he praised, “Wonder how long it has been since he’s felt a pretty girl’s lips on his cock.”

Gojo grunted, “f-fuck o-off, shit—” a loud groan sounding in his throat when he began to spill into your mouth. His body shuddering when you continued to suck on his tip while maintaining eye contact. His cock throbbing as the last bits of cum spurted onto your tongue.

“Now what do you do?” Geto asked with a smirk, watching you swallow the thick substance before glancing between the both of them with a smile. “That’s my girl.”

Gojo panted with heavy breaths, receiving a pat on his shoulder from the black haired man. “That’s not even the half of it.”

It wasn’t long until you found yourself on your hands and knees. Geto’s cock down your throat as Gojo fucked into you from behind. “Is this what you like baby?” your boyfriend groaned, Gojo’s rough thrusts effectively rocking your mouth on and off of Geto’s cock. “Showing this lone fucker how good your pussy feels?” Gojo being too lost in how deep you were sucking him in to even respond.

You mewled, clenching down on Gojo’s cock as he hammered into your g spot. His thick length easily sliding in and out your tightness.

Gojo’s hand groped at the flesh of your ass, the sound of his hips slamming onto your flesh only getting louder when he sped up his pace. Allowing his tip to graze your gummy walls with force. “Haah- think this might just be the best pussy i’ve ever had.”

“Hear that baby? He loves that perfect pussy of yours.” Geto breathed, his eyes closing as he used his hand to guide your head faster. “Shit. Swear that mouth of yours is made of gold.”

You let out a muffled cry when you felt a coil build in your stomach. Your body still being jerked between the two men as you drooled onto your boyfriend’s cock. Your back arching when Gojo leaned onto you, his chest against your back as he brought his hand down to rub your clit. Your loud mewl sending vibrations through Geto’s dick.

Gojo groaned into your ear. “You feel so good pretty girl. Wish i could fuck into this pussy forever.” His thrusts getting sloppy as he moaned noisily into your neck, his eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips had stretched to fit his best friend’s girth. “O-oh shit— clenching down on me so tight.” he rasped into your skin, voice cracking into a higher pitch at the feeling of your warmth ready to milk him dry.

Geto pulled you off his cock with a grin, watching as you whimpered before taking in a well needed breath, your chest rising and falling as your eyes lost their focus. “Nnhg— Suguru, ah- Satoru, ‘m close,” you cried out, feeling yourself getting closer as Gojo continued to rub small circles on your sensitive bud, his cock hitting deep inside you with each movement

“Yeah baby? Gonna show him just how good he made you feel?” Geto husked, pulling your head back onto him before you could even nod in response, using your mouth as a wet flesh light to get him off the edge.

Gojo groaned loudly, his thrusts hard and mean as they lost their speed. Rolling his hips desperately into yours to chase his release. “Shit, can i cum in ya, pretty?”

You were only able to let out an incoherent babble, feeling the coil in your stomach painfully close to snapping.

“Don’t push it.” Geto warned, your chin getting messy as he lazily fucked your face, his head falling back with a string of deep curses.

“Selfish prick.”

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Your body shook as you came, whimpering with a broken cry around Geto’s cock as your pussy spasmed. Eyes rolling back and your head fuzzy as you gushed messily. The force of your orgasm threatening to make Gojo’s cock slip out.

“There you go baby.” Geto started, Gojo finishing his words as he slowed his movements on your clit, “That’s it.”

Both men breathed heavily as their movements came to a halt. Geto holding your face down on his cock to spurt ropes of his cum down your throat.

“Suguru- fuck, please let me cum in her. Tight pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” Gojo moaned out, pleading blue eyes looking up to your boyfriend.

“You do that and you’re gonna lick it all out.” Geto growled out, tapping his cock onto your tongue a few times before he was pulling out. Watching as you moaned softly when his cum slid down your throat.

Gojo’s lips parted as his cock ached for a release. Deciding to take his chance at burying himself inside you, his twitching cock pumping thick ropes of cum into you. Looking up to meet your boyfriend’s fake grin.

“Baby, lay down, and you, better get every fucking drop outta her.”

Gojo pervertedly smiling as he willingly crawled in between your legs. Lapping at your sopping folds and swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned and mewled into the air.

Your fingers tangling in white strands as his tongue dipped into your hole, sucking a mixture of your juices and his cum into his mouth with a groan.

Geto let out a short laugh in amusement, “So this is what a lack of pussy does to a guy.” Watching as Gojo licked you clean, bringing you to another squirting orgasm in the process.

[stealthetrees]

Time travel au where all the Jedi wake up in Attack of the Clones after dying. The ones that died sooner just walk it off like it’s a weird dream. Everyone who died in order 66 is confused but maybe it’s a vision? Most of the inquisitors either panic or run to the nearest mind healer and burst into tears or trauma dump. Caleb Dume/Kanan is absolutely convinced he’s dead and this is the after life and no one can convince him otherwise. Obi-wan Kenobi sees smol Anakin and goes ‘shit just keeps happening huh’.

Ashoka Tano is disturbingly wise and knowledgeable for a youngling. Cal Kestis jumps up from class, yells “not today satan” stabs his crechemaster and jumps out the window (he thinks he got caught by the empire and drugged or something), he steals a ship and makes it all the way to Bogano and picks up BD-1 before Cordova find him getting his ass beat by local wildlife and drags him back to Coruscant. Cere is doing her best to comfort Jaro Tapal but he’s not reassured that Cal jumps out of windows all the time.

Plo Koon and Shaak Ti are scheming to get their sons back. Anakin is busy having a breakdown. Grogu just keeps asking for his Buir. Yoda, always ready for drama, let’s Caleb tell him all about his life and his family, asks what his padawan would want him to do. Caleb thinks about this for a minute and nods to himself. He builds a pipe bomb and duct tapes it to the bottom of Palpatines chair. And steals all the credits stashed in his desk.

[pathologicalreid]

blue ribbon | s.r.

in which you and Spencer dedicate yourselves to helping your daughter with the best baking soda volcano the science fair has ever seen

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: chemist!reader, misuse of lab equipment i don't care, their daughter is very girly, glitter word count: 1.46k a/n: ending the post margotober drought with the very first margovember request!!! i promise i'm working on masterlists but for some reason they're exhausting.

“Why do I have to walk backward?” You grumble while trying to balance the end of the plywood on your knee, pulling at your badge reel to unlock the lab door.

Spencer nods his head in the direction of the keypad, “That would be why.”

Rolling your eyes, you push the door handle down with your elbow before pushing the door open with your foot, shuffling your feet. “Honey, can you turn the lights on?”

Lifting herself up on her tiptoes, your daughter flips all of the switches on the panel, cringing at the bright fluorescent lights.

Together, you and Spencer hoist the science project onto one of the lab tables, careful not to knock anything over as the papier-mâché volcano rests in your professional lab.

You and Leah had stayed up until eleven last night finishing the last coat of paint, even entertaining a visit from her Aunt Penelope so that the finished project could have a fine dusting of glitter all over it. Your dining room was now permanently sparkly, but the look on your daughter’s face when she saw the finished project made the mess entirely worth it.

Spencer steps to grab your jugs of white vinegar from the car, propping the door open so he can bring the supplies for the baking soda volcano in.

Obviously, you weren’t going to use the full-size volcano now, but Leah had refused to travel without it and Spencer believes that saying no to her is an impossible task. “Mommy?” The little girl pipes up, playing with the stirring rod that you had just set in front of her.

“What’s up?” You ask, leaning your hip against the counter, gently reaching out and adjusting the bows adorning her pigtails that you’d put in her hair that morning.

She looks over at the wall, minding each of the posters that line your laboratory, “What is that?”

You follow her finger to see what she’s pointing at, smiling softly, “It’s the periodic table.”

Humming thoughtfully, Leah sets the stirring rod down and walks over to the poster, “It looks like the one at home.”

Nodding, you get a step stool out for her to stand on, “They’re the same poster, the one we have at home is just a lot smaller than the one I keep at work.” You explain to her, knowing she’s talking about the poster you keep in your home office. “Come on baby, let’s go get you a lab coat.”

Setting a hand on her shoulder, you guide her to the storeroom, “Woah,” she breathes. It’s not a positive reaction, her eyes flitter all around the room, a mess of lab coats and goggles.

“Okay,” you say, shoving your way through the space until you find your locker, pulling out your lab coat, as well as safety glasses for the whole family. Holding a coat up to her and having her pull it on, you put your own lab coat on before looking back to find your five-year-old drowning in polyester. Laughing slightly, you adjust the lapels of her jacket, “How does it feel?”

Leah looks down at herself, “Cool!” She exclaims beaming up at you and giving you two thumbs up. She skips out of the closet and heads back to her volcano, almost tripping over the extra fabric of the lab coat, but Spencer grabs her arm before her knees can hit the linoleum.

He smiles at her, “Are you okay?” Helping her adjust her coat, he kneels down to her.

“Daddy,” she cheers, completely ignoring his question for the sake of being five years old, “Look at my coat!”

Smoothing her hair back, Spencer’s eyes briefly meet yours before he looks back to Leah, “You look like mommy.”

In a fit of giggles, he scoops her up in his arms in an attempt to avoid a tripping hazard, but she just thinks it’s fun. He sets her down feet-first on the step stool you had gotten out for her.

“Here,” you say, handing him a lab coat for him to wear and setting the safety goggles you’d gathered on the countertop.

When your daughter came home in tears because she felt like she had been assigned the ‘most boringest’ project for the science fair, you and Spencer quickly decided that you’d try everything to make her baking soda volcano exciting. At the very least, you’d work together to make sure she has fun.

Leah puts her goggles on and looks up at you for her next instruction, watching you divide the baking soda and white vinegar into separate beakers, “So, what will happen when we add these two together?” Spencer quizzes, watching you make careful portions.

“It’s gonna fizz up!” She responds correctly, bouncing on her feet while you gently push the first two dishes in front of her.

You nod, “You can pour the white vinegar into the baking soda,” You nudge her gently, knowing that you measured just enough to reach the top of the beaker, but not enough to flow onto the counter.

She uses both hands to grip the beaker and pour the liquid out, and the immediate reaction surprises her so much that Spencer holds an arm out to keep her upright. He trains his eyes on her amazement as the foam dissipates and the water and sodium acetate are left in the glass. “Can I drink it?” She asks, frowning up at her dad.

“No,” you both answer immediately, a sort of parental reflex. If you don’t answer quickly enough, odds are she’d pick it up and try anyway.

Disappointed, her frown remains on her face while her eyes return to the countertop, timidly, she tugs on Spencer’s lab coat, prompting him to crouch down to her eye level, “What’s wrong, lovey?”

Her eyes nervously look around the lab, eyeing some of the cabinets before she takes a deep breath, “Can we make it pink?”

“The foam?” Spencer says curiously, eyes flickering up at you while you nod frantically, already thinking up options so that you could further individualize your daughter’s glitter volcano.

She rocks back and forth, “Can we?”

As soon as Spencer says yes, it’s like a hold on you has been released, unlocking some of the cabinets so you can grab more supplies from around the lab, you return to the station with an armful of things to try, and Spencer mutters something to Leah about you being a mad scientist, leading you to maturely stick your tongue out at him.

You set up four options, taking photos as you go so you can paste them onto her presentation board. The first one is just baking soda, but you added a touch of dish soap to the vinegar. The increase in bubbles seems to greatly please Leah, so you decide as a team that the final product should have dish soap in it.

The second one has manganese sulfate mixed into the baking soda, and if the pink salt altered the color of the foam at all, it doesn’t impress your perfectionist daughter.

The third one includes phenolphthalein, which you think has some real potential, based on the way Leah’s eyes widen at the sight of it combined with the vinegar. The liquid was almost a fuchsia color, and she gasps when she pours it in to find that the foam is white, “It’s gone?”

You nod, “The phenolphthalein when it’s in the vinegar is pink because it’s an acid, but as soon as you add the baking soda it becomes a basic solution, so…” Your voice trails off when Spencer starts shaking his head, and you look down to find that you have completely lost Leah’s attention. Instead of listening, she’s trying to pronounce phenolphthalein, tracing the letters on the black countertop.

“What do you have next?” Spencer asks, eyeing the tiny dropper bottle in front of you.

Picking it up, you drop some of it into the vinegar and hand it to Leah, “It’s food coloring.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Why do you have food coloring in the lab?”

You wrinkle your nose at him, the expression makes Leah giggle, “Mind your business.”

As a family, you watch the chemical reaction, the white of the foam mixing with the red food coloring to create the desired pink lava. “Oh,” your daughter says softly, “Thank you, mommy!”

Beaming down at her, you place your hands on your hips and sigh, “If you’d like, we can add glitter to the baking soda too.”

Wide eyes look up at you in amazement, brown eyes inherited from her father, “I love science,” she whispers.

Behind her back, you hold your hand out for Spencer, exchanging a silent fist bump—a quiet celebration between two scientists.

[mashtatosworld]

number 1

summary: it's your baby's first birthday

You found him at 2am again, perched on the windowsill in the soft glow of the city lights, his iPad balanced on his knee, stylus tapping rhythmically against the screen. His hair stuck up in every direction, the product of stress, perfectionism, and love.

“She’s turning one, Ji,” you murmured from the bed, eyes glued to your show on the tv. “She’s not debuting."

Jiyong’s gaze flicked up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s her first birthday.”

He said it like that was answer enough.

You sighed, but the truth was - you loved it. The way he loved her with every obsessive, over-the-top fibre of his being. The way his genius, the same brilliance that had made him so adored, now poured into balloon colour palettes and custom hanbok sketches.

Meanwhile, your contribution sat quietly on the kitchen counter - a lopsided, homemade cake, decorated with flowers and uneven piping. It was imperfect, but it was made by your hands, the same hands that had cradled her when she was only minutes old.

“I’ll handle the cake,” you had told him the day before, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he stood over his table-sized blueprint of the living room transformation. “You handle... everything else.”

He grinned, eyes still pinned to the papers. “Deal.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The first thing you noticed when you woke up that morning wasn’t the sound of Diva calling for her morning rescue from her crib - it was the empty side of the bed.

A rarity, especially on mornings like this, when Jiyong usually snuggled closer, soaking in every second of sleep until his daughter’s demands pulled him away.

The soft rustle of paper drew you out of bed, padding down the hall until you found him.

He was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, barefoot and in his stripy red pyjamas, his legs crossed beneath him. All around him were photo albums, some open, some stacked haphazardly, and in his lap lay Diva’s first baby book - the one you filled with trembling hands in those first newborn weeks, when everything felt so fragile and new.

His thumb was tracing over a photo - when she was only hours old, a tiny burrito in a hospital blanket, her dark hair already thick, her hand gripping his finger like she knew exactly who he was.

“She was just born,” he said quietly, not even looking up. His voice was rough, words thick with the kind of disbelief only parents truly understand.

You stepped closer, lowering yourself beside him until your knee brushed his. “She still is, kinda. One’s still a baby.”

He finally looked at you, and your heart clenched at the shine in his eyes. “It’s going too fast.”

You could’ve said something comforting - that you understood, that you felt it too - but you knew he wasn’t looking for reassurances. He just needed to sit in it, to hold the weight of time in his hands for a minute before letting it go.

“I thought if I planned everything perfectly, maybe I wouldn’t have to think about it,” he admitted, his smile small and self-deprecating. “If I controlled all of today, I wouldn’t feel so…”

“So helpless?” you offered gently.

He huffed out a soft laugh. “Yeah.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, letting silence settle between you for a beat. “She’s not going anywhere, Ji.”

His arm came around you automatically, fingers tracing absent patterns on your thigh. “But she’s already so different. She used to fit right here.” He held out his hand, palm up, like he could still feel the ghost of her newborn weight. “Now she’s… walking and talking... and bossing me around.”

“Yeah... she’s got her Appa wrapped around her little finger.”

“From day one.” His voice wobbled, just slightly, and you turned to press a kiss to his jaw, feeling the tension there.

“She’s going to have the best day today,” you promised. “Because you made it that way.”

“She deserves it,” he whispered. “She deserves everything.”

Before you could respond, a tiny, familiar voice broke through the air, travelling through door with painted flowers, sweet and insistent.

“Appa,” Diva’s call rang out, followed by the sound of her hands slapping the crib rail. “Appa!”

Jiyong’s breath caught - the crack of emotion smoothing into something warmer, something softer. “Okay,” he whispered, like he was answering her and himself at the same time. “Okay. I’m ready.”

You smiled, tugging his hand until you were both on your feet. “Let’s go throw her the party of the year.”

He pulled you into a quick hug, arms tight around your middle, before he kissed your temple and headed down the hall. And just before he disappeared into her room, you heard him - voice bright and sweet and full of love.

“Happy birthday, my baby.”

And that was all he needed to say.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

By mid-morning, the penthouse was unrecognisable - a floral wonderland of soft pink, gold, and ivory. Fairy lights draped from the ceiling like stars caught in a net, and sheer fabric cascaded down the windows, diffusing the light so the whole place looked like a dream sequence come to life.

The long, low table that stretched across the center was covered in silk runners and overflowing with tiny desserts: macarons, baby-sized cupcakes, delicate fruit tarts - each one the size of Diva’s fist. And at the very end of the table, your cake stood proudly on a simple white stand, a little crooked, a little messy, but yours.

Jiyong, dressed in vintage Chanel that matched your dress, hovered nearby, stylus still in hand as he made last-minute adjustments to… something. Probably the custom playlist.

“Don’t touch the cake,” you warned, catching him side-eyeing it.

“I wasn’t going to.” His face betrayed him - a flash of worry, his designer heart twitching at the sight of the imperfect frosting and wonky flowers.

You smacked his shoulder gently. “It’s made with love.”

“Just like our baby.” He smiled, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to your lips.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Diva hadn’t touched the ground once all day.

From the moment Taeyang and Hyorin walked in, bearing gifts wrapped so perfectly they could’ve been art, Diva had been handed off from one loving pair of arms to the next.

“Look at this hanbok,” Hyorin cooed, adjusting the soft pink fabric. “She looks like a little princess.”

“She is a princess,” Jiyong corrected from across the room, where he was rearranging a floral centrepiece for the third time.

Daesung arrived with a helium balloon tied to his wrist and a mission to make her giggle, which was usually a very hard task - if you weren't her uncle Dae. He flashed her goofy smiles accompanied by loud singing, earning himself a half-smile in seconds. She was in hysterics by the end of his balloon dance.

Seunghyun stood awkwardly nearby, waiting for his turn, holding a suspiciously heavy box that if you were to guess, contained some sort of avant-garde sculpture.

“She’s been held all day,” you said as Jiyong came up beside you, his hand finding the small of your back. “She probably forgot what the floor feels like.”

“She’s training,” Jiyong teased, watching your baby clutch Taeyang’s chain necklace like a prized treasure. “VIP baby life.”

But when she spotted her Appa, her tiny hands immediately reached for him, her whole body leaning toward him with unmistakable need.

“Sorry, hyungs.” Jiyong scooped her up, tucking her perfectly into his side like they were two puzzle pieces made to fit. “She plays favourites.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

When it came time for the cake, everyone gathered around the low table - your homemade masterpiece glowing in the candlelight.

“My talented wife made it,” Jiyong announced, louder than necessary.

“Really?” Taeyang’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “It looks...”

“Charming,” Seunghyun offered, which was probably the closest thing to a compliment he’d ever given.

Jiyong leaned down over your shoulder, cheek pressed to yours, “It’s perfect.”

Diva was then placed in her high chair between you and Jiyong, staring at the cake with wide eyes. When you guided her tiny hand to the frosting, she gasped - delighted at the sticky sweetness.

In seconds, her whole face was covered, her tiny fingers grabbing fistfuls of cake and smashing it into her mouth, her hair, her hanbok. The whole room erupted into laughter, cameras flashing.

“You’re just like your Appa,” you giggled. “All or nothing.”

“We know what we like.” Jiyong kissed the frosting off her cheek, laughing when she smacked a sticky hand against his face.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Finally, it was time for the doljabi - the traditional fortune-telling ritual.

On the table lay a small selection of carefully curated items: a paintbrush, a book, a tiny gold crown, a camera, and a microphone. All symbols of different futures.

The microphone, however, stood out - sparkly, bedazzled, and unmistakably Jiyong’s.

“Ji,” you deadpanned. “That’s your mic.”

“Oh, is it?” he shrugged, feigning innocence as if he hadn't set the items down himself. He knew she always whined to touch it, hands out-stretched to the mantelpiece where it was usually displayed.

“She’s gonna pick it,” you muttered. “Of course she is.”

As soon as she was set down, Diva's tiny fingers wasted no time reaching for the glittering item placed in the centre of objects. She raised it to her mouth as if it was a teething ring and Jiyong quickly intercepted with a laugh when she began to smack the table with it.

“She’s our daughter,” Jiyong grinned, lifting her high above his head. “Born to perform.”

“Let's hope she's not as much of a diva as you then.” you teased as your baby held the mic in your direction, offering you the item covered in drool.

But you couldn’t deny the pride swelling in your chest at the sight of your little family. Music had been what brought you together, and it was clear, that was something that wouldn't change.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The birthday party slowly developed into a YG family reunion and you shook your head at the performance your husband and his bandmates were currently putting on.

Diva was falling asleep in your arms, completely unaware of the embarrassment she was serenaded with as Daesung belted out her name whilst the party-goers crowded around the mini stage Jiyong had insisted upon.

Now you knew why.

You held your baby closer to your chest, feeling a pulse of love weave through you. One year ago, as your labour pains started, you'd been terrified to birth a child into the world. You worried for your career, your love life, your friendships... fearing they would all unravel at such a big change.

But in the end, she'd been the stitch that pulled everything together.

Fantastic Baby started playing and Diva's head raised just slightly as all the boys pointed at her, the so-called 'fantastic baby' in sight.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Hours later, after the final guest left and the last balloon drifted to the ceiling, you found yourselves curled up on the couch - just the three of you.

Your baby, now in a soft and warm onesie, lay between you and Jiyong, her hands still occasionally grabbing for his hair.

The penthouse was a mess - an overwhelmingly large pile of presents, crumpled wrapping paper, half-eaten desserts scattered across the table - but none of it mattered.

“We did good,” you whispered.

“We always do,” Jiyong replied, his voice soft, his fingers trailing over Diva’s tiny hand.

“But… you were right.”

“About what?” he asked with a soft smile.

“Everything,” you said, carefully laying your head atop your baby's as she eventually settled. “Today... It was perfect.”

He leaned down to kiss the top of your head, dropping his own to rest on yours, exhausted from months of planning and a full day of entertaining.

And in the quiet that followed, with your daughter asleep between you, and your husband wrapped around you both, you realised - this was the real party. Just the three of you.

The most perfect gift of all.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

as requested! loving the diva requests, writing them makes me melt <3

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure

[painted-flag]

DIES NATALIS - geta and caracalla

₊˚⊹♡ dies natalis; meaning birthday, anniversary. ₊˚⊹ emperor geta x fem!reader x emperor caracalla ₊˚⊹ masterlist. ₊˚⊹ based on this request. (3.9k words)

The rising sun cast light through the open windows and along the marble flooring of the grand room; spreading a gossamer veil of scattered iridecence into the space. A warm breeze came in, making the silk curtains billow. You woke up a while ago, still stuck on the same time clock when you had been working day in and day out. In the large bed you were in, two bodies clung to your form. 

Caracalla’s face was buried in your stomach, subconsciously trying to escape the rising sun. His arms were wrapped around your middle and he was peacefully snoring. Next to you lay Geta, whose arm was directly over your chest, holding you down to the bed. You could feel the tickle of his breath on your neck as his rhythmic breathing signalled that like his brother, he was in a state of deep sleep. 

You wondered how long it would take for them to wake up. Today was their dies natalis, the day they were both born. Endless festivities and games had been planned for the entire week to celebrate. Important people from all over the empire had travelled – many long distances – to come and offer gifts for the emperors. Yet, you did not wish to wake them just yet. They were so calm, so relaxed; such was a rarity with the amount of stress they were constantly under. 

Suddenly, you found yourself reminiscing on when you first met them many moons ago. Things were so different then and never would you have thought they would change. 

The day had been impossibly hot, more so than usual on summer days. Despite the heat, the emperors did not shy away from it. They were in one of the palace courtyards that had multiple fabric covers over the top, with some slivers of rays peaking through the cracks and tumbling down upon the stone and reflecting off of the ground and walls. A small pool was at the centre, decorated with lilypads and other flora. Fish swam about, exotic and imported from faraway lands. 

You were tasked with bringing the emperors another pitcher of wine. It had only been your first week in the palace and the imposing structure had yet to become familiar. It was grand, full of memories and secrets that you would never uncover. As you made your way to the twins, your nerves had gotten the better of you. 

You stepped out into the courtyard and were greeted by the sounds of birds chirping and water running as it was directed from a pipe into the pond. Your feet carefully moved knowing that it is best that you remain as quiet as possible. The brothers sat at a table placed upon a raised dais. A vast platter of various foods was placed in front of them and the brothers lazily picked about; the intense heat had killed a large portion of their appetite. 

Upon reaching them, you bowed, though they did not seem to notice you as they were talking. You quickly poured more wine into both of their goblets and moved to stand a few feet away. There, you would wait if they needed anything. You held the pitcher in both of your hands and gazed off to the side. Every once in a while you would glance back at them to make sure their cups were not empty. 

After a few moments, the sound of one of the emperor’s voices calling for you brought you out of your daze. 

“You, girl.” Caracalla leant back in his seat with an air of carelessness, though there were hints of curiosity in his wondrous eyes. You moved instantly, making your way up the two steps of the dais and bowing to both of the emperors.

“Is there anything you need, Caesar?” You asked. He was gazing at you, but there was something in his eyes that showed he was not entirely present. 

“You are new here,” Caracalla stated and he shared a look with his brother who sat across from him, “I have not seen you around here. Who are you?”

His curiosity struck you as odd. You were nothing but a small part of the axis that made up the chariot of the empire – only a useful tool to keep it moving along. 

You answered with your name and he hummed. While Caracalla looked content with talking to you, Geta had rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. A look of annoyance was on his face. 

“Brother, we were talking about Acacius’ movements.” It seemed that you understood the reason behind Geta’s indifference. They were engaged in a conversation when Caracalla called you over, getting distracted as he is known to do. 

“Ah, yes,” Caracalla answered, “You’re dismissed.” 

You bowed again before moving down the steps while facing them, knowing it was disrespectful to turn your back to them. Once you were far enough away, you turned and walked back into the palace. 

If you thought hard enough, you could still feel the harsh pounding of your heartbeat at that moment. It had taken you a while to calm down. Your body had already been struggling to cope with the heat, but that encounter had left you flushed for the rest of the day. 

It was a pivotal change in your life. Afterwards, Caracalla had repeatedly summoned you to serve him and his brother. The older twin had come to be comfortable in your presence quickly, coming to you for comfort. It was odd how easily he clung to you. You supposed it was because of his condition that ailed him. You did not judge him for it and came to figure out ways to help him when he had an episode. 

Geta, on the other hand, was difficult to gain the favour of. He had been wary of you from the start. There was a deep-seated paranoia in his body which caused him to be distrustful of everyone that was not his brother. He often ignored you when you were around, only talking directly to his brother even if you were involved in the conversations. 

Your hand made its way to his copper hair, brushing at the strands gently as they reflected the sunlight streaming in. His face was relaxed as he breathed in and out, content to rest on your chest. It was at that moment when you remembered the day he had opened up to you. 

Caracalla had been inconsolable for the better part of an hour. The few servants that had dared enter his quarters were left running from the scene in horror and fear. Geta had been there and struggled to control his brother’s actions. Oddly, you had been summoned to the room after hearing about the events. 

As you made your way down the hall, you could hear his shouting from behind the doors. 

“Schemers! Traitors! They are here, they are here for us! They’ll kill us!” More crashing came after, the sound of pottery smashing acting as a sharp contrast to his voice. “Where is she? I want her! Is she safe? Where is she?” 

You burst into the room and saw Caracalla brandishing a sword and flailing it about like it weighed nothing. Curtains were torn, furniture tipped over and smashed, sheets and pillows strewn about, and food had been spilled from a table. Geta was standing back and dodging his brother’s swings.

“I am here, brother! Stop this, please!” Geta was begging. His clothes were ruffled and his face was distressed. 

Caracalla spotted you at the entrance and pointed the shortsword at you, but not in a threatening manner, “You! Have they come for you, too? They have tried to kill me again. They’ll come after you soon!” 

You recognized his inconsolable state, having dealt with it several times before this. You knew that you had to act fast before others got hurt; even worse, before he got hurt. 

“Nobody has come for me, sweet boy. See?” You gestured to your body, “I am unharmed, as are you.” He was still swinging the sword around and whipped his head from side to side like a figure would jump out from behind any of the pillars in the room and go straight to attack him. 

“It is only a matter of time! They always come, you must stay safe!” Caracalla was enraged, but it was undercut by tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. 

“You wish for me to be safe, sweet boy?” You asked, already having come up with a plan to disarm him so he would not hurt himself or others. While this was going on, you could feel the intense gaze of Geta who stood off to the side, seemingly having lost all hope of recovering his brother. 

“That sword, I can protect myself with it. Right, my sweet boy?” You had learned quickly that he was very receptive to that nickname and responded well when you went along with his thoughts long enough to coax him out of it. 

He stopped swinging the sword, “I… yes. Yes, you can protect yourself.” His voice dropped and he had stopped shouting. Carefully, you approached him and reached out for the short sword. Caracalla hesitantly passed it you you. When it was in your grasp, you let out a breath you were holding. Now that he was disarmed, Caracalla hit his head, muttering things under his breath as he sat down near the only table that was not knocked over. He wished to huddle under it.

Geta was beside you and you turned to him. Gripping the top of the hilt by where the blade is attached, you held it out for him to take. There was a look on his face almost akin to awe or veneration. He took it from your hold and you bowed your head gently. 

Turning back to Caracalla, you bent down and sat next to him. There was a shattered vase on the floor that you cautiously tried to avoid. There were puddles of water and various flowers strewn about. An idea came to your head, one that you hoped would ground him back to the world. 

You gathered up a few of the flowers. A couple of shards of the broken vase cut your hands, but you paid it no mind. The iris you held out to him had a thin stem and multiple purple petals spread out in a pretty arrangement. 

“Sweet boy, smell this flower. It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Caracalla looked at the flower and hesitantly leaned closer to you to smell it. He took in a breath, his nostrils flaring. For a moment he stared off at the stone floor. 

“Iris. It is an iris.” Caracalla spoke. Geta had put the sword away and came to sit by you. You tried not to focus on how close he was and how you could smell the scent of fresh linen on him. 

“Good,” You passed it off to him so he could hold it and picked out another flower, “Which one is this?” 

“A lily,” Caracalla responded. The two of you continued the process with a few more different flowers, with Geta’s vision switching back and forth to see the interaction. The cuts on your hand bled slightly, but the pain was worth it to see how well the plan was working. 

After a few minutes, Caracalla’s eyes blinked rapidly before stopping. He glanced around the space, “I– what happened to this room?” 

“Hello again, sweet boy,” You cupped his face with your hand and swiped your thumb along his cheek to get rid of a few tears that escaped his eyes. You did not want to worry him or risk losing him to his mind again if you told him of his outburst, “Your brother is here.” It would help him immensely to see the familiar face of Geta that was next to you. 

“Geta?” He asked. 

“Yes. He wishes to see you. Why must you hide in that mind of yours? He loves you very much and misses you.” You handed him the rest of the flowers so he could bunch them up in his hands, sniff them, and hopefully remain grounded. Caracalla seemed stuck in the trance of the flowers but was clear from his delusions. His fingers brushed the petals gently.

“I will go and get you some water.” You informed him before getting up. He needed to get more fluid into his body after exerting it so much. As you exited the room, you did not notice that Geta followed you. 

“Wait!” He called out. You turned around and waited for him to get to you. When he stood in front of you, he paused. Geta’s mouth opened and closed a few times as if he was having trouble putting to words what he wanted to say. This was the first time you two were alone and you were scared he would now cast you off for not addressing his brother with the titles he held. 

“You…” He took in a large breath, “You calmed him…” 

“Yes, Caesar. It was not the first time.” You did not know what else to say. His gaze flickered down for a moment, spotting the blood on your hands. Geta took a step closer and grabbed your wrists. He pulled them up to inspect them closer. You could not deny the feeling of shock that shot up your arms at his touch. You watched his eyes flicker with unknown thoughts. 

“I’ll send for the healer,” He said. You smiled gently at him.

“Caesar, thank you but I am fine–”

“I will send for the healer.” His voice was more stern that time. There was no arguing, so you agreed to the help. He walked you back to Caracalla’s room and you pretended that you did not notice the fact that he kept his hold on one of your hands. 

After that incident, Geta was more trusting of you. He did not look annoyed when Caracalla invited you around Rome. In fact, he had begun to send for you even when he was alone. It took longer for him to begin to speak about his own troubles, but you appreciated how open he had become. 

To others, your relationship with the emperors was considered odd. Them having favoured a servant and shared your company was not like their other concubines. They had preferred to keep that part separate from one another and not share. However, what the politicians and high society found even more odd was that over time they had abandoned their concubines in favour of you. Some whispered of sorcery; that you enchanted them. Others believed you had somehow blackmailed them. 

The simple answer was that Geta and Caracalla had found an unlikely companion in you that went beyond physical attraction. Many could call it odd, but you did not care. 

While one of your hands carted through Geta’s hair to slowly wake him up, your other hand trailed down to Caracalla’s head that rested on your stomach. You began to massage his scalp and watched as he started to twitch; indicating that he was slowly coming out of whatever dreams had a hold of him. 

Geta woke first. He groaned lightly and tucked his head into your neck. He breathed out and his lips brushed the underside of your jaw. 

“Good morning. It is your special day today,” You spoke. He groaned again and shuffled closer to you. He peppered a few small kisses to your jaw, but still kept his eyes closed. 

“Don’t speak of it. Let us stay here.” His arm tightened around your upper chest while his hand moved to hold the side of your face and tilt your head closer to his so he could lay kisses on your cheek. You giggled at his movements, causing your stomach to move more and wake up Caracalla quicker than your hand massaging his head. 

“Good morning, sweet boy,” You spoke. He, like his brother, only groaned in response and buried his head further into your stomach. He peppered kisses onto your stomach and you felt your skin heat up at the attention from both of them. His arms that wrapped around your torso tightened slightly. You ruffled his hair more.

“Can we not stay in bed?” Caracalla questioned, his voice muffled by the thin slip you wore to bed. 

Geta hummed at his words, the feeling reverberating through your skin, “Agreed, brother.”

You almost wanted to laugh. They were never morning people, preferring to stay up late into the night and sleep in until the last possible moment. The habit was far different than yours. When you were still a servant, you had to be up well before the sun rose. Now, as you had since been relieved of those duties, you slowly began to get used to waking up later. 

Knowing there was one surefire way of getting them up, you spoke, “What if I told you both I had gifts for you?” The moment those words left your lips, the twins shot up. Caracalla’s head lifted and you saw his shining bright blue orbs staring at you with anticipation. Geta pulled away slightly and propped himself up on one elbow to stare down at you. 

“Gifts?” Geta questioned. 

“You got us gifts?” Caracalla joined after. 

You laughed at their enthusiasm, “Of course, I got you both gifts. But you must be up to receive them.” For a moment the two paused, weighing the scenarios in their heads. They turned to one another as if communicating in silence. Caracalla got up first, reaching for a wayward blanket and wrapping it around his body. Geta followed but grabbed his favourite red and gold robe. 

Your arms and legs stretched out to relax. As you shifted to get out of bed, Caracalla reached out to hold your hand and help you off. Your bare feet hit the stone floor, sending a slight chill to your bones. You kissed his cheek and thanked him. As the brothers moved to graze at some of the food that had been carried in earlier, you walked to the doors and opened one. 

Spotting one of the guards, you spoke, “Could you send for someone to fetch the emperor’s gifts?” The guard silently nodded and marched off. You came back in a closed the door. The grumbling in your stomach was hard to ignore as you sat down at the small circular table with Geta and Caracalla. 

Instinctively, you moved to grab the pitcher of wine and pour them a drink, but Geta reached out and covered your hand that gripped the handle. He sent you a dismissive look. There were many times when they had to talk to you about your habits and how you no longer needed to do them, but it was hard to break. Instead, he picked up the pitcher and poured your drink first before doing it for his brother and then himself. You smiled while looking down at the plate in front of you. While you may have changed over the months, they had as well. 

“What is it?” Caracalla questioned you as he shoved a few grapes into his mouth. 

“Well, that would ruin the surprise. There are only a few more hours until the games start and the senate will expect an address for–” 

“Let’s not speak on this now,” Geta interrupted while he rubbed his temple, “I wish to enjoy this morning.” 

“Of course,” You took a sip of wine before hearing a knock on the door. Instantly, you felt your nerves light up. You hoped, truly, that the gifts you picked out for them would be favoured. Today they would receive countless priceless objects from waiting members of the empire, and despite your new position as the emperor's favourite, you only had so much that you could give them. 

You left the twins at the table and approached the door. Two servants stood on the outside. One handed you a gold gilded box and the other held onto a lead that was tied to a chittering monkey that rested on their shoulder. You bent over slightly to allow the monkey to crawl onto your shoulder. 

The small creature was a sudden purchase. You had already commissioned Geta’s gift but were left pondering what Caracalla would like. All it took was an afternoon stroll in the exotic markets while the twins were in the senate; that was when you spotted the friendly little monkey poised to be sold. It felt like fate. 

A broad smile made its way on your face. You turned back into the room at the two who remained eating and in conversation with one another. For a brief moment, the memory of when you first met them flashed to mind; the stifling sun, the babbling water, and the two eating their midday meal in the courtyard. 

“Caracalla,” Caracalla turned to face you first, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the tiny monkey on your shoulder, “Happy dies natalis.” 

“Monkey!” He shot out of his seat and moved to you, instantly enraptured by the cute creature. You laughed at his enthusiasm.

“You’ll have to pick out a name for him.” You informed. Caracalla picked up a few pieces of fruit from the table and began to feed him while thinking up a name. You then turned to Geta, who was staring expectantly at you. 

You handed him the gilded box, “Happy dies natalis.” He gripped the box and flipped open the lid. Inside were four rings, each similar in design but with different stones. A lapis lazuli ring as a symbol of royalty, opal for love and hope, amethyst for peace, and one final unassuming one that piqued his interest. He picked it up and inspected it. 

“I know it does not look like much and is not as grand as the other stones,” You suddenly got nervous, “It is a rock from the lands where I was born. I thought that, well, it may… Oh, I don’t know–” Geta quickly leaned towards you and placed a kiss on your temple. 

“It is perfect, truly.” He put the box down and slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of his left hand. You sucked in a breath at the gesture; the vein of love ran directly from that finger to the heart. The moment between you two was interrupted by Caracalla. 

“Dondas!” He yelled, “He shall be Dondas!” Geta wound his arm around your waist, letting his hand rest on the side of your thigh. The coolness of the ring seeped passed the thin silk of the nightclothes you wore. 

Caracalla had walked up to you, “Thank you,” He pecked your cheek before focusing his attention back onto the monkey. Its delightful chittering was admittedly adorable and you held your hand out to gently pet his head. 

“We must show off Dondas. Everyone must know about him!” Caracalla spoke with enthusiasm. He made his way to the door, but you cleared your throat loudly. He turned back to you. 

“Won’t you get dressed first?” You questioned. A flush came over his face as he remembered he was only wrapped in a silk sheet. Geta’s hand squeezed your waist. You smiled before going to leave to get the servants to fetch their clothing. 

It was odd how far your life had come and how much had changed, but it was better than you could have ever expected. The initial fear and trepidation you had when coming to serve in the palace had been worth it. Geta and Caracalla shattered your expectations. While they may still be ruthless, hotheaded, and prone to fits of anger, you knew there was no place safer for you.

This was my first time writing for these two and it was so much fun! Thank you to the anonymous sender for the request. I hope it turned out well <3

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷: Nagi never made a big deal about the holidays, not something he had partaken in, but there was one tradition you had started with him that he could never resist. I mean what were the holidays without some sweets after all?

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻: Seishiro Nagi (Blue Lock)

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 2.3k

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼: Nagi x Fem!Reader 𝓒𝔀: Minor food play (icing), praise, use of petnames, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, marking, written with plus sized reader in mind.

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻’𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: Happy Holidays loves! This is my entry for the @pixelcafe-network's Secret Santa event as a present for @nagis-wife. The way I was so EXCITED to write this for you bambina I tried real hard to keep it a secret ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა Honestly Nagi was so much fun to write for and I hope you enjoy my love!

Nagi catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, the subtle way your tongue pokes between plump lips, a total look of concentration decorating your features as you pipe a line of icing on the border of your gingerbread house. Nagi’s parents had taken the “hands off” approach to parenting, meaning the holidays were often not something to be made a big deal of with their constant travel. Christmas had not really been anything more than some presents arriving at the doorstep of his apartment. So even into his late twenties, as he was now, he had never made the most of the holiday. The most he got was a paper star that sat on top of his cactus with some string lights.

You, yourself, hadn’t been the most festive person in the world. But the idea of Nagi having never engaged in any holiday festivities pulled on even your grinchy heartstrings. Your family may not have had much, and maybe the most you had to look forward to on Christmas was the tradition of your mom’s pancakes, but you wouldn’t give that up for all the presents in the world knowing what you could have been missing out on. So here you both sat, fully decked out in festive attire at your dining room table decorating gingerbread houses. It had become a tradition for you both throughout the years of your relationship, a little competition of sorts. Feeding into his ego to have a friendly wager to who could make the best house.

It was almost comical to look over at your boyfriend, his white hair fully pulling together the Santa suit you insisted he wore for the evening. While you looked at him with mirth, he was looking at you with a hunger for more than the sweets scattered across the table. The short elf costume dress hugged your curves in a way he couldn’t simply disregard. His mouth all but watering as he let his gaze slide down your form. The elastic of the red and green striped thigh high socks that you wore rested against plump thighs, making the flesh at the top more accentuated in such a way it made his heart race in his chest.

“Shiro? You’ve barely touched your house, at this rate I’m gonna win!”

Your voice held a teasing edge, completely unaware of the war waging in Nagi’s mind, his self control hanging by a thread. His cookie house was barren in comparison to yours, him too distracted by the way your finger slipped past plush lips to clean some icing that had dripped onto your skin. His daze broken by the sound of your phone blaring with an alarm, notifying you both that the gingerbread men that had been baking, the final touches to your houses, were ready to be pulled from the oven. Nagi watched with rapt attention as you sauntered your way to the oven, your outfit swaying with your movements, lis tongue slipping past his lips to moisten the dry skin as you bent over to retrieve the cookies from the oven. Eyes locked on the subtle lift of your skirt revealing more of the delicate skin of your thighs, the same ones if he really focused, he could see the faded markings between them that his mouth had left a few nights prior.

As if on autopiliot, Nagi stood to his feet, stalking behind you in the kitchen. You couldn't help but notice the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to drink in every curve of your body.

"Those do smell amazing," he said, stepping closer to you. He leaned in behind you as if all at once, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke. "Almost as amazing as you look right now."

His hand brushed against your lower back, sending a shiver down your spine. You straightened up, turning to face him with a blush on your cheeks.

"Seishiro, they’re hot you cant have them they’re still hot.”  you said, playfully swatting at his chest. "Now, let's decorate these babies. I have sprinkles and everything."

You said, a weak attempt to salvage your evening, knowing by the way his tone had dipped that the cookies were the last thing on his mind, You set the cookies on the counter with shaky hands as Nagi fully moved in behind you, his body pressed against your back effectively pinning you to the counter. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the strength in his arms as he reached around you to grab the icing bag that rested on the counter.

"I have a better idea," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Why don't we decorate each other instead?"

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers teasing the hem of your skirt. His large hands rested on your hips, turning you to face him. You gasped, your heart racing as you turned in his arms to face him. Your eyes met, the air between you charged with tension and unspoken desires. "Seishiro..." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What are you doing, Shiro?" He smiled at your response, lips curling in satisfaction at the tremble in your voice,  his eyes dark with desire.

"What do you want me to do, princess?"

His hands reached up as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he leaned in closer, his lips just inches from yours. He can see it, the way your eyes drop to his lips. Can hear the way you swallow heavily in anticipation before he closed the gap separating you both. Nagi’s lips claim your own, his hand curling around the base of your neck to pull you even deeper into the embrace. The kiss was filled with need, desperation to feel your skin against his own. But this wasn’t a primal need, he felt it down to his molecules. He wanted you, needed to keep his hands on you, whether that was just in a simple holding of your hand or something more he couldn’t care less he just knew that he didn’t want you to slip through his fingers. Didn’t want to risk not feeling the euphoria of kissing your lips. It almost pulls a whine from his lips when you pull away, resisting the urge to surge forwards once more.

Hie eyes stared into your own as they fluttered open once more, hands slipping beneath your knees to perch you on the countertop, reaching behind you to grasp the bag of icing A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he used the other hand to guide your head back, exposing the delicate skin of o=your neck to him, piping a trail of icing along the column of your throat. Dipping his head down, he wastes no time letting his tongue follow the work he had just created. The sweetness of the icing combined with the taste of your skin had him rolling his eyes back. The feeling of your hand pushing the hat from his head as your fingers entangle themselves in his hair. Graning against your skin, Nagi laps up all of the sweetness that once coated your skin, trailing his lips down further, his free hand curling against the hem of the skimpy dress that concealed your breasts form the descent of his hungry mouth. Tugging down the fabric in one swift motion, he groans, pulling back to admire the exposed skin of your chest.

“So fucking beautiful, bunny.” He growls, eyes devouring you as lust swims in their stormy depths. He relishes in the way your nipples pebble due to the exposure to the cold air.

“And all fucking mine.”

As if to emphasize the sincerity of his words he brings the icing bag to the skin that lay right above your breasts, sloppily writing out the kanji of his name before tucking down and capturing a perked bud between his lips, tongue lolling against it, coming to a point to flick at the sensitive area before letting his teeth capture it. Pulling his head back to tug until releasing, pupils blows wide seeing the bounce of the plush flesh he was rewarded with. He was quick to give the other nipple the same treatment. Hands trailing from your ankles to your knees, forcing your legs apart further under his strong grip. He groans into your chest as he feels your hands on him hand making a trail up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the hood of your clit before rubbing slow agonizing circles against your drenched center. His lips pull from the swell of your breast kissing up a trail to your ear, making no move to touch the icing that marked your skin.

“I was gonna be a nice boyfriend and get you all prepped to take my cock, bunny.”

He groans, pushing your panties to the side and sliding two fingers past your entrance with ease, curling them in just the way he knows would have your back arching. “But with the way this greedy cunt is sucking in my fingers I don’t think I’ll even need to do that will I baby?”

His chuckle is deep and almost cruel in your ear, Nagi wasted no time pushing the band of his sweats down to his thighs, cock springing against his abdomen, twitching at your following words. He leans forward palm resting against the counter as he cages in your form. Using is other to grab his cock at the base, rubbing it past your slickened folds, swiping the mushroom tip up your slit collecting your wetness, not that he needed the aid to slide in, being sure to nudge your clit with each pass. Having had enough of his own teasing he slides into your opening. Head falling back deep groan stumbling from his lips With one roll of his hips he was buried to the base feeling your walls suffocating all of him, head falling to the crook of your neck as he groans.

“Fuck princess, she’s sucking me in so good, god this cunt was made for me wasn’t it baby?”

Now that he was sunk completely in hie gives an experimental snap of his hips, the resulting pleas falling from your lips guiding each motion of his hips. He picks up the pace, angling his hips just right to nudge your clit with his pelvis. His hands hook under your knees, pulling you toward him until your ass was hanging off the counter so he could lay you back. Taking advantage of the new angle, Nagi presses your knees to your chest. The deeper angle also allowing you to be even more exposed to his hungry gaze, eyes locked on where you both met. Mesmerized by the mouth watering sight of his cock disappearing inside of you with each passing surge of his hips. Groaning a long growl of your name and a slew of profanities as the sound skin against skin and the squelching wetness of your cunt fills the kitchen.

“You hear that princess? How wet my cunt is for me angel?”

His hips don't falter, he keeps up his speed, though each snap of his hips hitting deeper with each pass, angling his hips just right to find that sensitive spot deep inside your walls, grinning maliciously when he does so, stealing any response you could have formed from your lips. He removes one hand from your knee, thumb swiping some of the icing that dripped down your skin. Once coated, slotting itself between your lips, eyes rolling back when your tongue circles the digit instinctually. His eyes roll back as you look up into his own, making a show of cleaning the digit and effectively coating it in your saliva.

“So sweet Sei, fuck. Need more daddy please.”

The desperation laid in your tone is more than enough to inspire his movements, especially when spoken around the skin of his digit still lodged between your lips. He slides the finger from your mouth, using the coated wetness as lubrication to rub tight circles on your clit. Hips picking up pace in time with the kneading. His lips leave your throat capturing a sensitive nipple into his mouth, sucking on it harshly, aiming to overstimulate all of your sensitive spots in tandem. Nagi out a loud growl of your name as the drag of your nails incorporated pain into the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling. The coil had been tight in his abdomen, but he would hold out, he wouldn’t allow himself to fall over the edge before you had. He picks up the pace once more, thrusts growing sloppy under the pleasure. His thumb quickens its pace pressing harder against the bundle of nerves. Gon on princess, come for me wanna feel those pretty walls clamp down on my cock.

“Fuck, bunny, just like that princess… Go ahead, come for me angel, gonna fill this pussy so good baby, gonna have you dripping. Go on baby fucking.. come. for. me.”

He accentuates every word with a deep harsh snap of his hips. He groans loud and deep feeling your walls slam down on his cock eyes rolling back as whines and whimpers fall from his lips as your own release triggers his own. His body trembles violently as he topples over the edge painting your walls white. He slows his thrusts, body shaking as he overstimulates you both just a little bit before his hips finally still. He releases your legs, quick to readjust your form wrapping you around him pressing a long loving kiss to your lips. He grips your thighs in strong hands, carrying you with ease back to the couch, resting you against him. Fingers carding through your hair as you rest against his chest, pressing a loving kiss to the dip of your temple.

“So, did I win our little decorating contest, or do you think we need a rematch?”

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics & @/cafekitsune.

[ouroborosorder]

alright let's go over this one more time. I know you wanna be whimsical, but you gotta understand it takes time. effort. preparation. if you're gonna be whimsical with the rest of us, i need you to have the following things picked out in advance.

A time traveller passphrase, to help people skip the annoying part of convincing you they're in a timeloop.

A riddle to win a riddle contest with any sort of trickster-type being, such as a fox, demon at a crossroads, or wisened sage; preferably with multiple correct answers so you can switch to a different one if they guess the right one.

A mediocre impression you can pull off with 100% unearned confidence in order to derail a party

A bad bit character everyone but you hates - with preferably something on the tier of "Good Fishburps" or "DJ Rusty Pipe Noises" or "Feminist Film Critic Falco Lombardi."

weirdly strong opinions on the best way to play uno.

Got it? keep that up and you'll be a manic pixie dream girl with the rest of us. now get back to class. and don't let me catch you without joie de vivre again.

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter six - Black hole sun

Pairing: pre poly!chain x reader, Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: Your group finds a town which gives you the chance to visit the local library, it also gives Four the chance for a peer review and Time the chance to spiral. Dark Link watches from the shadows and you experienced another strange dream. (Aka: Dink kicks down the door to drop some lore and be in love, Four gets a turn to break down, reader ignores evidence, and I need to pay for the chain's therapy.)

Warnings: cursing, grief, plotting, possessiveness (Dink and Dreader/ Onyx)

Other: If I missed anything please let me know

Current curse counter: two :)

Previous masterlist next

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The group of you all find the next town the evening after your talk with Legend. It's a small thing by your standards but a large town by hylian standards. Watching most of the group get dragged away on side quests to help the residents within the first ten minutes isn't a surprise.

Time, Wind, and you are the only ones not dragged into work, and of course, Epona is with you.

You look around, able to read everything despite it being in hylian and not any language you remember learning. This goes promptly in the 'examine after your the boys leave' pile. This pile is always growing lately. It could probably build a fairly good giant sand castle at this point.

Wind stands on your other side, doing something to a small trinket of some sort in his hand.

"Are you going to be okay here?" Time asks you stiffly.

You nod, "I should be. Are you going to be okay on the road?"

Time gives you a strained smile, as if he's going through the motions. "We'll be fine. We've faced worse."

"That dosen’t mean it's easy, but I hope you're all able to go home soon," you say, trying your best to convey sympathy.

"Thank you. I hope you make it home soon too." Time says.

He dosen’t sound right. Something about the cadence of his words is wrong. Very wrong.

You can't name it, but it makes your brain scream.

It makes you want to wrap him up in a hug. It makes you want to ask him if he's hurt. You don't do either.

Wind has hisntounge poking out when you glance ovedthis time. At least he seems okay.

"I should probably try to do that, I don't want to be on buzzfeed unsolved." You say with a half shrug.

"I - have no idea what that is." Time frowns.

"It's a buzz feed series - It's like a video show about unsolved things." You try to explain, quickly realizing that you have to explain what a video is.

"Video?" Wind asks, finally piping up from where he's been fiddling with something in his hand.

"Like a moving picture with sound."

"That seems strange." Time says.

You have to bite back the laugh.

The man who can time travel, summon storms, summon a horse, and heal with a song thinks a moving picture sounds strange? The world of Zelda is bizzare.

Nope, we will examine that 'world of Zelda' bit later.

"There's a lot about my world that is probably strange to you," you offer.

"Perhaps," Time says.

"No, definitely. I think if you saw what light pollution has done to the night sky, you'd riot," You smile a little at the thought.

Time turns his gaze to you, heavy as ever. "What is light pollution?"

"Too much light blocks out the stars."

"How strange." Time says.

"That sounds made up," Wind scoffs.

You shrug, "That's how it's always been."

"Your world sounds wild," Wind laughs.

"You would love how to train your dragon, sailor," you grin, fairly confident in the idea.

"Dragons?" Wind frowns, looking somewhere between intrigued and disgusted.

Time also seems less than pleased. "Dragons are not easily trained."

"It's - like a video story."

"How odd. Tell me, does your world have a hero?" Time asks.

You aren't sure how to answer that. There's so many answers and viewpoints.

Time and Wind both watch you.

Time has an exhaustion you can't understand. There's a grief that you only ever see turned on you that's deeper than the grief he wears at all times.

Wind seems curious, with bright eyes and rapt attention.

"Sort of... There's no tri-force or anything like that back home. But heroes exist."

"No tri force?" Wind asks.

"Only in the stories." You say.

"Stories." Time muses.

"Is there a ganon?" Wind asks.

"Only in stories."

"Count yourself lucky." Time says.

Traveling with them, you definitely find yourself greatful that there's no Ganon nack home.

"I do." You say honestly. "Ganon is a real piece of work."

"He is." Time nods.

Wind laughs. "Sword through the head works wonders."

You snort, recalling that particular moment in the game - examine that later. "I'm sure."

"What's going on with you and Legend he went from being a major fucking asshole to stiff but friendly.... or friendly for him," Wind wonders to you.

"Languagyou. Time hisses.

"I'm a pirate!"

"We talked... He apologized. It's not perfect but he's obviously stopped being an asshole." You shrug.

"I'm glad. He was being rather rude," Time says.

You have to ignore the urge to roll your eyes. Time hasn't been too much better. He just hasn't been hostile.

The man has been a silent weight that's stiff and formal and distant.

"You've all been asses," Wind rolls his eyes.

You bite your cheek. At least Wind is on your side.

"Sailor." Time says with a world-weary sigh that might as well start in his toes.

"It's fine, Wind," you say quickly, not wanting to be the cause of any issues.

Wind rolls his eyes again. "You shouldn't let people treat you bad."

"Wind," you sigh, "It's okay. Time hasn't been bad to me."

"Whatever." The teen scoffs.

Time sighs, slow and heavy. "We'll talk later, Wind. (Y/n), I apologize if I have treated you poorly."

"It's okay. I think I'm going to go check out the library, I'll see you guys at dinner?" You ask.

"Of course." Time says.

You detach from the two heroes and make your way to the library, hoping to get some sort of answer about anything. Maybe they have something to explain the portals, or the dreams, or how you are in a video game world.

Alright, again, we aren't examining that until after the boys leave.

You smile at the librarian and go to the shelves to see what you can find.

There isn't anything too promising, but you find a book titled 'tales of heroes: a children's story collection'. There's that curiosity that wells up from where ever it is the dreams and half memories originate from.

You take out the book and go to sit at a table alone.

It's the introduction that makes your brain pause, something telling you that the words are important. That the words hold answers.

You just don't understand how yet...

' When you read the stories ahead, I caution you that they are centuries old and also aimed at children, but they stay true to the spirit. When you read these stories, you will see the soulmate of the hero never lives long, but how lucky is it to have a soulmate who reincarnates with you every time?

They say that the shadow version of the hero was created with a shadow version of the soulmate.

These stories are an ode to our heroes, princesses, and everyone else who has ever helped save our world. When you read them, may you find your own courage to pursue whatever you desire. '

Wow.

Okay.

First of all, the fact that the stories are passed down is good, your the heroes deserve that and more.

Secondly, the soulmate thing is new. You've played the games, read the lore, and seen playthroughs... but this is the first time you've ever heard of a recurring soulmate.

It dosen’t sound like the princesses are the soulmate either...

Since when does Link have a soulmate?

Maybe you can find more about this?

Is it rude to go looking?

Why does the soulmate never live long?

If it's common knowledge and in a children's book.... does it cross a line to learn more?

In theory, you won't see the boys again after they leave anyway... and you have always had a hard time ignoring your own curiosity....

You shut the book before standing to go see if you can find anything else about this supposed soulmate to the hero.

You're able to find quite a few things, especially after checking the 'triforce' section. You sit yourself down and start wading through everything you can.

' In the ever reincarnating cycle that is the triforce wielders, there is a soulmate to the hero that joins them every lifetime. Many believe that Ganon or whoever is following Demise targets the soulmate every time.

There is no proof of whether the soulmate truly dies early or simply steps out of the public light each time, and the further back in history, the more muddy the details get.

Many believe the soulmate is a late add-on to the already muddied stories of barely remembered heroes.

The most frequent account of the soulmate regards them as being named (Y/n), and they are often depicted as kind and loyal to the hero. '

Woah. Okay. Apparently, you have the same name as this soulmate. That's weird.

That... might explain the reaction the chain had to your name when you met, too.

If this is real, you think it's better that the media in your world never mentioned the soulmate... fans get a little strange sometimes.

You keep reading, there's so many questions you have now, but frustratingly few answers.

Any answers you do manage to find are either repeated everywhere or incredibly vauge. Sometimes both.

Apparently, most of this was passed down orally.

-------

After dinner, Time finds himself pacing in his room, mind entirely too loud. He is so - Time is tired of everything. All he wants is his lover. All he wants is his dearest.

Here he is, though, leading a group of heroes to hunt after an enemy he thought slain while juggling grief and duty.

Oh, it isn't your fault.

Time knows that.

But your presence is digging up a loss he thought he was over.

(How could he ever actually be over it? He spent a year of time loops trying to change their fate. He never ceased to fail...)

You are the best and worst ghost he's ever seen. You sound and act like his lost love, and yet you are not them.

If you were... You'd have thrown yourself into his arms when you saw him.

Though... his lover never did see him this old... did they? They didn't live much past twenty...

You aren't them, though. You would have recognized him by now.

You are the closest to them he will ever get now.

He groans lowly, pulling his hands down his face.

Hiding and pacing aren't going to handle his problems. He should really be checking on you and making sure you have enough gear to be okay on your own for a while.

He's a hero. He's a leader.

He already failed you when he let you get sent away with Epona.

You got ambushed all alone!

He was glad he found you and that you were still standing... but he still failed you.

Failure is not a luxury he can afford, it hasn't been since her was a boy the first time.

Time takes a deep breath and sets his shoulders. He has a responsibility to you as a hero to make sure you are going to be okay.

He leaves his room, going towards where he can hear Wind leading a sea shanty.

He hopes that you are near the sailor as you often are.

You prove him right, laughing next to Wind as he struts around on a table, leading the tavern in a sea shanty about drunken sailors.

Your laugh is the best and worst sound he's faced in a while.

He knows he should move, but he can't make himself.

Here, without you looking at him like a man you barely know, he can pretend that you're his lost lover.

Time lets himself pretend a moment that you're his Beloved.

He lets himself pretend they are here on this adventure with him, laughing as they cheer on the youngest of the group. Smiling as they clap along to a beat.

He lets himself pretend that they just haven't noticed him yet, and when they do, they'll run to him.

Time is a fool, a fact he knows all too well.

When you see him, your smile loses some of its brilliance. You offer a weak little wave to him.

Time waves back, heart cracking further still. He works his jaw to keep from letting his grief show. (He fails.)

He turns around and leaves because he can't look at you again without breaking. He will always be that scared little boy who had to rewind time over and over and over to finally save a town.

Time will always fall short, and others will always pay the price.

He supposes all he can do is try even harder next time.

Maybe his Beloved can forgive him for all his mistakes.

Maybe he can find a way to make up for everything.

-------

Dark sits in the shadows of the forest around the town, his darling lamb - Onyx - to his right. He holds their hand in his own, idily swiping his thumb across the back of their hand.

He allows himself to bask in the shadow and in the presence of his darling lamb. How he has missed them, the years without them have been nothing but torture.

Their place at his side being filled is a soothing balm to his festering soul.

He can't stop marveling at the ethereal beauty that is his darling lamb.

"Once your goody two shoes counter part is left behind, we can focus on tearing the heroes apart," Dark says with a sharp smile.

Onyx gives a hum, leaning their head against his shoulder. "Thank Demise, the heroes have been so obnoxious."

"I'm sure, being stuck in (Y/n)'s shadow until you were strong enough to move, you saw far more than I."

"I'm still mad about that," They say as they squeeze his hand.

It isn't quite mean, but it's tighter than usual. Perhaps a warning, perhaps only checking to be sure he is real.

"I know," he assures as he returns their squeeze.

The solid shadowy flesh in his grasp is cool to the touch and a perfect reassurance it's all real. He's had to many dreams of Onyx only to wake alone.

He both loves and hates those dreams.

"I meant what I said. If you ever send me away like that again, I will stay gone. Don't you ever fucking do that to me again," Onyx turns to give him a dirty look even as they lean against him.

The spite and dark promise in their voice is a beautiful steel blade that he will never tire of witnessing them wield.

How lucky he is to be given such warnings from his darling lamb. They never warn others, preferring the satisfaction of surprising others with their vengeful plans.

Dark smiles softer, the way he only does for them. "You won't get away from me again."

"Good. Being in that magicless realm was horrible."

"I know." Dark sighs, moving to press a kiss to their head. "I know, my darling lamb."

Onyx sighs heavily, "You're still a fucking asshole for sending me to that stupid realm."

"I won't do it again," He says.

He dosen’t apologize, he probably never will. He does know that he won't do it again, not when it weakened his sweetheart so much.

But he can't make himself be sorry for attempting to save them.

"Good." They say as they scoot a little closer.

"We need to get the heroes away from (Y/n), then I think we shall overwhelm the men with a few gleeocks," Dark muses, raising their hands up to press a kiss to the back of his darling lamb's hand.

Onyx laughs, delight drips from the sound. "Electric?"

"Of course."

"Good. They deserve it, they have no idea that their soulmate is right here and they're being fucking dicks."

"I don't doubt it."

"Thank Demise you saved them from those Lizafos."

Dark huffs, using his free hand to run through his hair. "Sending their soulmate away on a horse without the ability to fight atop a horse was reckless and incredibly poor planning."

Onyx laugh again, darker and meaner. Eyes crinkling with mirth they say, "They are the bumbling heroes."

He snorts, squeezing their hand in his once. "I wouldn't care if your life were not on the line too, darling lamb."

"You're a true saint, Dark," They roll their eyes, squeezing his hand back anyway.

"Only for you."

They hum once, low and pleased. "Good, I don't share."

"Neither do I."

They turn their silver eyes up to him, shadowy form flickering a little in the gentle breeze. They still haven't leveled out their magic levels, but they are better than when they arrived yesterday.

They offer him a sharp, borderline, vicious smile. As beautiful as it is deadly. "My strong man. Shall we arrange those gleeocks?"

Dark feels his chest swelling with pride and affection like flowers in the damnable season of spring. "Anything you want, my darling lamb, you shall have."

"And if I want your heart?" They ask sweetly, as if they don't already know.

"I shall serve it to you on a platter," He informs sincerely, giving them a soft look that is only ever for them.

They preen at that, moving to press a kiss to his cheek. "I think I prefer you alive over physically possessing what is already Mine."

"How generous."

Onyx scoffs, "Only for My beloved viper."

Dark hums, letting himself smile at them. He has never much enjoyed being owned. He is nothing but a pet to Demise some days... but he dosen’t mind belonging to them.

Why should he?

Onyx is His. They are his to cherish and protect through Any Means Necessary.

What is love if not reciprocation of all you are gifted? What is love, if not the willingness to do what you need to even when it hurts?

"Oh, my darling lamb, I shall not waste my time with you. Perhaps we will get a longer go around."

"I'm not so sure... That pirate already really likes (Y/n). The curse very well may already be tripped."

"That blasted curse! Of course, the heroes manage to trip it."

Onyx hums, sitting up and turning to fully face Dark. "We'll figure it out."

"Once we take down the heroes, Demise will break that damnable curse. Your life force will no longer be tied to the Hero's soulmate's. Never again will you face death," Dark declares with a grandeur he must have learned from Demise.

His lover just laughs a little, softer with him. They are always softer with him. "I look forward to eternity with you."

"And I with you."

Onyx leans in, pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling away with a vicious smile. "Let's finish this."

Dark returns their smile, wondering how he got so lucky to have such a spiteful sweetheart. "I think I like that plan."

"Good."

-------

Four finds himself alone finally in the night as he settles near the town garden. He lets the night air flit about as he finally lets out a deep, slow sigh that has his shoulders dropping.

His mind is still too loud. The colors all have their own thoughts, but being alone is far better than he expected.

He groans as he stands by the garden, looking up at the sky.

Splitting will help the headache, at least...

Maybe it will help the emotions, too.

He straightens up and holds his sword up to the sky.

With a flash of light, Four is split into his colors, and the headache of a week is gone.

"This is bullshit!" Blue hisses as he kicks the ground with a glare.

Green sighs heavily, "Blue, we can't control these things."

"I know this is hard, but we got (Y/n) to a town, and they'll be safe here," Red chimes.

Red offers a weak smile, as if trying to convince himself as well as the others.

Blue groans loudly, dropping his head back even as he stands. "So? The only good thing is we're leaving them behind."

Blue!" Green hisses.

Vio sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No wonder I have to take control around them."

"Be nice," Green chides with a heavy tone.

Red sighs, "Guys, we've already gotten through the hard part!"

Blue rolls his eyes and shoots a glare to the optimist. "How do you want to go on knowing there's a perfect copy of them?"

"What choice do we have?" Vio challenges as he raises one brow.

He would like to know. Ehst other option is there but to suck it up and keep going?

"I don't know!" Blue scoffs, throwing his hands up.

"Guys, please," Green sighs.

"We have to figure something out. We can't keep going the way we have been," Vio crosses his arms.

Red bites his lip, raking his brain for some sort of helpful idea. Repression isn't working, obviously, but what else is there?

Perhaps there's crying?

There is also sleeping until things suck less, but that's not sustainable.

"Why don't we talk about it?" Green suggests.

"Yeah!" Red agrees immediately.

The relief that floods Red at not having to offer a solution is immediate, which makes his throat feel thick anyway.

"You want to talk about it?" Blue scoffs and rolls his eyes, "I'll fucking talk about it."

"Go for it," Vio motions to the ground with one hand while watching the other.

Blue gives a dirty glare. "Our soulmate is fucking dead and there's a perfect copy who isn't them. I miss our soulmate, Vio. I really fucking miss them and I am so fucking mad that they aren't actually here!"

Red frowns, hugging himself. "Blue, we all miss them."

"Yeah, I know. But it's like our soulmate is right there! But they fucking aren't! They're still gone and this is just another fuck you from the goddesses!" Blue snarls as he balls his fists up and starts to shake.

Green winces, realizing just how much they've actually been repressing.

If Blue is this worked up... it's no good.

That can only mean they are even worse off than they thought.

"You can't be mad at (Y/n)... They didn't do anything wrong," Red says with a sigh.

"I'm not mad at them! I'm mad that they're fucking with our heads because we're too fucking stupid to stop missing someone!" Blue crosses his arms again, nails digging into his arms

Green sets a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to will something softer to the other. All he wants is to help Blue...

Vio sighs. "So we should get it all out there then? I am barely holding on because the resemblance to our angel is too much to bear."

"You're telling me," Blue huffs, letting his hands loosen against his arms.

Red sighs, "I can't help hoping that it's them somehow..."

"I miss them so much," Green breathes out.

Blue clenches his jaw for a moment. Then he sighs heavily. "I would do anything to see them one more time... What would they even say to us? They passed before - before we ever touched the four sword."

"Do not insult them by insinuating they would turn on us," Vio warns in a low hiss.

Green frowns, "I'm sure that's not what Blue means."

"We don't know what they would do!" Blue scoffs.

"I think... I think we're looking at this wrong," Red says as he looks at each of his brothers.

"Oh?" Vio prompts.

"Maybe... instead of being upset that (Y/n) isn't our soulmate like we want we should focus on the fact that someone so much like our angel is living a life away from all the danger that follows us," Red suggests.

"That's... not the worst idea we've had," Vio hums, allowing himself to sit with the idea.

Blue just glares at the ground, kicking a small group of pebbles away from himself. All he wants is his angel here. Apparently, that's too much to ask.

Green bites his lip before he sighs. "That's probably a better solution than what we've been doing."

"We can try it," Vio reasons.

"I think we should," Green offers a weak smile.

Red smiles back, "Okay."

"Blue?" Green prompts.

Blue sighs heavily, looking up to the stars. "I guess."

--------

You allow yourself to bask in the forge, soaking up the heat after the cold air outside thanks to winter. Watching your boyfriend at work is interesting as ever. His blacksmith work is something he enjoys.

Watching his muscles flex is always a treat, too. Your sweet boy works so hard.

"Are you sure you don't mind staying until I'm done? I don't mind if you want to go home." Link calls, turning to look at you during a break in his work.

You shake your head with a smile, "I'm sure, Link. I like to be around you."

"If you're sure."

"I am."

Link flashes you a smile over his shoulder, hair falling a little out of his headband. His blue eyes all but sparkle.

You let yourself settle into the chair you take up.

You listen to him work, muttering to himself as he hammers out the metal into whatever form he needs it to be.

It's hot in the forge, but you expect that.

Existing within the same space as Link is relaxing, soothing to your heart.

It's nice, being able to watch him working at his craft. He's good at it. Everything Hes ever given you from his work table has been amazing.

You absolutely adore the damascus steel dagger he gifted you for your last birthday.

Minutes and hours feel the same as you bask in the atmosphere.

It's not until your stomach growls that you give in to the fact you should really go make dinner.

You stand, stretching your arms above your head before you call out to Link. "I'm going to start dinner."

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, flashing a smile. "Thank you, angel."

"Of course."

You exit the forge and go into the house to start dinner.

It's been a good day.

You enter the kitchen humming -

You bolt up in bed, head spinning like a broken carousel.

What on earth was that?

--------

After one last breakfast made by Wild, you stand at the edge of town with the group of heroes you've been traveling with.

This is it.

The boys will leave and you will stay.

For reasons you doubt you could name at sword point you crave to follow them despite all danger and strange attitude. Despite the video game thing, your dreams, and all safety, you want more than anything to go with them.

You shove that into a far away box in your mind.

"I guess this is it," you say with a weak smile.

"You promise you'll send the letter for me?" Wind asks.

You nod, "Of course I will, sailor."

"And you'll write me?"

"If you want me to."

Wind hums, then snaps his fingers. "Hold on, I have something for you!"

"You don't have to do anything for me, I'm just grateful to have your friendship," you counter quickly.

Wind rolls his eyes.

The others stand behind him, all looking somewhere away from you except Legend, who just stares at you with a strange, almost seasick look.

At least you won't have to deal with all the tension.

Wind pulls something out of his bag with a triumphant grin. "Aha! Here, I wanted you to have this. It can be a good luck charm for you."

You smile a little, looking at the hand he holds out and finding a small seagull figurine carved out of a dark wood. It's small enough to fit in Wind's palm and your own as well.

"Really?" You ask.

Wind nods. "Of course! You obviously need it. You fell out of the sky."

You laugh, "I did. Thank you."

You take the small figurine and smile at the boy.

Wind grins up at you, "You better write me."

"I will. Don'tcause too much trouble."

"Good, and I don't cause trouble!" Wind grins before he hugs you tightly around your middle.

You smile as you hug the boy back.

When Wind steps out of your arms, Legend steps up to you, holding something behind his back. He gives you a straining smile.

"Hey, I have something for you too." The veteran says.

You smile a little at him, "You really don't have to do that."

"Consider it an apology for being an asshole?" He offers after a moment, voice half playful.

There's a choking sound from someone in the group behind him.

You snort a little. "You already apologized."

Legend rolls his eyes, "Then call it me, taking a step to do better by you."

The words are easy enough, but there's something weighty in his gaze and tone.

His eyes are like lavender, and for a second, you swear you can remember them lightning up just for you.

You hum once, considering. "Alright."

Legend pulls his hand out from behind his back and holds out a red health potion. "This is for you."

You gasp, well aware that the potion isn't cheap to obtain or to make. "Legend! Are you serious?!"

He gives a nod, "I am."

"You're sure that for me? Those aren't cheap."

He rolls his eyes this time, "Yes, I'm sure it's for you, trinket."

Your brain short circuits.

Trinket?

("It's for you, trinket," a man with lavender eyes smiles as he presses your favorite candy into your hand.)

You smile as best you can. "Thank you, Li-egend."

You catch yourself halfway through his name, but hopefully, no one notices or calls you on it.

Legend presses the potion into your hand, "Try not to die, okay?"

You laugh, "You try not to die too."

He frowns, looking you over.

Whatever he was thinking seems to pass, he gives you a lazy smirk. "Take care of yourself."

"I will." You say.

You put the potion and the little wooden seagull into your bag.

Legend steps back, falling into the group.

No one else comes forward, not even Sky.

Sky looks rough, red eyes and staring at the nearest tree...

Maybe it was a bad night for him?

"Well, I 'spose this is it... Take care of yourself." Twilight says.

You smile, "I will."

Epona walks up to you, nudging your shoulder.

You laugh, patting her neck, "You be good, sweetheart."

Epona knickers a little, nipping your shirt before she backs up, trying to pull you with her.

You stumble but catch yourself, "Epona hey, I'm staying here."

"Damn." Wind sighs.

"Language." Time calls.

Twilight grabs Epona's reigns, "I'm sorry she dosen’t usually act like this."

"It's okay, at least she isn't being mean," you assure as you gently pull your shirt from her.

You step back again, readjusting your top.

"Don't be a stranger." Time says to you, stepping forward to put a hand on your shoulder.

You look at him, trying one last time to make sense of the man. "Okay."

The man squeezes your shoulder, nodding once before he steps back.

"Remember you have a shield for a reason. Okay?" Warriors asks as he looks at you with a pinched expression.

Seriously, what is it about you that upsets them all so much? Is it their soulmate? Maybe it's your name.

That makes sense.

They just miss their soulmate. Too bad you can't help them.

You nod, "I definitely will."

"Keep your weapons sharp," Four chimes in helpfully.

"Stay safe," Hyrule says with a weak smile.

Wild steps to the front of your group, offering a fairly convincing smile. "Try to have some fun too."

"Good luck," Sky tells you absently.

You smile a little sad this time. "You too."

"Stay outta trouble if you can," Twilight says.

That's the last thing any of them seem to need. All of them turning and leaving, though Wind waves to you as he leaves, and Epona trails behind.

Legend shoots you a smirk as he leaves at least.

You wave them off and wait until you can barely see them before you turn to go back to town.

Everything is so strange...

You sit yourself on the edge of the town square fountain, trying to figure out what you do now.

Sighing, you look towards the library again. Maybe you could go read more?

There's a low meow that makes your attention jerk to the right - and holy fuck that's a panther!

What the fuck?!

The heroes leave and now the animals decide to attack?!

The panther stalks towards you, tail swishing slowly.

You can't remember if you're supposed to get big or small. Running seems bad though...

You won't out run a panther probably...

In a moment of desperation you take a deep breath and decide to try taking your way out if this one.

"Heeeeey, pretty kitty," you manage in a mostly steady croon.

The animal keeps stalking until it's a foot away from you.

It stares at you with an intensity that's frankly a little terrifying.

Spooky.

That's not really enough of a descriptor but it's what your brain has.

"Who's a good kitty?" You ask.

The panther sits down, yawning at you.

Wow that cat has giant, pointy teeth.

"You're a good kitty! Look at you, not attacking, such a good panther," You say in what is probably terror.

The large cat stretches it's front paws our until it's laying down, paws two whole inches from your boots.

Well... they aren't attacking. That's good! You like not being attacked by large ambush predators!

It's still fairly spooky to be so close to the animal... but if they aren't attacking maybe they'll let you try to touch them?

There's the animal loving part of you that starts to awaken now that you aren't positive you're going to be attacked.

You move so you are crouching, holding your hand out to the panther.

The animal sniffs your hand carefully, then immediately nudges your hand with it's nose as it shuffles closer.

Well fuck.

Okay.

Are you the animal whisperer now? First Epona, now this panther?

There are probably worse things to be.

You cautiously try to gently scratch their chin, almost preening when they lift their head to allow you better access.

Smiling, you wonder if you'll see them around more?

Maybe you can call them Spooky, the previous descriptor seems a nice.

Forget the library, you're going to soak up this previously impossible experience.

As you move to use both hands to dole out gentle scritches Spooky begins to purr.

A low rumble that makes you want to giggle.

Maybe it won't be so bad here.

-------

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[ckret2]

Chapter 59 of human Bill Cipher possibly not being the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he got executed two chapters ago:

Everything you haven't wondered about how Bill survived his execution.

7:27 a.m.

Mabel didn't know why, but figuring out when to ask Mrs. Grendinator to pull over had felt as stressful as trying to throw a ping pong ball into a passing car's open fuel door to land in the little fuel pipe. All she had to do was ask to pull over after they'd passed everything but the last truck stop, but before it was too late for Mrs. Grendinator to make the turn into the Triple Digit parking lot. That was a large window. It wasn't easy to miss. Somehow Mabel still dreaded that she'd speak up too late and Mrs. Grendinator would say she'd have to wait for the next rest stop—by which point Bill would have splatted like a bug against the weirdness barrier while everyone else passed safely through.

But she'd managed to blurt out "I forgot to use the bathroom at home. Can we pull over?"; they'd stopped at the Triple Digit Truck Stop; and Mabel made it inside before her friends could catch her.

She locked the unisex restroom door, set her backpack on the ground, opened it up, and sighed with relief when she saw Bill sitting on her sweater. She carefully pulled him out, set him on the floor, and pointed the height-altering flashlight at him.

For a moment after returning to his true size, he remained seated on the floor, legs bent, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Worriedly, Mabel asked, "You okay?"

"Think I learned what motion sickness is," Bill groaned. "Just—gimme a sec."

"Aww, I'm sorry." Mabel surreptitiously checked in her backpack to make sure Bill hadn't been sick on her sweater. (It was a cool one. It had kissing parrots.)

After a few deep breaths, Bill lifted his head enough to look at Mabel. The first thing he said was, "'Cool big brother-slash-sister,' huh?" He gave her a queasy, but cheeky, grin.

"Shut uuup you weren't supposed to hear that!" She'd just about died with embarrassment when Candy had repeated that where she knew Bill could hear.

"I'm flattered." Bill uncurled himself from his nauseous half-fetal position; and then, gripping onto the sink for support, got back to his feet. "Being smaller again was nice, but I'm never traveling like that again."

"You're such a whiner."

"Yeah, yeah. I have a lot to whine about. I'm dead and about to be executed. Talk about... lose your cake and... not-eat it, too."

Mabel laughed. Bill mussed her hair, grinning, and said, "Hey, you've got no room to laugh, you're the one with the not-setting-houses-on-fire bit."

"Arrrgh, don't remind me!" She pushed Bill to the side so she could use the mirror to straighten out her hair again.

"You did pretty well, though! I'd say that was some of the best acting I've ever seen out of you."

"You too! They definitely bought it," Mabel said. "Even Grunkle Stan was getting worried."

"Especially back in the kitchen, wow! That was really convincing." He paused. "Really, really convincing."

Something heavy hung in the air. Mabel focused on her hair in the mirror.

Bill said, "That bit in the kitchen about me 'depending' on you." He exaggerated the air quotes around the word, distancing himself from the concept. "It wasn't on our list."

"Yeah. It just kinda... seemed right. Improv." Mabel waved unenthusiastic jazz hands.

"It bothers you."

Mabel winced. "I mean... I'm not actually mad at you. But. I want to help, but I don't know what to do for..." She gestured at Bill. "The whole being dead on an alien planet issue."

"Believe it or not, the hoodie helps," Bill said. "Listening helps." But he couldn't meet her gaze; he was fiddling with his friendship bracelet instead. He had to know how heavy even just listening to him could be.

"I'm glad, but... I just... wish you had more friends you could talk to."

Bill nodded morosely. "So do I." It wasn't like he'd chosen to only have one friend, was it? Prisoners didn't get to make those kinds of decisions.

Mabel asked, "Do you really think I think you're just a summer fix-it project?"

"I... pfff... come on, I watched you spend all last summer handing out makeovers and dating advice. You've already done my makeup, taken me clothes shopping, and tried to pump me for info on what kinds of freaks I'm into."

(Mabel quietly filed away the fact that Bill referred to "freaks" as his preferred romantic targets.)

"That's how your summer was going to end," Bill said. "You tame the monster, go home triumphant, and don't worry about it anymore. Like how you patched up Broken Heart's love life and left him to sort out the consequences."

"No!" Mabel huffed, "I mean—maybe a little at the beginning, but... you're really my friend now, I'd hate it if I never saw you again. I don't give friendship bracelets to just anybody!"

Bill kind of thought she did; but he wasn't about to argue. "Well, I've only given one person a bracelet, and I meant it." (Even more now than when he'd originally made it.) "You're never getting rid of me now, star girl. You're stuck with me forever!"

Coming out of Bill Cipher, the promise should have filled her with dread. A month ago it would have filled her with dread. But Mabel just found it comforting. "Good."

(And Ford hadn't felt any dread when he'd sworn "until the end of time," either.)

Bill took off his backpack and rummaged through it. "Now let me make sure I can keep that promise."

He took out a map of the mountains and forest around Gravity Falls and spread it out on the floor for them to kneel in front of. "You know about the spaceship buried under town? When its ring cut through the mountain, a few chunks of the ship dislodged and were buried in one of the mountains. No human has ever found them before, not even your great uncle. That's where I'll hide."

"Are the chunks big enough to hide in?"

"Sure! There's one that'd serve as a decent studio apartment. Well—the cheapest studio apartment in Manhattan, maybe. But, hey, I don't have much furniture."

On the map, he showed Mabel a route to reach the base of the cliff, tracing it with his finger. She couldn't afford to take a map with the route marked; if the adults discovered Bill's escape and confiscated Mabel's possessions, a marked map would lead them straight to him. She'd just have to do her best to memorize the route he described. "When and if the coast is clear, you can come find me there."

"How do I get up the cliff?"

"Don't worry about that. You make it that far, I'll take care of the rest."

And that was all they could afford to discuss. Mabel couldn't hide in here for long. As Bill refolded the map (and Mabel was awed to learn he was the kind of person who could refold maps correctly on the first try), and he packed the map and the height-altering flashlight in his backpack, they each tried separately to figure out how to get around to saying goodbye.

"I uh... I know you're sticking your neck out for me, kid." (Bill wasn't used to this, wasn't used to people who didn't help him due to fear or duty or lies, wasn't used to people who still wanted to help him after they knew what he was really like.) "So, thanks—"

Mabel flung her arms around him. Her voice thick, she said, "I think your manners are getting better."

"Shut up, I've always known how to say thanks." It was gratitude that was new.

"Be safe out there," Mabel said. "Don't die, or else. Remember to eat. And drink water! And do laundry sometimes."

"All right, all right. You'll find me in better health than you left me. All the sunshine and fresh air this body can take."

"I'll miss you."

Keep it together, Cipher. He swallowed hard. "Have you ever heard the song 'We'll Meet Again'?"

"Uh-uh?"

"Old war song. Look it up once you're in Portland, when you aren't busy having synthesizers pumped in your ears."

"Is it about... how we'll meet again?"

"Yes, smartypants. Look it up anyway," Bill said. "I'll miss you too."

Mabel washed her face, left the restroom, and shut the door behind her; and Bill waited in the dark while everyone left.

####

7:45 a.m.

A woman with two children opened the unisex restroom door, and gasped in shock when she saw a human silhouette lurking in the dark, one eye shining.

"Hey, thanks, lady! Couldn't get the door for some reason." He breezed past her. "Careful, it sticks from the inside."

He grabbed an empty backpack for sale, and loaded it up with supplies, food, and drinks. (The good stuff, not the weak cider he got in the Mystery Shack. He was making margaritas tonight.) He headed up to the cash register... veered to a currently-unmanned register, stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar, and timed his exit so he walked out just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

####

7:55 a.m.

It was a fair walk from Triple Digit back to the cliffs around Gravity Falls. When Bill was a safe distance into the woods, he unzipped his first backpack, retrieved his flattened top hat, and popped it out; and then continued on, behatted and using his umbrella like a cane.

Even with no sleep, even just a couple of days after the worst hiking trip in history, even tired and sore from an hour of frenzied dancing, even carrying two full backpacks with one strap slung over each shoulder, even with the sky gloomy and overcast—this was the best he'd felt since Weirdmageddon.

His steps were sure, his body was unchained, and the future had opened up for him again.

####

8:00 a.m.

Mabel kept glancing out the window, back in the direction of Gravity Falls, waiting and waiting to see the light of some kind of killer laser cut through the sky.

Maybe the Quantum Destabilizer's beam just wasn't visible from this far. Maybe they'd decided to wait to execute Bill. Maybe they hadn't wasted their shot because they'd already discovered Bill and Mabel's ruse. Maybe the "enchantment" Bill had written hadn't done its job.

But if they had discovered Bill was missing, they would've called Mabel immediately, trying to find out what she'd done and where he'd gone.

Her phone sat hard and heavy and silent in her pocket.

The butterflies in her stomach didn't stop fluttering until long after they reached Portland.

####

10:30 a.m.

Plus or minus a few trees, the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff was just how Bill had remembered last seeing it millennia ago. The Trilazzx Betan proximity sensor that had been embedded in the cliff face since the ship crash was still there and still sensing, even after millions of years and a layer of stone had closed around it. He could see it behind the face of the cliff; and it could see him.

He took out the multi-tool pocket knife Dipper had "donated" to Bill's supplies, flipped out the blade, and carved his face in a tree far enough from the rendezvous point to avoid notice by anyone who found this spot, but near enough it could see anyone who showed up. He made it as accurate as he could—hat, bow, limbs, eyelashes. That would unfortunately make it easier for humans to identify the face if anyone happened to walk by, but his ability to connect to his other eyes was still weak, he needed as much of a boost as he could get. He licked the bark, leaving his saliva to connect the eye on the tree to him.

And then he returned to the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff, and, beneath the watchful eye of the proximity sensor, began digging in the dirt with his hands.

Beneath the soil, fortunately not buried too deep, was a stone shaped like a small tombstone with several symbols carved into its surface that superficially resembled common runes. Bill brushed the dirt off of his leggings and rubbed it out of the carved lines in the stone. It was lucky that today was overcast; it would make this thing a lot easier to control.

Bill took out the flashlight, removed the height-altering crystal, turned it on, and aimed the beam at the topmost rune.

The runes began glowing an eerie green.

The ground shuddered; and then a patch of ground five feet in diameter lifted up into the air, carrying Bill with it, tearing the grass at the edge of the circle, propelled by a long-forgotten enchanted stone platform concealed in the clump of dirt.

He rose to the gouge that the spaceship had carved into the mountain; and then he moved his flashlight's beam to another rune. The platform smoothly shifted to moving sideways, gliding beneath the ancient overhang. When he turned off the flashlight, the stone stopped glowing and gently settled to the ground. Bill stepped off, fished a spare shirt out of his backpack, and pulled it over the rune-covered stone so it couldn't take off if the sun came out. There was a reason this buried stone was the only platform of its kind left in the area outside of the deep mountain caverns: leave one outside on a sunny day where the light can hit its runes, and next thing you know it's zoomed out over the Pacific and is quickly rising toward space.

He surveyed the area. Every once in a while humans climbed up here just for the challenge of it, delightful little explorers they were; but he doubted anyone had been up here in decades. He stood in front of what was, to all appearances, a completely nondescript patch of stony ground; and he said, in heavily accented but intelligible Trilazzx Betan, "Let me in, you hunk of junk. Activate emergency crash protocols."

A fragment of ship deep beneath the ground stirred awake, registered the command, analyzed itself and concluded from the fact that it wasn't in space and was separated from 99% of the rest of itself that it had indeed crashed, and activated emergency crash protocols. In acknowledgment of the dire situation, it deactivated its usual authorized personnel list—there was no sense in waiting for the captain to approve new orders if the captain might be dead—accepted the command given by the unknown being above it, and opened its hatch.

Millions of years of solid stone groaned and buckled in protest at being moved; but Trilazzx Betan engineering was strong enough for the framework of a portal capable of ripping a hole between dimensions without being ripped apart itself. The stone yielded first. A hatch swung up, revealing a tilted chamber descending into the cliff.

Bill strolled confidently down the walkway. "Cancel distress signal. Disable life support's air filtering." The fragment of a ship beeped a warning, and Bill responded, "I'm aware of this planet's high oxygen content. You worry about your health, I'll worry about mine. Disable air filtering." The ship beeped a confirmation. "Reconnect to all external proximity sensors in range and display on screens one, two, and three." This broken part of the ship had once handled communications. It had a whole wall of screens. He wondered whether he could jury rig this thing to pick up human satellite TV. Nah, probably not worth the effort.

He slung off his backpacks and started unpacking.

####

12:04 p.m.

It was time.

Dipper sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. He felt sick.

He was dead. In just a few seconds Ford would discover that Bill was gone—Dipper was sure he was gone, they hadn't heard a peep from the room, Mabel must've snuck him out or left him some escape route—and then Ford would know that someone had warned Bill and Mabel, and then Dipper was dead—

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dipper waved Ford off. "Just... didn't get much sleep. Little dizzy." Ford would never trust him again. Stan would be furious. They'd both be furious.

"You can go downstairs if you..."

"No no, I'm fine, I..." Dipper took a deep breath and lifted his head. "I'll face it." Better to get it over with now than to hide downstairs and wait for it. 

Stan nodded. "Good man." He wouldn't be so proud of Dipper in a moment.

Ford nodded, stood, opened the door—and Dipper buried his face in his hands again.

####

12:06 p.m.

Ford could see Bill up in the loft, hood up and shoulders hunched, back to the room. Ford could shoot Bill in the back without him ever waking up.

He climbed into the loft. Bill lay curled up in a ball, a small as Ford had ever seen him.

But it only took a moment for Ford's eyes to adjust to the dark; and even in the dim light through the stained glass window, he could tell:

The shape in front of him wasn't human. Just lumpy clothes.

Ford whipped around, heart pounding, clutching the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case against his chest, searching for the real Bill lurking somewhere in the shadows. No sign of him. Ford had already looked on the floor level. Was he gone? How?

He was too dumbfounded to be outraged. He walked up to the dummy to pull it apart—

And saw the paper, folded in quarters, floating in the air above it. Four symbols in a cipher were written atop the paper. Ford recognized them: it was the alien alphabet of an interdimensional pidgin used as a written lingua franca throughout the Nightmare Realm and its bordering regions; it was so widespread that Ford had learned the alphabet before he ever left Earth.

The four letters read, "F O R D".

Ford plucked the paper out of the air and unfolded it.

Stanford–

I'll cut to the chase. I need your help. I don't want to die.

I'm banking on the hope that, in spite of everything you've said and done, part of you also doesn't want me to die.

You have a choice. You can walk out there, tell them I escaped, rally an angry mob, and comb everything under the weirdness barrier for me. This town's not that big and I'll need to eat eventually. We both know I can't hide forever.

Or you can tell them you finished the job. No one looks for me. No one knows but you and me.

I don't have rewards or deals to offer. You already know what I bring to the table. If that hasn't persuaded you to side with me by now, it never will. I'm not bargaining. I'm begging.

I'm asking you, as my friend, to help me survive.

Please.

· –·-– -–

Of course.

How dare he.

Had Bill planned this all along? Was this why he'd insisted he wanted to be Ford's friend? Was this why he'd saved his life? Maybe the entire rescue had been staged—the rescue, the performance of fear over a harmless phenomenon, the mental breakdown, all of it. For all Ford knew, maybe the accursed Axolotl was in on the scheme! How clairvoyant was Bill? Had he seen this moment coming?

But if he'd seen this moment coming, wouldn't it have been easier to just let Ford, his executioner-to-be, die? Ford and Dipper both, so Dipper wouldn't figure out how to synthesize NowUSeeitNowUDontium? If he'd saved them in spite of that, didn't that make it a sincere gesture?

But implication was clear: I've been a friend to you, now be one to me. A life for a life. There was nothing sincere in that. It was pure self interest.

(For just a couple of days, Ford really had thought it was sincere.)

But if the only reason Bill had saved Ford was to save himself—then why had Bill endangered his own life in the process?

With every thought Ford's paranoia pendulumed.

He should get Stan. Call the cops, confess who they'd been harboring for the past month, tell them everything, get a manhunt going before Bill could make it any further away. Even if he couldn't leave the weirdness barrier, there were probably hundreds of hidden hidey-holes Bill could dig himself into that humans had never seen—unexplored hallways in Crash Site Omega, uncharted caverns behind Trembley Falls where Bill didn't even need light to see. They could drag him back into the light, tie him up, aim the Quantum Destabilizer straight at him...

But. In spite of himself, he could still see Mabel's drawing hopefully reassigning Bill the role of a superhero. He could still see the crumpled drawing in his pocket—"I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!" He could still see Dipper tentatively asking whether they might need Bill someday. He could still see Bill playing teacher in the living room. And for a moment, for just a moment, Bill had been so good. He could be so good.

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why can't you be this person?

What if he could be better? What if he could be decent? What if he could be a friend?

Ford didn't believe Bill was any better today than he had been the day he died. But—at some point, something had slowly turned over in Ford's mind. He believed that Bill could change. Not would change, not is changing, but could. And if Ford started a manhunt, Bill would never be a threat again—but he'd also never be better.

There was a point where the doubt and hope built up to a critical mass—when they became enough, just enough, to stay the trigger finger. Because once Ford fired on Bill, that was it. All chances were gone forever. It was over. If Bill was alive they could always try again to kill him later; but if Bill was dead, they could never try again to better him.

And for the first time in thirty years, Ford wanted Bill to be better more than he wanted Bill to be dead.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

####

12:09 p.m.

Ten minutes ago, Bill had been in the process of emptying out his backpacks and finding nooks and cubbies amongst the alien communication workstations where he could tuck his supplies, when he'd glanced out the open hatch and noticed the beforeimage of the shot lighting up the sky.

He'd come out of his shelter to watch the moment approach; but he hadn't quite believed it until it was in the present and actually happening. The blue-white beam of the Quantum Destabilizer—its one and only shot—screamed off into the sky.

"Well, what do you know," he murmured, standing at the edge of the cliff, hands on his hips, staring out in wonder over the town. "I really didn't think you'd do it."

Ford had saved his life.

Bill crossed his arms tight and tried to convince himself he didn't wonder why.

####

12:10 p.m.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done.

"Grunkle Ford...?"

He forced himself to speak. "It's done."

"So... Bill is...?"

Ford suddenly realized: Dipper knew Bill wasn't in here. He must have warned Mabel, and Mabel had arranged for Bill to be alone in their room long enough to escape.

Which meant Dipper knew Bill was alive.

(Bill had written, "No one knows but you and me." Bill was covering for the kids.)

Ford turned to look him in the eyes. "Yes, he's dead."

Which meant Dipper knew what Ford had done—and knew Ford knew what he had done.

Neither one of them needed to say anything else to know what the other was thinking. They just shared a look—the two most miserable co-conspirators in Gravity Falls.

####

12:25 p.m.

Bill sat cross-legged at the edge of the cliff and watched until the afterimage of the Quantum Destabilizer's shot had faded from the sky; and then he went inside his shelter, mixed the world's lamest margarita in a coffee mug, took it outside, sat again, and toasted toward the town and the Mystery Shack.

Here's to survival.

He sat outside until the gash the Quantum Destabilizer had cut in the clouds closed and it began to rain.

####

1:10 p.m.

Stan had come and gone a few minutes ago, and already Ford had forgotten everything he'd said, if he'd even registered it in the first place.

His fingers had itched until he'd finally had a moment to steal down to his study, retrieve Journal 5, and bring it up to the guest room; and now for over half an hour he'd been feverishly writing down every single thing he could remember learning about Bill over the last two days. The drawing of his homeworld. His lecture on biangles and psychic powers. How polygons inherited their sides. (Their royalty sounded nigh on Habsburgian; had their political system ever changed?) What little details Bill had let slip about where Edward Bishop Bishop's book was wrong. (Had he told Mabel more about their relationship? He'd have to ask when she was home.) How Bill signed his letter: "· -·-- --", Morse code for "EYM," was it an acronym, was it a code, what did it mean, why did he write it in two colors? How Bill spelled Mabel's name in alien alphabets: Mabelle, Maybell, the varying extra letters. How Bill danced: how he struggled to cross his ankles, how he turned out his feet, how his spine and shoulders never bent, how the complex ways he tilted his legs and pelvis compensated for his stiff spine.

If Bill was sticking around a while longer, then these details still mattered.

He refused to forget a thing.

####

Sunday, 12:02 a.m.

As "We'll Meet Again" finished playing, Mabel turned off her phone, put it back on her nightstand, and wiped her eyes again. Big stupid dork couldn't even say this himself, he had to hide it behind a song. 

Yes. They would meet again. Law of attraction. Believing it was the first step to making it come true.

####

10:20 a.m.

The fearful butterflies in Mabel's stomach had slowly returned during the drive home from Portland. No one had texted her—was that a good sign?—but she was afraid it just meant they'd decided to let her enjoy the rest of her trip before letting her know she was grounded forever for helping Bill escape. When they'd all greeted her at the door, looking so somber, and she was sure she was about to get the bad news, she'd just had to keep acting normal and hope she wasn't gonna get in more trouble for playing dumb.

The last thing she expected Stan to say was, "Weshotim."

"Say wha?"

"We got that—space gun of Ford's working. We shot him. He's... I'm sorry, sweetie."

Mabel stared at Stan. That was impossible—there was no way they'd found Bill. But—if Stan believed he was dead...

She dragged her gaze from his face to Dipper's. Dipper bit his lips, staring at his feet. He wouldn't meet her eyes—too afraid that even looking at her would give something away.

She looked from Dipper to Ford. "Grunkle Ford?" She tried not to hope. "Is it true?"

There was no way he'd believed the dummy was real. The moment she'd read Bill's so-called "enchantment," she'd known making it believable was never the point. Bill's only real plan had always been to get Ford on their side.

For a long moment, Ford said nothing. He dragged his eyes up to meet her stare, took a deep breath, and nodded. "He's dead."

Mabel's eyes widened. Two days ago, Ford had been the one arguing that killing Bill was their only choice. If he'd changed his mind...

If anyone said anything else, she didn't register it in her excitement. She backed out of the doorway, leaped off the porch, and ran around the shack, looking for her bike. 

She had to see Bill immediately.

####

10:21 a.m.

Quietly, Dipper asked, "Did we do the right thing?"

Ford didn't know. His stomach had been twisting with guilt and doubt since yesterday. His conscience had kept him up half the night. "I hope so."

He feared they'd have second-guessed themselves no matter what.

####

2:30 p.m.

Bill was asleep. He'd been sleeping off and on for most of the past day. This was the first time since he'd died that he had somewhere safe to sleep—somewhere nobody could touch his vulnerable body, nobody could move him, drown him, kill him.

And this was the first time he hadn't been helpless and sightless.

In his sleep, he saw his own body, curled up on the tilted floor against a wall, on top of the sleeping bag and under the Pony Heist bedsheet, from an eye he'd drawn on the ceiling.

From another eye he'd drawn on the wall, he saw the ship's open hatch, the overhang above, a small sliver of the gray drizzly sky over Gravity Falls.

And from his eye on the tree, blurry and fading as the rain washed away his saliva, he saw a human-shaped mass of raucous colors exploring the pit in the ground left behind by his hovering platform.

A human? He sat up with a gasp and looked at the screen displaying the proximity sensors. Sure enough, the sensor at the base of the cliff was displaying a Mabel-shaped silhouette.

He grabbed his flashlight and climbed out of his shelter.

####

"Kid, what are you doing out out here?!"

Mabel looked up. Bill was some twenty feet above her and quickly descending on what looked like a chunk of flying dirt the same size as the pit in the ground she'd been inspecting. "Bill!" She leaned her bike against the cliff face. Finally—she'd been wandering around in the trees forever trying to figure out where Bill's rendezvous point was hidden.

"It's pouring rain," Bill scolded. "You could lose your immune system or—or slip in the mud or something."

"Wow, nice to see you too, mom." Mabel ran up as Bill landed his floating chunk of ground.

"Hey, I don't want anything happening to my favorite human!" He scooted over to make room for her on the platform. "Just couldn't wait for a sunny day to meet again, huh?"

"Psh, come on! Like you meant that literally." Near Bill, the rain had mysteriously stopped landing on Mabel. She looked up and saw the rain simply parting in the air over Bill's head.

He noticed her glance and said, "Did I ever teach you the spell to repel rain? Remind me to do that before you go." He pointed his flashlight's beam at a rune on a stone rising from the platform, and it lifted off again. "Nice sweater today." He poked one parrot-winged sleeve, its bright colors darkened by the soaking rain. "It probably looked better dry."

Mabel smacked away his hand. "Bill, guess what! Grunkle Ford decided to protect you!"

"I know, I saw the wasted shot from here." He steered the platform onto the cliff. He landed it next to a hatch that opened into a subterranean tunnel. "Of course, I always knew he would. Didn't I say we'd pull this off?"

Sure he'd known. That was why he'd lied about what the "enchanted" paper really was so Mabel wouldn't worry.

Mabel followed him down into the metal tunnel. "Do you know what this means? You can come back to the shack!"

Bill turned to stare at her in bewilderment. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because... it's safe now? They're not gonna kill you?" Mabel squinted. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"Oh, right. You need this." Bill offered the flashlight.

Mabel turned it on. They were in a metal chamber, about half the size of the Mystery Shack's floor room and nowhere near as tall. One end of it had been torn off and dirt and stone served as the new wall. Most of the walls were dominated by heavy metal consoles, curved metal chairs, and screens, a few of which were on but flickered irritatingly. One chair still had a fossilized alien skeleton in it. Bill had put his top hat on it.

His supplies were piled haphazardly on consoles and the floor; all Mabel saw in his food pile was shelf-stable junk food and drinks. The air somehow felt more damp in here than it did outside with the rain. The chairs didn't have cushions, the floor didn't have carpet; everything was hard and cold and dark. She didn't even see a door for a bathroom in here. This was where Bill was staying?

"The Mystery Shack is safe for now," Bill said. "Just wait until Stanley decides to take another swing at me, or Dolores poisons my dinner again—or Ford changes his mind, dunks me in the bathtub, and doesn't let me back out."

"They wouldn't..." Mabel trailed off. She tried to imagine how mad Stan would be when he found out Bill was alive, and had to concede he might.

"Even if it was safe—why would I go back to that sorry makeshift prison?" Bill hopped up into one of the tilted alien chairs. There was a weird extended bit designed for alien anatomy that curved up at the end of the seat and forced Bill to straddle the chair rather than sit in it normally; it didn't look comfortable. "After almost a month and a half, I'm finally free!"

"Free inside a tiny bubble around the town," Mabel protested. "To live in a... weird little metal dirt room."

"Freely moving inside the entire barrier is a lot better than freely moving through half a shack! Surrounded by people who want me dead! I don't even get full privacy when I'm using the toilet—that's the bare minimum humans offer as basic respect! You don't know how many times I've been walked in on!"

"Do you even have a toilet here?"

Bill hesitated. "There's a—there are gas stations within walking distance."

"How are you gonna get into the restroom?"

"Fine, I'll dig a pit or something, all right? The point is, whatever I do, at least I can do it in freedom!"

He hadn't planned this through at all, Mabel realized. He'd only thought as far ahead as finding food and shelter that would last him the next couple of days. "But..." She gestured at the pathetic room around them. "The shack's got a proper roof and a shower and real food—wouldn't that be better than this?"

Bill scoffed "Only humans care about roofs and showers, and the idea of 'real' food is a social construct I reject!"

He'd be miserable here. Mabel couldn't let Bill do this to himself. "Then don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?" She gave him a pleading look. "Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?"

There was a flash of light reflected in the dark as Bill's eyes turned away from Mabel.

"Bill?"

He didn't respond. He trudged past her, halfway up the walkway out of the ship, and stopped there, his back to Mabel, hands on his hips, staring out into the rain. He sighed. "Kid, you're trying to give me Stockholm syndrome."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I'll think about it," Bill said, voice flat. "Go back to the shack."

Before Mabel could move, Bill said, "Hold on. Let me teach you that umbrella spell first." He turned and descended back into the ship. "And when's the last time you ate? Human bodies act pathetic if they don't get glucose every three hours. Get some lunch, it's a long bike back to the shack." He gestured at his meager food supplies.

She rummaged through the foil bags and colorful boxes and grabbed some Chipackers and sour gummy dolphins.

Bill sat near her, grabbed a bag of jerky for himself, and said, "And tell me about that concert you abandoned me to my doom for."

####

4:00 p.m.

Bill escorted Mabel down off the cliff—and, at her request, let her borrow the flashlight and wiggle the floating platform back and forth a little as they descended. He took back the flashlight when she nearly crashed the platform and killed them both.

"Where'd this come from?" Mabel asked, poking the stone. "Did the aliens make this, too?"

"Nope! This is good old local Earth magic. Ever hear of Caterpillar Man?"

"Is that some kind of superhero?"

"Afraid not. Well—ever hear of Grendel?"

"Uh-uh."

They were nearly at the ground now. "I think I'll tell you next time."

As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched Mabel wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

####

Monday, 1:03 a.m.

And it was even chillier in the post-midnight dark when he knocked on the Mystery Shack's door.

####

(Eager to hear what y'all think now that you've seen the full story of how Bill survived—last week once Dipper and Mabel's roles were revealed, I think most folks thought that fully explained how Bill faked his death. ;) Next week is probably a double length chapter, because there's no graceful way to break it in half and also it'd be nice to get this plot arc wrapped up before The Book of Bill comes out lmao.)

[angelic--kitty]

hai kitty its been abit .. thoughts on beigguang threesome with reader - 🦁

hiii i hope you've been doing well <3

beigguang threesome... 😁😁😁 there's so many good things to say

(nsfw thoughts utc- 18+ wlw)

both of them have straps, dare i suggest a collection of them, actually.

particularly ningguang: she often commissions them out of the finest materials in all different colors, shapes, and sizes.

beidou has her own collection, but it's much smaller. she gets them from a few different places on her travels, and she's eager to get back to liyue and try them out.

ningguang likes to have you on her lap, bouncing on her strap while one of her hands wraps around your hip, the other holding her pipe.

beidou is more..."hands-on." her fingers dig into your hips, leaving bruises while she slams you back on her strap, pounding you into the mattress.

however, when they're together, there are lots of different positions they adore.

usually, ningguang will have beidou fuck you while she pulls you in to eat her out. she likes seeing you get all fucked out, tapping your cheek and bringing you back down from the clouds to focus on her pussy.

on the other hand, ningguang likes to fuck you herself. sometimes with an elegant strap, sometimes with her fingers, all while you give beidou a blowjob, doing your best to take her thicker strap with your aching jaw.

they also adore the image of you dolled up in expensive, silky lingerie on your knees, jerking their messy straps off, embarrassed by the slick sounds as they share heated kisses above your head.

like i said, lots to unpack and discuss. they love each other, but they also love you. so i think it would be a loving ordeal :3

[kaiijo]

DATES WITH HIM — [WIND BREAKER]

characters: suo hayato, kiryu mitsuki, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma, kaji ren, togame jo content: gn! reader notes: i did not come up with the date idea in suo's! also i recommend reading the mentioned works in suo’s part and listening to the song in kaji’s! obvious togame bias i’m sorry (but i’m also not)

suo hayato ✶ bookstore date

you saw the idea of a bookstore scavenger hunt date and it was too cute to resist. with your list in hand, you and suo make your way to your favorite neighborhood bookstore. the old lady who runs it greets the two of you before attending to other customers. suo leans over your shoulder to look at the first item. “find a joke to make your partner laugh.”

you make your way to the joke book shelf, where suo picks up a paperback titled 100 dad jokes to make anyone bust a side! he flips through it and lands on a page. “which days are the strongest?”

“i don’t know, which ones?”

he stares at you dead in the eye as he answers, “saturday and sunday. the rest are weekdays.”

you can’t help but snort and roll your eyes, and suo says, “we’re counting that!” and you check it off the list because you don’t know if you can take another cheesy dad joke. 

you read out the next bullet point: “find a puzzle to conquer together.”

you find and complete a crossword puzzle in a magazine (you kept the magazine with you to buy later). your scavenger hunt list leads you through the travel section to talk about your dream vacation spots; the children’s section where you find your favorite childhood books; and the cookbook aisle where you find a recipe you both want to cook together. finally, the last task challenges you to find a poem that describes your partner.

you and suo split up in the poetry section for that. you thumb through pages and pages but nothing is able to capture just how you feel for suo. you find one finally just as he walks over to you, a poetry anthology in hand. you read to him kevin varrone’s “poem i wrote sitting across the table from you” and he recites joy harjo’s poem “for keeps.” 

your heart feels like its about to burst as he finishes and you take his hand in yours, bring it to your lips for a kiss. his gaze is soft as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead.

kiryu mitsuki ✶ arcade date

you pout as you watch the final pac-man score flash on the screen in big, pixelated numbers: 150 to 170. kiryu ruffles your hair affectionately. “we’re all tied up again,” he says. “two to two. what do you want for the tie-breaker?”

you peer around the arcade, glancing at the flashing screens of various games. there’s street fighter, space invaders, and other classics but it’s the air hockey table that catches your eye. you nod at it. “settle the score over good old-fashioned air hockey?”

“sounds good,” he says and you two make your way over to it.

just as you arrive, another couple shows up. “oh, shit,” the other guy says when he and his girlfriend approach at the same time. 

“sorry,” you say. “you guys can have it if you want.”

“no, no, you two came first,” the girlfriend says.

“it’s seriously fine!”

“no, really, it’s cool!”

you’re all at a standstill, neither party willing to takeover the table. instead, kiryu pipes up, “there are four pushers, why don’t we play on teams? a friendly competition.”

“i’m down!” the girl smiles and turns to her boyfriend. “what do you think?”

“i say we crush ‘em!”

“ooh, those are fighting words!” you call, looping you arm through kiryu’s. “ready to kick some ass, mitsuki?”

“always.”

the competition is fierce — the other couple is a lot better than you thought and you’re playing best of seven rounds. it’s the tie breaker and you narrowly manage to block a shot from the other guy. the puck bounces off the sides, hurtling across the board towards kiryu, who easily deflects it back. the volley goes back and forth and there are far too many times it almost sinks into their goal.

the other couple just blocks a shot again and the puck is heading for you. you hit it at the right angle and it just ekes past the defense, sliding into the goal to end the game 4 to 3. you congratulate each other on a good game and kiryu sighs, “i guess that settled the score between us too, huh?”

“what do you mean?”

“you made the winning goal.” he holds out the tickets he’s won. “let’s go get you a prize.”

umemiya hajime ✶ farmer’s market date

“whoa! these squash look so good! how did you grow them? did you plant them in may or june?” umemiya’s eyes are wide and bright as he listens intently to the farmer’s answer. you don’t think you’ve seen him this excited before, which is saying a lot given his enthusiasm for almost anything. 

she smiles warmly at the two of you, asking, “how many would you like?”

“three,” you reply, reaching for your wallet, but umemiya is holding out the money for her before you can even open your bag. 

the farmer shakes her head, gently pushing his hand back. “it’s on the house,” she says, plucking a packet of seeds from a small wooden crate at the edge of the stall. “and i’ll throw these in too, all free of charge!”

“oh, please, we insist,” you begin to protest but she just shakes her head again. 

“it’s been a long time since someone has been this curious about my produce,” she chuckles, “and i’m not about to make a lovely young couple pay for this! all i ask is that you two raise the squash lovingly.”

“we will, i promise,” umemiya says, taking the bag of squash from her. as you two continue through the farmer’s market, umemiya interlocks your fingers, using his other hand to motion to the other stalls you pass. 

he says, “we have tomatoes and cucumbers already but we need mushrooms! oh, those look good!” he already leading you to another vendor, surveying the cartons of wood-ear mushrooms. you raise a brow in amusement as he buys five cartons, humming a cheery song. 

“what’s all this for, again?”

he beams at you. “the summer barbeque!”

“ahh, right!” you smile. “the infamous summer barbeque.” you glance around the market, pointing out a stall selling sausages and other meats. “i think we’ll want to get some protein, then, since your boys eat enough for a hundred men.”

“babe, you’re a genius!”

hiragi toma ✶ cooking date

make dinner at home for date night, they said. it’ll be fun, they said. you think anyone who said this is a fun, stress-free date is a total liar.

“alright,” you sigh as you clean the frying pan of egg residue for the third time. “well, fourth time’s a charm!”

hiragi pops a stomach tablet out of its packaging and chomps down on it. “you said that the last two times.”

“this one’s going to be the one!” you chirp, reaching for the egg carton. “it has to be, since these are our last four eggs.”

hiragi lets out a long, heavy breath before slipping his apron back on. “okay, one more time.” 

hiragi throws a large tablespoon of butter down the pan, tilting the pan from side to side as the melting butter coats the surface. you crack the four eggs into the measuring cup and beat them with a whisk, tipping a little drop of it onto the butter. it sizzles promisingly and you and hiragi share a glance and nod, then you pour the eggs in.

you stir the eggs quickly with a pair of chopsticks, stopping as you see the omelet beginning to smooth. hiragi tilts the pan to let the uncooked egg mixture start to cook, doing his best to keep the curds even and level. 

the new portion of eggs scramble and you spoon your chicken rice mix into the center of the omlet, roughly shaping it into an football-shape as hiragi kills the heat. “good?” you ask him, motioning with your chopsticks at the pile of rice.

“good.” he lifts the pan. “hot pan, coming through!” he places it on the damp rag on your counter. you slide the omlet to the edge of the pan, carefully wrapping the rice with egg on both sides. hiragi’s already moved to get a plate and you hold your breath as he slides it carefully onto the plate.

success.

you let out collective sighs of relief. 

kaji ren ✶ concert date

you had spent hours in an online queue to get kaji tickets to see his favorite band for his birthday. luckily, the venue isn’t too long a train ride from makochi but when you severely undersold how many people can cram themselves into the venue.

kaji’s grip is firm as you weave your way through the crowd, pushing closer to the stage. some guy jostles you, grumbling under his breath, only to apologize when he faced kaji’s cold glare. your boyfriend manages to get the two of you to a decent spot near the front, just off right of the center. 

“what song are you most excited for?” you ask him, speaking as close to his ear as possible. the din around you is getting louder and the crowd more electrified, so you know it’s starting soon.

“wasted nights,” he replies easily. 

you hum, “that sounds familiar. it’s on the playlist you made for me, right?”

his mouth lifts into a small smile. “yeah, i think it’s number eleven or twelve.” just as he is about to add something, the lights around you begin to flash and pulse as the ambient music dies down. the band comes out to thunderous cheers as they take up their instruments. 

even though you don’t know the band well, you can’t help but jump and dance with the crowd, and you sing along to parts you can remember. kaji’s not one for rowdiness himself but he thrives off the energy from it — you can see it in the way he bobs his head in rhythm, the way he seems completely in his element. as the fourth songs in the set transitions into the fifth one, a slower ballad this time, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pecks your cheek. “thank you again,” he says. “i’m glad i’m here with you.”

you burrow further into his side, swaying to the music. “happy birthday, ren.” 

togame jo ✶ pottery class date

you tilt your head as the pottery wheel slows to a stop, examining the mug you were instructed to make. the rim is uneven and it’s leaning towards the left. togame’s isn’t any better given that his mug looks shorter and stouter than the rest of the class and the handle is fully too long. when the pottery teacher walks over, she offers a sweet smile. “beautiful work,” she says. “they both have a unique charm to them.”

“thanks, we totally meant to make them this way,” you say and she carefully brings them to the shelf where the other attendees’ mugs sit waiting for the kiln. 

oddly enough, seeing your mugs together makes them look somewhat normal, almost like an eclectic set, and when you glance at togame, he meets your eyes and you two try to suppress your laughter, togame’s broad shoulders shaking with effort. as you stand side by side, washing your hands in the classroom’s sink, togame smirks. he reaches over and claps a hand on your shoulder, leaving a large, damp terracotta-colored handprint on your shirt. 

you narrow your eyes and do the same, this time on the side of his own t-shirt. his hand touches your back and yours grazes his chest. you could probably do this forever but someone clears their throat behind you and you apologize as you actually finish cleaning up, stepping aside for another couple to wash themselves off. 

togame drapes an arm around your shoulder as you leave the building, saying, “i think i won, babe.” 

you know he’s talking about the stains all over both of your clothes but all you do is smirk at him. “i think i won, actually, since this is your shirt.”

he shrugs. “i wish i could be mad, but you look too good in my clothes to complain.”

bonus!

you return two weeks later when your “unique” mugs are primed for glazing. you two agreed to keep the final designs on your pottery a surprise so you sit as far away from each other with your backs turned. in the end, you two had similar ideas — he chose your favorite color as a background and painted on a pattern of your favorite flowers while you glazed your mug in orange and black with an attempt at a the lion face on the shishitoren jackets, albeit yours is way less threatening and much cuter. 

your mugs sit in each of your cabinets at your homes in all their uniquely beautiful glory, your new favorites — well-used and well-loved. one day, they’ll be together again, side-by-side in a cabinet that you two shared together.

[aangelinakii]

EIGHT BALL POOL.

— in your own little bubble.

summary : at a pub, you sit on the side with kory as your boyfriend, his brother and best friend play some pool. the catch? your skirt's a little short.

note : this is so silly but i saw an instagram reel 😭😭😭 of rhis exact moment and i was like this is so jason.... soooo here we are

note 2 : not explicitly said anywhere that the reader is fem or not but they do wear a skirt so.. take that as you will

nursing a drink by your hand on the wood, you sent another glance to the green fabric of the pool table, where jason, dick and roy were rounding through a game. jason and roy were on the same team — but only because dick wanted to prove he'd improved since the last time.

that time, a few months ago now, dick had managed to pot the black eight-ball on his first turn after breaking the triangle, and so roy laughed in his face and made him team with him so it wouldn't happen again.

so far, dick was doing alright for himself, but everyone was waiting for him to slip up. the light sheen of sweat along his hairline suggested perhaps he knew that.

at the same time, jason's gaze peered up from the other side of the game, shadows from the dim pub light dancing along his face. he sent a soft smile before looking back at where dick was practically stretching out along the green to make his shot.

"careful," roy teased as he rounded the table to where dick was positioned, sending a light smack to his backside. "you're gonna raise some unwanted attention."

dick only chuckled, and inched further. he was careful to pull back his arm, and precise when he snapped it forward, sending a satisfying click to echo through the room.

the white ball rolled towards some solids — his team this round — and managed to knock them forward, but not close enough to any nets, and dick scowled, standing back up to his full height.

the end of his cue nicked the ground as he stepped back. "you distracted me."

smug smile coming up on his lips, roy let out a laugh. "more like you distracted me."

as jason eyed the table for the best place to hit from, dick travelled back to where you and kory sat off at a small bench in the corner. he tucked his cue under his arm and lifted his golden drink to his lips.

kory was saying something to dick under her breath, which seemed to cause him to choke on his pint; your own attention was on your boyfriend, curious as to what his next movements will be. when on the pool table, jason's a force to be reckoned with, but tonight dick actually making it difficult.

a bunch of solid-coloured balls were surrounding the white one, and, no matter where he moved around the table, he couldn't seem to get a clear shot of a stripe.

from beside you, kory hummed a deep honey laugh as you imagine dick returned the sweet nothing, and her eyelids flutter shut as he leant forward to press a soft kiss to her skin, glowing in the lamp light.

click!

jason gave a groan and stepped away from the table, laying his cue down on the edge.

"big bird gets two goes," roy piped up again, his own cue perched along his shoulders, hands limp as they rest upon the wood. "hope you're not crumbling under the pressure," he added, turning to jason as dick began to make his rounds for the best angle to shoot.

teeth chewing absently at his bottom lip, jason stood with his hands firm on his hips, dark eyebrows furrowed as he watched dick take his first turn. "no— how was i supposed to even go anywhere?" he all but whined, gesturing at the table, where dick was failing to hide a grin as he levelled up his next shot. "he's eating us up!"

sighing heavily, roy diverted his attention back to where dick's ball knocked into the wall, but not hitting any of the other balls along the way, and his pout lightened. "great! we're back in the game!"

though not anything he'd actually done to earn another two goes, jason's expression illuminated right away, and he sent a strong clap on his brother's back as he moved past him.

"i'm gonna turn my back for one second, roy, and you better get two stripes in by the time i'm back," he spoke, tone much too serious for a game of pool in the back of a bar — but roy had a toothpick jutting from his bottom lip and an arm extended in an attempt for a first go, so didn't respond.

as jason approached you and kory at your own little table, his fingers dipped below the hem of his hoodie, curling beneath the fabric. his voice remained casual, despite the end of his t-shirt beneath riding up (and your inability to look away, poor thing), as he spoke to his brother's girlfriend. "you sure he hasn't been coming here on his days off?"

hair ruffled when he re-emerged from his removed hoodie, jason folded the shirt once and edged closer to where you sat, though kory was none the wiser.

she merely brought her straw to her lips and looked away. "i got ten bucks not to tell."

although not an answer, it was more than enough one for jason, and his lips curled up, that soft boyish laugh of his shining through. and he looked up at you.

goosebumps rippled along your bare legs, from up on the base of your thighs, down your shins — just with a glance.

"you okay? enjoying yourself?"

and you'd thought his voice calm speaking to kory. with you it was just different. caring, concerned, considerate. soft eyes; not just looking on and having small talk, but really questioning, peering past whatever answer you gave him, looking into the soft twitch of the corner of your lip, catching onto the crease in your brow, barely there. but he would still catch it.

with a nod, you instinctively leaned toward him. "yeah, i'm great, just getting a bit tired, is all."

his smile faltered as he ran his eyes over you once more — it wasn't into a frown, but just something soft and neutral, as if acting as though his next action wouldn't cause your heart to swell deep beneath your ribs.

leaning forward quickly, almost with chaste, jason pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your head, running a hand over where he'd planted a seed of adoration. at the same time, he draped his half-folded hoodie over your lap, an action so well-timed you'd almost not noticed.

he pulled away, and you were ready to watch him saunter back to the game, where you could see dick having his turn past jason's broad shoulders. but his pale green irises glanced down, and he edged forward again, calloused fingertips brushing against the sliver of skin left seen.

your eyes moved between the careful action of his fingers tucking the hoodie softly over your thighs, the warmth from the fabric seeping into your flesh, and the softness of his eyelashes fluttering in concentration, his lips thinning and scrunching to the side until he decided his hoodie was just where it should be.

when he looked up again, that smile was back: light at his eyes, something running through those fields of green that you wished to chase — but not here — creases at the corners that weren't quite deep enough to be dimples, but etched into his skin like a pen to paper. without thinking about it, your mouth reciprocated; until the pool game in the back faded away, until kory's presence dissipated, until it was two lovers beaming back at each other, until—

"jace!" the voice of one roy harper rang from the pool table. "stop being ushy gushy and get over here! i got those two shots in you asked for."

roy's disruption didn't perturb jason's expression of contentment, but it did snap you out of your own world.

one last time, jason leaned in and ran another hand over your head. "after this game finishes, 'kay? then we can get going."

with another nod, you watched as jason half-jogged back to the table and take the cue roy was holding out for him, void of your boyfriend's presence, but his body heat still warming your legs.

absently, your fingers drifted to the soft fabric of the hoodie placed over your thighs.

perhaps it would be worth the wait to go home.