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grossgeck · 3 years ago

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OK SO HDFHDJ

Someone wrote and submitted to me this really damn good story involving a rather,,,bloated and gassy Sp/amt/on and Im just IN LOVE with it. And with their permission I decided I would post it here. The writer wishes to remain anonymous so thats why I’m just copying and pasting it instead btw.

That being all said, enjoy~

it was cute, in a way. the way his breath shuddered under the warmth of your palms sliding over the expanse of his stomach. he was always putty for contact, melting under your touch, stuttering out sounds like a broken radio all because of your attention. it was adorable, it had you wanting to shower him with more and more, to grope and touch every bit of him you could reach, drink in those broken, begging moans for more.

now, it was just a tad different.

you loved to spoil spa/mtön, to smother him with attention, to feed him the warm meals he's been so deprived of for years now. he deserved it, every moment of it, and no matter how much he tried to humble himself you would just keep going. it was this need that led to tonight - a while ago, he mentioned a special little place he used to love to eat out at, though it was a ways away and ‘far beyond him’, as he described. he reminisced on the food there, on the creamiest pasta he's ever had, the homemade apple pie that flooded him with warmth from head to toe, the milkshakes that filled him better than any other. spa/mtön talked of it like it was heaven sent, though never made any move or implication that he would go back, brushing it off as a luxury from his glory days. you, on the other hand, soaked in every detail, memorizing what he spoke of and the name.

for a guy who knew you adored to spoil him, he was sure oblivious on what rich information he’d just given you.

tonight, after you got off work, you came home with takeout bags and drinks in hand. usually, you liked to try and cook with him, help guide spa/mtön through the process and watch him fluster when you held his hands to demonstrate a technique. however, there’d been plenty of times when you’d get off work later than usual or just plain tired, so coming home with takeout wasn't unusual. it wasn't until he saw the logo on the bag that he caught on, wide eyed and somehow surprised you’d remembered his rambling from weeks ago. you hushed out his glimpses of guilt over you going out of your way for somewhat higher end food and simply sat his food in front of him, insisting that him eating was more than enough to make up for splurging a bit. luckily, it took little back and forth before spa/mtön finally dug in, the nostalgic taste of rich alfredo on his tongue quieting him down to content hums and mumbled commentary on how he’d missed this.

over the course of eating, you noticed he had started to slow down a bit. he went through his pasta quick, especially for a man of his size, and only started to take more time when he cracked open his box containing his slice of still warm apple pie. spa/mtön was clearly still enjoying it all, but it didn't take long for you to realize that you had maybe gotten him a tad too much, so eager to get him all the food he’d specifically mentioned you failed to consider the likelihood of him ever actually eating all of these in one sitting. nevertheless, he trucked on, even as his bites slowed and his chewing grew labored. the man was running out of room for it all, but never spoke up about it, only speaking to make conversation and continuously thank you for it all. reasonably, you should’ve stopped him when you saw the slow down, tell him you could just save it for later, but part of you was also… curious, to see when he’d actually stop himself.

your answer was ‘when he’d cleared his portion’, even down to drinking his milkshake until the cup was empty.

once you’d tossed all the boxes and threw your utensils in the sink, you sat with spa/mtön on the couch for a movie, a random one that was playing on some channel. it didn't take long for his stomach to start audibly protesting his massive intake, angry gurgles from an overfull gut filled to the brink with heavy foods. you tried to not mention it, save him face as you knew full well how he would most likely be embarrassed for such sounds. it wasn't until he started moaning in discomfort that you finally spoke up, asking him if he was alright. he tried to lie and deny it, but was cut off by a thundering gurgle that cramped him inwards, forcing him to admit he had ‘maybe overdone it’, giving himself a stomach ache in the pursuit of delicious food. never one to let him suffer, you quickly offered him comfort, asking if he wanted a belly rub to help soothe his overworked gut. spa/mtön was clearly hesitant, pride and shame holding his tongue back from accepting, but a whimper of pain had him giving in, allowing you to gently lay him across your legs for easy access.

you quickly forgot about the movie playing in exchange for assisting him, rubbing your warm hand in soothing circles over his firm stomach. you relished in his content sighs, face red as he was pampered for accidently overeating of all things. his stomach continued to churn angrily under your attention, offering barely any give to sink into, skin taut over the firm mass of a meal sitting inside him.

as they got louder and louder, bubbling under your hand, you barely noticed when he started to stir under you, legs squeezing shut and sweat beading on his face. you were quick to dismiss it as arousal, knowing how sensitive he was to touch, telling yourself that you’d attend to his need when his stomach settled a bit as to not upset it any more. this, however, was disproven when a loud, brassy sound blurted out of him.

you were plenty familiar with the many strange sounds the man was capable of as a part of his tic, but this was never one of them. at the outburst, you halted your movements, looking to him for explanation. what you got was spa/mtön covering his face, burning red under his hands. after a moment of silence (sans the bubbling still complaining under your stilled hand), he spoke up, quiet and shaky. it was a feeble apology, mumbling on about how all the food must've bloated him. in retrospect, everything he ate were triggers for gas, and how you only realized this now was beyond you.

see, you and him had already had a rather, intimate relationship, often spending nights praising him between kisses across his small body. however, you’d never fully expressed your fantasies, as it were. you were happy with what you had, and had your own reservations about expressing this particular one, a lingering shame in you about it. you figured he’d never be interested, such an act being far from the traditional sense of bedroom activities. but here you were, being confronted with the man you were actively having sex with apparently full of gas, quite literally dropped in your lap for whatever you pleased. it was somewhat of a conflict, your anxiety holding you from acting on it, but then it occurred to you - telling such an attention starved man you were actively being turned on by him gassing out your living room, especially when he was so mortified from letting one accidentally slip… well, it just might work out for both of you.

as spa/mtön continued to pour out apologies, you started to move your hand once more, even firmer now against the churning bloat. he squeaked out in surprise, stuttering out confusion, even peaking an eye at you from between nervous fingers. in response, you bowed down, pressing a chaste kiss to his complaining tummy, hand working in focused circles. you explained with your own sense of embarrassment about your feelings on it all, admitting how that lapse in control on his part had already bloomed a sense of wetness between your legs, sharing your years long attraction to gas of all things, even throwing in how you’ve thought of him in such similar situations more than once.

unsurprisingly, he didn't quite know how to respond, to which you halted your movements and asked if he wanted to stop this, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. to this, spa/mtön shakily revealed his face again from beneath his hands, putting on his selling smile, albeit nervous, and said he could never ‘disappoint his fans’. you chuckled at his wording, but after a bit of prying, you were able to confirm that that was supposed to be his way of saying ‘go right ahead’, which you did with glee.

this all led to where you were currently, now two handing his upset belly. you’d pulled up his shirt (technically, it was actually yours, but he liked to wear yours even when you’d gone shopping for the smallest shirts you could get him, but you’d never complain), exposing his round belly to you. spa/mtön was still hesitant, ingrained manners refusing to let himself go in front of you of all people, but the frequency of pleasured sounds escaping him loosened him bit by bit under such loving touch. he was beyond embarrassed to be doing this in front of you, but knowing it turned you on was so tempting, he wanted to give you anything in return for the affection you regularly showered him in, even if it was beyond what he had ever considered a sexual act.

it was as you pressed particularly harder down on a firm bubble that it relented under your pressure, forcing out another abrupt sound from his ass, spa/mtön’s body jolting in surprise from his own gassy emission.

“there you go.” you cooed at him, hands working harder to find those sweet spots. “don't hold back, darling, let it all out for me.”

he started panting under your adoring words, head swimming from the praise, but also a bit from the smell already beginning to creep up around the two of you. it was taboo, the stench he was releasing in front of you, but the nature of such an act… it was starting to affect him, too.

meanwhile, you’d found your treasure spots, pressing down gas bubble after gas bubble, loud gas sputtering from his backside as you worked his stomach. the more his tummy began to soften as his bloat was forced out, the more foul stench swarmed you. the combination of the horrid smell and blood rushing between your legs had your head swimming with arousal you’d only ever dreamed of before. you were well aware of how noisy spa/mtön’s mouth could be, but the volume his body was producing, alongside the pungence it brought, it had your arousal pulsing in tandem with your own heart, it was all so much.

the way a small, wiggling appendage had squirmed its way from its wet slit hadn't escaped you, curling around itself for contact as the relief of pressure turned to pleasure in his cloudy mind. it was adorable, and gave you an evil idea.

gently, so as to not upset his sensitive belly, you shifted spa/mtön off your lap, adjusting him now to lay with his back against the armrest. when met with a confused look, you just smiled, returned your hands to rubbing his still gurgling stomach, and leaned down to suck on the tip of his dick.

immediately he reacted, head thrown back and thighs shaking on either side of your head. as his dick squirmed happily in the heat of your mouth, he stumbled through his words, asking if you were positive you wanted your face down there between incomprehensible moans and pleasured static. you only bobbed your head lower, taking more of him in as you worked another bubble down, loud sputtering erupting right beneath your face. not only could you feel the faint rumble in the cushions beneath you, your position on his dick forced you to breathe through your nose, senses near immediately flooded with the grotesque smell of spa/mtön’s fermenting guts blasting you point blank. your legs squeezed together as you groaned from the arousal clouding your mind, the vibration even managing to distract him from the overwhelming embarrassment of having passed gas right in your face.

press by press, you forced more and more gas from him with greedy kneads of your hands, head swimming in the haze of arousal from it all, senses clouded out aside from the squirming heat in your mouth and heavy stench clogging your nose. meanwhile, spa/mtön was in a constant flip flop between the overwhelming shame from gassing up the entire room and the threat of cumming down your throat that he felt from head to toe. it was all so much, it was disgusting, it was the most turned on he's ever been, it was something he’d never conceived in all his life and it was lighting every nerve in him alight.

it was when you slid one hand off his finally calming stomach to press the pad of your thumb to his asshole, wet with the slick that had dripped down his taint, that he snapped. his hands clawed forward to grip your hair like a lifeline while he moaned out a cacophony of moans, thank you’s, your name, and warbled sounds like a dial-up. all the while, his dick pulsed in your mouth, his heartbeat on your tongue as he came partly down your throat, partly from the slit now drenching your chin. but on top of it all, the release overtaking his body curled him inwards, pressing the final push to his stomach. hot on the probing pad of your thumb, he let loose a final, wet sound emission, the sound and feeling of it making you cum untouched, hips shuttering as your legs shook from the force.

#eproctophilia #farting #eprocto #gassy #gassy Spa/mt/on fans come and get y'alls food #Im gonna be thinking about this all night now for real #seriously I can't get over how great and ho/t this isHFJKF

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zu-is-here · 3 years ago

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Hey Zu! Your comic looks amazing! Soooo colourful!!! So cooool!

How's the moving gone/going

Hi Gayfish! Awww thank you a lot!ヾ(≧∪≦*)ノ〃

It's a home stretch heheh ☆ Finally the Internet issue has been resolved so I'm ready to work from there! 〆(・∀・) Guess Koshka also feels the upcoming move, she's been restless lately (ówò) But today's a day off so I plan to devote more time to drawing while she's sleeping ♪

How was yesterday? How's your day going? ♡

UPD:

Your artwork with Luna and Celest is amazing! (*'▽'*) They're so cool and adorable at the same time <3 Such a nice pride drawing, you did great! ☆

Heheh hope so <3 Oh it's not a secret, I'm still struggling with Ccino's designs reference, almost two weeks later XD Gotta post today—

A carnival! *0* What's celebrated?? Not dumb at all <3 We rarely have carnivals in the literal sense of this word, more mass festivities and concerts ٩( ᐛ )و

Ohhh I can imagine these rides, hardly durable yet working steadily for oh so many years at the same time :D They have a certain charm <3 Poor your legs tho! (ó3ò) Was it fun at least? As for me, I prefer quieter but equally impressive ride like the Ferris wheel, though riding Bumper cars with friends is hilarious XD

True, even ice cream doesn't help in such weather (x3x) So it's better to save yourself with cold drinks indeed! What did you take? I usually take water but if there's a chance to drink some kind of lemonade like Dyushes or Tarragon, it's even better *^*

Oh my god— Where's it now? (°▽°) Same here tho! I open the window wide open but it doesn't help either cause the sun's shining right on me and there's no wind at alll _(:3 」∠)_ Luckily, there's no uninvited insects, though I remember how a palm-sized beetle flew inside last summer, that's when I was ready to move out. XD

Almost done! (*⁰▿⁰*) Congrats!! You two are doing such a hard work, it's gonna be awwwsome ☆ And good luck to you too too with drawing! Take your time╰(*´︶`*)╯

I haven't tried Terry's chocolate (seems like we don't have it here ;3;) but I have it in the list of things I'd love to try once I'm in UK! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)☆ Green apple is a classic <3

Oh I've been great! I've save loads of drafts with others works I haven't had time to read and reblog yet (since Fluffynightkiller week, could you imagine!) so I'll slowly sort them out ♪( ´▽｀) What about you? Again, thank you so much for always checking me! ♡

You already have the prompts for the next year?? \(//∇//)\ Wowie— I'm too excited to wait for so long! XD When are you planning to post them btw? I mean, how many weeks will we have? *^*

Hook-a-duck? Nooo what's this game about?? (・∀・) I don't remember winning a carnival games either xp What about you? (ﾟ∀ﾟ) Ohhh a parade must be spectacular! ☆

Awww I'm so happy you had a fun time! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)♡ Bumper car ride is a fenced space with a large number of "cars" on which you can drive and crash into other drivers, thereby pushing them and yourself xd

Frostino looks so sweet! *^* We call them just milkshakes xp Dyushes is a popular pear soda, slightly astringent and sweet <3

Phew! The spider tho,,, (；ﾞﾟ'ωﾟ') For real XD

It'd be an honor and pleasure for me╰(*´︶`*)╯

Someday! ☆ I wanna visit more significant places (*´꒳`*)

Thanks again! Looking forward to your new works <3

I'm really glad you liked them (๑>◡<๑)♡

Oh that's great! More time to prepare ;) Hope it'll be even bigger next year ☆

This game sounds easy yet fun! :D You're cool *^*

Most of insects are scary to me x) so I like to think of nice ones like ladybug or butterfly <3 What about you?

That's the point! The capitals attract but not many people talk about other equally interesting cities ☆ Like in France or Spain, or Japan, where it's worth going not to the capital but to Kyoto, there are many more beautiful and interesting places and sights there *^* And of course, I'd love to meet you in person too ♡ Perhaps even in Russia if you get ahead of me? :D

I saw this and I'm crying XD It's perfect! (the bodies are *chef kiss*)

(=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=)☆

Omg the daddy long legs! XD I'm sorry– don't get me wrong, I didn't even know they're called like that! Cause we just call them "haymakers" or "centipedes" but this is hilarious, guess I'll laugh every time I see them (≧∀≦)♡ But true, they're unpleasant in appearance, completely harmless tho, even a bit defenseless and fragile (ówò)

Ah I have \(//∇//)\ It's a truly amazing place, like a paradise! I've even seen a special box with caterpillar pupae where they're grown <3 When I was there as a child with my grandma, one butterfly sat down on her hat, like a blessing, and everyone around gasped in admiration for such a "decoration" (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)☆ What about you?

That would be amazing! (〃ω〃) Moscow really is worth visiting, but Saint Petersburg, Kaliningrad, Kazan, Yeysk... There are countless amazing places in my city alone! ♡ from Saint Isaac's Cathedral and the Winter Palace (the most famous ones) to Lakhta Center (one of the newest, the tallest building in Europe ★)

Hoo boi— XD

Wowie! Like a fairy tale came true (༶ૢ˃̵̑◡˂̵̑༶ૢ)

Good luck with your future family trip! ☆ And always welcome to Russia╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

#updated #ask #zu is happy

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louiserandom · 4 years ago

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Play Games with Me

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: E

A/N: Commission for the amazing @rookie-d💙💗 thank you so much! *hugs*

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi and fic commission info in the header!

Tobirama SenJERK has never had sex in his life, Madara types, as always brimming with spite when it comes to his least favorite person in town. Maybe on the planet.

Rereading the comment and satisfied that there aren’t any typos or any hint whatsoever at some kind of hidden affection (which isn’t there, never was and never will be, Madara reminds himself firmly), he hits ‘Comment.’

“Take that, you dumbass,” Madara mutters under his breath, and really, this could be classified as childish, were he not completely in the right to take vicious revenge upon the fucking asshole who dared refer to Madara as ‘so idiotic it’s pitifully adorable’ on his last stream. Hah! Like Tobirama isn’t the less intelligent one of the two of them; Madara has watched enough of his Uncharted 4 gameplay to note that Tobirama took twelve seconds longer than him to figure out arguably the most difficult puzzle in the game. And although Madara’s sub count doesn’t quite reflect his superior intellect compared to Senju’sーnot that he’s checked in a whileーit’s likely a testament to the viewers’ total lack of taste, if anything else.

(Two thousand, nine hundred and thirty four viewer’s, to be precise, according to this morning’s stats and minus the handful of Madara’s fake accounts that he created just in case to keep up with his chief competitor. Admittedly, it might be a tad annoying.)

A notification pipes up.

Hm, I wonder how you’d know that, MaddyGamerboy? Are you stalking me? I must admit, I’m flattered.

Madara sputters at the reply. At yet another butchering of his perfectly adequate nickname. The fucking nerve of the guyーand people fucking wonder why Madara hates his guts?

(Madara knows it doesn’t really help his case that he’s touched himself to fantasies of the younger Senju more times than he’d care to count, but hate-fucking a thing isn’t it? Hate-masturbation must be too, he supposes. Not the healthiest outlet for negative feelings, but it makes him feel good enough.)

(Heavenly, to be precise.)

I AM NOT, YOU SELF-OBSESSED DUMBASS, Madara types, simultaneously taking care of the half-a-dozen typos that appear of their own accord.

No.

Deep breath. Stop fingers from shaking. Think about something witty to say.

Pff, he writes, for lack of any better word to express his indignant huff, like I give a shit about you. You’re dumb.

It did sound much better in his head, but Madara has spent over a minute writing the comment already, and he doesn’t want to appear as if he’s thinking too hard on it.

He posts his answer, not dwelling too match on the number of likes on Tobirama’s comment far outnumbering the hundred Madara’s garnered. Again, Tobirama’s audience is clearly not the best judge of character.

“FUCK. YOU. SIDEWAYS, SENJU!” Madara shouts at the reply that follows, consisting only of the words:

Thanks for the sub btw.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Madara hisses. “Like eight fucking fake accounts do anything to boost your stats, I don’t even like all your videos from each one of them, you ass!”

I DID NOT SUB DONT BELIEVE HIM

I’m happy to have another loyal fan ;)

HE IS FUCKING LYEING!!!

With seemingly every single person in the comments raving about how it’s about time MadGamer69 and admitted he admires FlyingThunderGod’s skill, Madara has to consciously restrain himself from smashing his laptop against the wall.

“You can just tell him you like him, you know.”

Madara startles, almost stumbling to the floor when Hashirama returns with their drinks and quickly put-together snacks, always the one to rummage through Madara’s kitchen because Madara hardly cares what edible and inedible things existed there or what to do with themーthat’s Izuna’s job.

“I do not,” Madara snarls, as Hashirama flops next to him on the couch, “like that stupid clusterfuck you call a brother!”

“Madara!” Hashirama whines, with that ever-present pout on his face. “Be civil.”

“Yeah, when he returns the favor,” Madara glowers, grabbing a milkshake from Hashirama’s hand. “Did you forget that he fucking started it? Do I need to quote his “pitifully adorable how so much stupidity can fit in such a short man” again?” Madara can’t help flailing his arms a little, though far too conscious of this habit now since the Tobirama has started pointing it out. He makes up for it with what he hopes is a deadly enough glare. “Did no one in your family bother to teach him manners? Did you?”

Hashirama only sighs. “And did you forget,” he asks, “how before that you abused my invitation over to our place to hide his Golden Youtube Gamer Tablet?”

Madara groans. “It’s called a Gold Play Button. Idiot.”

“Now you’re insulting me,” Hashirama grumbles, “and who cares? The point is, you’d be upset too if he hid yours.”

“Youtubers care,” Madara says, “and also, that’s irrelevant, that was revenge for him making fun of my perfectly adequate gameplay.”

“To be fair, you were dying quite a lot in that playthrough...”

“He took twelve seconds longer to figure out that puzzle in the game!” Madara growls.

Hashirama rolls his eyes. “Well, of course, because that Yellow Flash guy was flirting and distracting him in the chat.”

Madara blanches. "That good-for-nothing pipsqueak was what?”

“See,” Hashirama drawls, “you are jealous. Why would you be jealous?”

“I-I’m not!”

“Madara, you are so far in denial, that as your best friend,” Hashirama says firmly, slapping a hand over Madara’s mouth before he can muster another protest, “I cannot stand by and watch you suffer. Anymore, that is, because this has reached a breaking point. So, please, for me, I am begging you, just try politely asking if maybe Tobirama would like to accompany you for coffee somewhere tomorrow? Maybe brunch? I mean, come on, I know you guys don’t hate each other anymore. Seriously, you guys seem like you enjoy arguments, and hey, who am I to judge how people express affection?”

“Affection?!” Madara shrieks, shoving Hashirama’s hand away.

“And please stop pretending you don’t have printed out screenshots of my brother’s videos hidden under your mattress because Izunaー”

“Is a fucking snooping rat!” Madara hisses.

Hashirama sighs. “If it helps you feel better, maybe Tobirama might possibly not feel extreme dislike towards you but actually the opposite,” he says, smiling nervously as Madara blanches.

Because... what?

He blinks, running Hashirama’s words through his mind again.

“And how would you know that?” he asks, suspicious. “I swear if you dared tell him anything about my possibly nonexistent feelingsー”

“Possibly?” Excitement starts bubbling in Hashirama’s eyes. “That’s progress!”

“Definitely nonexistent feelings, dammit!”

Hashirama, the asshole Madara calls best friend for some reason, giggles. “Don’t worry, I didn’t. I promise, stop glaring or I will start pouting,” he threatens, and Madara schools his expression back into a light scowl to avoid the infamous Senju pout.

Like a curse, memories of said pout curling Tobirama’s lips spring to mind, and Madara has to physically shake his head to banish those thoughts.

“Listen, the fact that we’re not as... aggressive as we used to be,” Madara says, “doesn’t mean we suddenly like each other.”

“Madara, you insist on coming along every time we hang out,” Hashirama points out.

“I like hanging out with you.”

“Yet every time we do,” Hashirama presses on, “you’re hyperfocused on bickering with Tobirama instead of talking about wholesome stuff with me. Did you even notice that I brought Mito with me the past few times and it was literally a double date?”

“Was not!” Madara shoves at Hashirama with his shoulder and stands up to pace, because there goes the tell-tale sweating of his hands, the fluttering in his chest and stomach and the memoriesーof him and Tobirama secretly filming the other on camera when they do stupid shit, their almost daily Best Playground Insult Contest that’s been memed half to death on Twitter, the one time they got separated from Hashirama and Izuna in Disneyland because they’d got caught in their arguments so much it devolved into discussing their favorite games and an actual conversation that had Madara’s insides tingling.

No.

No, no, no. If anything, they were just gradually becoming something not unlike friends. And Madara’s occasional fantasies behind closed doors were nothing but a means to a pleasant end.

Not. Feelings.

No matter how much he’s grown attached to the site of messy, white-gray hair that he knows is soft to the touch from all the times he’s tugged on it to irritate him. No matter how piercing Tobirama’s unique red eyes may look. No matter how objectively hot his recent workout routine video wasーand Madara knows he’d only watched it so many times because he wants to improve his own routine, right?

Right?

Madara groans. “Why are emotions so fucking confusing!” He slumps onto the floor and wraps his arms around his knees, hitting his head over and over again on his kneecaps because, “I don’t even know what I want from him, okay?”

There’s a brief silence before Hashirama joins him and keeps him from abusing his head further. “How about,” Hashirama suggests, rubbing a comforting hand on his back, “you just ask? Listen, he’s my brother. And you’re my best friend. You two fighting less and at least making an effort to get to know each other better?” Hashirama brings out the puppy dog eyes. “That would mean the world for me.”

Madara glances at him before looking away again, focusing on a random photo of the wall. One featuring Tobirama right after his university graduation with a wide smile on his face. Quite the adorable face, too, and the unprompted thought makes Madara want to descend into oblivion. Preferably forever.

“That’s difficult,” he says lamely.

“But not impossible,” Hashirama says, “and hey, it’s better than waiting for the Yellow Flash guy to actually make a move on Tobi and start occupying all of his time. He’s a really big fan.”

“Fuck Minato,” Madara scoffs, “the guy just showed up and is just shamelessly emulating Tobirama’s style. That’s dumb.”

“Dumber than you claim Tobi is?” Hashirama prompts.

Madara thinks about it. “You know what? Yes.”

“As I saidーprogress!”

Madara can never go through with his impulses to punch his well-meaning best friend, and so grabs the nearest pillow from the couch and smashes it into Hashirama’s face to shut him up.

Tobirama returns home only to find Hashirama and Madara standing by the front door, frowning as they watched something that sounded like a tsunami of some kind.

“Listen, it’s gotta be one of those black holes or something twisting that vortex. Look how stuff disappears right into it!” is his brother talking, and Tobirama is already heaving a frustrated sigh.

Please don’t tell me you think there’s a black hole on Earth.

“There’s no black holes on Earth, idiot! The nearest one is way off, like near Pluto or something,” Madara says.

Ah. Even better. Tobirama chuckles under his breath, crosses his arms and leans against the wall, observing the two idiots he knows and loves.

He mentally kicks himself.

Well, one of them, he loves. Of course he loves his brother.

The other is... complicated.

“And besides, that could just be the Loch Ness monster or a cthulhu or something. See how dark the water is?”

“Or maybe,” Tobirama says, making them both jump, “it’s a natural phenomenon that’s a tad too difficult for both your brain cells to comprehend? I’m happy to explain though.”

“I’m happy to see you fuck yourself,” Madara greets him his usual way, scowling despite the exceptionally conspicuous blush painting his cheeks.

The contrast never fails to make Tobirama’s heart beat faster. He hates himself for it.

“Mm, Madara,” Tobirama teases, “not in front of my brother.”

As expected, Madara starts spluttering, and Tobirama is left wondering again how he avoids making a total fool of himself in each and every one of his videos. It seems Madara saves most of his flailing for the comment section.

“You,” Madara snarls, pointing Tobirama’s way, “are an asshole, Senju, but spending time with the better part of society might do you some good. So see you at brunch tomorrow and do not be late.”

And with that, Madara gives Hashirama a cursory wave and stalks off, leaving Tobirama frozen on the spot.

Did Madara just?..

Tobirama blinks, swallowing heavily as he feels his throat running dry and his heart rate pick up.

No fucking way.

He must have imagined it. Through his stupor of trying to figure out what the hell just took place, Tobirama vaguely registers Hashirama’s facepalm.

“Sorry for that,” Tobirama hears his brother speak through the rush in his ears. “He meant, uh, will you please join him for brunch? Tomorrow at 11 am, Eggspectation?”

Tobirama blinks harder.

“I,” he starts, “I don’t... Did you blackmail Madara into asking me out?”

Hashirama looks scandalized. “What? No!”

“Did Madara just ask me out?”

“Well, yes, Tobi.” Hashirama chuckles nervously. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

Tobirama glares. “The idiot’s wake up text to me today was literally a collection of trashy limerick poems about how much I suck. Sorry if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You,” Hashirama says, wincing as a long-suffering expression settles on his face, “you guys send wake up texts to each other?”

A moment of awkward silence hangs in the air.

“Sometimes,” Tobirama says, defensive, although the damage is already done.

“And you’re still not going out? Tobirama, you do realize he’s in love with you, right?”

“Don’t say things like that, Anija!” Tobirama snaps, hoping the dim lighting in the corridor conceals the blush he can feel heating up his cheeks. Fuck. Now he’s turning Madara. “Yet, I mean.”

“I’ll save the celebrations until after your date then!” Hashirama sing-songs like the idiot he is.

Tobirama resigns to his fate. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’ll thank me for this.”

“If it goes well,” Tobirama glowers though it’s ineffective, really, against his brother’s bubbling positivity, and the sheer awe still coursing through him from Madara asking him out on a fucking date is actually enough to make Tobirama want to hug him. He refrains. "Now, thanks, Anija, but I have work things to attend to.”

“Sure! Just don’t forget, 11ー”

“Eleven eggs and uh, no expectations, got it.”

“Wait, Tobi, noー”

With no time to waste, naturally, Tobirama bolts into their apartment and straight to his room to choose an appropriate outfit. And to mentally prepare himself for something he’s almost given up hoping for.

Tobirama cannotーwill notーmess this up.

Tobirama makes sure to arrive about ten minutes early. Not because he’s worried or nervous, of course; maybe just a little, but mostly just to get his bearings beforeーfinallyーa date with Madara goddamn Uchiha.

Madara, who’s been Tobirama’s stupid crush since high school, and just as in love with gaming as he is, only that didn’t turn out to be such a great bonding point between them, as Tobirama had hopedーbefore he actually got to know his Anija’s best friend.

Madara, who seemed to dislike Tobirama at first sight and only grew to hate him more over the years as they both found more joy in arguing than they did in talking.

Madara, who, despite this, blushes every rare time Tobirama genuinely smiles at him or drops a suggestive joke, who has an arguably unhealthy obsession with Tobirama’s ass which he always ogles when he thinks no one is looking.

Madara, whose plastered ass Tobirama had to drag home the other week, amid drunken speeches about capitalist injustice, some wacky conspiracy behind the disappearance of the dodo bird and... something quite interesting.

“Listen, Senju,” Madara was slurring against Tobirama’s shoulder, as the latter cursed every single nonexistent god that Hashirama had chosen that fucking day to go on a road trip with Mito, Toka and Izuna, leaving Tobirama in charge of this walking trash fire of a man. “Listen. Tobira... Tobi. Tobirama. You’re so hot.”

The words almost made Tobirama stumble.

“What, Uchiha?”

“And cute... So pretty, too, I wish you could see that...” Madara went on babbling. “I think you do. But still. Wish you could see me like I do. I mean see you. Like I do...”

“Tobira, you’re just, you’re unfair...”

“I hate you and I like you then I love you and I hate you again, why you’reー” A hiccup. “How do you exist...”

“I just want to hold hands and just... walk and talk and be together and...”

Tobirama watched in ever mounting confusion as Madara leaned completely into him, humming as he hugged Tobirama tightly and said,

“Is that too fucking much to ask...”

Tobirama stood, shell-shocked, with Madara whispering impossible nonsense in his arms, wondering if he was in a dream.

The next day saw Madara returning to his usual self insulting Tobirama at every goddamn opportunity, which left Tobirama... confused.

Confused, and conflicted, and sleepless for the rest of the night, thoughts held captive by the utter idiot whose ultimate goal seems to be to ruin Tobirama’s life.

It’s maddening.

Of course, he’d suspected that Madara’s flailing and constant blushing interspersed with screams and insults (the most creative ones, reserved only for Tobirama, it seemed) were signs of not so much dislike, as the complete opposite. Of course, Tobirama had tried flirting with Madara, just bordering right there on the edge of suggestive, only for his advances to be seen as patronizing or condescending. And hearing Madara speak to him this way, in a drunken stupor no less, when he’d probably have no causeーor abilityーto lie is...

Maddening. Annoying. Exhilarating. A tantalizing opportunity. Maybe a glimmer of hope.

And of course, Tobirama told his brother; they never really had any secrets between them. And of fucking course Hashirama had a hand in convincing Madara to change his usual behavior, which is nice and all, but doesn’t help the nerves wracking through Tobirama’s body, nor the crippling fear that he’s going to somehow screw this up.

But no. Deep breath. Exhale. And remember Anija’s advice.

Tobirama takes the last turn before he’s faced with their meeting place, surprised to find Madara already there.

Even though he’s usually always late. Sitting inside by the window, looking out onto the street with a slight frown, Madara keeps worrying his bottom lip and, apparently, trying to break a spoon.

It paints an endearing picture. Tobirama sighs, feeling a smile tugging at his lips.

This man...

Tobirama comes in, approaching him slowly, allowing himself a few moments to watch Madara needlessly fix his wild mane of hair, appraise his reflection in the spoon, try out several fake-looking smiles before settling on a scowl and going back to his nervous tics again. With another sigh, Tobirama takes the few steps left to his date, repeating Hashirama’s advice over and over in his head.

Just be yourselfーand have fun!

Just a few minutes into their date, it becomes obvious that Madara didn’t get the same advice from Hashirama.

Or just didn’t get the advice, period.

With their orders made and beverages served, they’re left to wallow in a less than comfortable silence, broken only by Madara’s... uncharacteristic attempts at conversation.

“Are you enjoying the tea?” Madara asks Tobirama with all of the softness of a brick wall.

Tobirama isn’t used to the man being eloquent, much less polite, and he has yet to have at least one conversation with Madara that doesn’t devolve into a pissing contest. So theoretically, Tobirama should be enjoying this.

But it only seems wrong. Annoying. Not them.

He tries to recall if, maybe, their first meeting was an adequate exchange? Tobirama thinks to the day Hashirama first introduced them. Only flashes of spilled milkshakes and jibes at intelligence run through his mind, and of course that was the very first time he’d called Madara an idiot pipsqueak, receiving quite the lame ‘stuck-up dandelion’ in turn.

Unsurprising.

“Yes,” Tobirama says, taking another sip as he eyes Madara struggling on the other side of the table. Struggling to do what is the question: either sit straight, or assume a more relaxed posture, or reach towards his own drink, or avoid eye contact, even though he keeps glancing his way when he thinks Tobirama won’t notice. Tobirama does, every time, and that just makes the whole ordeal more awkward. “Nice weather,” Tobirama says, with about as much enthusiasm.

If Madara wants to play this stupid game, Tobirama will indulge. Just to see how long it takes for Madara to break and return to his blustering status quo.

“Yeah...” Madara clears his throat, eye twitching as he manages to hold Tobirama’s gaze for a commendable three seconds this time. “Hate the sun. I meanーI mean I love the sun. Ugh. It just, uh. Burns.”

It’s both saddening and funny to see Madara visibly deflate.

“Skin too sensitive, huh?” Tobirama starts small. “Just like your ego?”

Madara’s jaw clenches and his nervous look shifts into a glare before he looks away again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself down before he flashes an unnaturally cheery smile.

“Heh, nice,” Madara grits through his teeth, “nice joke, Senju.”

Tobirama raises his eyebrow as Madara flinches at his own words.

“I’m glad you appreciate my sense of humor,” Tobirama says, barely reining in a smirk.

“Sure! You’reーyou’re funny.”

“And?”

“And what?” Madara frowns, confused.

“And what else am I?” Tobirama demands, feigning thoughtfulness. “A recent assessment of yours was that I look and act like a self-obsessed dumbass, I think.”

“No-no,” Madara blurts out, looking much a cornered animal, “I think you... you are... you look not at all so terrible today?” he finishes with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

Tobirama wants to scream from the agony.

No. This won’t do, otherwise he might as well leave.

“Can you just call me a stuck-up asshole like you always do or recite one of those horrible limerick disses?” he demands.

Madara actually yelps. “What? No! I mean, wait.” He narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’re acting weird.”

“We’re on a date, if you were too stupーpreoccupied to get my invitation, Senju,” Madara says, jaw still clenched as he doubtless refrains from swearing, “and I’m being civil!”

That’s the advice he must have gotten from Anija, Tobirama thinks.

What a tragedy.

“Madara,” Tobirama implores, leaning his eyebrows on the table and meeting Uchiha’s gaze, “have you considered thatーI prefer it when you aren’t?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, thank fuck!” Madara slams his hands on the table, heaving a massive sigh as Tobirama laughs in relief. “I was ready to fucking die, you piece of shit! How does your brother stay so fucking kind all the time, it’s fucking torture!”

Tobirama rolls his eyes. “It’s a talent, naturally. Just like your talent at embarrassing yourself and mine at being awesome.”

“You’ve got it a little backwards, Senju,” Madara sneers, “but it’s excusable, given your level of intellect.”

“Twice as high as yours?” Tobirama parries.

“Twice as little.”

“That’s more like it,” Tobirama says, grinning despite himself, “I thought you were a decoy or something. You’ve told me to fuck off every single day since we first met and this was getting worrisome.”

Madara’s laugh is sudden, melodic, sending those irritating tingling sensations through Tobirama’s body. He makes an effort to appear outwardly calm.

“Maybe because you managed to piss me the fuck off every day that I’ve known you,” Madara scoffs, “but you’re all right sometimes. I guess.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance even as he keeps nervously fixing and running his fingers through his hair.

A stupid, tantalizing habit. Tobirama imagines carding his own hands through the messy locks, tugging Madara’s head back toー

He forcefully aborts the thought process before he’s faced with a problem of the harder kind. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll try to strangle each other when we game together.”

“We’re playing today?” Madara asks.

Tobirama tilts his head to the side.

“You haven’t planned one gaming session after our date?”

“Um,” Madara says, blinking rapidly, “why should I be the one with the plan?”

“Because you’re the one who invited me,” Tobirama deadpans. And anyway, Madara is always the one to egg Tobirama on to gaming, which would usually only ever lead to semi-playful brawls and their fighting making Hashirama cry.

And without Anija there to assault them with his antics, Tobirama wonders what their play-fighting might lead to... and promptly shuts off those thoughts again. Control, dammit.

Madara opens his mouth, then closes it, sighs explosively and says, “All right, fair enough. But you’re the strategy pro here. And my thing is RPGs.” He smirks. “I can improvise.”

And Madara does, in fact, improvise, leading Tobirama on what he hopes is a satisfying daylong adventure. It’s strange, walking by themselves around Konoha without anyone else with them (not that they’ve taken to ignoring Hashirama and Mito anyway on their most recent group outings), free to talk about and do anything they want. Strange and perfect, the way Tobirama switches between poorly concealed bashfulness and his usual confidence, as their jokes and jibes at each other, every little prank they pull never fails to make them both laugh.

It’s perfect.

Just like Tobirama’s smile is, directed at him without any pretenses as they set off to explore the lush, gigantic forest surrounding the city, rumored to be home to mythical, many-tailed creatures. And that’s followed by their forays into an abandoned chemistry lab; the scares they get in the woods from intermittent growls coming from the shadows are nothing compared to the horror Madara feels when Tobirama insists on touching broken vials and experimental equipment, and going through doors with dilapidated ‘DANGER. CHEMICAL HAZARD’ signs.

“If we’re infected by some deadly and insidious poison,” Madara whispers as they explore the lab’s tunnels, “I’m going to fucking kill you before it does. Painfully.”

“It’s for science,” Tobirama says. “And trust me. We’re safe. I got a degree in this.”

“Youtube is practically your full-time job at this point. What the fuck else do you need?”

“The satisfaction of discovering something cool?”

“And deadly.”

"Unlikely.”

Madara groans, cursing his life, as well as his inability to say no to hisーapparentlyーnew boyfriend.

The boyfriend who’s just discovered another hidden pathway to a deeper level and has scurried off towards it like an excited five-year-old. Despite himself, despite his intent to keep complaining, Madara can’t hold back the grin tugging at his lips.

Still perfect.

Just like their lunch date which turns into a picnic by the Naka river, where Madara remembers meeting Hashirama way back when. Just like the first time Tobirama grasps his hand, fingers gently massaging it as he laughs at Madara stuttering to a stop from whatever rant he’d been on, heart in his throat and mind suddenly focused on whether his palms are too sweaty or not.

His mind goes blank. Eyes focus only on the man in front of him, whom he yearns to strangle just as often as he craves to tackle him onto any surface and ruin him completely. And it should feel wrong, it should be, only Madara hasn’t quite felt so right about anything in a long time, and with every minute they spend with their familiar bickering, just with a layer of something more behind it this time, it becomes harder and harder to deny how good being near Tobirama makes him feel. Happy. Complete.

Madara winces. Oh, gods. He’s waxing poetic now.

All worries about that fly out the window when Tobirama, without so much as a word of warning, leans in and draws Madara by his collar into a kiss.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t spring up to awaken alone in his bed like he always does, after dreams like these.

And, unsurprisingly, it turns out to be Madara’s best kiss to date.

Maybe he’s exaggerating, if just because he’s been craving this so damn much. Tobirama’s lips are hot, gentle, and welcoming against his, a curious tongue darting out to coax Madara’s lips open and deepen the kiss. The delightful drag of his tongue, his hands, rough and demanding on Madara’s chest, waist, thighsーit’s not long before he’s dizzy with it, barely holding back moans of pleasure for fear of sounding too desperate.

“Fuck,” Madara gasps as they pull away for breath, lips still touching as their eyes stay locked and he’s treated to Tobirama’s downright ravenous gaze. “That wasー”

Tobirama cuts him off with another kiss, then another, and it’s not long before they find themselves tangled in a mess of limbs and loose clothing. The hard ground presses against Madara’s back as Tobirama settles on top of him, ravaging Madara’s mouth with a passion that soon has his pants feeling too tight.

Fuck.

He groans, hips thrusting of their own accord and feeling Tobirama's own erection through the fabric.

Madara makes an immense effort to pull away, stifling a whine at the loss of contact.

“Bed,” he says, mortified at his own crudeness far too late after the word comes out. “Fuck, I meantー”

“Yes,” Tobirama growls, capturing Madara’s lips in another open-mouthed kiss before he hauls him up to start gathering their things. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours? Izuna,” Madara rasps, head too clouded to explain more in-depth, but Tobirama seems to understand.

“Anija shouldn’t be back for a while,” Tobirama says, a devastating grin on his face, “lots of time for us to play.”

Gods.

Madara scrambles to his feet fast enough to stumble, and for once, Tobirama has nothing to say about his clumsiness.

They all but crash through the front door, not even bothering to lock it as they rush through a cursory check to make sure Hashirama is out like he said he’d be.

“Fuck, thank the gods,” Tobirama sighs in relief before dragging Madara back into liplock.

Madara can’t hold back a moan this time, heat ratcheting up between them as he wraps his hands around Tobirama’s neck, pulling him closer as they stumble to the couch. Madara ends up straddling him just so that their cocks brush through too-rough clothing, kiss growing urgent and sloppy, as wandering hands touching every inch of uncovered skin.

Clothes fall away, leaving them both shirtless, and Madara needs a few moments to take in the miles of pale skin, so soft to the touch, toned muscles rippling as Tobirama squirms under him, gasps and groans escaping his lips in answer to every one of Madara’s touches. He leans in to mouth Tobirama’s neck, sucking bruising kisses onto the soft skin there pleasure flaring at the base of his stomach each time Tobirama moans and arches against him.

“You’re so sensitive,” Madara whispers, with a hint of incredulity. “That’s... fuck.”

“Yeah,” Tobirama rasps, eyes unfocused, “because... just get on with it.”

“If I knew this is what it took to finally get you to shut up,” Madara chuckles, “I would have tried this a long time ago.”

If he weren’t so sure Tobirama genuinely despised him. Butー

“I fucking wished you would!” Tobirama snaps, though the irritation rings hollow with the breathless tone.

Madara blinks in shock.

“You did?” Madara asks, moving lower to lap at Tobirama’s nipple, sucking the hardened nub into his mouth and eliciting another delicious whimper. “You thought about this? About my hands on you, touching you?”

“Yes!” The desperation in his tone only adds to Madara’s mounting confidence, one that he so rarely ever feels in Tobirama’s presence.

“My mouth on your cock,” he continues, heart hammering against his ribs as he trails kisses lower and lower, “would you like that? While I finger you, getting you ready to take me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Tobirama’s hips jerk, making them both moan at the friction.

“Off,” Madara grunts, tugging at Tobirama’s pants with one hand as the other works the belt off his own. They scramble, a bit awkwardly, until they’re both naked and sprawled on top of each other, and Madara all but drools at the sight of Tobirama’s cock, hard and straining, beads of precum already leaking from the tip.

Perfect.

It’s tempting to just let go but Madara decides to take his time. Strokes Tobirama’s sides and chest, fingers his nipples, kisses every inch of skin he can reach, sucking bruises and biting slightly. He marvels at every little keen and groan he wrings from Tobirama, relishing how needy he grows with each second, how he moans Madara’s name, curses him and urges Madara to touch him, sliding his dick against his and huffing when Madara doesn’t do anything about it, before finally devolving into pleading.

Just what Madara’s been waiting for.

“Madara, please,” Tobirama’s whines, a soft, desperate sound that makes Madara groan in turn.

“Please what?” he asks, knowing he’s being a tease and enjoying the hell out of it.

Tobirama musters a pretty non-intimidating glare. “Just... fuck.”

“Tell me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that what you want?” Madara raises an eyebrow, making sure to wet his lips, letting his tongue gently graze the head of Tobirama’s cock. “I can bottom. I don’t mind.”

“Fuck!” Tobirama squeezes his eyes shut, heavy breathing interspersed with desperate whines. “Just... suck me off. Please. Now.”

“That’s it, Tobirama,” Madara drags out the syllables of his name, a smirk tugging at his lips, “when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?”

He wraps his lipsーfinallyーaround the head, licking at the salty fluid gathered there, ears ringing from the heady feel of Tobirama’s cock against his mouth, his hands tangling in Madara’s hair, the sounds slipping from Tobirama’s lips that are borderline fucking obscene. Madara takes a breath to brace himself and takes Tobirama a few inches deeper. His length is hot, stiff, and heavy in his mouth as Madara presses the flat of his tongue against the underside, sucking hard, wringing another delectable whimper. Tobirama’s thrusts up, cock hitting the back of his throat, and Madara chokes for a moment, his own dick jerking at the sensation.

“Madara,” Tobirama breathes, “Madara, gods, you feel amazing.”

The words send another rush of pleasure through him, and Madara takes himself in hand to release some of the unbearable tension, stroking himself slowly as he relaxes his throat and sinks down to take Tobirama to the base.

Tobirama’s moan is a sweet, drawn-out melody. One that Madara enjoys making louder and louder as he starts moving, setting a fast-paced rhythm, uncaring for how debauched he may look, drool leaking out of his mouth and coating Tobirama’s cock, throat constricting around it as he takes him deep, lets him stay there, tongue gliding along his shaft. Tobirama soon devolves into barely coherent pleading, until ‘please’, and ‘more’, and Madara’s name are the only words coming out of his mouth.

It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming, far too much. Madara gives up stroking himself, the pleasure ramping up far too quickly, too soon, though Tobirama isn’t doing much better. Madara draws his lips up along his length, lapping up more precum gathered at the head, even as Tobirama’s hips jerk again and the hand in Madara’s hair tightens, urging him back down.

“Madara, please,” Tobirama keens, “I need...”

Madara has a pretty good idea of what he needs. He swirls his tongue over the head, descending again until his nose is pressed against Tobirama’s stomach. Madara swallows around him once, twice, a third time before he feels Tobirama nudging at his shoulder in a warning he doesn’t pay heed to, starting to bob his head again, wrapping his fingers around the base of Tobirama’s cock, using both his mouth and hand to bring him to completion.

“Fuck, Madara, Iー”

Madara lets out a muffled groan once he feels cum spilling against his tongue, swallowing rapidly as Tobirama’s cock pulses, again and again, through an orgasm that has him writhing and and trembling underneath him, hands tightening in Madara’s hair enough to hurt with the kind of tantalizing pain that only adds to the pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good,” Tobirama pants, watching Madara through white lashes, eyes dark and hazy as another shudder runs through him, “fuckーI want...”

Madara releases him with a wet pop. “Want what, Tobirama?” he whispers, voice too hoarse for him to speak properly.

Tobirama grips his shoulders in lieu of an answer, directing Madara to turn around so his back is pressed against his chest.

Then Tobirama’s hand wraps around his cock andーoh.

Madara has pretty much forgotten about his own pleasure, too focused on not coming too soon and making sure Tobirama was enjoying himself.

“My turn,” Tobirama murmurs against his ear, tone still breathless but with a commanding edge to it now that makes Madara shiver, “and lemmeーlet me hear you, Madara.”

Gods. He groans just from the sound of Tobirama’s voice. The feel of his teeth nibbling at his earlobe, his hand setting a quick, harsh rhythm that builds up the pleasure to impossible degrees. Tobirama’s heated skin pressed against his back, his thighs, the fingers of his other hand carding through his hair with a gentleness that contrasts with his harshness before.

It’s too much.

“Go on, Madara.”

Tobirama’s fingers swiping at the precome gathering at the head of Madara’s cock, smearing it over his shaft. His voice, a muffled whisper coaxing Madara to let go, to come for him, to say Tobirama’s nameー

“Just like that, Madara,” Tobirama grunts, “louder for me, come on.”

Madara thrusts into his grip, all but fucking into Tobirama’s fist at this point, moans his name as the heat grows unbearable the closer he gets to release.

“To-bi-rama...” He comes with a broken groan slipping from his lips as cum spills all over his stomach and Tobirama’s hand, each pulse coming stronger than the last, leaving him dizzy and boneless in Tobirama’s arms for however long it takes for his orgasm to abate.

Feels like forever. Probably a lot less. Time does seem to slow down, though, both of them collapsing against each other onto the cushions, breathing raggedly and curling into each other as Madara turns to bury his head in the crook of Tobirama’s neck.

It still seems unreal. Too perfect. So right.

They lie there for a minutes, coming down from the high, limbs tangled and lazy kisses exchanged here and there. Tobirama looks so peaceful, like Madara’s never seen him before: eyes half-lidded, hair messier than ever, sticking in every direction, skin still flushed and marked, all over, with hickeys and teeth marks, the mere sight of which has Madara’s dick stirring in interest, recent orgasm or no.

“You know,” Madara says, hands running over Tobirama’s chest, barely grazing his still sensitive nipples and making him shiver, “if this is the game you want to play, I’m really not against binging it. The rest of the dayーweekend, if you want.” Madara presses a kiss to Tobirama’s neck. “Make the playthrough as thorough as possible.” To his collarbone. “Unlock all achievements and, uh,” Madara trails his hand along Tobirama’s chest to his groin, past his length and to his ass, "explore every location.”

“If that was some thinly veiled euphemism,” Tobirama says, barely holding in laughter, “for you wanting to fuck me sideways...” Madara holds Tobirama’s gaze as his fingers hover just over Tobirama’s hole. “Then Madara, for fuck’s sake, stop trying to be subtle and get to work.”

Madara barks out a laugh.

“Whatever you say, Tobirama.”

Madara dips his voice low and deep, like he’s noticed Tobirama loves, and relishes the whimper it earns him. Relishes the way Tobirama arches against him, looking for friction, how delectable he looks, ready and responsive, so eager for Madara’s touch.

He knows then and there that if it’s up to him, Madara will do anything to make this last.

#madatobi #tobimada #modern au #youtuber au #lou writes #idiots in love #madara is in denial (and thirsting)#tobirama is laughing (and equally thirsting) from the sidelines #fluff and smut #humor #meow

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amwritingmeta · 6 years ago

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14x15: It’s So Pretty and Pink

So in S13 I was mildly obsessed with this pattern, because I started seeing it everywhere, especially around Dean and Cas not just in S13, but throughout the series, where pink or hot pink or red and a shade of blue accompanies some of their more illuminating, turning point type of exchanges.

Of course, it’s not all the time, not in every single scene (though technically Cas is tied to blue quite literally since he wears the color around his neck and Dean is tied to red even through dialogue when he, in 13x16, stated that red is his color) but there was enough for it to peak my interest, especially when I was informed of the poncho moment and the ripple effect it sent through fandom when 10x05 first aired. *readying our ponchos for the purple*

Here’s the thing: pink for feminine and blue for masculine and purple for the moment when they finally come together in harmony is just as viable an interpretation and one I couldn’t help but make, aside from the lovely Destiel-related possibilities here, because the feminine/masculine thread has always been so strong throughout the series.

(to me Dean and Cas can’t be together before they’ve reached a point of internal balance) (so these two interpretations of the red/blue balancing act creating a gorgeous purple, to my mind, pretty much go hand in hand)

Look it, a band of pink and a band of blue with a band of purple in the middle is what?

The bisexual flag. *so pretty*

To me, when I first noticed the pattern, the color purple in the visual narrative began to signify balance between the pink and the blue. Or, as it also sometimes occurs, the red and the blue.

Purple in the visual narrative became, to me, a signifier for something meant to bring about balance or, at the very least, something that would challenge the status quo.

Purple is often linked to expositional characters, most starkly it has been linked to Amara, who arrives in a cloud of smoke with purple lightning, and who’s underlings often wear something purple.

Purple is also tied to Charlie and to Rowena, who have always been extreme mirrors of different sides to Dean, and used as fantastic exposition of his internal struggles, to varying extent and degree, of course.

There’s nothing in the show to actually confirm that this interpretation is right in any way, it’s simply a pattern I picked up on and ran with, and it’s interesting to me how often it occurs in moments related to truth or a character revealing their true nature or a monologue high-lighting a character’s inner truth (an inner truth that’s often hidden) (and these previous moments in the series have more often than not related themselves directly to Dean)

There’s a lot of pink in 14x15.

Like, a lot, right? A lot a lot.

And I just wanted to post a bit of wholesome appreciation for it, as well as touch on what I see as the possible significance of it, because in this episode I would say that all of it is tied to Cas, as if the narrative is trying to hit him over the head with what actually might save him from the Empty, rather than condemn him to an eternity of dreamless sleep, and his salvation is: happiness.

He’s keeping up the status quo because if he tries for more or dares to want more for himself, the possibility of happiness means that his Shadow aka the Empty will appear and snatch him away.

I wrote a while back about how I believe that if Cas becomes human this could (and, way I see it, should) constitute the happiest moment for his individual arc, even if he’s not even aware of it himself, and it would mean that his Shadow comes up empty handed *oh pun* because only angels belong in the Empty. (meaning that symbolically only Cas’ identity confusion can trap him in this proverbial eternal sleep mode)

Let’s dig -->

1. I Love You

Sunny, our narrative representative of kick-ass femininity, appears in pink, surrounded by the colour of warning, as green has a tendency to underline something amiss like a soft visual foreshadowing.

In this scene we also get a distraught couple saying goodbye, Sunny wanting Conrad to save himself and not live his life trapped within a world of her father’s making, while Conrad doesn’t want to leave without her, but she asks him to, and so he goes. Unfortunately, trying to leave causes his head to explode.

I mean, the interpretation closest at hand here, when looking at the bookend moment, where Conrad’s death brings Sunny to finally confront her father (who’s a chip off the old toxic masculinity block, to say the least), is that Sunny, bound by her sense of duty to her father, sets love free, but loses it anyway, because the only way for her to save Conrad isn’t to send him away and bereave herself of love, but to confront and stand up to her father’s control, freeing herself.

Interestingly, if Conrad hadn’t listened to Sunny and instead chosen to stay, rather than run away at her insistence, he wouldn’t have died. *tut*

2. Caution: Wet Floor

Cas is framed by pink and blue in this shot, while the floor is covered with yellow cautionary signs since the floor is wet where Conrad’s blood has been mopped up. Telling us what? That unless Cas gets his act together soon, he may very well be headed down a slippery slope and end up like Conrad, who took someone else’s instructions, no matter that they came from the person he loved, above following his own heart and got his brain splattered all over the ceiling because of it. *ho hum*

3. Treat Yourself

A very gorgeous, red coat, blue gloves, purple cupcakes, pink cupcakes. I mean, I’m not saying it’s exactly all that, but it is what it is, right? :)

The clear correlations between Cas and Felix the Snake also start very early, where Cas is continuously shown or offered food to eat and declines it. I’ll talk a bit more about this in another meta because I have thoughts, but Cas isn’t eating the food he’s offered in the episode, or drinking anything on offer, for that matter, because he’s not human, and Felix isn’t eating because he’s sad, which in and of itself is an interesting tie, given an episode so concerned with what will make our characters happy.

4. Have You Had Your Milkshake Today?

*reds and pinks and blues and cherries!*

Now, let’s take note. Sam gets a very white milkshake, while Cas gets the pink one, handed to him by our narrative representative of exactly what Cas needs to connect to within himself - his emotions - and then we get the rather mind-blowing, head-exploding line from Sunny when she states Everyone loves milkshakes.

And her eyes land on Cas -->

Who understands he’s meant to love milkshakes, but has this tiny, major problem of just not craving food. At all. And he looks at the pink, cherried milkshake like so -->

--> as though he barely knows what to do with it. *you suck the straw Cas*

And then, of course, he grabs it and smiles awkwardly and says Delicious, all the while not tasting it, because he doesn’t feel any inclination to, and what’s so remarkable about it is the scene which follows close on the heels of this one, strengthening the echo that resounded the moment Sunny claimed that everyone loves milkshakes.

Oh yes.

Everybody loves bacon.

Because what do we get with Jack and the non-eating Felix and the attempting to be helpful Dean?

We get -->

Kudos for the reaction-frown on Jack’s face that brings to mind a certain trench coated someone who does not eat anything.

Come on, Cas. You know you want to open yourself up and feel more, feel everything.

Stop. Suppressing. What. You. Want. For. Yourself.

Find some way to enjoy the damn milkshake! :P

(the cherry makes this milkshake feel wholly related to sex and popping the cherry and Dean’s classic Cherry Pie Dream Sequence and could be seen as an underlining for how Cas is suppressing anything even resembling desire at the moment) (but that’s if you wanna go there) (moving on)

4. Undercover Romance

*amazing house* Reminder: this is where Conrad stayed.

If we look at Conrad as representative of Cas’ suppression and Cas’ compliance with his Shadow’s threats, Cas avoiding happiness out of fear for the looming consequences, which is reflected in how Conrad runs away from the situation rather than sticking it out and staying by Sunny’s side, then this house should scream pink.

If Cas can’t a way to stop suppressing his inner kick-ass femininity and dare to be happy, he will die, even if it’s only figuratively. What’s life when it’s completely lacking happiness? He’s walking around like a damn zombie atm.

It’s like the narrative wants him to open his eyes already.

Aw Cas.

Ah, yes, here comes the hat-wearer in a tan coat with his lady-love in pink, and red, and tan. This as foreshadowing for how Fitzmartin and Yockey really went all in with highlighting the idea of Cas in the visual narrative fitting seamlessly into this era, with his suit and trench coat, but more on that in another post.

The steamy love letter is written on pink paper, which Cas reads while holding another letter that’s hot pink and yet another one that’s purple while his blue tie adds the blue. Kinda neat! Also, that steamy love letter deserves a round of applause, because anything that puts words like that in Cas’ mouth should be lauded.

The fact that Cas reads it perfunctorily is also extremely telling. He’s not responding to it, he’s not embarrassed by it, it’s words on a piece of paper that he doesn’t relate himself to whatsoever.

Aw. Cas.

6. Are You Hungry?

Pink earbuds and pink little flowers and a blue dress.

Is Cas hungry for johnnycakes? (btw johnnycakes have a history dating back to the first settlers) (its food entirely to do with learning to survive in a new land) (if you wanna take it to extreme detail land) (and who doesn’t?)

Well, Cas really isn’t hungry for anything, is he? Because? He doesn’t eat. Because? He’s not human.

Sam gets to spend a moment in his happy place because he’s human. It’s all a lie, of course, but the truth of it is that only when Sam stops running away from himself can he actually find the internal balance that will grant him real happiness, and peace of mind.

And this narrative message goes for all of them in this episode, including Dean and Jack. Saying you’re good or you’re fine means nothing if you’re lying to yourself as much as everyone else.

What intrigues me most about the threading of pink here, though, is how it ties itself to Sunny, because the ending is so definitive in how it states what’s been stated over and over on this show, especially since the beginning of S13:

Toxic masculinity has to be defeated and, way I see it, it can only be defeated by the characters opening up to and embracing their internal femininity so that it can step up to the plate and finally kick imbalance in the ass.

And as the external narrative is a reflection of the internal journeys, it follows that once the toxic masculinity/shadow-self has been integrated and the masculine/feminine has found internal balance, the external narrative will begin to take on that tone as well. (but, to my mind, not before)

We shall see. I loved this episode. It’s deeply rich in detail and coming off the back of 14x14 and the enormous turning point that episode gave us, I feel my head is mildly spinning with impressions. Kudos to these formidable writers and welcome to Meghan Fitzmartin. What an entrance!

#spn meta #spn 14x15 #my reading #cas #sunny and conrad #suppression/repression #toxic masculinity #facing your fears #pink+blue=purple #balance #happiness #carl jung #shadow work #spn symbology

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iraniq · 7 years ago

Text

Present!

Note: based on a true story!

It was peaceful Wednesday afternoon, I just finished my work, and went out with a friend to have some cocktails, it turned out she is on a diet, die to health problem, and we end up having milkshakes instead.

I insisted on us celebrating, not only our homeland holiday – The Unification Day, but also something personal for me, yesterday my favourite actor won the “Actor of the Year” reward by GQ Style magazine. She was not thrilled, simply because she had no idea who he is. However, she decided to tag along, since my wrath wasn’t a pleasant nor painful or short-term process.

We talked for a while and then I got a text: “Baby, I am back.” – “Happy to hear it, Love!” – “No, I am in your country! XO” – “What?”, “Since when?”, “How come you didn’t say a thing?”, “Summer!!!” – “Baby, chill, I am in you city as well, tell me where you are?”- “I am out with a friend, we are having some banana shakes” – “Yes, I saw your snap! Where exactly?”. I texted him my location, he replied “On my way!”. My friend saw I was getting nervous. All my friends were aware that while I was on this “Student exchange program” in Boston I met someone, but they haven’t see any pictures of him, only texts and locations of where we were. So he was practically a ghost for them. The prefect “ghost” as I described him.

- Are you ok?

- Yes I am … fine.

Silence.

- He is here! – I urgently blurred out.

- Who?

- My boyfriend! He was in London yesterday, so he will come to visit me, and he will probably also go to see his bff in Italy. Who knows … omg … I will die … !!!!

- Oh, finally I am going to meet him.

- Yeah … me too!

- You too?

- Yeah, I haven’t seen him since … last December, we met in Paris, he was having a romantic day with his bff.

- Aren’t you jealous of her?

- It’s “him”, and no, they are so adorable, like two 5-years old kids. – such sweet feels about them.

- His bff is “he” and they had a romantic day …

I looked furious at her.

- If you dare say something, I promise, I’ll break your head in the table. I swear! – I didn’t yell, nut apparently I was scary enough, because she looked away and stayed silent, also the two girls sitting next to us looked our direction visibly shocked. – How come one should be gay/lesbian for having some high quality time with their same gender bff?

- I didn’t said that!

- Well you insinuate it.

While I was explaining her, someone slapped in front of me, I jumped and looked up. It was him. With yellow pants, white shirt, and this weird thing on his hair …

- Aww my baby! – he let a shy smile and sat in front of us, turning his head aside. – The baby bun! – I almost cried in happiness. – Why did your brother shaved his hair. This damn beast! Now the 3 of you could be with these adorable baby buns. Why? … Why? – I shacked my friend and she nod in “I don’t know”. – That’s my boyfriend btw. – I pointed at him, he smiled.

- Hi! – she said, visibly surprised by the person who was sitting on front of her, trying to study him.

- Hello! I am J! – he hold his hand out for her to reach. They shake hands and stayed quiet for a while.

- We are celebrating! – she said.

- What?

- Her favourite actor won a prize, for actor of the year.

- Oh, did he? – he asked looking hungry at me, I only nod and felt my cheeks were on fire.

- Yes, we are!

- You look very tasty in this dress.

- Shush, there are people here!

- So?

- You can’t say this?

- Why?

My friend started laughing, left some money for her drink and stand up.

- Where? – I asked.

- Home, I am sleepy and you look like you need some time to catch up.

- After I am finished with her, she won’t be able to walk. – he winked at my friend.

- I bet! – she laughed.

- Which part of “shush” you actually miss? – I urge him to shit up, but he is impossible.

- Ok, you definitely win at “dirty mind game”.

- Oh, darling, you haven’t seen me. – he smiled creepily.

- She doesn’t want to. It’s only for me to see.

- Ok, buy guys … use protection. It was nice to meet you J!

- He stand up, while she was leaving.

- A true gentleman!

- Anything you need me to be, baby girl!

- Well … - I licked my lips – I need you to sit … next to me and … behave while we are here.

He smiled again and did as I wanted. He squeezed my thigh, and laughed. I snapped a photo and post it.

- Congratulations, Summer! – I jumped in my spot.

- Thank you, Autumn! – he said while he placed his hand on my shoulders.

- What about your present, I got nothing. – I made a sad face.

- You are my present! – he softly kissed me, while cherish my cheek, but we were interrupted by the waitress, that come to take his order.

_____________

p.s. it’s me on the picture ;)

@diyunho @rhina988 @nikkitasevoli @auntiemama1 @wolfgirl1074 @sookieblack12

#jared leto #jared leto imagine #actor of the year #gqstyle #gqmagazine

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tgreuniverse · 8 years ago

Text

re: [quest] Chapter 4 “sponse”

Hello!! This chapter is about Hori Chie and Tsukiyama Shuu and is very cute (happy birthday the other day, 2/25, to Hori, btw!!)♥

This post has Part 1 of the chapter in full under the cut (mainly for mobile users). The next parts are underway and I’ll do my best to keep things organized to link up.

Click here for my compilation of translations of the light novel re:quest

Finally, a disclaimer: I’d encourage anyone invested in the Tokyo Ghoul series to buy the official copies of this light novel and any official translations when they are released in your area to support the authors and publishers.

Thanks everyone for your patience and don’t hesitate to send me corrections/suggestions/asks and messages! – koko♥

Chapter 4: Sponse Part 1 Part 2 TL: Occasionally Tsukiyama throws in English or French words when he’s speaking. Anything that’s written in Roman letters in the original Japanese text will be bolded to indicate that it’s in another language. All other emphatic markings are for conveying regular emphasis.

“Alright, now take a picture, of me!” “Nahh,” Hori replied, and the conversation was over in 3 seconds. She was watching through the coffee shop’s big windows at the shopping street where people came and went, housewives buying things for dinner and hoisting bulky eco-bags on their shoulders. Hori looked like an uncomfortable elementary school student in the chic and relaxed coffee shop where she sat. However, inside, she was already at the level of a college student. Well, actually, she almost never went to college, as she roamed from east to west as a “free camera-man” with her camera, her one hobby, always by her side.

“Well, seems we’re done around here,” Hori said, standing just as she finished eating her parfait. “Wait, Hori!” She paused. What made her stop was the man with a well-arranged appearance, somewhat like a model, and a voice that if you walked through town you could take to be from an entertainment industry – the man most annoying in the eyes of someone like Hori – Shuu Tsukiyama. ��A man who was always prideful and focused on attention from his surroundings – marked by the [CCG] with the title “gourmet” ghoul, he really didn’t have much of an understanding of the world. Indeed, the situation of such a ghoul known as Tsukiyama, having a face-to-face conversation with the human Hori Chie, was one you wouldn’t find anywhere else. Due to the strange situation, the two pretended to be high school students simply going out to the local coffee shop. In high school, Hori’s evaluation of Tsukiyama’s pride did not come from second-hand gossip, but from her own deep curiosity about his differences from others. It came from her simple thought “well, this looks interesting” as she peered through her camera’s viewfinder. The result of which, it turned out, was her taking pictures of the gourmet ghoul’s predatory scene. One thing leading to another, this resulted in a pretty strange relationship. Today, like most others, since a while ago, Tsukiyama had gone on and on about some favor he wanted to ask, and since Hori couldn’t exactly refuse as it became more and more annoying, well, here she was. “Hori! Why on such a whim? It’s a favor from an old friend, so just sit for a bit and tell me what you want to eat, you little mouse.” “Tsukiyama-kun, you always treat people like pets, don’t you? Hot cake.” “Haha, so you were aware of being my pet! That lady right there, let’s ask her for a most supreme hot cake!” With that, Tsukiyama snapped his fingers and signaled the female server across the room. While Hori sat back down, he suddenly exclaimed, “Hori! Listen until the end of what I’m saying. This is business.” “Business, huh?” Hori had finished her drink, and with her straw, clinked around the milkshake’s ice at the bottom of her glass. With nothing better to do, Hori went back to listening. “That’s right. In fact, this time, I want you to go to a villa.” Hori released the straw and tilted her head. “Huh?” Tsukiyama sighed. “Have I at last both been thrown away by Kaneki-kun and become dismissed by you?” He, always pursuing some gastronomic meal to satisfy the tongue itself, was fascinated and obsessed with this one-eyed half-ghoul named Kaneki Ken. Even after having had a relationship with Tsukiyama for a while, Hori had never before seen him stick to a single ingredient in such a way. Even now, he was working hard to earn Kaneki’s trust, but Hori believed he was still just trying to eat him. Since he was separated from his precious villa, Hori wondered if Kaneki was finally disgusted and had kicked Tsukiyama out. “Haha! That’s nothing, nonsense. I am his dagger, and my heart is always his bedside.” “You’ve prepared everything up to your house but everyone’s being removed from your circles?” “If you were the patron like me, would you be concerned about everyone? This is a taste of being god.” “I’m full. That story sounds long so I’m gonna go home” “Wait wait, food is something that should be enjoyed at your leisure. Would you like some kind of after-tea?” Hori sighed. “My orange juice is fine.” With this Tsukiyama let out a cough and returned to what he was saying. “I have a garden party at my villa on my next holiday, and I’m supposed to give a speech. I want you to put capture it with your camera.” “Wha…?” Tsukiyama was a ghoul of a respectable family, the descendent of the Tsukiyama Group that everyone had heard of at least once. “Along with that, although this will be a surprise, I’m thinking of expressing everyday gratitude towards the servants in the house. To leave memories, you know?” The Tsukiyama family, of course employees included, had a large number of people. I knew it, Hori thought, as she ate the hot cake that had finally arrived. The aspect of self-righteous egoism is often looked down on, but consideration for things one likes or for one’s self is fine, as such things have the potential to help one feel better in their own skin. “Of course, you’ll be compensated. How is it, Hori? You’ll take the job, right?” As a reply, Hori only groaned, “you really are annoying.” “Haaaaaahn?!” At Tsukiyama’s desolate voice, Hori said, “I’m not interested.” Hori's photography activities were actually quite selfish. When she thought about taking photographs of an event of such high social value, she realized that would mean taking pictures with no real substance, and only taking work for the value of money. She definitely wasn’t one to be so influenced by money. Right now she wasn’t in the mood to take pictures of things she wasn’t in the mood to, and wasn’t up for the tension of working for money at all. At this point Tsukiyama, who knew from personal experience not to press Hori as she would continue to refuse (even in a case where it seemed likely she’d be killed), simply mused “hmmm.” It seemed her orange juice was all gone, too. His time was almost up. “Ahh, well then. Let’s see, Hori, do you have any interest in flowers?” “Flowers?” “Yes! At my family’s villa there are many varieties of flowers in bloom, in a vivid wide space, and it’s . . . it’s something like a utopia!!” Tsukiyama, spreading both hands, began to gestured and gestured as he started explaining. “There are many rare and valuable varieties, and the roses are particularly superb! The garden party this time will be done according to the season of the roses. There are so many scenic sights that you can see as you pass through.” Hori stabbed her last piece with her fork. “. . . oh, ok. . . . I’ll go then.” Tsukiyama’s unexpected palm hung open in the air. “So . . . you’re not against it anymore . . . then? “I said, I’ll go,” Hori repeated. Tsukiyama, who obviously hadn’t expected Hori to accept yet, seemed confused. “I wonder where this wind blew in from?” “I just want to take pictures of flowers, and if Tsukiyama-kun’s place has roses, then that sounds good to me.” Tsukiyama’s family paid attentive care to its rose garden, and although the rose garden was the only thing Tsukiyama recommended, Hori thought that maybe she could see ever more amazing things. Since she ended up deciding to go, she thought it would be interesting to go on a walk with Tsukiyama. However, there was still one problem. “There will probably be ghouls at this party, right? Won’t I end up getting eaten?” Although they did go out and talk ordinarily face-to-face, there was a clear border between Tsukiyama and Hori, that of being a person and a “ghoul.” While Hori was greatly aware of the risk to her own life that she put into her photo activities, she didn’t particularly want to live a rushed life, and didn’t think anything like “I would die for my craft” or whatever. In the moment, she had just gone with what she had wanted to do. But now she needed to tend to her safety. “There’s no need to for you to worry about that. The servants will be told by me personally, and it will be arranged so that the guests know as well, that they must not lay a hand on you.” “Okay. Well, it seems like there will be plenty of preparation, so I’ll take pictures of the good stuff, and I won’t when nothing happens. It will be done suitably.” Hori stood up while stretching very much. “Well then, the next consecutive holidays. This time advanced payment would be nice, in the usual account.” “Oui, I definitely won’t miss that. In return, I’m expecting amazing photos. Capture the moment when I shine the most!” “The moment you shine the most, huh,” Hori repeated. With that, she slid the bill across the table to Tsukiyama and left the cafe.

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul:re #tgre #tokyo ghoul light novels #tokyo ghoul: quest #tokyo ghoul translations #my translations #tokyo ghoul: sponse #tsukiyama shuu #hori chie #tokyo ghoul information #tg light novels #ishida sui #towada shin

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