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bitchkay · 22 days ago

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This whole fic series altered my brain chemistry.

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track five: the battle of the bands

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, DOGGOS, yuji literally is just a ray of sunshine 24/7, mentions of drunk driving, so much fluff, ridiculous amount of kissing tbh, short time skip at the end, FINAL CHAPTER! || sfw. 8.8k words.

FOR THE FIRST time in a long stretch of busy days, you wake up not to the chirp of your alarm but to soft rays of Saturday morning sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, painting your eyelids orange-gold. You crack an eye open and find Takuma stirring beside you. Right.

“Morning,” you whisper. For a moment, when Takuma opens his eyes, he looks surprised, and then he seems to remember why and how you got here and his expression melts into a soft smile.

“Morning, Skip.” He yawns. “Time’s it?”

You shrug. You’re pretty sure your phone is dead.

“Eh, it’s Saturday,” he mumbles. “S’fine.” You chuckle, daring to reach out and ruffle his hair. You don’t know what this is, the unspoken thing in the thin slice of air between you. You know what you want it to be, though.

For a while you both lie in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the awakening house float up the stairs toward you. Murmuring, clattering around in the kitchen, the front door opening and closing, cars outside.

“Hey,” you say eventually, making eye contact. His eyes are a very deep shade of brown, dark but warm in a way that reminds you of old bookshelves or tree bark after the rain.

“Hey back.”

He’s relaxed, every part of him unhurried, and you take the image of it and stamp it into your mind over the memory of the night prior. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Takuma smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Maybe it should be more awkward, the fact that you’re here in his bed in his clothes and you haven’t named whatever it is that stretches out in the silence. But it’s not. It’s just… easy.

“Skipper?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you,” Takuma whispers. The words wrap themselves around you, warm when you didn’t know you were cold.

“Yeah?” You bring a hand up to his face, trace the line of his jaw. His cheeks are a little colored in the mix of light slipping through the window and the cracked door. “I really, really like you too, Takuma.”

He cups your face in both hands, pulls your lips to his, and your whole body responds, pressing up against him in the too-small twin bed. Your hand goes to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and this is what people write love songs about, you fucking get it now, all the metaphors and cliché words you thought were exaggerations but no, they’re not, because you’re feeling all of them all at once and you don’t ever want to leave this moment in time.

“Like” doesn’t feel strong enough, not for this. You’ve only known him for a month. Is it really possible he’s already become so integral to the structure of your heart?

You’re kissing in the early morning light and it’s hungrier than you thought your next kiss would be, because even though all the rest of your days are rolling out before you, you don’t know how many there are. He twists so he’s above you on his knees, one of them between your legs, and it’s like a reversal of that night on the roof, like you can feel the night air even in the golden midmorning hours.

“Kuma,” you murmur between kisses, and he grins against your mouth, takes your next breath and makes it his.

At some point you’re interrupted by the startled growl of your stomach, and you break apart, unable to stifle the giggles rising up in your throat. “Well.”

“Well,” Takuma echoes, grinning. He stands and offers you a hand. “Breakfast?”

Downstairs, the house is alive with idle chatter and the clinking of silverware. Kirara is seated atop the counter, legs swinging as she eats a plate of eggs, and Hakari stands beside her leaning against the cabinets. Megumi scrolls absently through his phone at the table, the dogs looking up at him expectantly from either side, and Yuji is digging through a bunch of take-out boxes. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“Morning!” he practically sings. “Here, eat food.”

“Where’d this come from?” Takuma asks.

“My friend dropped off breakfast,” Yuji chirps, pushing a Tupperware container of pancakes toward you. If it weren’t for the brace wrapped around his wrist, you’d have no idea anything happened. He’s his usual golden retriever self.

You smile, forking one of the pancakes onto a plate. “That’s sweet.”

Your phone buzzes, and it’s Tsumiki sending you the link to the news brief. You frown at the headline, not out of any disrespect for the writer who stepped up to cover it, but more at the fact that it’s unfortunately true.

JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night

“What’s up?” Takuma asks, immediately noting your expression. You slide the phone across the counter, watching its screen catch the light from the kitchen window. Kirara leans over it as well and starts reading off Junpei’s story halfway through.

“Zenin, who according to a campus police report was driving under the influence of alcohol, was on the phone with an ex-girlfriend when he swerved into the opposite lane.” Her dark brows knit together in some combination of anger and disbelief. “Jesus.”

“That’s fucked,” you murmur.

Someone’s phone rings, and Megumi glances at his screen and blinks, seems to hesitate. Then he gets up and disappears down the hall. You glance at Takuma, but he just shrugs. It’s probably Gojo.

The rest of you eat and eventually make your way to the living room, scattering yourselves across the couch and carpet and chairs.

“That single last night,” Takuma says, letting Kuro jump up beside him on the couch. “Concept. Make it the title track of an EP.”

You blink for a second, startled. “Wait, for real?”

“Yes!” Takuma says, sitting up straighter. “Think about it. Cover art is one of those name tag stickers, you all sign it, wrinkle it up and crease it and take a grainy film photo. And you put the song on it with Next Fix and a couple of your older singles you and blow up.”

“Or you print one off that says hello, our name is,” Kirara pipes up, seeming excited by the idea. “Ooh, you can have an intro track like that.”

“All caps. Just to match the energy,” you say, picturing the EP cover in your mind. “HELLO MY NAME IS. No punctuation either.”

“I like it,” Kirara nods. Takuma’s got that excited shine to his eyes, and you realize he’s very in his element in this conceptual space—he really will be a good producer. He has the mind for it.

Megumi slips back into the room looking a little haphazard, disgruntled, looking anywhere but into anyone else’s eyes, and Yuji cocks his head in question. Not Gojo, then. “Who was that?”

“No one,” Megumi lies, waving him off and turning back toward the kitchen to avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Hm.You know better than to ask, and it seems that’s the consensus, because nobody pushes it—Megumi will open up in his own time. You hope he figures it out soon.

For your part, it’s a lazy Saturday, hanging out with Takuma, Yuji, Megumi, Kirara, and Hakari, gaming and talking and generally just existing in each other’s presence. After the chaos of last night, it seems to be exactly what all of you needed.

It’s not until late afternoon that Kirara broaches the topic of the band.

She gestures at Yuji, a flapping motion that misses the mark a little because Kirara is sprawled upside-down in the beanbag in the corner. “Itadori, can you, like… drum with that?”

He shrugs, looking down at his injured wrist. “Yeah, probably!” You frown. So much of drumming is in the wrist, and you kind of figured Kirara’s question was rhetorical. You realize abruptly that Shibuya Incident is still going up against Black Flash in the finals on Friday, and if they don’t have Yuji, they’re fucked.

“Psh, don’t look like that, it’s fine,” Yuji insists, grabbing two Wii remotes and wielding them like drumsticks. He goes to bang them around, mimicking a rock beat, and you watch as his face twists into a grimace and he drops one of them. “Okay, so, update: never mind!” He grins sheepishly.

Kirara is the first one to look at you, and by the time you’ve processed what exactly it is she’s trying to say, everyone else has their eyes locked on you—including Yuji.

Oh, shit.

“Whaddaya say, girl drummer?” Kirara asks, pointing a finger gun at you.

“Oh, guys, I don’t… I don’t know, it’s your band. Yuji—”

But Yuji is the one who seems the most excited about it. He’s abandoned both Wii remotes on the floor and is now looking up at you with bright eyes and his eternal grin. “No, Skipper, please? It would be so fun! I can still do aux and stuff. But we could play together! It would be so awesome!”

“Is that even allowed?” you ask, glancing at Takuma, who’s trying and failing to hide a boyishly excited smile. “I mean, I already got eliminated.”

“Hang on,” Hakari says, pulling out his phone. It takes you a minute to realize who he’s asking. “Yeah, no, Panda says it’s whatever. Better that than not have a battle at all.”

Takuma nudges you with a knee, looking at you with steady eyes. It’s your choice, he seems to say.

“I think,” you say slowly, “I should talk to my band first. But… I’m not opposed.”

Yuji whoops so loudly you flinch a little and Takuma grins, putting his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder.

“I probably should head out,” you say, a little reluctantly. “Kinda left the roommates high and dry last night.”

Kirara salutes you, her face red from the blood rush of still being upside down, and Yuji chirps out a happy see ya!

“I’ll walk you out,” Takuma says, standing when you do. You say bye to the band and the dogs and he follows you to the front door, going as far as to step just outside with you. The door stays open just a crack as you linger, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. He pulls you in and kisses you right there on the front step, and you smile against his lips.

“Are we, like…?” Takuma murmurs when he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the question or the cold, you can’t tell.

“Are we what?” you tease, shoving lightly at his chest.

“You know.”

“Well, if you don’t say it I’m gonna beat you to asking—”

This seems to zap whatever hesitation Takuma had right out of him, and he cuts in, “Willyoubemygirlfriend?”

“Sorry, what was that?” You know you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face, but you can’t stop it. “Couldn’t really hear you—”

“Oh my god. Will,” he says slowly, drawing out the word, “You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”

You can see your laugh fanning out before you in a puff of warm air, and you tip your head forward into his chest, grinning. “Yes, Takuma, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You pull back and look up at him, lacing your fingers together. “I was kind of trying to get you alone all week so we could figure out what the fuck was going on. But it worked out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It worked out.” He reaches up and ruffles your hair, laughing when you go to swat his hand away. “I was trying to get you alone, too,” he admits. “I like spending time with you, Skip. I’m pretty sure you’re the coolest person I’ve met, like, ever.”

“Ever,” you echo. “Those are some pretty lofty expectations to live up to.”

He shrugs. “You meet them all.”

Despite yourself, heat creeps up to your cheeks again.

“That was less scary than I thought it was gonna be,” Takuma confesses. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you glance at it and see Maki’s name sliding across the screen.

“Think that’s my cue.” You plant one last kiss on Takuma’s lips and turn around, throwing a “bye, boyfriend” over your shoulder. You glance back and catch him mid fist-pump, and he sheepishly shoves his hands into his pockets when he realizes you saw.

You’re still wearing his clothes, you realize as you answer your phone. Guess it doesn’t really matter, since they’re your boyfriend’s.

“Hey,” Maki says in your ear. “You comin’ home anytime soon? No rush, but we’re making lunch so we figured we’d ask.” In the background, you can hear Toge singing what you think is a dramatic rendition of Kristoff’s song from Frozen II, but you aren’t entirely certain because none of the words are right.

“Yeah, I’m literally walking through the door in thirty seconds,” you say, and Nobara’s face appears in the kitchen window. She waves excitedly and you raise a hand in return.

“Oh, sick.” The line goes dead as you open the front door. “Hey!” Maki shouts when she hears it click, and you slam it closed against the rush of cool air trying to sneak inside with you.

“Hi!” you call back.

Yuta pokes his head around the corner and grins at you. “Welcome home, our favorite breaking news reporter.”

“I didn’t actually report on anything,” you admit, kicking your shoes off and padding into the kitchen. Toge is somehow balancing cross-legged on one of the high stools, and Maki is making tacos. “Conflict of interest once I realized who it was.”

“Yeah, I saw the article,” Nobara chimes in, glancing up from her phone. “Yikes. Frickin’ Naoya Zenin. What an asshat.”

You snort. What an understatement.

“Hope he rots in jail,” Maki says in a sing-song voice, not even looking up.

“I love family,” Toge says.

You fill your friends in on the crash and the aftermath and Yuji’s wrist, leaving out some of the details about Takuma, because that feels a little invasive. And then Yuta asks the big question: “What about the band?”

“About that,” you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not exactly sure why this makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s just that these are your people, your band, and you all worked so hard and then went down together. It doesn’t seem fair that you get to go back on stage and try again and the rest of them don’t. “So. They asked me to fill in—“

“Yes!” Nobara shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”

“Well, I didn’t say yes yet—”

“What? Why?” Toge asks incredulously. You laugh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. Of course they’re okay with it. These are your best friends. They’ll always have your back.

“I wanted to check with you guys,” you say, feeling silly about it now. “Just—I don’t know, to make sure. Since it’s not our band, and I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was, I don’t know, like…”

“Musically cheating?” Maki chuckles. “Skipper, this is great. You should say yes.”

Yuta solemnly puts a hand over his heart. “Avenge us.”

“Thanks, guys.” You grin as you hop up on the counter next to Nobara, pressing your shoulder to hers. “I love y’all.”

“Sap,” Maki says, which means love you too.

—

Using a drum set that isn’t yours is always a weird experience. You feel like everything is just ever so slightly off, and Yuji’s kit is an absolute patchwork of different brands of heads and shells and cymbals. You have to lower the stool because he’s taller than you. But it’s just for rehearsal, at least—you can use your own kit at The Fix.

It’s your first time in the shabby basement of Takuma’s house, and it looks distinctly different than your own. They’ve pinned old rugs to the walls as a type of sound deadener, not dissimilar to your own setup, but their lighting is a collection of Facebook marketplace floor lamps and a little disco ball that’s apparently Yuji’s. Your basement has string lights and a bunch of stools and beanbags, and this one has extra blankets all over the floor where Yuji and Kirara have made themselves at home.

Learning Shibuya Incident’s songs isn’t difficult—you’ve heard enough of their music to anticipate what’s coming, and Yuji’s there to give you pointers. Their three-song set for the final performance isn’t actually done, because they don’t feel like they have a good enough finisher, and after you’ve run the first two songs several times you mess around with potential chorus lines.

“What about that?” Kirara says after plucking out a new melody. “It’s hype enough, I think. Or it will be, once we add the rest of you.”

“I like that.” You tap out the rhythm on the snare rim, humming. “You have lyrics?” You look at Takuma, who’s staring at the ceiling like it might have all the answers if he just squints hard enough.

“Somethin’ about, like… losing your head a little bit because you caught feels,” he says. “Like, you’re down so bad you can’t function, to be dramatic about it. That triplet at the beginning of the chorus, Kirara—”

She plucks it out again, down-up-down. “On my own,” Takuma echoes, down-up-down. “Every little move I can’t pin down…”

The words tumble past your lips before you can stop them, because they’ve been circling your head for a week now. “Friends with all the dead in my ghost town.”

He spins around to look at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! It’s like I’m going…”

“Going,” Kirara echoes, and they go back and forth—going, going, “out of my mind!”

“Whoo!” Yuji cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit. That was crazy.” Takuma grabs the nearest beat-to-hell spiral notebook and starts scribbling.

Megumi starts laying out a bassline, subtly driving the beat forward a little, and you clamp the hat down on two and four to keep time. Kirara comes in with something that must be the verse, and Takuma reads off, “You left in the morning after eight, I got into work two hours late, I can’t see the sun without your face.” Bass, bass, bass. Megumi nods along and Yuji is practically dancing from his spot on the floor.

“One day and I run fresh out of light…”

Hm. You add, “Twelve hours without your hand in mine.”

“I’m dizzy and overworked and tired,” Kirara sings lowly. All three of you sing the chorus again, and you feel just like you’re at home in your own basement, writing a song in real time with Nobara and Maki and the boys.

“Oh, that slaps,” Takuma practically shouts. “Jesus. We’re gonna win.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Megumi warns, a wry quirk to his lips.

Kirara glances at her phone. “Food’s here. Break time, freaks.” She bounds up the stairs and Megumi follows to help her grab the bags—you DoorDashed Taco Bell, since Yuji never got his beloved crunch wrap on Friday.

You leave your sticks on the snare and move around the drum set, flopping down on the ground beside Takuma. “You’re good at that,” you tell him honestly, pulling the notebook away to read what he’s writing down. I met you across the darkened stage, you shook up my life, you got me made, you’re drivin’ me crazy night and day.

You can’t help thinking of the night you met him, locking eyes while he sang from the edge of the low stage at The Fix, lit up by purple-red stage lights and putting you in a trance. You scribble a few more lines after his and hand the pen back.

“You’re a poet,” he tells you, and you laugh.

“I’m a journalist.”

“Woman of many talents,” he says, echoing Maki’s words from that first night you met.

“Itadori!” Kirara shouts down the stairs.

“Coming!” Yuji leaps up and disappears up the rickety basement staircase, leaving you and Takuma alone.

“Hey,” he says, tapping the pen on the page. You glance up at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Can I take you out? Like, on an actual date?”

Something light and quick kicks around in your chest, a hummingbird loose in your ribcage. “I would not be opposed,” you say, as if the idea doesn’t make you want to kick your feet like a little kid. “When are you thinking?”

“Mm, you’re in night class prison tomorrow,” he says, tapping the pen against his lip now. “Tuesday?”

It shouldn’t make you so irrationally happy that he remembers your schedule, but logic seems to go out the window where Takuma Ino is concerned. “Tuesday’s good. Where do you wanna go?”

He shakes his head adamantly, tapping you on the nose with his pen. “Leave it to me.”

—

The only things Takuma’s told you about your date tonight are dress warm and bring your board. He meets you outside your place at four, his bag definitely bulkier than usual, his own skateboard under one foot.

You’re wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and your favorite cargo pants with your boots, and you tucked a beanie and gloves into your bag just in case, but it’s surprisingly balmy out for late October. The wind is the worst of it.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Takuma says when you coast down the driveway and come to a stop beside him. The greeting makes you blush as much as his smile does, and he chuckles as he pushes off. “This way.”

“Where are we going?”

“Crazy,” he says. You roll your eyes. Sounds like the kind of dad joke Yuta would make.

“Well, then.” The two of you make your way down the street and around the bend, and you realize he’s taking you to the skate park. But at the entrance he keeps going, around the pit and a few of the ramps and to the largest one, back in the corner—not the one Sukuna deals under, but the one opposite. And you stop in your tracks, your longboard making a protesting schkk under your feet, when you see it.

Battery-powered string lights loop around the posts and down the underside of the ramp, and blankets and pillows are spread out across the ground. The area is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and you know your jaw is hanging open a little as you watch Takuma unload his bag—JBL speaker, two thermoses, and a bunch of food.

“Takuma,” you say, not knowing what other words suffice. “I—oh my god.” You did not peg him as being this romantic.

Then you think about his song lyrics and think maybe you should have.

He grins at you from where he’s sat down on the blankets, holding out one of the thermoses. You leave your board by one of the poles and sit down beside him, taking it and letting the warmth seep into your hands. “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Mm.” You scoot closer to him, staring up at the layers and layers of graffiti and marker art covering the underside of the ramp. “This is maybe the sweetest thing ever.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“I wouldn’t know.” You take a sip of the hot chocolate—still warm. “It’s romantic. Big fan.”

“Really?” He points to where somebody drew a dick on the far side of the ramp.

“Okay, well, you didn’t have to point it out,” you smirk. “You ever done graffiti?” Looking at his mischievous smile and the beanie tugged over his head, the skateboard abandoned a few feet away, he does look like the type.

“Tagging?” He shrugs. “No. I would, though. Maybe we should.”

You hum, staring up at the arcing bubble letters and jagged black lines all over the ramp. You think you’d be horrible at graffiti, but you’ve always appreciated it, the way it sends a message and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

“This is like… alternative aesthetic stargazing,” you muse, lifting a finger and tracing the sharp lines of one of the illegible words in the air. You could stare at all this art for hours and never find all the intricacies of it.

Takuma digs around in his bag and produces a Sharpie with an “aha!”

“You’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie?”

He throws it at you and you catch it in one hand, instinctively twirling it like a drumstick. “We’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie,” he corrects.

And so you do.

The nearest part of the wall is covered in bright pink paint outlined in black, and it takes you a moment of squinting and tilting your head to realize it says LEAVEYOURMARK. Seems as clear of an instruction as any. So you do—scooting forward, you start to draw flowers into the thick bands of pink lettering, and soon they’re shifting to music notes, percussion notation, aimless squiggles. Takuma queues up a laid-back playlist with a few artists you recognize and many more you don’t, and you pass the pen back and forth, adding tiny notes to messages around the ramp, doodling in the empty space.

You’ve been on dates before, but this feels wholly different. With Takuma, you’re not stressing over conversation starters, worrying about commitment, wondering if you picked the right outfit, trying to gauge your shared interests with carefully planned questions. It’s just easy, existing with him like this.

After a while, you’re on your back in the mess of pillows and blankets, staring directly up at the massive painting of a skateboard with a face. Takuma is drawing something on the wall behind you.

Squinting, the green streaks under the skateboard look like that loss meme Toge sends you at least twice a week. You take a photo with the intention of showing it to him later, though maybe you shouldn’t—he gets way too proud of himself for versing you in what he calls Reddit culture.

You crane your neck to see what Takuma’s drawing and find the thick, dark strokes of a city skyline, towers and domes and boxy apartment buildings.

“Artsy,” you tell him, smiling when he appears in your line of vision upside-down. “You sure about this computer science thing? You’re too creative.”

“That’s what my mom said,” he chuckles, capping the Sharpie and sitting down beside you. As you sit up, he leans back on his hands and glances over at you. “I told her about you. She’d love you. I mean, I’m pretty sure she already does.” He hesitates. “Is that weird? Too soon?”

“No,” you grin. “I—that’s really sweet, actually. I would love to meet your mom.” Your gaze softens at the relieved smile that crosses his face. “Gotta thank her for raising a guy like you, anyway.”

You realize you want Takuma to meet your family too—you want to show him all the corners of your too-small town, show him the place you grew up. It made you who you are—it led you here, to him, after all.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “When you say you wanna be a producer. Where do you mean? Like, LA?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m sure it’s more competitive there than anywhere else. I feel like the major hubs are there and New York, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter, either.” He loops an arm around you, and your head finds its way to his shoulder. “What about you, world-class journalist?”

You grin, thinking of all the places you haven’t been, all the places you want to go. “Anywhere and everywhere. I just wanna see it all. I wanna travel.”

“You should!” He sounds genuinely excited about the concept, and you lift your head, taking in the expression on his face—he looks the way he did when he was talking about making an EP, like the world is full of possibilities and he wants to see them all play out. “You’d be so good at it. Being a travel writer or international correspondent or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I read some of your stuff, y’know.”

“What?” Suddenly you’re racking your brain for every piece you’ve published in the JU Journal, overly critical of your own work in hindsight. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s good. Really good, Skip, seriously.” He reaches out and tugs a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself leaning into the contact.

You aren’t sure what to say, so you settle on a soft, “Thank you.” Somehow, the idea of Takuma going out of his way to read your work feels personal on the same level that writing a song together does. Taking in your words, your ideas, internalizing them. What is intimacy if not that intellectual exchange?

“I think you’re going to be a really good producer.” It’s his turn to blush. “I mean it. Not everyone has the perspective for it, or the ear. But you do.”

“Ah, well, I—”

“Am not good at taking compliments?” you cut him off, raising a brow. “Mm, we’ll fix that.” He laughs, and you’re leaning in to kiss him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is the most natural thing in the world.

It’s late October, and you are not the least bit cold.

—

Your hands need to stop sweating before you lose a drumstick or something.

Shibuya Incident has about twenty minutes before you’re all due on stage for the finals, and The Fix is alive with students and lights and drinks and music and chatter. You’re out on the floor tonight, off to the side for easy access to the stage once Black Flash clears out.

“We’re kicking off with the reigning champions of the Battle of the Bands,” Panda booms, throwing an arm out as the band takes the stage. “You know ‘em, you love ‘em, they’re every genre and no genre, covers and originals, brass and wind. Give it up for Black Flash!”

You whoop just as loud as anyone else here, grinning at Nobara’s animated cheering from closer to the center of the floor. Miwa walks right up to the mic and takes it off the stand, the neck of her white electric in her other hand. “Hey, folks!” She brushes her bright blue hair out of her face and shouts, “Y’all ready to hear some good music?”

She has the sort of infectious enthusiasm that could work on pretty much anyone, and before you know it you and Kirara are spinning each other around to the beat of a synth-heavy pop song that sounds like it came straight out of the 80s. The instrumentals are simple but tight, and Miwa jumps around, engaging the crowd, belting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“They’re good,” you catch Megumi saying lowly, probably to Yuji, but Takuma’s the one who answers.

“If I tell you the power of friendship will lead us to victory—”

“No.”

“Well, okay, you’re no fun.”

Kirara turns around and plants a hand on her hip, looking at Megumi. “Fushiguro, we’re fine. We’re going out with a badass new single and not one but two percussionists. We’ve never sounded this good.”

“Just being the token pessimist,” he sighs, cracking a reluctant half-smile. “I know we’re good.”

Yuji elbows him playfully. “Mr. Realist.”

Black Flash segues into a second track, an ABBA cover that has you dancing without thinking, and Takuma catches your eye and grins, moving along with you. And all too soon it’s over, a third song come and gone, and Panda’s back up on stage and the five of you are hopping up over the side to make your way to your places. Hakari and another tech have already swapped out the kits, and you settle yourself in the comfort of your own throne, your own pedals, flipping on the snare and pounding the kick a few times.

Yuji’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at you. “You got this,” he mouths, shaking his tambourine at you.

You truly have no idea where he got a tambourine.

“What happened in Shibuya? Who the hell knows?” Panda shouts, riling up the crowd. “Give it up for Shibuya Incident!”

That’s your cue. You look at Kirara, who nods with a conspiratorial smile, and then Megumi, who plucks out a few notes in answer. Yuji’s already giving you a grin and a thumbs-up. And Takuma… he’s already stepped into his on-stage confidence, all relaxed, easygoing performer, and the look he gives you has energy coursing through your fingertips like an electric shock.

You hold your sticks above your head, clicking them loud on the lower end of the shaft, and shout, “One, two, three, four!”

You are alive.

The first track is another pulled from their EP, and you’ve listened to it probably an embarrassing number of times—you know Yuji’s part down to the sixteenth note, the roll, the rest, but you don’t hesitate to put your own spin on it, and he’s alight with the same energy beside you, messing around with a tambourine and a few other aux instruments near a mic of his own, since he’s also doing backup vocals tonight.

Your hands are moving fast, your feet pumping the pedals of their own accord, an instinct, and it’s over before you know it, a sheen of sweat already forming under the stage lights. You grin, catching your breath, wiping your hands on your jeans as Takuma introduces the band.

From your place near the back of the stage, you get more of the low feedback than anything else, but you definitely hear when he says Shibuya Incident and the crowd responds raucously in kind.

“That’s Kirara Hoshi on guitar and vocals,” he says, pointing to her as she does her little riff.

“Yeah, Kira!” You have no idea where Hakari’s voice is coming from, but it’s unmistakable.

“We got Fushiguro back there on the bass,” Takuma continues, and Megumi gives the crowd an unbothered nod, showing off his own instrument for a moment. “Itadori’s back here on aux and vocals.” He pauses to let the crowd shout for Yuji and then adds, “And filling in for him on kit, we’ve got the legendary drummer from Cursed Technique. Everyone give it up for Skipper!”

You do a quick roll, laughing as your own band goes crazy—you can’t see them in the glare of the lights, but you (and everyone else) can definitely hear them.

“I’m Ino, we’re Shibuya Incident, and this next one’s gonna slow things down a little.”

This one starts with Megumi, a laid-back track with a similar vibe to the first song you ever heard Shibuya Incident perform, but a little smoother. It’s over before you know it, and then you and Kirara are launching into the new single. Even Yuji looks like he’s having the time of life on backup vocals.

“On my own,” he and Kirara harmonize, Takuma taking the lead, and you nail the next two lines with punchy cymbal-tom hits, “all the shadows look like a death threat, everybody’s waitin’ to get hit, it’s like I’m going (going) going (going) out of my mind!”

All your worries melt away as the beat drives your movements. You’re not thinking about dropping a drumstick, missing a measure, losing the competition. You’re doing what you love with people you love, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

“Think I’m seein’ double in one eye, startin’ to think this air is spiked, no one told me that’s what love is like.” Takuma lets the guitar hang and grips the mic in one hand and the stand in the other, leaning with it as he engages the crowd, and you definitely hear Nobara screaming. “You got me going (going) going (going) out of my mind, yeah, yeah.”

It’s over so fast you can barely breathe, and you’re laughing before you know what’s happening, Yuji throwing his arm around you and shouting, “You killed it!”

Takuma turns around and locks eyes with you, and you see that same adrenaline high in his gaze that you know is in yours, and when the band stumbles off stage in Panda’s wake, he grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “That was crazy!” he practically shouts, which is probably good, because your ears are ringing so much you probably wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.

“Guys,” Megumi says, deadpan as always, but you can see the effects of the performance even on him, his usually stoic expression unable to mask his own excitement. “I think… we might have a shot.”

“Holy shit,” Kirara says. “Skip, write the story. Resident pessimist breaks vow of negativity—”

“Oh, shut up.” Megumi elbows her as she dissolves into laughter. In the wings, you can hear the indistinct sounds of Panda’s instructions as he starts voting, and music kicks up over the speakers. Ten minutes. Ten minutes.

It’s the longest and shortest wait of your life, and then you’re back on stage with Black Flash and Panda, and it’s fucking time.

You wonder if everyone else can hear your blood roaring, too.

“Once again, an insanely tight vote,” Panda says, a hush falling over the crowd as they wait for the verdict. “Phenomenal performances from both of our final bands, but someone’s gotta win. Give it up for the champions of this year’s Battle of the Bands…”

You imagine Maki hissing under her breath for Panda to hurry it up, Nobara’s hands clasped together as she anxiously bounces on the balls of her feet, Yuta biting his lip and trying to get Toge to shut up.

Takuma’s hand is on your shoulder, Yuji on your other side, Megumi and Kirara behind you. You glance at Miwa, and she gives you a knowing look that you can’t interpret.

You almost don’t hear it.

“SHIBUYA INCIDENT!”

You don’t know which screams belong to who—maybe one of them’s yours—but you’re swept into a massive pile of musicians drunk off victory, and you’re laughing, and Miwa’s jumping up and down and saying how that was insane, guys, you were amazing, and even Mai nods at you in congratulations, and Yuji is abruptly on Todo’s shoulders, and as the stage lights turn down a bit you finally catch sight of your own band, losing their minds on the floor.

“That’s our girl!” Maki hollers, and Yuta whoops as Toge pumps a fist in the air. You realize you can’t see Nobara, and two seconds later your questions are answered when she somehow materializes on the stage, launching herself at you with a massive grin on her face.

“You did it!” she shouts. “Holy shit, Skipper!”

Everything around you is chaos and laughter and noise, but something in the center of your being is incredibly still, and you think maybe it’s contentment. In this moment, you would ask for nothing else. It is perfect.

Nobara detaches herself from you after more profuse congratulations, turning to Miwa, and the bands make their way gradually off stage. Takuma’s hand is in yours—you don’t know when that happened—and he pulls you past the band, past the wings, all the way into the drum storage room backstage.

“That was fucking amazing,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.” His beanie is off, tucked into his pocket, his hair as wild as his eyes as wild as your heart.

You close the door.

It’s a pulse. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with kissing Takuma Ino behind the stage of a shitty campus bar, the heat shooting through your veins in time with the throb of the bass from distant speakers. Breath on your teeth and hands in your hair, the warmth in your gut from skin-on-skin proximity, ears ringing with the sound of your name on his lips and love-blind eyes, you’re alive and addicted to a feeling you know you’ll chase forever.

—

TWO MONTHS LATER. DECEMBER 19.

The house is alive with laughter and chatter and Michael Bublé’s Christmas album spinning from the record player. The semester is over, and tomorrow you’ll scatter for winter break, home for the holidays. Nobara insisted on throwing a party before all the inevitable road trips and flights, and the main floor is strung with multicolored lights and tinsel—Yuta’s plant, Rika, even has a tiny Santa hat on.

In addition to the actual residents of the house, Takuma and the band are here, as well as Hakari, Panda, Tsumiki, Miwa, and a handful of other friends. Megumi’s even brought the dogs, who have both taken a liking to the loveseat by the window and claimed it as their own. You’ve informed Megumi that they’re going to stay here with you forever (he said no, but you don’t take orders from him).

“Okay, I’m dropping you off at ten, right?” Yuta quadruple-checks. You’re huddled in the kitchen with him and Maki—Toge was here a minute ago, but he heard someone in the living room mention Just Dance and ran off to assert his dominance or whatever.

“Oh my god, yes,” Maki answers for you. “Yuta. You wrote it down. It’s in your calendar. You live in the same house as Skip, you’re not gonna forget.” She bumps her shoulder with his and he sighs in admission.

“I know.” He smiles at you. “Just gotta make sure she gets home for the holidays. Can’t have you turning into a sad Christmas cliché on us, Skip.”

You salute him with half a gingerbread cookie. “Appreciate it.” He’s taking you to the airport tomorrow for your flight home and refuses to take your gas money, so you’re already planning on beating him to paying for the first grocery run when you get back.

“Things with Mai are good?” you ask, glancing at Maki. She shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t correct you, which is a good sign. She and her sister met up the week after the Battle of the Bands for coffee, which you genuinely thought was a joke when she told you about it. They’re both going home for Christmas and have apparently decided to try and like each other a little more openly. And she actually showed up tonight, which you have to admit you weren’t entirely expecting.

“Yuta!” Toge hollers from the other room. “You have to come do Rasputin with me!”

Yuta groans, looking pleadingly at Maki like she can get him out of this, but she just grins. “You heard him.”

“You hate me.”

“Yeah,” Maki says fondly. Yuta, defeated, goes to join Toge in the dance of death. Maki whispers to you that she’s going to record it for blackmail and slips out after him.

Tsumiki appears beside you, drink in hand, and leans against the wall. She tilts her phone screen toward you and you see it’s the Journal website analytics.

The top story right now is yours. You grin. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.”

“I expected it,” she admits, tucking her phone back in her pocket and gazing out across the room. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We won’t start the application process until spring sem, but, if you want it,” she glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I really think you should apply for editor-in-chief, Skip.”

Your mouth opens and closes without anything of use coming out, and Tsumiki laughs. “You don’t have to, but—”

“No!” you blurt, grinning. “I—I want to. I would love to. I was planning on it. I just didn’t know you… wanted me to.” Kusakabe’s just the advisor—when it comes to actually hiring the next editor, Tsumiki has the final say. Her endorsement is as good as a job offer. “I… thank you, Tsumiki.” You look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the words. “Big shoes to fill.”

“Aw, none of that,” she says, stealing a cookie from the tray on the counter next to you. “I literally can’t think of anyone better.” With a wink, she disappears through the doorway, where Kirara and Nobara are talking animatedly. Nobara gestures to you when she catches your eye.

“Dude, our listens are shooting up!” she says, shoving her phone into your hands. Your EP dropped mid-November, six tracks recorded in the studio with Takuma and Hakari, and you’ve performed better than you ever expected. The analytics show a sharp uptick that’s probably in large part due to Panda playing your stuff on the radio station.

You whistle, leaning on Nobara’s shoulder. “Awesome.”

Kirara leans against the wall, considering. “You guys thought about what you’re gonna do next year?”

Truthfully, you’ve really tried not to. The idea of Maki and Yuta graduating is so bittersweet. But graduation means Shibuya Incident will have a hole in their band, too. Kirara will be gone.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nobara muses. “We could join forces. If we lose Maki and Yuta and Kirara, the only thing we’re doubled up on is drums and lead.”

It’s not a bad idea. And if Yuji is track captain next year and you get that editor job, neither of you will have as much time for the band—switching off could actually be very helpful. You hum, considering. You’ll have to talk to the others.

“Oi,” Kirara says, reaching out to poke you with a socked foot. “Your boyfriend’s in lost puppy mode over there.” You glance into the living room to see Takuma scanning the room next to Megumi and the dogs, probably looking for you.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly, and nod goodbye to Nobara and Kirara before making your way over to him. The boys are halfway through Rasputin and Yuta is, much to Toge’s chagrin, kicking ass. Toge looks like he’s just run a half marathon.

Takuma lights up when he sees you, a mischievous smile appearing on his face as he intercepts you by the hall entrance.

“Oh, wow, what is that?” he asks cheekily, and tilts your chin up to see a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That was definitely Nobara’s doing. “Crazy that we just happened to—”

You cut him off, dragging him in by the shirt and kissing him, and makes a surprised sound that has you smiling against his lips.

“Crazy,” you repeat after you pull back, relishing the flush on his cheeks. Even after dating him for two months (as of today), every reaction you get out of Takuma makes your heart rate bump up a few beats. “Oh!” he says, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, c’mere, I have something for you.”

“Takuma!” You swat at him. “I told you not to—”

“Boo hoo,” he says, sticking his tongue out and dragging you toward your room, where he dumped his stuff earlier. You quietly close the door behind you as Takuma digs around his bag, standing up with his hands behind his back. “It’s Christmas and it’s been two months. You have no defense. Close your eyes.”

You do, giggling a little as he grabs your hand and presses something into it—something soft. “Okay,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a little stuffed penguin perched in the palm of your hand. It’s fucking adorable.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “Oh, he’s so cute! Takuma.” You cradle the penguin to your chest with both hands, grinning.

“It’s you!” he says, laughing. “Not official Madagascar merch, but I thought it was pretty cute. Your own lil’ Skipper.”

“I love it,” you say, making the penguin do a little dance in the air. You grab its tiny wing and poke Takuma on the nose with it. “Thank you.”

“Merry early Christmas.” His nose scrunches up a little in thought. “Early Merry Christmas? What’s the right way to say that?”

“Happy early nondenominational holiday of your choice,” you say teasingly, because the public university won’t actually say Christmas despite the decorations all around campus.

It’s a running joke among the entirety of the student body that the massive tree in the arts lobby is not a Christmas tree but a secular modern art installation. There are variations of insane alternate tree names on the school meme accounts. The knockoff JU Barstool page even got in on it, and the student groups hosting the Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrations.

Takuma’s answering laugh is bright and it follows you as you cross the room to your desk, pulling a box out of the second drawer. “Your turn.”

“What?” He has the audacity to look confused. “Skip—”

You hold up the penguin. “Objection denied!” The box is light and square, and you watch excitedly as he opens it.

“Oh my god,” he says when he realizes what’s inside. “No way. These are the exact ones—how did you even—?”

You had to do some investigating to figure out the precise guitar strings he uses, but what's your journalism degree for if not this?

“Who knows?” You shrug playfully. “Maybe it’s the psychic powers, maybe it’s the housemate I begged to sneak into your room and find out.”

Kirara was more than willing. “Good thing you came to me and not Itadori,” she laughed. “That kid can’t be subtle to save his life.” Takuma’s strings have been on the brink for a while, and you’re honestly shocked none of them have given out yet.

“They’re perfect,” Takuma laughs, setting the box back on your desk. “I love them. I love you.”

He says it so easily it takes you a moment to realize what just happened. He freezes, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what words he’s looking for.

“I—uh,” he says eloquently. “It’s—I mean. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that but I did mean it, you don’t have to say it back, if it’s too soon or you—”

Instead of cutting him off verbally, you grab him by the shoulders and press your lips to his. His eyes are wide when you pull back, despite the way he relaxed into the kiss on instinct.

“Hey,” you laugh, one hand trailing up to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”

The excited smile that spreads across his face is slow and hesitant, like he can’t believe you reciprocate. You pull him back in and feel his grin against your lips, his hands coming to rest at your waist, warm.

“Thank god,” he murmurs between breaths. “Because I keep almost accidentally saying it, and it was gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Least it didn’t happen over the phone,” you grin, your hand skating down his arm and coming to rest in his.

Sheepishly, he admits, “Almost did. Yesterday.” Your laugh is bright and so is his answering one, and you perch your little stuffed penguin atop the guitar strings and tug Takuma toward the door.

“Okay, lover boy. Back to the outside world.”

“Lover boy, huh?” he teases. “Kay, pretty girl.”

“Couple of cheesy ass romantics we are.”

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the action so casual and unthinking you want to melt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The second you step back into the living room, Yuta grabs you by the elbow and presses a Wii remote into your hand.

“Oh, no. Yuta—”

The song’s been chosen for you, and Toge has passed the remote to Maki, who looks like she’d rather die than give a rousing performance of TiK ToK by Ke$ha.

“Well, at least it’s you,” she says. Toge tries to discreetly pull his phone out, but Maki gives him a death glare that could send a grown man to his grave. He nearly drops it in his hurry to shove it back into his pocket.

You snort, patting Maki sympathetically on the shoulder. “Let’s kick ass.”

Three hours later, everyone has somewhat settled down, sprawled across furniture and countertops and the carpeted floor. Yuta’s grabbed an acoustic from the basement and it’s being passed around, goofy Christmas songs overlapping with the still-spinning record player.

You enrolled here with the intention of building a new life, finding a new purpose—new faces, new music, a new place to call home. And you feel like you’ve found it. This is the point of college. You’re surrounded by the best people you’ve ever known, and your heart is practically overflowing with how much you fucking love them all.

After all, your heart is not a finite thing. You’ve just got an endless supply of affection, and you’re not scared of it.

Love is the right word, you think, letting your head fall onto Takuma’s shoulders, legs tucked up beneath you on the couch.

“I love you,” you whisper, just to say it. When he whispers your name, your real name, in the shell of your ear, something in your chest sparks a little. He makes it sound like a song.

“I love you, too.”

directory | prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222 @honeyyhuggs

a/n: that’s a wrap on out of my mind! ahh! i loved this one a lot, and it has so much spinoff potential i’m going a little crazy with it—keep an eye out for the megumi spinoff dropping soon. if you want to be alerted when it drops, lmk and i’ll put you on the jjk taglist. also, greta wrote a sukuna spinoff here—go read!

@bitchkay i need you to know your reblog tags give me life and you were fucking RIGHT ON THE MONEY with these developments

i’m not sure if i’ll start writing other fandoms or not—if y’all would want to see attack on titan or blue lock do let me know!

#this is such a good conclusion im gonna jump off a cliff #the worst part about this fic is that it ends💔#ME MAKING CORRECT PERDICTIONS‼‼‼‼‼#honestly i thought the drumming thing would be a bigger thing #like i didn't think they would fight about it #but in my mind i saw yuuji be like wym guys im fine it dont even hurt cus hes built different i guess????#then try to drum before HOWLING in pain like sir please step away from the kit #WE CONFESSED WE BECAME BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND WENT ON A DATE AND YUUJI GOT HIS TACO BELL⁉️ WE WINNING🥳🥳#yuuji deserves that taco bell😤#i love yuuji and his tambourine cus i just know he was having fun up there #went ever i think of tambourines i think of church ladies just feeling the music you know those church aunties #CURSED TECHNIQUE × SHIBUYA INCIDENT COLLAB EXCEPT THEY JUST MERGE #im curious on how that would potentially work cus obviously the seniors are graduating but people going to get busier with non band stuff #me and takuma are getting married yall #ino nation is so fed with this fic we were so hungry #yuta beat toges ass at rasputin is iconic actually cus i know he was cutting it tf up #and then me and maki doing tiktok by kesha so fun #there's one song on just dance I think it would be so funny i think its timber by kesha one of the dancers is a panda💀#you probably guess what im gonna say it would be funny if panda did that one with someone even better if it was the opposite #like panda was the girl and someone else was the panda💀💀#does this have to be the last chapter what am i going to hyperfixate on now🥺🥺#takumas date idea was so cute like the fairy lights at the skatepark with some blankets and food #i feel like I have so much i wanna say #i love tag ranting can you tell #i was talking to myself the whole time i read this i was so excited #THEY WON THE BATTLE OF THE BANDS YALL LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO🥳🥳🥳🥳#i need to shut up now im almost at the tag limit #ino takuma #takuma ino x reader #kay's reblogs

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miguelspriscilla · 1 year ago

Text

fucking rcd!miguel in the back of his car after he won a race

“Oh—fuck..”

Miguel grunted as he continued pounding into you deeply from behind. His eyes staring down at your ass, the small-spaced car covering the sounds of squelching and skin-slapping. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head with each thrust, your fingers digging into the center console where you were forced to lay on as your best friend fucks you roughly in the back of his car.

This is how the night usually ended after Miguel won a car race. It all started during a sleepover at your house when you suggested the idea, giving him motivation to actually put more effort in the competitions. So after these races, the car would be parked by a cliff nearby the city while the two of you fuck round after round—not stopping even when you were on the verge of passing out.

“You like that, nena? Tell me.” His lips curving into a smirk, both of his hands gripping on your hips tightly. You squirmed, feeling his hard cock still thrusting into your tight, spongy walls.

“Y-Yes..I love it so much, Miggy!” you moaned breathlessly, the cute noises you were letting out were only bringing Miguel more pleasure.

“Fuck, I love when you call me that..”

You responded with a sweet smile before feeling him suddenly hit that sweet spot of yours, your face contorting with pleasure once again. “Please, Miggy! I want you to cum inside me!” you beg without hesitation, your knuckles turning white as your hands move to grip the center console instead. “Fuckfuckfuck!”

Your chants only encourages Miguel to set a relentless pace, driving his cock into you so roughly to the point the tip kisses your cervix. Pornographic moans leaving your sweet lips as Miguel reaches over to grab a handful of your hair to pull you back, forcing your back to arch even more, enough for your breasts to press down on the leather material of the console, never losing his pace, greedily driving himself deeper and deeper.

“You drive me crazy..never wanna leave this sweet pussy..” Miguel darkly chuckles, just as you were about to give out, feeling yourself wanting to stop, you felt yourself reach a climax that had you seeing white spots in your vision, moving your back closer to your best friend’s chest. Your face completely stained with tears and drool while shuddering as your legs shake— Miguel felt you continue to clench around his cock.

“Oh Miguel!” you mewled, Miguel watches a white ring of your sweetness cover his cock and it leaves the man almost falling apart on top of you. He groaned into your neck with a final thrust as he sank deep inside you, his cum filling you up as you moaned at the hot sensation.

As your best friend continues emptying himself inside your cunt, both of your chests heaving heavily with a thin layer of sweat on your bodies. You were completely fucked out, not one thought in your pretty little head while you stayed still.

Suddenly Miguel’s phone began going off, as if it knew when to start ringing. He seemed to forget to shut it off before he impatiently jumped your bones. He gave your butt a harsh slap, laughing when you responded with a loud whimper before he reached to his race car jacket to grab his phone from the pocket.

“Damnit!” Miguel rolled his eyes, looking at his phone screen and it read, ‘Dana.’ His girlfriend. As much as he didn’t want to answer, he still clicked the green button. As soon as he held his phone to his ear, he slid his now soft cock out of your pussy.

“Aw! Come back, Miggy!”

“Give me a sec, nena. It’s Dana.” Miguel murmured, hearing you continue to protest for him to stick his cock back in but instead he leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss, slowly rubbing tight circles on your clit as he waited for Dana say whatever the hell she wanted to talk about at 1am. “Hey— Dana..right now isn’t a good time.”

“Yeah you must’ve been sleeping! But..I just missed you.” Dana replied affectionately through the other line. She seemed eager at the fact Miguel picked up.

Though he didn’t match his girlfriend’s enthusiasm, his focus remained on you. Resting himself on your back, using his tongue to finally explore your drooling mouth while listening to Dana talk endlessly about her day, how much she misses Miguel, and how she wished she could have attended the race to see him win.

Your knees still prompted on the car floor, slowly aching from how long you stayed in that uncomfortable position as you press your thighs tightly, trying to relief the loss of your best friend’s cock. You swore you could fall asleep from the boring conversation Dana was basically having a conversation with herself. You never liked her, she was obnoxious and passed herself around way too much. But the feeling was mutual between the two of you, she never liked how you and Miguel are so close..Dana has suspected most of the time that you were both hanging out— you were sucking his cock at the back of his car.

Miguel mindlessly nodded at whatever Dana said, humming against your lips until he pulled away and watch you lay your head, pouting your lips. “Mhm..mhm..yeah?” Miguel shrugged, not paying attention at all. He was watching the mixture of your juices and his cum oozing out of your pussy, the scene was absolutely breathtaking, literally. He couldn’t breathe right as he watched your fluids drip down your thighs and onto the carpet, staining it but Miguel didn’t care.

Though you were sensitive and exhausted, you pathetically whined loudly— surely Dana had catch that. “Hey Dana, I’m kinda busy right now. Let me call you back in 20 minutes?” Miguel interrupted his girlfriend during mid-conversation. His eyes trained on your leaking hole, watching as more of his cum spill out of you, the feeling making your body shudder once more.

“Actually let me call you back in the morning, yeah?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SOMEONE FUCKING HELP ME!!! IVE BEEN CONTEMPLATING ON POSTING THIS FOR 5 DAYS NOW. PLEASE PLEASE IM SORRY ITS BAD I JUST LOVE MIGUEL😭

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nvuy · 8 months ago

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I find it kinda funny the way you react differently with Boothill and Sunday in terms of writing but they both hold the same flavor of “I want him carnally.” Keep up the wonderful work

PLEASE they’re so different it’s hilarious. gross loser with a cowboy hat that’s terrible at hiding his feelings and another gross loser with angel wings who’s slightly better at hiding his feelings but only because that’s what expected of him.

i could actually yap about them for hours…

cyborg abomination, last washed (can he bathe?) 58269652 days ago, scuffed boots but keeps them spurs polished, definitely chews hay, swallows bullets and can catch a fired one between his teeth with zero effort because his teeth are fake, probably jumps in mud puddles if given the opportunity (not like a child, but more like if he’s walking he’ll stamp in it, because he can)

versus

last washed one hour ago and smells purely of dove soap and an orchard on a rainy day, actively watches for his appearance, obsessed with organisation and order, and also actively avoids mud puddles.

but at the same time by the gods if they both don’t fret over your appearance. sunday’s more formal in the matter; he likes to dress you up if given the opportunity. fancy dinners, and he’s already organised your outfit down to the core. he likes to see you presentable, but there’s also something so raw and gorgeous about how horrible you look when you wake up (he’s swooning despite his straight face. if you’re not already jealous of his flawless he looks in the morning, that is).

sunday also absolutely loves when you keep him company in the office, even if you’re a total distraction. it’s not even your fault either. you could be doing something else entirely in the corner on a couch and his eyes will wander. don’t sit in his lap because then he’ll be a lost cause entirely.

boothill will doll you up too, don’t get me wrong, but it’s more of a “hey i bought you this and you’d probably look hot in it” and he’s always right. you’re more fretting over his appearance than anything—he doesn’t mind.

brush his hair all you want. if you wanna braid his hair, go for it. he’ll keep it like that for the rest of time if he could. his hair isn’t exactly real, nor does it grow, so it doesn’t really need to be washed, and the strands are effortlessly silky. he’ll let you do anything to him, it’s that bad. he’d probably let you push him off a cliff. and yes, you can use his little ports to charge your phone, even if he whines every time about it.

the white hair is natural, by the way. definitely had very very dark brown hair that his fathers loved to take care of, and then when he lost his daughter, it was a case of marie antoinette syndrome (whether it exists is debatable, but for my mind’s sake, yes).

#boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill hsr #sunday x you #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #✦ ( love mail. )#✦ ( anon. )#✦ ( rambles. )

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ooooo-mcyt · 1 year ago

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Okay every time I see Double Life content about the secret soulmate thing, everyone plays up Scar as being super upset for drama, but like. Canonically, he really kinda didn't care, and like. I find that angle to be INTERESTING.

If we still wanna take it in an angsty direction, Scar not minding can be taken either as a lack of interest in his relationship with Grian on his part or as a sign that, even if he does care, he's long since given up on the two of them as a pair.

On the other hand (and i personally froth at the mouth over this interpretation most), it could be that he doesn't care about Grian's secret soulmate because he's secure enough in their past together and in being Grian's actual soulmate that he knows Grian playing distant and flirting with Bigb for a few episodes doesn't actually matter, really. Grian played distant in season one too, but he also fought by Scar's side until the end and loved him enough to jump off a cliff when he lost him. Scar knows this. And now the universe has deemed them SOULMATES as well, so why would Scar care that Grian baked some bread for Bigb?

#trafficblr #grian #goodtimeswithscar #desert duo #double life smp

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cozage · 2 years ago

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you wanna do continue the one you did where the s/o gets captured? Get them rescuuuued. please and thank you :D

A/N: I actually have two of these requests in my inbox, and these got really long because I’m insane and have to write every detail, so I’m going to break these up into three different posts so people aren’t stuck reading and scrolling through a 10k fic on tumblr. Ace and Law’s will be coming soon!

Characters: female reader x Luffy

Cw: angst, drugging, near-death experience

Total word count: 2.3k

Summary: You've been captured by marines, and the Strawhats work to get you back. (Followup from this request)

Rescued by Pirates - Luffy

Luffy stood at the top of the cliff, staring down the Marine fleet in the bay. There were ten ships, and you were on one of them. Captured. Alone. He knew you were fighting, but there’s only so much you could do in a locked prison cell with sea prism cuffs.

“I’m coming.” Luffy muttered, hoping the wind would carry his words to you. “Wait for me. Don’t stop fighting.”

“Luffy, get down!” Nami pulled the captain back over the ridge, keeping him out of sight from the scouts. “If a Marine sees you this whole stealth operation is over!”

Luffy groaned and slumped to the ground. “I don’t even know why this has to be a stealth operation! If we just start smashing everything-”

“They’ll kill her.” Sanji said, and Luffy grew quiet. “If they know we’re coming, they’ll execute her now and report it to the news coo after.”

“They probably have people waiting outside her cell to do it as soon as the call is made,” Franky admitted coldly. “They don’t want another repeat of…” he trails off, and everyone knows what he’s going to say.

They don’t want another repeat of Ace. Luffy embarrassed the entire World Government when he broke into Impel Down, broke out of Impel Down, and then sailed to Marineford and freed Ace from his shackles.

“It’s possible that’s why they’re still here.” Nami’s voice was worried as she spoke everyone’s thoughts. “They’re baiting us so they can kill her. They don’t want to transport her just to have Luffy embarrass them again.”

“It would make sense why they haven’t taken off yet,” Brook added.

“Or they’re waiting for backup,” Sanji countered. “She’s a dangerous pirate, but the Navy always prefers public executions. Especially with the new leader having a personal vendetta against Luffy, he’ll want to kill her publicly if possible. I’m sure of it.”

“Then we have to go!” Luffy started to stand to his feet, frustrated with the lack of action, but Nami quickly pulled him back down.

“Let Robin and Brook handle this first part! We have to find her first before you start smashing everything to bits!”

Luffy hated waiting. Especially when there's nothing he could do to pass the time. But finally, after about 30 minutes of silence, Robin opened her eyes.

“She’s on the fourth ship in the back with the red and yellow tailwind sail. Under deck, in a prison cell. Shackles on her arms and legs, and a neck collar.”

Luffy’s eyes peeked over the cliffside to find the ship Robin was describing. He located it, and sprang forward to jump over the cliff, but strong arms held him back.

“Zoro, let me go! We know where she is!” He struggled to break free from the swordsman's grasp. “We have to go get her!”

“Hang on Luffy, we need a plan before we just jump into action!”

The guard change comes early today, which you find odd. Normally the Marines are dragging their feet to stand guard over your cell, but then you spot green hair poking out from the marine cap, the man next to him with a very familiar scar across his cheek, and your heart begins to beat faster.

“So, the keys?” Zoro holds his hand out to the Navy officer watching over you, who laughs in his face.

“This must be your first time imprisoning a pirate, kid,” the old man says. “We don’t keep the keys anywhere near the prison. You know how easy it would be for someone to knock out a guard and take them? Let me show you the ropes, kid.”

The old man and his colleague turn to face you for the first time in hours, ushering Zoro and Luffy to look at you now. You can see Luffy is in visible pain just from looking at you.

Your arms and legs were each shackled to the wall, and you had a contraption around your neck that looked strikingly similar to the ones the Celestial Dragons used on their slaves. Blood caked your hair and trickled down your face. Your body was littered in scratches and bruises, your clothes torn from whatever battle had happened that Luffy wasn’t there for.

“Each one of those shackles has a different key, and that neck collar too, as well as the key to the jail cell itself. Each of those keys are on a different ship, and we’ve got instructions to throw the keys into the harbor if we catch a glimpse of a Strawhat approaching the ship.

“The best part, though,” he continues, with a hungry malice in his eyes. He raises his hand to point a finger at your neck. “That collar has a fun little detonator. The Vice Admiral has the control button if it comes to that. And the collar itself administers a sedative every hour on the hour, and gives another dose if someone touches the bars.”

He smacked the bars for good measure, and you flinched as you felt a pinch in your neck.

“Honestly it’s a miracle she’s still awake. We like to hit the bars every now and then just to keep her calm. Don’t want her causing a scene now, do we?”

You were trying your hardest not to stare at Luffy. You can see the rage consuming his body as he realizes what an insurmountable task it is to save you. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head viciously to relay a simple message. Run. Don’t save me.

But you know he won’t listen. He never has. Not with Robin or Ace or Sanji or anyone else he’s saved against their will. And he certainly won’t do it with you either.

“I see a pretty big flaw in this whole design,” Zoro said, staring at the cell you were in. You could see he was enraged as well, but he was hiding it better than Luffy.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that, kid?”

“Can’t they just cut it?”

The old Marine let out a hardy laugh at his question. “Sea prism stone is the hardest substance in the world. Nobody can cut through that, I don't care if it’s Dracule Mihawk himself!”

“Oh, Mihawk can cut Sea Prism Stone.” The green-haired man gave a devilish smirk to the Marine.

You braced yourself. You knew what was coming. Zoro only had two swords with him, but it would be enough.

You heard a whirlwind of air swirl around you, and you could feel the weight on your arms get lighter. There were several pinches in your neck, and you could feel yourself involuntarily slip into unconsciousness.

Zoro had put just a bit too much power into his swings to free you, and the cuts ripped through the ship behind you. He then turned to the marines, wickedly smiling at them.

“Told ya.” He smacked the younger one with the hilt of the sword and the marine crumpled to the ground, but the older marine was fast and dodged Zoro’s attack. The Marine locked Zoro into a battle of swords, occupying his ability to get the other chains off of you.

Luffy sprang into action, running to grab you. He screamed your name as he ran to you, jumping over sea prism stone rubble and other debris to reach you. He knew Zoro hadn’t hurt you, but you were slumped against the ship wall, and he couldn’t help but think about how fragile you looked. He shook you, desperately trying to wake you up.

And then Luffy heard a beeping sound, coming from the collar around your neck. The same sound that he was helpless against in Sabaody. “ZORO!” He screamed, holding you tight.

“Forgot to mention,” the older marine grinned back at the swordsman, keeping him locked in a battle. “Tamper with the chains too much and the collar will detonate, even without a push from the button.”

Zoro tightened his muscles in horror. “Luffy, get it off of her!”

“I hear she’s the weakness of Strawhat Luffy. Let’s watch and see, shall we? Perhaps he’ll have an even worse reaction than in Marineford.” The marine's gaze was on Luffy now, eager to see him snap.

Luffy ignored the weight of what failure meant for you. He focused, letting his Haki flow through his body like he had seen Rayleigh do in Sabaody. He grabbed the collar from around your neck and squeezed, snapping it in half, and threw it away from you. In the same motion, Luffy turned and glared at the Marine, who instantly crumpled to the ground, knocked out by Luffy’s Conqueror's Haki.

“Luffy, we have to go,” Zoro’s voice was urgent. There was commotion above them coming from the deck. It was clear the Navy was alerted to their presence. But Luffy was ignoring him, desperately trying to shake you awake.

“Come on, Luffy,” Zoro insisted, stepping over the rubble. He quickly cut each of the shackles off your legs. “She’ll be fine. I’ll carry her, you punch things. Let's go.”

Zoro put a sword between his teeth and picked you up into his arms. He saw the darkness in Luffy’s eyes, and stood back to let his captain destroy the people who had tried to take you away from him.

Luffy spared no ship. Once he saw Zoro and you were safe on the beach, he unleashed his full might against the ten ships in the harbor. His crew could hear his screams of rage from the shoreline, his pent up fear of losing you spilling out into his attacks.

When he was finally finished destroying the ships, he came back to the shore and sat silently among his crew. He pulled your unconscious body into his lap, stroking your hair softly. He stared down at you for a long time, just watching the rise and fall of your chest, his eyesight fuzzy from tears.

As the sun was starting to sink over the horizon, Nami finally spoke up. “We should go.” Her voice was hoarse, and her cheeks were damp with tears.

“Not until she wakes up.”

Sanji sighed, pulling out a few small rations of food to give the crew while they waited. Luffy didn’t eat, he just combed his fingers through your hair, willing you to wake up.

Nightfall came, and you were still unconscious. The crew could see lights on the horizon. Marine ships that were supposed to lead you to Impel Down.

“Luffy, we need to go,” Sanji insisted. Luffy refused to respond, his eyes only watching you.

“She’ll be more comfortable on the ship, Luffy,” Chopper said, trying to coax the captain back to the Sunny. “She can sleep in a bed and we can monitor her more closely.”

“It’s better for her to be back on the ship,” Sanji agreed. “And we need to get moving.”

Luffy finally nodded, giving in to his crew's request. If it was better for you, then he wouldn’t be selfish. It was selfishness that got you in this position in the first place. If he hadn’t run off on his own, if he had just stayed with the group like Nami had told him too, this might’ve never happened.

He held you close to him and walked back to the ship with the rest of the crew, not speaking. When they got back to the ship, Luffy set you down in the infirmary and stood in the corner, letting Chopper take care of you.

“Let me know if anything changes in her status.” And with that, Chopper left the two of you alone in the infirmary. Luffy sat in the chair next to your bed, holding your hand and watching you sleep, waiting for you to come back to him.

Before you open your eyes, you can hear the heart rate monitor beeping; you can feel the harsh light against the back of your eyelids. Beside you, you can hear soft, even breathing of someone who is sleeping. Luffy. You’d know the sound of his breathing anywhere. You feel relief wash over you, knowing you’re safe with your crew.

The light is still too bright for your eyes, so your hand reaches out blindly, searching for Luffy. Your hand finds his head, and you pat him gently. You don’t intend to wake him, but he instantly stirs from his sleep.

“Y/n?” His voice is groggy as his head lifts up.

“Hi,” you whisper, your eyes still closed. “Can you turn off the-”

His body crashes into you, cutting off your question, and you wrap your arms around him in an embrace. You can hear his broken sobs of relief fill the air. “I was so scared,” he sobbed into your shoulder. “You weren’t waking up.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you say soothingly, trying to calm him down. You crack your eyes open a bit, trying to adjust to the light in the room. “Thanks to you, captain.”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x you #one piece x reader #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #✧˚law✧˚

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lordofshitposting · 6 months ago

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JJK as Brooklyn 99 quotes because it would be hilarious

─────────────────────

Miguel: Getō! Where is Mimiko's stuffed bear?

Getō: Umm... She must have forgotten it in the temple. Don't worry, I'll get it tomorrow and-

Miguel: Let me be clear. Mimiko can't sleep without that stuffed bear, and if Mimiko doesn't sleep, Nanako also doesn't sleep, and if both of them don't sleep-

Getō: I know, I know. Miguel doesn't sleep.

Miguel, holding black rope: No. Getō doesn't live!

─────────────────────

Mai: Alright, give me your hair dryer.

Mechmaru: What?

Noritoshi: What are you talking about?

Mai: Don't you carry one in your bag?

Noritoshi: Have you met a normal person before?

Mai: Pulls out her phone to call Momo

Mai: Hey, do you carry a hair dryer with you?

Momo: Of course, I'm not an animal.

─────────────────────

Gojo, to principal Gakuganji probably: You think that disapproving glare is gonna work on me after all the times I've seen it? Step it up, find something new. You're boring.

─────────────────────

Maki: So what, now I'm supposed to do everything Yuta does? What if he jumps off a cliff?

Panda: If Yuta were to jump off a cliff, he would have done his diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry. So yes, if Yuta jumps off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff.

Maki: You jump off a cliff!

Panda: Gladly, provided Yuta did first.

─────────────────────

Yuta: I gotta go.

Maki: Aren't you forgetting something?

Yuta: Uh...

Yuta: kisses Maki's forehead

Maki, blushing: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?

─────────────────────

Manami: You want to hold him, Larue?

Larue: Oh, um... yeah sure, that would be great.

Larue: Hugs Getō

Manami: The baby, Larue.

Larue: Yeah. Right, right. The normal thing.

─────────────────────

Nanami: The most time I have spent with someone is four hours and it was hell.

Gojō: What about the ride to Bludhaven we took? That was four hours.

Gojō: Oh, I see what just happened.

─────────────────────

Yuji: Remember how upset you got when Megumi ended a text with "thx" instead of "thanks"?

Nobara, visibly upset: Why would you bring that up?

─────────────────────

Gojō: Hey Getō, do you know my blood type?

Getō: Yeah, it's B positive.

Gojō: Okay, I guessed wrong.

Gojō, to his nurse: Excuse me, ma'am-

─────────────────────

Gojō: Be myself? Shoko, I have one night to win over Suguru. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Mei Mei: A couple of weeks.

Kusabake: Six months.

Utahime: Jury's still out.

Gojō: See, Shoko? "Be myself" what kind of garbage advice is that? First impressions are everything and I'm not Nanami!

─────────────────────

Nobara: How much could I possibly owe you? Fifty, sixty bucks?

Megumi: Two thousand four hundred and thirty-seven dollars.

Nobara: Dollars?! Wait, of course dollars. Why was that the part I was surprised by?

─────────────────────

Hakari: Do you wanna know how I actually hurt my wrist?

Kashimo: Yes.

Hakari: I was hoola-hooping. Kirara and I attend a class for fitness and for fun.

Kashimo: Oh my God.

Hakari: I've mastered all the moves. The pizza toss, the tornado, the scorpion, the oopsie doodle.

Kashimo: Why are you telling me all this?

Hakari: Because no one will ever believe you.

Kashimo: You sick son of a bitch.

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austinsastrology8991 · 2 years ago

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> Mars in Houses < How you fight demons by becoming more demony ANd where others thirsty for yo Red-Bull-shit

Mars in First - Red bull gave you wings. your venom is oozing out yo teeth, but you still grinning at anything that moves. you act out a lot -and we let you - only because we don't wanna be the reason you lashed out - and you will justify your outbursts with any reason possible. because anything and everything makes you jump into a fist fight. and we don't wanna hear it was our fault later when we all know its your fault Mars in Second - Red bull made you sleep. you tired of fighting, but you will never surrender - so like what do you even want. your easily the most annoying person to get in a fight with because you never quit even if you lost the fight. passive in yo jabs but you a genius at pissing me off. and honestly the only reason i put up with it is because you so god damn sensual but your the definition of walking on egg shells Mars in Third - Red bull gave you intrusive thoughts. You are irrationally provocative and you don't even care that you just pissed everyone off with yo shit talking. you are able to have a conversation, but you must get the final word, and this final word, is why we all roll our eyes at you whenever you say yo 'piece.' notice how know one talks shit back to you? talk is cheap Mars in Fourth - Red bull gave you cancer - you hold in a lot, and we know your insides are boiling into a hot soup and thats why everyone so nice to you. we dont want to be the ones you vomit at. and we know its because yo mama made you bite yo tongue as a kid. and well we gotten used to it Mars in Fifth - Red bull gave you energy - get hyper - *dubstep**ksi appears** your dominant simply because your energy is overwhelming to others > you got the loudest laugh > the 'funniest' jokes > the biggest rawr xd > no one gonna step to you because you loud , and to extinguish yo flames we gotta call the fire brigade because you set the whole building on fire Mars in Sixth - Red bull gave you band aids/aids - you the most non combative person but can cut anyone so easily. you know exactly how to put someone down, and thats why you dont look for fights, because it feels like work at dis point. undercover freaks Mars in Seventh - Red bull gave you an erection - RED ROCKET RED ROCKET ummm do you really gotta show yo red rocket to everyone. seriously you working everyone as if you plan on sleeping with everyone. and the people you really wanna sleep with man, never seen a bigger simp, but keep pretending you a pimp, i mean i would too if i was as thirsty as you Mars in Eighth - Red bull gave you demon wings - scary. you can expose anyone by diggging into their psyche/secrets, and after you expose them, you console them, make them feel better about how you made them yo bitch. I mean its impressive how well you keep your secrets to yourself, but man do you exterminate everyone elses and its uncomfortable to be yo target Mars in Ninth - Red bull made you jump off something high - loud ambitions and a whole buncha energy. and well we know you have a grand plan to take over the world, but we done hearing about it we just waiting to see if you got the balls to do it. oh wow you actually jumped off the cliff and nearly died. was it as legendary as you thought it would be > i mean shit, imma talk about it so maybe? Mars in Tenth - Red bull made you put on a suit - Professionally a proffesional. a professional that proffeses they a profesional professionally like professionals who are proffesional. do you feel like i gave you the respect you deserved, or do you feeel im mocking you? they ask themselves this typa shit 24/7 because they dont wanna get spat on, but they so used to it - so they put themselves in only win win situations to avoid anything 'unprofessional'

Mars in Eleventh - Red bull gave you purpose - yall are kinda fearless but we all know its because you so afraid you wont get your way lol. but you masters at getting yo way, but that just means people dont wanna get in yo way... now ask yourself. how beneficial is this really. i mean at least nothing is an obstacle, but also no one helping you, becasue your attitude has convinced everyone you dont need help, and we also don't want to Mars in Twelfth - Red bull made you think he gave you wings - yall into infecting peoples minds; thats yo weapon. you know the exact right things to pull off to get people stuck in a thought loop of guessing what ifs of what is actually nothing at all. and this 'weapon' after a while, is completely useless after yo game is revealed, but yall are intriguing and are always shapeshifting into some new shit

#mars houses #astrology houses #astrology #astrology blog #astro community #astrology notes #astrology observations #astrology placements #house placements

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fountainpenguin · 1 year ago

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Scott, Gem, and Martyn Secret Life Ep 1 commentary:

"Geez Scott, why are you so creepy?" / "Everyone needs a hobby <3"

Crying at Scott booking it across the grass to break up Scar and Jimmy as fast as humanly possible and they just start huffing and grumbling.

Scott after running into Pearl, Cleo, Jimmy, and Martyn - "I've bumped into every single one of my exes already..."

slkdjf Skizz apparently cut himself saying "I just wanna cause problems" out of his own POV but Scott got it all on tape

Skizz staying within 10 blocks of Gem is even funnier from Scott's POV because he needs Gem to hold his hand while he follows Scott around a corner... The delicate balancing act of obeying Scott's come hither but also pulling Gem along.

The dead silent push in on Scott's face when he notices Gem inching her base away from his and he's dreading starting his "obnoxiously attach your base to someone else's" task over.

Impulse: "Scott, is my cottagecore-ing okay? :)" / Scott, sweating his pretty little head off as he speed-builds so Gem doesn't catch him in the act, not even turning around: "Yep- looks great!"

Gem, emotionally trudging across the map with Skizz and Scott hanging off her.

I appreciate Gem's commentary of "How much room does this man NEED??"

Gem watching Scott un-merge their bases: "Oh, thank you" / Scott: "What do you mean by that. Why is that a relief to you."

---

Impulse and Gem going over the cliff is funnier with the context that Gem's task was to convince someone to "take a leap of faith while also ensuring they take no damage."

Mental image of Gem begging Impulse to take a flying jump into the water while Impulse is grabbing her by the shoulders and trying to force her into a cherry wood boat because it's cherry wood it's amazing Gem come on slkdjf

Gem: "How much more iron do you need for a chestplate?" / Impulse, taking a moment to pretend to count: "... 8 :)"

Gem, addressing the viewers: "And Skizz follows me around for an uncomfortable period of time."

In Scott's POV, he's just watching unhappily from the distance as Gem starts taking down her wall, but in Gem's POV she actually asked him if she can move her base over and he's just like "Yeah... Yeah, you can if you want to :')" slkdfj

Underappreciated irony in Scott being the one to make a big deal about how clingy Skizz is when he's literally fusing his base's roof with Gem's

It's spawn egg-topia!!

Scott: "I'm making the executive decision to separate our cottages." slkdjf Scott recovers from being possessed by the spirit of clinginess and wakes up like "What HAPPENED last night?? What is this garbage??"

---

Holy cow Martyn dropping from 30 hearts to 12 within like 20 minutes.

lksdjf Martyn: "Let's see if there's any response in the chat to my Cover Me With Diamonds achievement :)" / Gem, Scott, and Impulse immediately triple enchant / Martyn: "Oh :'D"

??? Custom zombie spawner? Neat

He started at 30 and went down to 5.5 hearts?? Geez, dude.

It's funny because in Double Life, I didn't notice Martyn taking that much damage compared to anyone else, but I feel like now I understand why Cleo was so irritated with him lskdjf

Martyn at the start of this episode: "Ew I don't want cherry wood" / Martyn trying to complete his secret task: "Where is all the cherry wood??"

Martyn speedbuilding in panic and quiet, then Joel cracks a joke and Martyn laughs and you hear Bdubs offscreen going "You got Martyn with that one" <3

sdfklsjdf I like how Martyn's idea of copying Lizzie's house involved rushing over to hers and destroying her bed to match the fact that his copied house did not have a bed

Wheezing at Impulse being just 2 steps from pushing the success button but Martyn starts trash-talking cherry wood and Impulse immediately goes "Take that back, take that back right now!" with this guttural snarl and starts stomping towards him because he wasn't cured from his cherry wood obsession yet... Beautiful.

#Secret Life #Secret Life spoilers #trafficblr #Scott Smajor #Martyn InTheLittleWood #mcyt #traffic life smp #Riddle watches Traffic #GeminiTay #Skizzleman #impulseSV #Secret Life SMP spoilers #traffic spoilers #Gem and the Scotts

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captainwans · 11 months ago

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AM ERA! (smau)

— ALEX TURNER

arabella series

pairing: alex turner x fem! actress! reader

summary: some iconic and memorable moments on social media during the am era.

timeline: 2014

note: to clear up any confusion, the song arabella in this universe/series is based on a movie y/n did. + and also this format / layout is heavily inspired by my love @ithinkimokeei 🩶

masterlist!

Liked by yourbestfriend, katiee_cook_ and others

yourinstagram she’s got a barbarella silver swimsuit … 🪽

ㅤ View all the comments

username THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING ‼️

username doing cartwheels across the highway- 🤸‍♀️ why are they so attractive

username mom and dad looks so hot

breanahelders looking beautiful wifey 😙

yourinstagram got it from you <3

elizabetholsenofficial because i love waking up in the morning getting hit by visuals 😩

username lizzie is so real for that

username mother

username alex looks so fucking good i wanna jump off a cliff

username the fact that y/n didn’t know arabella was about her until a fan told her during a comic con panel will forever not be iconic

username lmao even the mcu cast was shocked that she didn’t know 😭

username had to replay that funny moment between y/n and scarlett where scar almost had a whiplash bc y/n had no idea

username our baby is so clueless it’s so cute

mileskane who’s that sexy cinnamon bun on the left? 😏

yourinstagram definitely not your man

username IM CACKLING SO LOUD

username pls y/n is so savage i love her

mileskane and you’re claiming him as your man?

username ohh dramaaaaa

yourinstagram and what if i did? 👀

username GASP- does this mean that alex and y/n are dating?!!!

mileskane it’s okay luv it’s just a phase it will go away ❤️

username hahaahahahahah miles

username i’m crying this is too funny

katiee_cook_ this comment section is so funny me and jamie are dying from laughter

yourinstagram mileskane unfortunately it is not just a phase 🥲

username wait y/n does this mean you and al are together?!! hello??

username girl you can’t just leave us hanging like that 😭😭 we NEED TO KNOW

username wait so arabella is actually about her?

yourbestfriend those of you who haven’t watched arabella clearly shows

username fr the song doesn’t even make sense if you haven’t watched the movie

username CAN SOMEONE PLS CONFIRM IF THEY’RE DATING??

Liked by yourinstagram, marvel and others

enews to answer the question on y/n’s famous instagram post… the answer is YES! (📷: unknown)

ㅤ View all the comments

username I KNEW IT

username IM CRYING HAPPY TEARS FINALLY

username idk if i wanna be him or be with her

yourbestfriend same

username y/bsf/n is so real for this

username they look so happy

username mileskane has been real quiet ever since enews posted

username i’m fine (i’m not)

username now who leaked these pictures of me and my man? 🤫

yourinstagram first miles and now i have to fight my way through fans 😭 this is a battle

mileskane yeah username get in line 🙄

username speaking of the devil… hi miles!!

username and he has arrived!!

username good luck dealing with seventeen year old girlies who want you dead 🥲

username bro what is marvel doing here liking this post i’m cackling

marvel don’t blame us we were just as curious as you folks 🙈

ㅤ Liked by 34,4k users

username alex could do better than this pretentious hollywood whore

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181 notes · View notes

hiro--aoki · 9 months ago

Text

TWD Incorrect Quotes from my classmates

Tw: contains swear words, mention of sex, use of slut and maybe some other offense things, idk

Michonne: Because your minds are still developing you want to….

Y/N: Do drugs!

Michonne: Take more risks…

Y/N: Nah…

Michonne: A risk is any unsafe action or stupid, thoughtless and careless behaviour.

Carl to Y/N: Literally me.

*Coughs that sound like an erupting volcano*

Abraham: My tummy hurts.

Michonne: Can you name three risks?

Merle: Sex with no protection!

Carl: A gun with no safety on!

Y/N: Having a forehead as big as Merle’s!

Deanna: So, we have codes A, C and D.

Rick: Why not code B? Where’s the B????

Aaron: B-cause.

Glenn: You should b- ashamed of yourself…. I’m not funny

Maggie: You’re not funny

Deanna: So, code A stands for….?

Daryl: Ass!

Eugene: Acceptable!

Aaron: Yeah *fistbump*

Y/N: Nerd!

Deanna: What about code C?

Maggie: Coffee.

Eugene: Calculated!

Deanna: Yes! How about code D?

Abraham: Deez nuts!

Sasha: Dangerous!

Carol: Destructive!

Deanna: Yeah! You guys concern me!

Y/N: Ron, shut up you acoustic monk.

Glenn: Guys I accidentally wrote relationhips instead of relationships.

Carl: Y/N, has relationhips.

Y/N: What’s that supposed to mean?!?!

Y/N: Carl, has a shirt that says ‘ Roblox is life’ shirt, and he said it suits me.

Negan: Feel how soft my water bottle is.

Simon: Stop stroking your water bottle like that!

Michonne: What’s something that was legal, but was a destructive decision?

Merle: Weed!

Enid: I wanna jump off a cliff.

Y/N: I wanna kiss a 12 gauge.

Enid: My dad jumped out of a plane without a parachute…

Carl: My dad is a plane.

Andrea: My butt hurts.

Dale: *Gives strange look*

Andrea: You’re looking at me like you wanna fuck me.

Dale: What?

Shane: Ha!

Dale: No, I actually didn’t hear.

Amy: Real.

Negan: Did you wash your ass today?

Michonne: So, tell me an example of a safety risk?

Merle: Your mom

Michonne: …and some conatin cannabis

Judith: These gummies tastes funny.

*Watching a budget direct ad and Captain Risky comes on*

Jesus: Smash

Ron: Bro’s him

Daryl: I mean he has all the skills

Carl: Bluds the main character

Y/N: You look like a potato

Dwight: You look like a trash can

Y/N: Nuh uh

Dwight: Yeah uh

Negan: Dwight, keep working *Lightly caresses the shovel Dwight’s hand*

Y/N: Stop!

Dwight: Stop it I don’t like it!

Y/N: Yes, we are Sluts

Rosita: Sexy Ladies Under Tonnes of Stress

Y/N: I can’t make a decision that big, I can’t even tie my own shoes!

Enid: Please tell me you’re joking.

Y/N: I’m not, I tie them like a three-year old! Let me show you!

Enid: No, no thanks…

Y/N: Watch my feet! Watch my shoes. *Ties laces with two loops*

Enid: Ew *visibly cringes*

Carl: …I just asked if you wanted pancakes or waffles….

Glenn: Look how much funny shit we said today.

Daryl: I can’t it’s too black

Glenn: Ayo?

Daryl: I meant too dark!

Y/N: Nah!

*Glenn adjusts lighting*

Daryl: Now it’s too white!

Y/N: !!!

Daryl: Too bright! Too bright!

Negan: BALLS

Y/N: Gotta rizz ‘em with the ‘tism

Negan: I’m a Savior….save ya mom!

*Carl and Ron carrying a log*

Enid: For a second I thought that was in their ass’s

Y/N: I want them up my ass

Enid: What?

Y/N: What?

*Truck passes*

Daryl: Awww yeah, listen to tha’

Y/N: I can smell the air…

Daryl: No shit, sherlock!

Glenn: Don’t judge a book by it’s-

Eugene: Erm actually, it’s in the human instincts system, for us to make a quick judgement on a person appearance to determine whether they are friend or foe.

Y/N: Oooh, did I appear friend or foe when you first saw me?

Eugene: Well, when I first encountered you, you looked like you couldn’t hurt a fly, but since then, I have realised my mistake and have grown scared of you.

Rosita: He’s scared of everything…

Eugene: Not pickles!

Beth: What song do you wear?

92 notes · View notes

clubdionysus · 6 months ago

Text

[BAD DECISION #54] Surprises

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, car shag!!! bit of a mess really, starluvrs being starluvrs, degradation, praise, creampie, jumping days here and there, we've got places to be!! bad decisions to make!!

notes: leaving u with a lil cliff hanger hehehe

wc: 6K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"No, it's not funny. I'm actually gonna die," Jeongguk groans as your giggle vibrates against his throat. Hair tickling his skin, there's a clumsiness to you both. Are so familiar with one another that it shouldn't be a struggle - and yet neither of you can see to get this right.

"Shush," you laugh, hands desperately struggling with his belt. "It's the angle! Hips up."

"You're on me!" He protests, giggling as his head rests against the back of the chairs. It's dark, and it's cramped, and there's nothing sexy about this.

Or at least there isn't until Jeongguk lifts his hips. You gasp at the sudden movement, his arm wrapped around your back (or, more so, just above your arse) to keep you in place on top of him.

"Fuck-" you yelp in surprise, taken aback by the sudden jolt.

"I think you mean 'fuck, please' ," he quips as if your exclamation had been a request. "I'd really like to. You're the one butchering this."

"Hey!" You defend - and then you're giggling again, even if you are doing far better now that his body is a little straighter, quickly threading the leather through the buckle. His hips sink back down into the seat. The natural motion of your body of his realigns you. Gets your nose right where it belongs next to his. "See," you whisper against his lips. "Wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"Like I said," he flirts back, practically kissing you while brushing his lips against yours. Boundaries don't exist. Your air is his. Your space, body, and innermost desires are all shared willingly. Reciprocally. "I wasn't the one being difficult."

Lips sinking down into his just as an excuse to shut him up, you hum something incoherent.

"What was that?" He purrs. "I'm right?"

"Shut up."

Blazer left in the passenger seat, you're still in your jeans and Jeongguk's tank top.

"Fuck it," you groan, pulling yourself away into the seat next to his. Get the zipper of the jeans open, but before you can even tug the trousers down your legs, Jeongguk's all up in your business again - and who are you to turn away such a loyal customer?

"Gguk," you laugh as his lips find your neck, hand slipping down the front of your trousers. With a gasp, your head tilts back, the pressure of his fingers against the lace of your underwear akin to paradise.

"Yeah?" He teases, knowing the moan of his name was rhetorical.

"Shut up," you moan, as he presses down on your most sensitive of parts.

"Rude," he smirks, then trails his tongue up your neck. Flicks over the lobe of your ear. Sucks. Whispers, "Hips up, baby. Take them off."

You've done this dance with Jeongguk many times, in many precarious places, but none of them have ever been as cramped as his car. The leather of his seats is only lukewarm thanks to the aircon, and there's an acute awareness that anyone could see you right now - but it's late, and it's dark, and you don't really care for anything outside the confines of the steel can you're in.

"I'm trying," you giggle, awkwardly shimmying the materials down your legs. It's not like he's helping. Not when his fingers are toying with the lace of your underwear, lips pressing wet kisses beneath your jaw.

"Wanna fuck you so bad," he lazily admits, then realises maybe he needs to be a bit more proactive in order to get what he wants.

Pulling away from you, Jeongguk frantically pushes his own trousers down. Not off, not entirely - he's still wearing his shoes - but below his knees to give him a little wiggle room. Palms at himself, cock hard beneath his boxers, while his other hand strokes at the curve of your back as you lean down to pull your jeans off at the ankle. Wastes no time pulling you back onto his lap as soon as possible.

"Hi," you whisper, hair falling around his face, engulfing him in everything you are.

"Hey, baby," he whispers back, hands stroking at your waist. There's a warmth to his palms, a strength to the intention with which he touches you. He lets his thumb tuck beneath the material. Strokes against your skin, while his other hand dips to squeeze your ass. You can practically hear him internally whinging about being an ass guy, as if his lips don't start to trail down your neck and to somewhere else entirely . "Come here often?"

Your line of bantering has been well-nurtured by this point. The same jokes, same playful remarks are repeated like comedy specials. Reruns of your favourite shows. Binge-watched. Left to play in the background of menial tasks just to fill the space.

Your fingers weave into his hair as your hips begin to grind against his lap. Encouraging his exploration of your skin, you hum in satisfaction as his lips trail along the neckline of his tank top.

"Once or twice," you tease - which immediately has him pulling back.

"I'm sorry?!" He huffs in fake outrage. There's a grin on his pretty lips despite his furrowed brows. "Once or twice?!"

With a laugh that Jeongguk thinks could make even the coldest of hearts fall in love, you nod as you cup his jaw, resting your forehead to his. "Maybe three times."

"You come here all the time," he whines, the double meaning of your flirt so thinly veiled it may as well not exist.

"Well, I'm not right now, am I?" you challenge.

Hands cupping your ass, Jeongguk gives you a squeeze, then gently spanks your exposed skin. There's a slight jump to your reaction and an incredibly sultry gasp.

Pressing his lips up against yours, Jeongguk reaches between your legs and tugs your panties to the side. Already wet, he knows he could probably just fuck you right now - but he wants you choking on your words.

"Fuck," you whine into his lips. The movement lets his tongue slide against yours, gently stroking until it's all rather undignified. His tongue is in your mouth just like his middle finger is slowly pushing up into your cunt, your hips helping to create a rhythm.

"You wanna fuck me so bad," he smirks against you. Earns himself a pathetic nod from you as your hands tighten in his hair. The tension of your fingers forces his head to tip back, and then you're both gasping in a way that is far too personal for the back of a car. A second finger pushes into you, and the lopsided smirk on Jeongguk's face deepens as your face blossoms with unadulterated pleasure. "Say it, B. Tell me how much you want it."

Hips languidly grinding down as his fingers stroke up against your sweetest spots, all you can manage is a blatant, bratty lie. "Don't wanna fuck you."

"No?" He grins. "Say it, then. Call chess."

Provocative in his instigations, Jeongguk is all cocksure and confident in that boyish way that always makes you wanna rise to his challenge.

Trouble is, to play him at his own game is to lose. You do want to fuck him - and you know that if you try and pretend like you don't, he'll withhold himself from you until you're begging .

"No," you sweetly reply. "I'm doing charity , here. Taking one for the team. You're welcome."

"Charity?" he almost fucking snorts.

"Charity," you nod. "Can't take it back because I'll get bad karma, so it means I have to fuck you."

Jeongguk scoffs, brows furrowed, lips ajar.

"Well, maybe I don't wanna fuck you," he retorts, now.

There's something celestial about Jeongguk in moments like these.

What you're doing together is sordid. Seedy. Nasty, even. The way you want one another in the most immoral of ways is almost embarrassing. He's desperate, yet there's forbearance in the glitter that waltzes around in his dark eyes at the mere sight of you. A tenderness to his pretty pout as he fakes a lousy mood. A lightness to the giggle he hides as it desperately tries to escape.

Nudging your nose up against his, you let your hand sink beneath the waistband of his boxers. Excruciatingly hard, Jeongguk's cock is incapable of fibbing. Moaning ever so gently as you stroke his length, he doesn't object as you adjust your position, while your spare hand tugs at his underwear to free him.

He's really not had much foreplay at all. Just a little bit of grinding and, of course, the things he's done to you - which is enough to get him solid regardless. Part of you thinks it's cruel to skip over a blowjob, but you've got a point to prove.

"Don't lie, baby," you whisper against lips, lining yourself up with him.

The casualness of such an affectionate term makes him fucking twitch. Doesn't think he'll last long at all.

The tip of his thick cock kisses your entrance. Lips ajar, you breathe one another in as you sink down onto his shaft.

It's a slow acceptance of the way he feels inside of you. Something to savour. Something to appreciate. The tightness. The wetness. The warmth.

Eyes closed, Jeongguk is overwhelmed by the stars in his darkened mind.

"Not lying," he eventually husks, head tipping back as you sink down as far as you can - but it's when you drag back up that he really whines. "Oh, fuck ."

"That good?" you softly ask, deliberately sweet in your tone. If his eyes were to open, he'd see the teasing smirk on your lips. You really do revel in his weakness.

Jeongguk nods. Bites down on his bottom lip. Grunts as you push back down. Hands gripping your ass, Jungook leverages a slightly deeper fullness, his needy cock now buried in you. "Fuck. Yeah."

The sensation of him filling you is never new.

Still, it always somehow feels like the first time - and so as much as you wish you could pretend like you are unbothered, you know there's only one thing that will stop you from blurting out pathetic, desperate pleas for him to let you bounce.

So, you kiss him.

Again, this is familiar, but it still always startles him.

He's never liked a pair of lips more, and can't believe he gets to kiss them. Sometimes - much like now - his brain can't comprehend it. Makes him take half a second to actually respond, as if he's giving you a chance to stop. To reevaluate. Is so concerned with making sure you're in control that he forgets he doesn't need to anymore.

Neither of you are the same people you once were.

How could you be?

Your orbits have collided now, quite undeniably.

Life won't ever be the same. It's not like this is a new actualisation you're having as Jeongguk's grip on the soft flesh of your ass tightens, nor is it something you're only just considering as he does, in fact, begin to manipulate your body into moving at a faster pace.

Since the moment you met Jeongguk, all bleary-eyed and bright smiles, even despite the broken heart you were trying to mend, nothing has ever felt like it did before.

Lips strong against yours, he kisses you with such intent that it's almost as if he's making up for lost time. As if he's saying, what took us so long?

Truthfully, you wish you had a good answer for it. Know that you could explain it away with trauma, and indecision, and -fuck it- bad decisions.

It was always the right time, 'cause he's always been the right person. You were just stupid, and he was just scared. Sometimes you swapped roles. Often, you shared them.

"God," he whines into your mouth, his hips jerking up to really make sure you can feel how much he's been craving you. "This cunt - fuck . Your cunt. I fucking love it."

Slowing your hips, nails tight against his shoulders, your pouty lips rest ajar as you pull back to look at him.

His eyes fall on yours; dark, hedonistic, covetous.

You're fragile in comparison; benevolent, pretty, pristine. Chaste in the soft closing of your lips and subsequent widening of your eyes. You beg, "Say it again."

"What?" he smirks, rolling his hips up, revelling in the furrowing of your brows. Adores how dainty your mannerisms have become. Revels in how he knows your pussy is sinfully stretched because of his cock. He's defiling you. Besmirching.

Bringing one of his hands to your front, Jeongguk never loses contact with your body. Strokes up your stomach, over your chest and gently grips around your the base of your throat.

"Huh, baby?" He taunts. "What?"

Gasping, you don't even get a chance to respond before Jeongguk is tugging down the front of his vest, hooking it beneath your tits. Carelessly does the same thing with the lace cup of your bra. A crack of skin meets skin, and a whine from your dulcest lips echoes in the car; a short, sharp spank delivered to your tits.

"Gguk," you mumble as your body recoils from the impact, only for his lips to wrap around your hard nipple within the same breath. "Oh, fuck."

There's no denying Jeongguk has complete control over your body in moments like these.

Pulling on your waist, Jeongguk forces a division between your bodies. He's breathless. Just looks at you. Stares. Obsesses. Finally, he does as you ask of him, as he says, "What do you want me to say? How much I love this cunt? You know I do. You know I'd fuck you all day, every day if I could, B. Seven days a week." His hips gently begin to pulse as his grip on your waist encourages you to move in a similar, lazy fashion. "I want you all the time."

Hands to his cheeks, there's an impatience to the way you pull him for the deepest of kisses. Waste no time stroking your tongue against his, getting lost in everything he is. Losing yourself. Not caring to leave a trail. Never want to be found. Want to stay with him forever.

It's a long time.

But what else is there for a star to do, other than shine for an eternity for the sake of those who adore them?

The pace of your hips as you ride him, not caring for anything other than making him feel good has him close within minutes. He doesn't want to finish. Wants to last. Take his time. Make you feel good.

"Slow, baby," he husks, pulling you down and easing into the motion of a tepid grind. "You'll make me cum."

"Good," you pout, stealing a kiss.

"Bad," he laughs. Shakes his head. Lets his nose nudge against yours. Whispers, "You got any idea how fucking good you feel?"

With a small giggle that sends shockwaves through his body as your pussy tightens around his length, you claim that you don't. Ask, "Is it your favourite?"

"Hmm?"

"My pussy," you clarify - not asking for any reason more complex than an ego boost. "Is it your favourite?"

He rolls his eyes. Smiles. "You know it is, you little psycho."

And even though it shouldn't, the name-calling makes you giggle again.

He laughs, too. Teases you. Says shit like, "Why you asking dumb questions, baby? Am I fucking you so well you're forgetting how much I like you, huh? Forgetting that you're my girlfriend?"

"Might have to fuck me harder," you wickedly scheme. Know exactly how to get what you want. "Jog my memory. Remind me of it."

"Don't think it'll help," he simpers against your lips, tongue invasive before you're even really kissing him. There's a recklessness to the way he's toying with you, which is only further exacerbated when he says, "Think you're just a dumb slut when you sit on my dick, aren't you baby? So dumb. So pretty."

Nodding, your moans get muffled in the way he kisses you. There's a domineering quality to how he's handling your body, and absolutely zero resistance from you.

"What are you, huh?" He goads.

If you weren't currently pulsing around his cock, desperately trying to not to come undone, you'd give some kind of witty reply. Would be able to fucking think - but right now you can't. He's exactly what he says you are.

"Dumb slut," you willingly degrade yourself.

"And?"

You shrug. Really can't think of anything other than the way his thumb starts to toy with your clit.

"Pretty," he tells you. "So fucking gorgeous. Say it."

"Gguk," you whimper.

"Say it."

"Pretty."

"That's right," he nods. "My gorgeous, dumb slut, aren't you? So good ."

"So good," you echo. "Gguk, I'm close."

"I know," he assures you. "You're gonna cum all over me, aren't you? Gonna show me how much you like being mine?"

You're a pathetic, whimpery mess as you nod. Can barely string a sentence together. All you can do is let your body succumb to Jeongguk and everything that he is.

It's no secret that he gets you in a way that no other person ever has before, not even yourself. No one has even come close .

Yet he's effortless as he nods and says, "I've got you, B. C'mon. Let me feel you."

It doesn't take much. Just a few masterful flicks of his thumb. Your nails grip against the base of his throat, whining so pathetically that Jeongguk can't promise he won't come undone, too - and then you're shaking. Throbbing. Cumming.

"More," he grits. Picks up his pace. Steadies his hips. "Oh, fuck yeah."

Head tilting back, Jeongguk's euphoric in moments like these. Just inches away from his own finishing line, he doesn't care about winning. Will let you take home the trophy - but why compromise when you can just share?

"God, I'm gonna cum," he tells you. "Where-"

"Inside."

One day, you'll learn that being so careless is a terrible idea, but it is not today. For now, he nods. Knows you're on birth control, so gladly obliges. Focuses on you. Says, "I'm there. Oh, fuck, baby, I'm there."

His arrival is far more dignified than yours. Slower. Just as intense, with a far milder delivery, but it's only because he's trying to do three things at once: keep you feeling good, keep himself feeling good, and keep his eyes locked on yours.

He wants to watch you sparkle as he cums. Wants to see if your eyes will twinkle like Christmas come early. Wants to see if the physical manifestation of how he feels about you can be translated by your body; if you'll know how deeply he adores you.

"That's it," you nod. Tenderly let your thumbs stroke his cheeks, and despite his determination, he can't help but close his eyes. Leans into your touch. Lets you preen and perfect him as he unloads himself into you. Can't speak, 'cause you're tucking hair behind his ear and telling him how pretty he looks. Kissing his cheeks. Saying shit like, "All for me, isn't it Koo? It's mine."

Oh God, he thinks. It is.

Yours, yours, yours.

Stupid shit. His cock, his cum, and his unadulterated desire.

Sincere shit. His heart, his affections, and his unbridled adoration.

His body, his mind, his soul.

And then his lips are on yours, because they belong to you too - and if he doesn't do something with them, secret words and unspoken confessions would be yours, too.

If he were to think about it - which he won't 'cause he's still coming down from his post-orgasm high - he'd realise that maybe it would be okay for you to have those confessions. Maybe it's not as terrifying as it seems.

Instead, he just nods into the kiss. "You know it's yours, B. Fuck-" he laughs, resting his forehead against yours "- you're too fucking good."

"Yeah?" you giggle, so pleased with how worn out and weak he always seems to be after sex. It's vulnerable. You like that he feels safe enough to be so delicate.

"Yeah," he beams as you adjust, then groans a little as you pull back to separate the pair of you. Rolling off from your perch, you lazily lean into him, then smile when he passes you the jumper you'd taken off earlier that evening. "Careful. Mind the seats."

Letting him nut inside you probably wasn't the best idea. In fact, there's a whole host of reasons as to why it was a bad idea, but now, spilling onto his seats is the main worry.

"It's your cum," you tell him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, while you adjust to make sure his seats are protected. His other hand reached over to pull your bra back up. Vest too. Squeezes your tits for good measure, but is notably making sure you're not exposed.

It's not for any specific reason. Is just aware of the fact you've no real privacy in the back of his car, even if the windows are tinted.

"Don't care," he tells you with a smile, but also adds. "And it's both of ours. What's mine is yours."

"Such a generous lover," you laugh, and Jeongguk finds his heart swelling.

Still, he plays it cool. Pretends like the term 'lover' doesn't make him want to recite fuckin' poetry. Tucks himself away too, then smirks, "You're welcome."

His teasing is punctuated with a kiss to your hair. An acceptance of a new normal. Half naked in the back of his car, you both look out at the city that floods the basin of the mountain range. Lights sparkle in the abyss; evidence of lives being lived. Proof that perhaps you aren't the only stars that call the city 'home'.

Though, realistically, Jeongguk would argue that 'home' is curled up against him, her fingers toying with his as they settle into a comfortable silence, broken only by the whisper of, "I'm so happy, Gguk."

A moment of silence lingers in the aftermath of such a devastating admission. You pay no mind to it. Would have said it regardless. Aren't expecting much, if anything, back. Just thought he should know.

Which is sweet, because he thinks you should know how he's feeling, too.

"Yeah?" he tenderly asks.

With a small hum, you nod. Keep playing with his hands. Look at them instead of the city.

"Good," he whispers. "Me, too. More than you could ever imagine."

Happiness is a curious thing.

For so long, it evaded you.

These days, you seem to find it everywhere.

It's in the silly giggles that echo around his car as you struggle to get your jeans on in such a cramped space. It's in the way Jeongguk playfully spanks your ass as you clamber through to the front seats, and it's also abundant in the soft hum of a song sung together on the drive home.

You admit all kinds of things, but are safe to feign innocence. After all, you were just singing along to a song you both like. So what? They're not your words, even if you meant every single one of them.

The happiness you find in the roads that lead you to Jeongguk place is akin to contentment. Peace. They understand that life can be easy.

From his parking lot to his elevator, and the way he never lets go of your hand, you know he meant what he said.

The smile on his lips as he presses devastatingly needy kisses against yours in the corner of an empty elevator only further proves this.

By his doorstep, stealing half a dozen more kisses before he has to behave himself in case Jimin is around, he is happy.

When he realises Jimin is out, God knows where, Jeongguk is happy.

When you go to the bathroom to get yourself sorted, only to end up scurrying back to him a few minutes later to drag him into the shower with you, you're both happy.

When he wraps you in the fluffy towel he bought especially for you, you're happy.

When sleep finally steals you away from one another, you know that nightmares aren't a possibility for the night head. How could they be?

Life is too good.

Something's gotta give - but for now, you'll revel in it.

Come the next morning, as you both begin to prepare for the day, you can't imagine anything ruining your current bliss.

The fabric of his shirt drapes over his defined chest like carved linen on an ancient Greek statue. Hangs so beautifully it's a wonder he's not a model. You understand exactly why there are so many bloody statues from that time period, 'cause you know damn well if cameras didn't exist, you'd want a reminder of his body, too.

"Can I help?" He asks, raising a brow in your direction.

You'd been so distracted by his titties that you hadn't realised you'd been drooling like a dog for the last minute or so.

Nodding, you sigh. "Never wear that shirt around me in public."

He furrows his brows. "Huh?" He asks, then quickly realises what you mean. Laughs. Shakes his head, and tweaks his now restored brows. "You're like a dog in heat, B. Control yourself."

"Not possible," you assure him, then gasp. "Oh! Actually-"

You cut yourself off, reaching for your phone to check the date, then swipe through to one of your apps.

Ever since the potential spawn scare, you've been making a point to track your cycle, just to be extra careful. The app also doubles as a horoscope prompt, which is the main reason you check it, but you'll never admit that to anyone except Danbi. And probably Jeongguk, too. But they're also the only people you'd ever speak about your cycle with, so what difference does it make.

"That explains it," you grimace, observing the scheduled peak in your hormones right about now.

"What does?" He questions, unhooking two glass mugs from the holder next to the coffee machine, before grabbing the ice he'd gotten out a minute or so prior.

"Ovulating," you state all rather plainly.

Jeongguk probably knows more about the menstrual cycle than you do thanks to his WebMD deep dives a few months ago - the theoretical science, at least. Not what they're like in practice.

"Ah," he just nods. "So that's why you're a randy mare."

"I'm always a randy mare," you correct him, which earns a hearty laugh from Jeongguk. "Just explains why you look so..."

"Handsome? Sexy? God-like?" He teases. "Thanks."

"Not what I was gonna say," you laugh, tossing your phone down on the sofa's cushion before joining him at the kitchen island. Perching up on one of the stools, you smile as he silently passes over an iced coffee for you. "But..."

"But?"

"Well, you're not wrong," you flirt, instantly sipping on your coffee, but keeping your eyes on him. Jeongguk laughs. Thinks you're lovely.

Also thinks he'll be late for work if he keeps this up, but he can't bear to drag himself away from you.

On the late shift, you've less pressure to start your day than Jeongguk does. He's in early to do work on bar refurbs, which only makes you wanna whine about how hot he is again whenever you remember it. Think he'd look delightful in a tool belt.

The thought consumes you for a good twenty minutes or so. It's only when you're back in his room as he gets ready for work that you're able to have a fully-present conversation.

"The rest of the week?" you frown as Jeongguk reveals his schedule.

"Afraid so," he nods. "I've got the evenings free, though? I can come to yours, instead. Make things easier. Or you're welcome to crash here on the days you're working a late shift."

"We can figure it out from day to day," you offer, knowing that solid plans aren't needed. You really are attached at the hip. His mother was right. "Are you working Saturday?"

With a regretful hum of confirmation, he adds, "I'm busy around lunchtime on Sunday, but I'm free in the evening."

"Oh?" you chirp. "What's happening on Sunday?"

Jeongguk pauses. Realises he's said too much. Stammers a little. "Erm, I, uh- no. Sorry. No. I have a meeting."

"Meeting?" You question, brows furrowing. "For the rest-"

"No," he shakes his head before you even finish. He didn't mean to do so. Skin prickly, body warm, he's nervous. You can tell. Lips pursing, Jeongguk sort of looks into the void. Isn't sure how to articulate himself. Just kinda blurts out, "Therapy."

You're silent for a second.

Jeongguk wants to shrivel up and just die.

"Oh," you eventually say. "I didn't realise."

He shakes his head. Feel so embarrassed.

"First session," he quickly says, as if he's trying to defend himself for some reason you don't quite understand. "Wasn't gonna tell you till... I don't know. Just wanted to make sure it was the right thing for me, first."

Often joked about between you and Danbi, therapy has always been something you've considered. Are highly aware of the lingering impact of a shitbag ex and what it did to your self-esteem - but to share such vulnerabilities feels so embarrassing.

You'd found a happy medium with Jeongguk. Overcame so much. Not everything, of course, and there are certain behaviours and traits that you think will always reside within you, but nothing debilitating.

With a soft smile, you nod. "Of course. It's a big thing."

Jeongguk knows you well enough by now to know when you're holding back.

"Go on," he laughs. "Ask whatever it is that you wanna ask."

"I don't wanna ask anything!" You protest. He lets silence fill the space. Raises his brows. Waits for you to fold - of which you very quickly do, proving just how well he knows you. "Why?"

Jeongguk sighs. Isn't really sure how to answer, so asks for clarity. "Why therapy?"

Nodding, you hum confirmation. It's a broad question, and one that you realistically know the answer to. It's something you could both really benefit from. Part of you hates that the impact of another person is still so potent that he needs help to get over it - but you know him just as well as he knows you. Are fully aware that it's not her he needs to get over, but rather the patterns of behaviour he spent years nursing into his subconscious.

Avoiding eye contact, he shrugs. Begins to tinker around his room. Refolds clothes, straightens chess pieces. Does anything to avoid your gaze. Is a little shameful in his vulnerability. "Dunno. Just thought it could be good for me."

"Good for you?"

"Good for me," he confirms. "I just..."

You don't say it, and nor does he, but you know you're both thinking about the same thing—the same person.

"... Got a pattern of ruining the things I care about," he pathetically admits. Is holding onto a small stress ball, but doesn't squeeze it. Taps it against his wall instead. Once, twice. Finally looks over to you, then tosses it your way. There's an ease to the way you catch it, but you think it's thanks to the gentle nature with which Jeongguk threw it. "Meant it when I said I want us -this- to work."

For all of Hayun's terrible behaviours, Jeongguk wasn't blameless during their mess of a situation. He enabled. Encouraged. Made his fair share of bad decisions. Would cause fights and pick them too, just as often as she did.

He remembers, on one occasion, kissing some girls he hardly remembers at a party just to piss Hayun off - and it did. Might've even been the straw that broke the camel's back.

Had been a night of heavy drinking, and Jeongguk had been reminded on more than one occasion of how they were simply just friends - which is funny, 'cause the way Hayun reacted to the news of him kissing someone else was akin to that of a betrayed partner.

He doesn't ever want to be that toxic again. Hated the way it made him feel. Is scared, though. Worries that he's a little too damaged for all of this. For you.

With a gentle pout you're trying not to let show, you hold your hand out for him.

He takes it without hesitation. Clambers onto his bed with you and sinks into a natural state of ease once more. Pressing a delicate kiss against his sternum, you snuggle into his chest and quietly praise his choices.

"I think it's a really courageous thing to do, Gguk," you say. Hope he knows how sincere you're being. "Not to sound weird or anything, but I'm really proud of you."

His heart thuds so profoundly in his chest that you can feel it.

"Shut up," he dismisses with a tender laugh. "It's not a big deal."

But it is for him, and you damn well know it.

"Maybe not," you choose not to argue against him. "Still proud."

"Really?"

"Really."

By the time Sunday rolls around, you're so busy with preparations for Taehyung's upcoming show, that you barely have a chance to check in with Jungook. You do make the time to quickly call him before his appointment. Reassure him that he'll be fine, even if it does scare you a little.

You want him to be happy more than anything. Fear that reorganising his brain will somehow make him realise that he doesn't need you anymore. You also think it'd be selfish ever to voice those fears. Choose against it.

"You should really tell him," Taehyung says, stealing your focus from your thoughts and to the situation at hand, instead. "Surprises really aren't his thing."

You're in The Ryu, helping Tae with gallery configuration and optimisation. This next show is all about stats and sales, not art.

Furrowing your brows, you're not sure Taehyung is right.

After all, Jeongguk surprised you with a birthday celebration, and he took his post-exam party in his stride, too.

You forget that he left early to come and see you. That he said he would have rather just slept, but also know that it was less about not enjoying the party, but moreso because you weren't there.

"It's not like a surprise surprise," you insist, trying to be reasonable about your decision to keep Jeongguk in the dark about this upcoming show. "Plus, he's gonna get here a little earlier than the event opens. Told him I need his help for last minute things. Will tell him then"

"Even then," Taehyung hisses a little air between his teeth, "I dunno, DB. It's your funeral."

"So wear your finest attire," you simply joke, as if Taehyung's words aren't making you second guess yourself.

"You wear yours," he half-snorts. There's a lightness to his remark, humour in his tone. He knows that even if Jeongguk reacts badly, it won't be detrimental. Or at least, he doesn't think it will be. "Distract him with all your glitter, or something."

"Oh, trust me," you flash him a grin, pleased that the heaviness of Taehyung's tone seems to have lifted. "I always do."

Or at least, his tone is lifted until he notices another minor component of the show.

He always knew there was going to be a guest list. It heightens the notion of exclusivity and will encourage those with money to spend to open their purse strings further.

As he glances over the list, Taehyung raises a brow. "Hayun?"

Even hearing her name makes your blood boil - but you simply say, "What of her?"

"You're asking for trouble."

"I'm not asking for anything."

Taehyung frows. Knows it's the exact kind of thing Danbi would say. Reckons you must have already discussed the list with her. Looks at it again. Sighs. "And the investors?"

"Necessary," You chirp as if you haven't given it a second thought. "We need people with deep pockets, Tae."

"But they work with your ex, don't they?" He cautiously asks. Has learned far more about you through Danbi than he really should have done.

"They work with money," you correct him with an innocent smile. "And lots of it, which is what we need."

You're not wrong, as such, but Taehyung still feels uneasy. He's too concerned with thinking about the near future to realise the impact it could have on the distant future. You're too busy thinking about the distant future to care for how awful the near future could be. You're two sides of the same coin. No matter which way up it lands, someone is going to be unhappy.

"Just... remember who you're doing all this for," he gently warns. "That's all."

Part of you takes offence.

Though Jeongguk doesn't know it yet, you're putting together an event that will hopefully right the wrongs of his bad luck in recent weeks.

It's all for him.

Yet when Jeongguk arrives home from his therapy session and finds the art show flyer with Jimin's bag on the kitchen counter, he frowns. Calls you immediately. Figures you're still at the gallery when you don't pick up. Has to leave a voicemail, instead.

Still frowning as he speaks, Jeongguk seems to have lost some of that happiness he found a few days previously.

"Hey, B?" He quickly says after the dial tone beeps. Eyes focused on the wooden chopping board up by his sink, Jeongguk is so terribly conflicted. Doesn't know what to do. Eventually composes himself. "Call me back when you get this. We need to talk."

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