#manage to not get one. i just. have to be really fucking careful

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 1

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Koschei the Deathless Sorcerer was killed by the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

It was less dramatic than it sounded. At least Azriel thought so. 

And if Lucien hadn’t been a fucking idiot and put himself into a position to be kidnapped by the very same deathless sorcerer…then they wouldn’t even have been in that kind of situation. 

But he had been and so it ended with Azriel so magically exhausted that he collapsed the very same moment Truthteller stroke true once more. 

At least Koschei was slayn. 

And the only reason Azriel had gone to rescue the red-headed male in the first place was the fact that  Lucien was Elaine’s mate. Lucien was the male Elain loved. Azriel couldn’t let him die. 

Couldn’t let Elain feel the devastation of a mating bond broken by death…so his decision making had been quick. Either he would manage to get Lucien free…or he would die trying.  There wasn’t many things that he wouldn’t do for the female he loved. Even when he knew it shouldn’t be. 

Azriel had never been very good at knowing when enough was enough after all, wasn’t he?

No price was high enough to pay when it was about Elain’s happiness, as far as Azriel was concerned.  

He hadn't expected to wake up, and yet… there he was. Alive and whole.

*I hope it was worth it, Master,* the shadows sniped at him.

He blinked, taking in the dim light of the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. His room in the House of Wind.

“You are a fucking idiot, you know?” Cassian hissed at him from his place at his bedside and Azriel blinked at him.

"Lucien?" he brought out hoarsely.

"Not as much as a fucking scratch on him. Thanks to you," Cassian responded. "You on the other hand...Madja thought you were going to fucking die from pure magical exhaustion!"

Even Azriel he had...it would have been worth it. Lucien had made it out alive - and that was all that mattered in the end. Elain would be happy. That was all he cared about.

He didn't say that aloud though. 

He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"Three days," Cassian growled. "Three. Days."

Azriel sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in his muscles. It felt like his entire body was one giant bruise, every inch of him pained and sore.

"Lay back down," Cassian snapped.

Azriel shot him a glare, but sank back onto the bed nonetheless. "I'm fine," he grumbled. "Just tired."

"Yeah, well, we'll let Madja be the judge of that," Cassian snapped. "And when you are feeling better, I am going to kill you for going off on your own!"

Azriel just gave him a weary look. "Better me than you," he said dryly. He closed his eyes, feeling a deep exhaustion settle over him. Cassian had Nesta to think about. Azriel didn't. Azriel just had himself.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Cassian demanded.

Azriel didn't have the energy to answer

He dosed off, feeling the shadows twine around him. They were muttering, words he could c quite understand, bitching under their breath but for once it was comforting.

He woke up, feeling groggy and disoriented. His eyes felt like sandpaper, and his limbs were heavy. He groggily blinked at the room, feeling like he was in a haze.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone. Cassian was still there, as was Madja.

Azriel groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head was throbbing, and his vision was a little blurred. He rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "Hey," he said, his voice rough and gravelly.

Cassian and Madja both looked at him, their expressions relieved. "How are you feeling?" Madja asked him, moving closer to the bed and waving a hand in front of his face.

"Like I was hit by a wagon," Azriel admitted. His muscles felt tight and sore, his body heavy with fatigue. His wings felt like they were made of lead, and every movement took a huge effort.

"That's unsurprising considering you nearly magicked yourself to death," Madja said gruffly. "Your body had a tremendous amount of stress and strain put on it. You're lucky to be alive."

He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, well, I didn't have a lot of other options," he pointed out.

Madja just let out a huff and began prodding and poking at his body, running her hands over his wings and checking his pulse. Cassian watched anxiously from the side, his arms crossed over his chest.

Azriel bore her ministrations in silence, trying not to wince as she poked and prodded at him. He knew she was just trying to help, but it didn't make the ordeal any more pleasant.

After what felt like forever, she finally stepped back, nodding to herself. "You're lucky, shadowsinger," she said gruffly. "You're lucky you're so damn resilient," she said, and he couldn't tell if it was a compliment or just an observation.

He looked at her blearily. "I guess I can add that to my list of things to be proud of," he muttered sarcastically.

Cassian barked out a laugh, but Madja just rolled her eyes. The door opened at that moment. "How's he doing?" Rhys demanded.

Azriel wanted to let out a sigh at the sight of Rhys. He loved his brother, but he didn't have the energy for a lecture right now.

Madja turned to Rhys. "He's weak and he's stupid," she snapped. "But he's alive."

Rhys let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Thank you, Madja," he said. "Would you...give us a moment?"

Madja nodded, patting Azriel's leg as she got up to leave. "Rest," she ordered. "And no strenuous activity for at least a week."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Rhys turned to Azriel. "What were you thinking?" he demanded, his eyes blazing.

"I was thinking that I was saving Lucien's life," Azriel replied evenly, meeting his brother's gaze. "I couldn't let him die, Rhys."

"Wouldn't that have made it easier for you?* Rhys demanded sharply mentally. *You are the one that fancies himself in love with Elain.*

Maybe it shouldn't hurt him as much as it did. He didn't fancy himself in love with her. He was in love with her. Had been in love with her and Rhys had been the one to order him away from her, which had given Lucien the opportunity to swoop in and Elain had...Elain had given in. Given in to that Siren Song of the Mating Bond and was very much in love with her mate now. 

It hurt to hear Rhys say it like that, like it was just some passing infatuation that he'd gotten over.

*Lucien is her mate,* he responded simply. He didn't say what he really thought. He didn't say that he would rather have Elain be happy and never talk with him again than to have her wilt like one of her flowers because her mate had died and the mating bond would be broken… He didn't say that he loved Elain enough, that her happiness was more important to him than anything else. He didn't say any of that.

*At least you are recognising that now,* Rhys said with a snort.  Azriel didn't flinch. Didn't react.

He hid away in that little corner of his brain he went to when everything became too much. Where he could just shut up all his feelings, all these pesky emotions, and just be...nothing. Nothing. That's the only thing he still had left.

He just shrugged, schooling his face into a careless expression. "I did what I had to do, Rhys," he repeated stubbornly. "Lucien is a good male. He didn't deserve to die."

"Elain wants to thank you," Rhys said suddenly.

Azriel's stomach twisted as Rhys mentioned Elain. He felt a pang of longing in his chest, a desperate ache to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't subject himself to the torture of seeing her with her mate, seeing her happy in Lucien's arms.

So his answer was definite: "There is no need for that," he said simply.

Rhys gave him a sharp look. "Don't be an idiot," he said gruffly. "She's been worried sick about you."

But Azriel just shook his head, even as his heart thudded in his chest.

*You can keep it together for 5 minutes,* Rhys snapped into his mind.

"Rhys," Cassian said carefully. "If he doesn't want to, just let it..."

"He's being ridiculous," Rhys snapped, interrupting Cassian. "Elain is family.”

Azriel grit his teeth but didn't respond. He didn't have the energy for an argument right now. He just wanted to sleep.

*See her for 5 minute snad then you can sulk like a spoiled child until you feel better about yourself,* Rhys bargained drily.

Azriel hesitated. He knew he should see her, knew that it would make things easier for everyone if he did. But the thought of seeing her, seeing her happy with Lucien when he was so miserable, was like a knife to the gut.

"Does it even matter what I want?" he asked, his voice flat.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, looking at him with exasperation. "Az, stop being so damned stubborn. Elain has been worried sick about you - the least you can do is let her see that you are alive."

Azriel didn't say anything. Didn't respond. He just stared at Rhys, feeling like every fiber of his being was being pulled apart. He wanted to see her. Wanted to see her more than anything. But he knew that once he saw her, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together. He would break. He would shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Just...come on, Az," Rhys said finally. "Let her see you. She needs to know you're alright."

Azriel knew he couldn't say no. Knew he couldn't hurt her like that. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Fine," he said softly. "But just for five minutes."

Five minutes. He could do five minutes. He had to. For her…

She was still as achingly beautiful as she always had been. These devasting brown eyes, the caramel curls...

Azriel's breath hitched at the sight of her, and he felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over him. Love, longing, sadness, and that bittersweet pang of being so close to something he could never have.

Behave, Rhys warned him sharply.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Trying to push back that wave of feelings that threatened to drown him. It was just five minutes, he reminded himself. Five minutes. He could do this.

The shadows swirled around him, welling up with intensity, shrouding much of his body in inky blackness and Elain flinched back from them.

She had never quite warmed up to them. Azriel was just thankful for that display, for keeping her away from him as she entered the room, Lucien on her heels.

"How...How are you feeling?" she asked him, her voice soft.

He could tell that she was worried, that she was concerned for him. It warmed something inside him, and he hated himself for it. 

"I'm fine," Azriel answered hoarsely.  "Just tired.

"I...thank you," Elain said softly, binting her lip. "If you hadn't...if you hadn't killed Koschei and freed Lucien...I...Thank you, Azriel."

Hearing her say his name again was like a punch to the gut. It was both a comfort and a torture, to be so close to her and yet so far away. He swallowed hard, biting back the words that threatened to spill out.

"You don't owe me any thanks," he said quietly. "I just did what had to be done."

"I do owe you my life," Lucien disagreed. "Thank you. Without your interference...I wouln't have survived, " he said flatly.

Azriel just shrugged, feeling a wave of bitterness wash over him. He had saved Lucien, had risked his life to save the male who was mated to the female he loved. It was a strange sort of irony.

"It's fine," he said roughly. "I'm just glad I got there in time."

He couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at Lucien. It hurt too much. So he stared at the floor, willing the shadows to consume him entirely.

"We are all just happy you are feeling alright," Elain said softly. "I...I was worried about you. Everyone was."

Azriel forced himself to look up at her, his heart clenching at the sincerity in her eyes. She really had been worried about him. "I'm alright," he promised her, his voice rough. "Really. I just need some rest."

Elain hesitated, taking a step forward. He could hear her heartbeat, could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. It was torture to be so close to her and yet so far away. It was torture to know that she was so close and yet so unattainable. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, but he knew he couldn't. He held onto that last shred of reason he had.

She tugged a piece of hair behind one delicately arched ear...and that was the moment he saw the gold and pearl ring that decorated her ring finger.

"Congratulations." He wasn't sure how he even brought out these words...how he managed to make them sound...appropriately happy for her.

It took a herculean effort to say those words, to offer a smile that barely reached his eyes. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest, yelling that he should have been the one giving her that ring, that he should have been the one by her side. But he pushed back those feelings, burying them deep down inside of himself. He couldn't let her see how he truly felt. He couldn't let her know how much it was tearing him apart to stand there and look at her. Look at her with her mate, with the male she loved, the one she had chosen. 

"Congratulation," he repeated, his voice a little rougher than before.

"It wouldn't have been possible without you," Elain said, with a smile.

Azriel just nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. He couldn't find the words to respond, couldn't find the words to express the tangle of emotions swirling inside of him. He just sat there, feeling more alone and isolated than he had in a long time.

Elain took another step in his direction, seemingly ready to reach out, but Cassian intercepted her. placing a gentle hand on Elain's shoulder. "He needs his rest," he said softly. "Let's leave him be for now."

Azriel felt a pang of gratitude towards Cassian. Elain hesitated, looking torn.

"I wish you every happiness," Azriel brought out his voice hoarsely. Not even a lie.  It was the frank truth in these words and Elain gave him a smile, before Lucien's hand came to rest at her lower back, guiding her out of the room.

Thank the cauldron. They were gone. 

He slumped back into the pillow.  He was falling apart. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He just wanted to be left alone, to lick his wounds in peace.

"Az..." Cassian said carefully, but he cut him off.

“I am tired,” Azriel said, his voice hoarse. “I need to sleep.”

The shadows swirled around him tighter. 

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look, before Cassian nodded, "Alright," he said. "Get some rest."

He laid down properly, closing his eyes, calling the shadows to him wordlessly. They swamred around him immediately. Damn Near suffocating him.  It was the only thing that kept him from starting to sob.

The shadows embraced him, wrapping him in their inky blackness, shielding him from the outside world. They were his only comfort, just like they had been for centuries. 

*We are there, Master.* They promised him softly. *It will be fine, Master.*

He didn’t believe a fucking word they said. 

*We are not willing to lose you, Master. We aren’t interested in finding a new master,* they told him seriously. He choked out a laugh that turned into a sob. 

*Sleep, Master. We'll keep watch,* they promised him.

And they did. 

Bone deep exhaustion meant that at least his sleep was dreamless. At least that was given to him. It was a small mercy. 

When he woke up again, Nesta was there, sitting in an armchair reading.

Azriel blinked, feeling disoriented and groggy. He sat up slowly, wincing as his wounds protested the movement. Nesta looked up from her book, her expression neutral.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him quietly.

"Fine," he answered, his voice hoarse. He was fine. He would be fine. 

"Thank you," Nesta said suddenly.

Azriel looked up at her, surprised. He wasn't even sure what she was thanking him for.

"For what?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“You nearly got yourself killed to save my sister’s mate. I think Thank you is the least I owe you," Nesta said drily.

She mustered him with grey eyes and he knew that she knew. Knew that she knew or at the very least could guess about his feelings for Elain and probably be right. She wouldn't say anything, but she knew.

He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It was over with. Done. 

Lucien and Elain could be happy and Azriel…Azriel would hide away somewhere. 

"You don't owe me anything," he waved Nesta off weakly, but she didn’t seem to want to take the hint, sticking out her chin. 

"Yes, I do," Nesta disagreed. "You are the reason why my little sister is happy right now," she told him fiercely. He swallowed down the unkind words at the tip of her tongue...didn't say anything. Didn't.... He didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t…

"Is there anything I can do?" Nesta asked him, her voice soft. "Anything at all, Az?" H knew that he could ask for anything and Nesta would do her level best to give it to him. She was stubborn like that. He had half a mind to ask her to use her silver flames to put him on fire and put him out of his misery. 

He didn’t. 

Even that wouldn’t fix it. 

There was nothing. There was absolutely nothing to make it any better. There was nothing that could...that could fix the ache in his chest.

"Porridge," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Porridge?" Nesta repeated incrediously.

"Porridge with honey. I am hungry," he repeated, meeting her gaze. Food. Food. More Sleep. More Work. He could fill his waking hours with useless things and everybody would be happy. 

Nesta just looked at him for a moment, then inclined her head.

"Porridge with honey. Alright," she agreed. Just a moment later a massive bowl of Porridge with honey drizzled on top, appeared on his bedside table, so hot it was steaming. Seemed like the house was in a mood to spoil him. He even got a whiff of cinnamon from it.

"Thank you," he thanked Nesta's creature aloud as the shadows fetched the bowl and held it up for him to eat a spoonful. "What are you reading?" he asked Nesta, changing the topic. 

She was polite enough not to say anything about it. 

Nesta held up her book. “The newest Sellyn Drake novel,” she replied.

"Is it any good?" he inquired, stirring his porridge gently.

“It’s brilliant," Nesta gushed, her eyes devoured the pages as soon as she looked down to continue reading.

"You seem to really like it," he pointed out, taking another bite of his porridge. "It is brilliant," Nesta agreed readily. “The plot is so intricate and twists and turns and the characters are so deep and complex and their emotions are so real and the romance is so...” she trailed off, blushing slightly.

He opened his mouth to respond...but then he heard her.

Mor. Of course.

He couldn’t deal with Mor. Not right now. But there she was, Rhys hot on her heels.

Nesta heard her too, rolling her eyes, curling back up on her chair, making it very clear that while she was going nowhere, she was letting him deal with it on her own. 

And he didn’t want to deal with Mor. 

But there she was. 

Mor came strolling into the room, her usual confident smile firmly in place. Rhys just looked at Azriel, his expression unreadable.

He didn't say it.  But Azriel knew. Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.  Either it was about Elain and Lucien...or about Mor and Emerie. Like Azriel would ever do anything to put that in jeopardy. Like Azriel was a jealous child that wouldn't allow Mor to be happy on her own terms. Like...

Azriel ignored the sharp pang of hurt that shot through him at Rhys's look.

Still it was better than looking at Mor…he couldn’t bear to look at Mor. 

 Didn't want to look at Mor, in her usual bright red, skin baring dress, that clung to all her curves...didn't want to look at the female he had spent centuries in love with even when he had known that she was never going to return his affections...it hadn't helped him. He had still been in love with her.

And he had still hoped...hoped against all hope that maybe...maybe there would be a time where she would return his affection...that maybe there would be a time where...

But there wouldn't. He knew. He knew. And he had still been in love with her.

Would have given damn near anything for her attention, for that broad smile on her face to be directed in his direction...would have given anything for her to bound over to his bedside and envelope him in her arms...to feel her soft skin against his as she hugged him fiercely, cinnamon and citrus enveloping him.

Now...now it felt like somebody was pouring salt into a gaping wound. Now it felt as painful as the fire and oil on his hands had. She was flaying him alive and she wasn’t even aware that she was hurting him. 

"How are you feeling, Az?" Mor's voice was gentle, concerned. He knew it was genuine, knew that Mor really cared about him. But he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when his heart was bleeding out just from the sound of her voice.

"Fine," he answered, his voice flat. "Nothing that sleep won't fix," he promised her, even as her hands fluttered around him as she sat down on his bedside...

She was so close. He could reach out and touch her, could feel the soft fabric of her dress against his fingertips. He clenched his fists, willing himself to keep his hands to himself.

But he couldn't help it. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. He could see the concern there, the worry. He felt a pang of guilt for putting that look on her face. He didn't want to cause her any distress. 

"I'm just glad you are feeling better," Mor sighed, gently patting his arm. "You had us all worried for a moment there," she admitted softly.

Even just the touch of her hand felt like she was branding him. He wanted to flinch away and forced himself no to.

It was like a bittersweet poison, the way she touched him. It was so familiar, so comforting. But it was also so painful, a reminder of what he could never have.

He looked away, staring down at his hands. They were shaking, just a little. He clasped them together, the monstrous scars that covered them, standing out starkly.

The shadows trembled around him, pulling nearer, growing darker and Mor watched them with a raised eyebrow. "Worried, are they?" she teased him slightly.

*You are fine, Master,* the shadows promised him. *No more fire,* they promised him fiercely. But it didn’t help. He didn’t trust himself to speak without his voice cracking.

Mor seemed to sense his discomfort and stood up, her hand slipping from his arm. "Just rest and get better soon, alright?" she said softly, taking a step back.

"Thank you," he thanked her, his voice hoarse.

He risked a glance up at her, just a quick look. Her face was soft, her eyes filled with warmth. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest and he had to look away again. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

"We should let him rest, Mor," Rhys said, giving Azriel another look.

"Right, right," Mor agreed, already turning towards the door. "Rest up, Az," she said again, giving him one last smile as she disappeared out the door.

Azriel felt a sense of relief wash over him as she left the room. 

Gone. Thank the cauldron. He couldn't take much more of her presence, not right now. 

He didn't even want to know why Rhys had accompanied her. Probably because he was worried that Azriel wasn't going to behave.

What was he supposed to do instead? Tell Mor about how much she had hurt him over the centuries? How she had given him jut enough scraps of her affection to make him yearn for more but never telling him that she didn’t love him like that? 

He wasn’t going to do that. 

He didn't want to look at Rhys right now, didn't want to face the scrutiny of his high lord's gaze. He just wanted to be left alone.

He knew that Rhys was watching him, that the male wanted to say something. But Azriel didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear the lecture, the warning. He just wanted to be left alone.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of his own breathing. He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the mattress. Maybe if he just pretended to sleep, Rhys would leave him alone.

"He's tired. You should let him sleep," Nesta said flatly.

Leave it to Nesta to tell Rhys to stuff it, he reflected weakly. He heard Rhys sigh, but he kept his eyes closed. And after a moment, he heard the sound of footsteps leaving the room.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. 

Alone. Safe. Mostly at least. 

Life went on. It always did.

The exhaustion went away after a few days... he caught up on Paperwork in the meantime. He sent the shadows off to find him one information or other and they didn't even bitch to him that badly, which told him that even they felt bad for him.

Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.

So he did. He behaved.

He did his job. He did everything Rhys could possibly want from his spymaster. 

He didn’t argue. He didn’t fight. He did his job and he trained and he did everyhting that was expected off him. 

And then he hadn’t tortured himself enough… and he went to visit Rosehall.

Where his mother lived.

Under the Mountains had it’s own kind consequences. This was one of them: His mother didn’t even want to talk to him anymore. 

50 years without him...and his mother had made herself a new family. A family that he wasn’t welcome in. A family that she wanted him nowhere near. He couldn’t fault her for it. Not at all.

She had been half a child when she had had him and it hadn’t been by choice.

So who could blame her for making a new family with people that weren’t as fucked up in the head as he was? Not Azriel.

Azriel didn’t blame her at all. Azriel left her in peace. He didn't reach out. He made sure that she was fine, that she had enough money to never worry about it and otherwise dissappeared from her life. 

His shadows kept an eye on her…He shored up the wards around Rosehall and caught a glimpse of her. And then he left it at that. She looked happy. That’s all he cared about.

Happy and safe and…she didn’t need him. She didn’t want him around her either, and he could understand that too.

And still, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. 

But 

*You know the rules,* he told the shadows quietly. *You don’t need to report to me about her anymore. Keep an eye on her and only tell me if she is in danger or hurt.*

*Yes, Master,* they agreed readily. 

So he went back to the House of Wind. Back to Velaris…Back to work. 

He went back to his routine, back to his duties, back to his mask of indifference. He hid the pain behind his usual stoic facade, only letting his shadows know how much it hurt. He threw himself into his work, using it as a way to distract himself from his own loneliness.

And when he wasn't working, he would spend hours and hours in the training ring in the House of Wind, working himself to exhaustion. Anything to try and drown out the ache in his heart.

For gods sake, he even attended Elain and Lucien’s mating ceremony. And gifted them an appropriate gift. He behaved just like Rhys wanted him too.

He even summoned up a smile for them on their special day, hiding his own pain behind a mask of false happiness. He congratulated them both, feeling a pang in his chest at the sight of Elain's beaming face. But he didn’t let it show. He behaved. Like Rhys wanted him too.

He stayed for the whole thing. Stayed for the dancing, stayed for the feast. Stayed until he could physically take it no more. And then he had retreated to that training ring again, beating his pain and loneliness out on whatever dummy he could find.

He was so tired. Tired of hiding, tired of pretending. Tired of pretending like nothing was wrong. He wanted nothing more than to just scream and rage and shout and cry. But he didn’t. He held it all in. Bottled it up like he was so good at doing.

He was in the bathtub, sluicing off the sweat he was drenched in…shaking off his wings just because he could move them however he wanted to

*You should go out, Master,* the shadows suggested seriously. *Go out and find a female.*

He just snorted. *Not interested,* he sniped back harshly. *I am not getting my heart broken again.*

Everybody could just fuck off and leave him alone. Even when he was aching…aching for somebody in his life that loved him. For whom he could be everything. Somebody he could dote on. Somebody that wanted his attention, that wanted his love…that would like his ruined hands on their body and wasn’t paid to simply acccept it. 

*You could let us pick her!* the shadows suggested brightly.

His eyes snapped back open and he glared at the shadows swirling around the room. *Absolutely not,* he said firmly. *I mean it, you stay out of it.*

*We can’t do a worse job than you do,* they sniped at him. *Neither The Seer nor The Morrigan would have suited you at all.*

*Excuse me?!* 

*You heard us, Master,* the shadows said, sounding far too smug for their own good. *And you know it.*

Azriel just glared at them, feeling his temper start to rise. *I know I wasn’t good enough for them,* he snapped. *You don’t need to tell me that.*

*You think you weren’t good enough for them?!* The shadows asked him incredulously.

*They deserve better. So much better than me,* he said quietly. "I'm not good enough for either of them. Never was.*

What was he, after all? An Illyrian bastard? A monster? Either? Both? 

He had never said it out loud before, not even to himself. But in that moment, lying in the water, his heart so raw and exposed, he couldn't help but speak the truth that he had always known but never admitted to himself. "I'm not good enough for either of them," he repeated softly, the weight of his words settling heavily on his chest.

He knew it was true. Mor was a golden ray of light, the embodiment of beauty and grace. Elain was sweet and gentle and kind, a pure soul in a sea of darkness. 

And what was he? Damaged. Broken. Scarred. Inside and out.

He had done unspeakable things, things that would haunt his nightmares for centuries to come. He was nothing compared to them. He was darkness, they were light. And they deserved better than him, far better than him.

Even if he had loved Mor with every fiber of his being, even if he had yearned for her with every beat of his heart, even if he had dreamed of her every night, it didn't matter. It had never mattered. Because he wasn't good enough for her. And he never would be.

He wasn’t good enough for Elain. The mother hadn’t thought it to be prudent to make them mates. Both of his brother had been gifted with a mating bond, but not him. That should tell him everything he needed to know abotu the state of his own soul. 

So why…why should he even try anymore. 

Why shouldn’t he just stew in his own misery, alone and heartbroken and a monster and expect everybody to just leave him alone? There was no point of putting himself out there again. There was nothing out there for him. Nothing but more pain.​​

So he closed his eyes again, sinking lower into the water, letting the warmth soothe his aching muscles. He let out a long sigh, his mind already racing with thoughts of his next missions, his next assignments. Because that was all that really mattered now. His job. His duties. His responsibilities. That was all he had left.

Behave. That’s all he was good for. 

*Alright, that’s fucking enough,* the shadows snapped. *You are not letting The High Lord talk to you like that any longer, Master.*

Azriel was so surprised by their fucking vehemence that he could just stare at them. 

*The Morrigan used you for centuries to make herself feel better about herself,* the shadows snapped. *She used the feelings you had for her and that she was very much aware of to strangle you and keep you in line.*

Azriel swallowed. He knew they were right. He knew that Mor had used his feelings for her for a long time. She had led him on, given him false hope, only to yank it away time and time again. It had been a painful cycle, one that had left him feeling used and broken and worthless.

*She could have stopped at any time but she never did,* the shadows hissed. *But instead she hurt you on purpose. Instead of turning you down, she slept with other males to show you that you would never have her!*

Azriel felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Mor had flaunted her other lovers in front of him, making it clear that he would never be enough for her. She had used his devotion to her as a weapon against him, wielding it whenever it suited her needs. And he had let her. He had been foolish, desperate enough to cling onto any scrap of affection she might throw his way.

*And The Seer?! Granted she has never done that, but her feelings for you weren’t particular deep when she replaced you on her affections with The Fox as soon as you weren’t available anymore! If she had cared, truly cared, she would have thought about what happened during Winter Solstice,* the shadows snapped.

*And The High Lord? Don’t even let us get started on him,* the shadows snapped. *You haven’t even done anything since that Winter Solstice, and he keeps behaving like some kind of despotic Overlord, worried that his orders won’t be followed. If you wanted to punch him in the face, you probably had every right to it,* they mumbled.

Azriel couldn’t help but snort. 

*You deserve better, Master,* The shadows told him fiercely. *You deserve somebody that loves you.* 

. He wanted to believe the shadows. He wanted to believe that he was good enough, that he deserved more. But the scars on his body and the memories in his mind told him otherwise. He had done terrible things, things that he could never undo. How could someone like that be good enough for anyone?

*Alright,* he finally agreed weakly. *Find me a house,* he told the shadows, as he closed his eyes.

*A house? What kind of house?* the shadows gave back, sounding surprised.

*A house,* he repeated. *A home. Somewhere in Velaris. Find me a home.* Something that could just be his.

A home. The idea sent a flutter through his stomach. He had never…never truly had a home. Had something that could just be his and nobody else’s. Just…a place that was his, where he could be whoever he wanted, where he was accepted and loved...it was appealing. Maybe even more than just appealing.

He closed his eyes, picturing it in his mind. A cozy little house, just large enough for himself. Warm and cozy and filled with light.

*That’s what a male needs to take a wife after all, right?* He asked, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. Was that what he should want? What he was supposed to want? He had never really thought about getting married before. But now, at the mention of it, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. A wife...a family...love and companionship. It all sounded so…so nice.

*You want to get married, Master?* the shadows asked curioulsy. *To whom?*

*You pick,* he told the shadows. They swarmed out in pure excitment. Azriel couldn’t even remmeebr the last time they had been so excited. 

He couldn't help but chuckle at their reaction. Maybe they would do a better job than him. At least they could probably sieve out females that were in a romantic relationship or preferred females themselves. 

*Find me somebody that I could make happy. Somebody that….Somebody that could want me.* Some long-suffering female for whom Azriel could maybe try to be enough. Somebody that would love him.

*What should she look like?* they asked seriously.

*I don’t care. Find me somebody that loves me and she’ll be the most beautiful female to me anyway.*

[aakeysmash]

you and college!sukuna see each other at a party

college!sukuna masterlist

Going to the same college as college!sukuna means you inevitably see each other at a couple of parties you both attend to. It doesn’t happen that much, because you and him are both heavily set on sitting on your living room couch doing absolutely nothing the majority of the nights, and you try to ignore each other when you know you’re going to be in the same place out of the house. But when Sukuna manages to leave Yuuji at one of his classmates’ houses for a sleepover, his friends get a whiff of the news and drag him out of the apartment.

He does put up a fight about it, because Sukuna being Sukuna, he hates parties; even more if he has to pay for a ticket before entering. The rancid smell of alcohol mixed with sweat makes him want to punch someone. Not to mention girls always try to get in his pants, and while in the past that would have stroked his ego, now he finds himself annoyed by it. The chicks seem to be copies of each other: really short dresses, really long batting lashes, really dragged out alcohol induced words and he really doesn’t care about any of their tits pressed on his arm.

You, on the other hand, hate men who touch you on the dance floor. Your girls convince you to hit the club every time (“every time” probably being less than 3 times in the whole year) because they say you will have “so much fun”, but your definition of fun isn’t being groped by a guy you don’t even think attends your college to begin with.

Today you find yourself searching for the bar after the last guy who tried to squeeze your ass almost got kicked in the balls by you. You plop down on a bar stool and absentmindedly order a drink (of course there’s fruit in it), and while you wait for the barman to serve you, you take out your phone from your purse. You scroll on your socials, getting bored in 5 minutes, and while you softly tap on the counter with your freshly done nails you decide you had enough.

Message to: Worst roommate ever: is Yuuji home?

The message gets through but doesn’t get read. You roll your eyes, thinking he’s probably busy doing absolutely nothing inside the apartment. You feel so jealous.

“Come on man, you’ve been here like… two hours,” comes a male voice behind you. You don’t bother turning around, resorting to sipping your drink before swirling the straw around. “Just take someone home and relax,” the boy continues. You scrunch your nose. That’s a disgusting thing to say.

“You mean I’ve already been here two hours. I’ve had fucking enough. I’m going home. Alone,” someone responds, biting rough voice getting closer to you. From the corner of your eye, you see someone slamming one of their elbows on the counter right next to you, and you scoot over away from them. You don’t want to interact with anyone unless they taste like sweet fruit and they’re called “passion fruit mojitos”.

“But whyyy,” the first guy asks, trying to reason with his apparently leaving friend.

“Because I got 10 pairs of tits shoved in my fucking face in the last 20 minutes,” the second one barks out, ordering a gin tonic when he spots the barman. Basic ass.

Suddenly, you receive a text.

Worst roommate ever: no. sleepin over at some kid’s

You sigh. You’re sure you’d have more fun if Yuuji dragged you into one of his latest hobbies. That’s it, you’re still going home, even if you’ll be bored to death either way. You turn around for a split second to leave a tip to the barman when you recognise the pink head next to you. Sukuna has his back turned to you, so he hasn’t seen you yet. You try to sneakily go away, not wanting to interrupt the conversation he’s having with a man you think you’ve seen him with on campus, when you tell yourself that if he really wants to go home you could go home together. At least you’re going to save the money you would’ve given to the uber. You touch his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey-“

“God wants this to be the day I sock a bitch to the ER,” you hear him grit out. His friend, you think he’s called Geto, winces. Then, still turned away, the tattooed man continues with “I don’t fucking care about your pussy, get the fuck out.”

You slap him on the back of his head.

“Is this the same mouth you kiss your mother with?” You exclaim, feigning shock.

“What the fuck?” He whips his head around and you see how his expression turns from an annoyed one to a confused one. He rolls his eyes.

“You know damn well my mother is dead,” he says. You see his friend’s eyes pop out of his sockets. This is not something you say to a stranger. “I almost broke your nose. Don’t play with me,” your almost-roommate says, one side of his mouth lightly raised, as if he’s actually disgusted about seeing you here, completely facing you. Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“You should have. I would’ve had a reason to kick you out,” you seethe.

“Oh really? Then who would’ve opened the door for your sorry ass the next time you forget your keys?” He tells you, his face getting closer to yours, menacingly. The friend he still has next to him watches the scene in front of him with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not my fault they’re never where I think I left them,” you mumble, frowning.

He smirks. “I should’ve known it was you when you’re the only one up here with a yellow fruity drink. Pussy,” he says, louder, to make you hear every word above the music.

“Fuck you and your basic gin tonic ass.”

He grins. “Baby, have some manners. We can’t have you dirtying your criminal record with sex in public, can we?” He says, lightly caressing your cheek with his index finger. You swat his hand away, glaring at him the meanest way you can. Meanwhile, another guy you recognise as Satoru reaches the barstool. He greets you and gives Geto a questioning look, to which the other responds mouthing “Who is this girl?”. Satoru just shakes his head, giving you a knowing look.

You get back to looking over at your roommate. “Wanna go home?” You ask him, features relaxing. You just want to go home, with or without him, and sleep until tomorrow.

He chuckles. “You’re not helping your case if you say it like that.”

You shrug. “I guess that’s a no,” you say, getting your purse and standing up, heels clicking toward the exit. When you don’t hear him follow you you turn around, and he levels you with a bored look. “Oh okay, so I guess you want the landlord to come knocking at your door tomorrow morning and say you’ll have to pay full rent since I was brutally killed by some random dude this uneventful night, all because you didn’t want to come home,” you almost scream, trying to get your words across the thumping of the bass, turning back around and resuming your walk. You already shot your friends a text saying you’ll be going back with Sukuna, anyway.

“No, wait- come on baby, don’t be like that,” he whines, rushing up his stool and following you. He waves his friends goodbye with a flick of his wrist, and you shoot them a small smile when you pass by them. You and Sukuna continue bickering while getting out of the club. He tries to grab your head and fakes bashing it against the wall, and you push him away jokingly, smiling up at his badly concealed grin. He puts one hand in his jacket’s pocket, the other one grazing your small back to keep you from bumping into random drunk guys. You don’t even seem to notice the gesture, and he doesn’t seem to realise he’s doing it either. Suguru and Satoru are still watching you two, albeit a little dumbfounded.

“So? Who’s the one that got big captain whining?” Asks Suguru, drinking the gin tonic Sukuna left behind. Sukuna leaving a paid drink behind? After not touching a single girl since he came this night but leaving with you three minutes into a conversation? You must be something, for sure.

“Someone he claims to be a pain in the ass,” answers Satoru, chuckling.

[dufferpuffer]

Azkaban is fantastic with Sirius and only Sirius. With Sirius it is a wonderful metaphor for deep depression.

He went there because he lost everything. Anything there was to live for didn't feel worth it. Was barely worth thinking about - because thinking about them would just get them sucked right out. He had to simplify his thoughts as a dog (disassociate) while his happy thoughts were being sucked out as quickly as they came into his head through the door to his room, so he just lay there in the cold alone for over a decade. He couldn't take basic care of himself.

What busted him out...? It wasn't happiness. It was anger. Self-sacrificing almost delirious drive. He wasn't himself anymore.

What brought him back was connection and purpose. He still wasn't happy, he still wasn't well - being trapped in his house didn't feel that much better than Azkaban, other than when he had visitors. He was still trapped in a world of his worst memories.

I'm not saying it very well... but I actually think thats really nice. That horrible torture prison is as bad as abusive home, that leaving didn't fix him but gave him room to improve, that he didn't need to 'get happy' he needed 'get reason to live - happy or not'.

But Azkaban exists outside of Sirius. It exists A LOT. It isn't just a 'place' Sirius went because he was 'the worst person ever in the world for getting his friends killed, its all his fault, he has gone to the worst ever place for the worst ever people who will NEVER feel joy again... but he fights his way out for Harry.'

Fucking Hagrid went there. Hagrid had to suffer Azkaban. It sort of ruins it, yknow...? Well, I mean... I could excuse it if Hagrid was the only one. If he came back propperly rattled from his shorter stay, and so when Sirius is introduced it's like 'wow he spent YEARS like that...'

But like every Death Eater has been there. Of course if ANYONE deserves Azkaban its loyal Death Eaters, muggle killers, torturers... but even un-loyal ones end up there. Suspected but unproven. Ones that were falsely accused. Ones that are proven followers of Voldemort but have not been proved of any action. Also people go to Azkaban for far lesser shit. There are short-term Azkaban sentences.

So the entire 'Depression' thing falls apart. It's impact is squashed. All 'Does X deserve Azkaban?' discussions die, because it is the ONLY prison. Where else can anyone go...? I think the only alternative we see is how Albus keeps Gellert as a pet under House-Arrest, because he can't stand the thought of sending the man he loves to the place where his father died. Albus is Azkaban's no. 1 hater

And that sucks. I think it would all be fixed if there was just another Wizarding Prison. Azkaban is the ultimate sentence - where people disappear, fade from memory.... not where you go for a few months because you were keeping some Sphinx's in your back yard. Some Death Eaters go to Azkaban. Of course they do. And some go to other prison. It can even be just as comically extreme: Azkaban is the worst place imaginable, while other prison is more like a soft daycare for the naughty. That way you have your continued narrative of 'Wizards really aren't very good at managing themselves huh'++

cant believe jkr created a prison that forces you to relive all of your worst memories, put a fairly major character in that prison for twelve years without a trial, and then just... didnt make it a commentary on the justice system OR the prison system. just like "lol thats a quirky thing that happened just for plot reasons, no bearing on reality tho"

[gojoidyll]

+18, smut, mdni, f!reader, etc.

pt 1

You weren’t used to the attention that John was giving you. Your past partners never caring or giving a damn. So to feel just how much careful attention he is giving your weeping pussy is making your core throb and ache. And when he started to pull his fingers out, it made you whine embarrassingly loud.

The sound made him chuckle as he got up and pulled you along.

“Where- where are we going?”

“To my bed.”

That was another thing that made you almost lose your footing. You were never important enough for a bed. The hard floor or the lumpy, uncomfortable couch was all your dates ever brought you to. In your mind, however, you wouldn’t have minded John’s couch as it was more comfortable than the others you had the displeasure of sitting on.

“Are you sure? What about the mess?”

You couldn’t hide the way your voice wobbled as he ushered you into his room, his foot kicking the door closed as his hands gently worked on your pants, helping you shrug them off along with your panties.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, amusement clear in his features. And when you felt your clothing start to pool at your feet, you found that you were only dressed in your shirt and bra. The cool air made your thighs clench together.

“If I’m going to fuck ya, sweet girl, then it’s going to be in my bed. But before that…,” his voice trailed off as he helped you out of your shirt and unclipped your bra, the articles of clothing joining your jeans and panties, “I said I was going to have you sit on my face next.”

Without getting undressed himself, he pulled you along towards his bed. His hand gently tugging you forward when he sat down on the edge of, you now wedged between his thighs as he rested his hands on your hips, his fingers tracing lazy circles as he kissed your stomach. The feeling of him peppering you with kisses made you squirm.

“Well?”

“H- huh?”

He chuckled at your cluelessness, but didn’t dare make fun of you for it, “though I said where I wanted you to sit, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He leaned back, pushed himself to where he was laying face down whilst pulling you with. Your chest pressed hard against his as he let one of his hands trail and gently squeeze at the fat of your ass.

A part of you always wanted to try, but with your past partners hating the idea of giving you oral while also giving you a clear display of disgust, you sort of dropped the idea entirely.

But John is offering, isn’t he?

He isn’t the type of man to do something he doesn’t want to after all.

“Only if… you really want to,” you manage to say.

“That’s what I am asking you. Do you want to?”

You found yourself gripping at the front of his shirt, the way his fingers worked you open was still imprinted in your cunt, you really want to feel his tongue too.

“Yes, please.”

The moment the words left your mouth, he had you sit up so you were straddling his waist. You tried not to whine out too much when your wet cunt pressed down against his hardening bulge, and he didn’t give you enough time to feel him as he already got a strong hold of your hips again and gently dragging you up.

“You’re so nervous.”

You didn’t know where to put your hands as your bare pussy hovered just over his mouth. None of your previous partners ever really looked to hard at your slick, but John made a point to just analyze all of you.

“I- I can’t help it, I never did something like this before.”

He chuckled softly, his breath gently hitting your cunt making you squirm in his hold, “then I best ruin you for everyone else, huh?”

Not giving you any time to give back a retort, he planted you down, his grip strong as he easily held you in place as his tongue licked a long stripe between your folds. The sudden contact made you squeal as started to lap at you, his tongue not missing a single inch even as he toys with your fluttering hole. The tip of his tongue gently prodding before delving in.

The heat and feeling of his tongue was way different, and even better as he let one of his hands let go of your waist to trail downwards.

Your moans and gasps filled up the quiet bedroom accompanied by the wet sounds your pussy made against his tongue and fingers.

And you think between each flick of his tongue and pump of his fingers that he was right.

He was ruining you for everyone else… that is, if you even want anyone else after this.

[lennjamin-o7]

Thought it was time to return the curse upon you for once... (also inspired vaguely by the DMs from earlier so hehe)

AU where Techno is a superhero.

Not just any superhero, really. One of the best. He manages to keep the city crime free almost singlehandedly and does so without breaking a sweat. Though he does work together with another hero named Phil and the two are thick as thieves.

It's hotly debated among fangroups of civilians why Techno joined the hero ranks. Since he doesn't exactly make it subtle that he's an introvert, fame is off the list. Techno is kind of brash and awkward too, he doesn't strike people as the sort of guy who does it for something as vague as 'helping people' - he also might get a bit too excited about new villains for that to ring true. There are rumors that his family was killed by a villain and this is Techno getting revenge, but this rumor is never verified. Maybe money? Money is a pretty good motivator.

The truth is that Techno is incredibly bored.

Techno peaked in high school and is so incredibly gifted kid coded. (/hj)

And hero work is a great adrenaline kick, a thrilling situation to throw himself into. Especially villains who come up with wild schemes. Maybe, just maybe, it's even bordering on depression. He has to keep busy with hero work or he literally can't bother to get out of bed or motivate himself for much of anything.

Things have been better since Phil came along. Phil is, in a twist on the usual dynamic, the less experienced one when it comes to hero work (despite being so much older lol, Phil was a civilian hiding his powers before). So he's teamed with Techno to learn the ropes, and the two hit it off, and the team-up becomes permanent. Phil is the first and only person Techno considers a friend. And after befriending Phil, Techno gradually gets a few hobbies (he's cultivating a potato plant in the hero association dorm, he's reading books Phil recommends to him, he's playing chess with Phil on slow afternoons).

But Phil would still like for Techno to have more of an identity outside of his hero work. Techno brushes him off. It's almost a running joke at this point.

(Technoblade is not his real name. It's his hero name. Techno has no civilian identity, never bothered to maintain one. This is concerning to Phil).

Whenever Phil thinks he's made some progress, a new villain will pop up or something will happen and ALL of Techno's attention will go to that again. And then after it's over he'll be bummed out because Techno usually beats the villain very easily and it doesn't pose a challenge for not. What Techno truly needs is an archnemesis.

Good thing that one day, a new supervillain pops up in town.

He's cruel, and he's smart, and he's ruthless. And he's very, very strong. Strong enough to almost beat Techno into the ground one-handed during their first confrontation, though Techno manages to win just barely. It's as if this new villain knows all his moves, his weaknesses. It's exhilarating.

The new villain calls himself The Crowfather.

(Fangroups don't really debate on why Phil joined hero work. But if they did some digging, they might find out that Phil once almost died, and the only thing that kept him from dying was a hero saving him. Technoblade.

They might find out that Phil became a hero not because he cares about the status, or saving people. He just wanted to get closer to Techno. To repay him, somehow, any way he can.

Even if it means murdering a bunch of innocent people.)

Hey, Techno is smiling a lot more now that he has The Crowfather to go up against. And isn't that all that matters :)

[this was so rambly, i'm not very good at this and u can tell lol]

I've think I've kept this hostage long enough Shara Friend. It has been kept for my eyes alone long enough. Now, I freely share it.

Fuck yeah bored Super Hero Technoblade! You popped off with this. I love Sneaky Philza standing by his side and, if it makes him happy, standing against him as well. Who cares about the ants he has to squish to see Technoblade HAPPY. An easy and small price to pay for the guy who saved him.

Gosh, I love this. The DRAMA that would ensue when everything is found out. How will that go? Will Technoblade be appalled? Disgusted? Angry?

Or maybe, just a tiny bit curious about how interesting it would be to be a Villain.

Love it. Love it so much. I want to CORRUPT this version of Technoblade so so SOOO much!!!!

[cynnaghoul]

Eyeless Jack • HC Ref

Whoa, what the fuck is this!!

Just a little headcanon design ref for EJ, cause he's one of my favorite pastas 😔💔

I always loved the idea of him having a tail,, so I wanted to do my own little spin on it,,

Extra headcanons under the cut!!

- 7'2, still getting used to the height, but likes to carry smaller friends

- FRECKLES. HE EARNED THEM.

- Contrary to popular belief, I think he's one of the most sane because the worst he went through was cult sacrifice and shit, it's not like he lost his shit and went crazy, the man is just hungry

- I kinda agree with the idea of him having animal behaviors

- CLAWS

- Actually doesn't talk much, but will text (speech to text and also screen readers are a lifesaver)

- Doesn't care enough abt anyone's problems, will make a joke about it

- Sharp teefs, was tempted to say he has a shark mouth, but that felt like too much

- Twitchy ears,,

- Horribly neat in terms of organization, but a messy eater

- Cold blooded like a lizard

- Is a proxy, but not in the same way, it's rare that he gets assigned any real work

- Acts smarter than he actually is, proves this on a constant basis

- Very tough skin, makes him difficult to properly injure

- Has a preference for keeping his mask on

- Values his alone time

- Can tune people out like they weren't even there to begin with

- Loves gossip, though

- Lets Mia cut his hair all the time because he's fucking blind

- Has managed to somewhat map the manor out in his head, so he can move almost like he can see, but if you move everything an inch to the left, he'll crash like a drunk driver on the freeway

- Doesn't sleep often, but when he does, he sleeps like a rock or maybe a corpse

- Snores

- Actually a decent cook, but won't make food for anyone but his damn self and maybe a friend if like,, he really wanted to be nice? But he doesn't

- Doesn't share things, either

- At all

- Especially won't let people touch his things because what if they don't put it back where it belongs and he loses it forever

- Smacks people with his tail, uses the excuse that he's blind but it's on purpose

- Actually uses blindness as an excuse for a lot of things, mostly to avoid being useful

[pinkaditty]

Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker Pt 2

this is SO cliche i know. please. let me... have this...

a/n: 2 posts in less than 24 hours!?!?! yes!!! enjoy, please. im kinda proud of these. not even gonna tell y'all how i am bc u already know. quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults. summary: part 2 of the whole 'who out of the tokyo debunker boys is passing NNN?' thing. pretty self-explanatory. cw: fictional men jorking it!!!!!! MINORS DNI!!!!!!!! not really proofread i fear Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken (jabberwock already written yea currently working on sinostra)

MINORS DNI AS USUAL! THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!

Vagastrom:

Alan Mido: Fail

NOW! Before you jump me! He failed by accident. Forgot it was November. Needed to get his rocks off after everything pissing him off for a while. Sometimes though, he manages to hold out for a while. 

He’s working on a car right now, laying on the car roller, fixing it up after an unfortunate accident while dealing with an external anomaly. He lets his thoughts wander as he fixes the car. So many things had pissed him off this week. Ishibashi needing to meet at ridiculous times, Leo being unreliable, even his grades slipping. This car was just one of them. Maybe he needed to blow off some steam. Maybe he could go for a drive? No, not enough. Spar? No, he’d already taken enough of Sho’s time. Maybe… a different way? 

A sudden itch makes itself known just as he thinks that. He stiffens under the car, clenching his jaw. None of that. He was in the garage. He had to hold it together. He shakes his head and continues working on the car, ignoring the itch. He tries to come up with other ways to blow off steam. Studying, exercising, anything. The itch grows stronger. He sighs angrily and forces his attention on the car. He was in the garage, for fuck’s sake. The itch continues and then grows into a twitch. He presses his thighs together on impulse, before realizing how that may look and coughing, spreading his legs apart again. He bites his tongue and continues fixing the car as the twitching persists. His face becomes flushed and his composure cracks just a little. He couldn’t ignore his twitching cock forever.

And, maybe it’d be a good way to blow off some steam… 

Shohei Haizono: Pass

Well. As much as it seems like he may have a crazy sex drive, and as much as I would like to subscribe to that idea, I just don’t think it’s true. He doesn’t have a strong one. That said, he hardly goes a month without masturbating. He manages, but when he goes so long without it, it can get kinda frustrating. 

There were far too many customers today, he thinks. He’d gone several days without being able to wind down, since his food truck had been so busy. He’s glad for the success, but it’s become so time-consuming. The feeling had come out of nowhere, but since the last few customers and all throughout cleaning up, he’d been feeling a little pent up. His half-hard cock pressed insistently against his pants as he wiped down the counter, ensuring it was clean before he let out an exhausted sigh. The cool night air responded with crickets chirping and some owls hooting. 

Well… There wasn’t anyone around. 

Before he knows it, he’s turned off the lights, tucked himself underneath the counter where he wouldn’t be visible, and has eagerly pulled his cock out. He can’t be bothered to care about his surroundings as he starts, biting the sleeve of his uniform to prevent himself from being heard. Unfortunately, some light, breathy groans escape through the fabric of his shirt, but the noise mingles well with the pap pap pap sound of his hand over his cock and the shuffling sound of his legs opening and closing, overwhelmed with pleasure. His body shakes as he releases, careful to catch it in his palms, not wanting to have to clean again. When clarity finally hits, he sighs and shakes his head, observing his mess. God, how many sanitation laws did he just break?

And… did he remember to close the window?

Leo Kurosagi: Pass (Miserably)

Had to be clear. Yes, he passes, but barely, and miserably so. He’s doing it for clout and he’s posting about it, too. He’s letting his fans run wild with speculation at his announcement and letting them make all the claims they want when he successfully completes it. However, I’m quite confident that the second it was December 1st, Leo couldn’t fucking stand it anymore.

November 31st, 11:59pm. He lays on his bed with a half-hard cock pressing unyieldingly against his boxers and his phone in his hand with a drafted post congratulating himself for completing NNN, ready to be sent the moment that clock hit December 1st, 12:00am. He keeps his eyes fixated on the time, letting his hand drift downwards and hold himself through his pajama pants. The time still hasn’t changed. He gives himself a light squeeze, and is shocked at the needy sigh that passes through his lips. Fuck, he just needed this time to change. He just needed this time to change. He bites his lip, keeping the pressure on his cock as he gently strokes through his pants. He shifts his legs around, progressively getting more and more antsy as he stared at the time. 11:59 still. Who knew a minute could last so fucking long? He continues stroking gently, getting himself to full mast, twitching the entire time. 

Just as he’s about to give up, the time changes. 12:00am at last. He hurriedly presses “Post” and practically tosses his phone to the side, reaching inside his pajama pants and boxers to wrap a hand around his stiffened cock. He wastes no time in stroking, surprising even himself with his needy whines and unintelligible phrases and throaty moans. He spreads his legs apart and grips his thigh with his free hand, speeding up his pace. He moans through gritted teeth before his eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack, yielding a strangled moan as he covers his hands and pajamas with his release. He allows his legs to collapse on the bed, and picks up his phone again, checking his post. 

1k likes, 200 comments. It was 12:01am. Sheesh, that didn’t take him long at all…

a/n: wowee! i spit this out at 2am yesterday and fine-tuned it 2day so enjoy. eat this. i will be back 2 post jabberwock's soon, hopefully.

note that, as per usual, i enjoy likes, comments, and reblogs!! please tell me how much you enjoyed my work!

[redrandomposts]

another au idea floating in my head

AU where ivan time travels back to pre-meteor shower after his death. he now definitely knows that till would never pick him over mizi so with all the knowledge he gained from the past life, he manages to pull a miracle and get all four of them out of anakt garden safely. mizi was definitely hard to convince so ivan had to, um, kindly shatter her innocent worldview and now both sua and till hate him for making mizi sad lmao but that's fine, they're getting out of there. what's two more people ending up hating him, honestly ?

and by some other miracle, the children were found by human rebels. they're taken in, clothed, fed, and are now essentially free from the aliens.

ivan sees this as his job being done and starts to slowly drift away from the other three. now that theyre free and not being prepped like lambs for slaughter, he doesn't have anything to offer them anymore. what other use could they have for him, really ? so he just floats around the human base, distracting himself by making himself as useful as possible to the other humans

(the other humans are just incredibly worried about this blank-eyed kid who looks like he wants to be hugged so fucking bad but also like he would crumble into dust the moment someone touched him, but ivan's a stubborn bastard who wont listen to anybody so they give him easy tasks in order to keep an eye on him)

the adults take notice of the now strained dynamics between ivan, sua, and till and how mizi is caught in the middle and try to help the kids sort through their feelings.

idk maybe sua wont give a fuck since all she cares abt is mizi but mizi would definitely want to repair the broken bridges bc these are her friends :( and ivan has definitely risked a lot to bring them to safety, hasnt he ? it's unfair how sua and till were being mean to him all because he made mizi cry.

but then there's till. would he try to make amends for mizi's sake ? or would he look even further away from ivan out of guilt ? who knows.

(and imagine the other three start to get memories of their past life through flashbacks and dreams later on lmao)

— 🌦️

me: ooh! a concept! what would u like me to do with this?

🌦️: ideas!!

me: here's your half-a-fanfiction that will make you shed tears!

i have no idea how it happened, by the way. it just did.

===

the escape is rocky at best—ivan was just barely able to get till up in time last time. the only thing keeping this from falling apart is probably of his past experience and fantasies that never came to fruition.

before till or sua, he'd get mizi first, except she has the most security around her; her owner treated her as a precious princess, after all. he's forced to get till then sua (who posed quite a problem, too), and have them both witness his struggle in getting mizi to come along. sua would be a massive help in persuasion, maybe even till, but ivan had uet to disable the chips in those two that set off alarms whenever a certain place was breached. it'd be more efficient if all three of them were gathered while he turned those off.

it's no surprise the animosity that comes from both of them as he rips off the bandage that had been blinding mizi, losing her oh-so-precious smile in favor of tears. sua whisper yelled at him, beating him down for daring to make mizi cry and why were they doing this anyway? till joined in, too, and ivan was barely able to divert the guard's attention.

they do manage to leave successfully, though. it's nothing short of a miracle—sua and till's glares digging into his back, mizi's muffled sobs barely getting by security... it takes a few hours longer than the last life, too.

that's a shame. ivan would have liked to see the meteor shower again.

running across the fields, it's ivan who sees them first. he has to he diligent; he's the leader, the one in front, he's the oldest, and the other two are focused on mizi and her tears.

human rebels. ivan knew they existed, but he's never seen them in his past life. they are driving in motorcycles down the dusty road. he calls out to them, eyes wide and hopefully projecting an innocence he's lost before he went to anakt garden.

would this have been an opportunity he and till would have had in that life?

===

before, ivan would have assumed that till and sua would ease up on their fervent hate of him. tears weren't especially special, considering the life they had led—that ivan had led. while no one had cried for him, he knew that they cried for others, and an awful lot at that too.

a month later, as sua purposefully took the last sweet treat on the tray, glaring at him, all he could think was hypocrite. sua had made mizi cry the hardest, and would have had he not pulled them out so soon.

and when till screamed and beat him down whenever ivan tried to get near him or dares to talk to him, sparing no mercy as he expended his entire vocabulary on ivan, ivan... wished he could say he didn't care too much.

ivan looks at the adults and wonders how they thought of the messy situation. witnessing how the two children bullied the one they assumed was the leader, in defense of someone who didn't really need nor want it. watching how they guarded one from another, effectively isolating him. noticing how they took the happiness the rebels had tried so hard to make and provide from him.

ivan doesn't know, nor does he want to know, but everytime he sees a sweet pastry on his bed—well, it's impossible not to make a conjecture.

the adults have tried to meddle. in fact, mizi—their sun, their light of their life, their god—had tried to meddle. it's fruitless, though; till nor sua will let ivan get a word in, even if the adults are there, and they're thoroughly convinced ivan had managed to manipulate mizi into intervening.

ivan stopped in front of a cracked open door when he heard shouting. he and the others had split rooms, leaving him alone in the smaller one. "guys, ivan isn't that bad! he got all of us out, that day, he must've been stressed too!"

"he couldn't have done it nicer?" sua grumbled.

"he doesn't know how to be nice," till countered, equally upset. "ivan's no good news, mizi. it's better if you stay away. he might—he might steal your things and beat you up."

"glad we can agree on one thing."

"that's ridiculous! you're ridiculous! it's just a bit of tears, it doesn't mean a lot, guys!"

"you never cried before," sua pointed out, eyes narrowed. "stop defending him, mizi. ivan doesn't deserve it."

===

ivan stands alone in the field, looking at the night sky and trying to conjure the lyrics he had written so long ago. it's been a few years since the escape, and on the anniversary each year he'd go to see if there's a meteor shower and sing the songs that marked death.

at the age of ten, they'd manage to escape anakt garden; all four of them. at fifteen, ivan finds that he's forgotten both songs he'd sung on stage for aliens to listen and for till to hear. it's not that big a problem, except he can't recall what sua would look like on the day of her death, either, nor what dress mizi wore when she disappeared, nor how till looked when he sang that song for mizi.

maybe it'd be easier to imagine if they let him near then in this life. instead, in the five years he's been here, it's mostly ivan doing odd jobs alone around the base when he can. he lessens the work on till and sua and mizi by taking it upon himself to do it first. the rest of them don't say anything about it anymore.

not too far away, in his own room, till shoots out of bed, forehead dripping sweat. his eyes are wide, brain working overtime, yet he can only catch fleeting parts of his nightmare—a missing poster.

===

ivan is twenty, ten years since their escape, and nearly every memory from his first life erased. he desperately grasps onto a meteor shower, one that he missed in this life, but he's not an artist who can immortalize the scene. he wishes he could, he does, and as he stands outside, his last memory leaves him.

ivan's long stopped trying to grasp at the melody of black sorrow or the lyrics of cure, so he's silent as he looks up.

ivan doesn't go back to the base. he can't stand another round of shots in the heart, not when he lost his final memory. he doesn't know where he will go, but it's not here.

on earth, he'd officially be an adult. today, he feels as though he's a little child who lost his parents forever.

=====

OH MY GOD I MIGHT CRY WHAT THE HELL

what devil possessed me

FUCK IM CRYING

sua starts the whole "ivan doesn't deserve it" and till follows her lead. crowd mentality, ig, till has some doubts but mizi holds a higher place in his heart.

the adults don't get too close, because ivan doesn't let them, but they do remind him that he has a place in the base. candies, pastries, clothes, and toys are left in his room by them when they notice he's particularly feeling down. it's concerning how much this occurs.

ivan starts to lose his memories because he largest wish—give till freedom—has been completed. meanwhile, a deeper and more silent wish to be loved causes the other three to regain their memories. unfortunately, ivan runs away before that one comes true.

ivan says he feels like a child when he loses that last memory — that's because he never grew up after going back in time. his maturity came from the memories, and without them he is a lost child.

on the last night, till's last memory he gained is actually r6, when ivan dies for him. he gets up immediately to find him, except he's nowhere to be found.

perhaps in a sequel till goes to find ivan and they make up—or, perhaps in a sequel ivan is found dead or captured.

scrapped scene:

"ivan, you're the reason they managed to escape, right?"

"yes..."

"what would you change? if you had to escape again?"

"i'd want to see the meteor shower. we missed it because it took too long to get out of the garden."

"i see. how'd you know about the meteor shower?"

"...hyuna told me."

[foodtruckery]

Please please please wax poetic about the transformers gf au. Never seen transformers but i think the fact that in a stancest adjacent au ford would be competing with stan’s fucking car for his love is absolutely hilarious

the car has been on more dates with stan than ford ever will 😭 full stop believe ford is dragging stan on the boat to get him away: no roads, no damn car!! he’s the world’s greatest advocate for public transport now!!

anon, this has been fucking KILLING ME since you sent it. it is, of course, my solemn duty as a bitch who saw the first bayverse transformers movie 13 times in theaters (don't come for me) to recommend giving any one of the series or movies or comics a shot!

but holy fuck hahahahaha. ford vs the giant alien robot for stan's affection is so fucking good. cause it's not JUST that stan would clearly be entirely too enamored by his car -- that's just stan, sentient robot component or not. but it's that a) the vehicle is clearly an anomaly and ford has FEELINGS about that. in any other situation, being presented with an opportunity to observe an extraterrestial lifeform like this would be a dream come true! but let's be real here: stan never cared about anomalies the way ford did. the only anomaly stan had EVER really cared about was ford himself. so for stan to suddenly be soooo interested in this one? ford isn't jealous, of course, it just doesn't make logical sense!

and then there's b) the robot has taken ford's place in stan's life. stan would never say it that way, of course, but ford isn't an idiot, he's a genius and he has 12 phd's to prove it. the way stan confides in his damn car, looks to it for reassurance, trusts it to have his back, to keep him safe, to help him out of a bind. he has inside jokes with the damn thing and a nickname and is more comfortable sleeping tucked up on its backseat than inside of ford's house?! those are ford's responsibilities, the gaps that used to be filled with ford's presence and comfort and voice. and he can't even say any of it because the stupid fucking car was there when ford wasn't. and maybe if it hadn't been, stan would have gotten over himself and reached out sooner! before ford got tangled up in all of this.

because OF COURSE, we have c) the fact that stan made contact with an extraterrestrial creature and does not seem to have entered into a bargain that's likely to get him killed the way ford has. stan has companionship with this creature. a companionship that at least appears to be recipriocated. there's no binding clause forcing them to stay together. stan has managed to not only find and befriend an anomaly, the likes of which ford has never seen, but he also seems to have developed a genuine connection with it. it's bad enough that stan was good with PEOPLE in a way that ford never was, but for him to also have that touch with the one thing ford was supposed to be good with????? and ford finding out probably in the midst of or sometime after being fucked over by bill?? i think that would fucking eat ford alive.

[rina-teatia]

Stockings, panties, skirt and heels (18+)

Summary: Everything that Gojo put on exited Getou. As usual, two idiots can't get laid in any way, but smart women save them (they are really idiots but thats funny).

Characters: Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Ieiri Shoko

Tags: Past Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru Being an Idiot, Foot Fetish, Stockings, Student Getou Suguru, Ieiri Shoko is a Good Friend, Student Ieiri Shoko, Fluff and Humor, Blow Jobs, Foot Jobs

Notes: hi guys! my name is Rina Tea-Tia and English is not my native language. However, I really want to make friends with you and I have a lot of work on jujutsu kaisen so I hope we get along 🥺 pleeeeeeease i just want friends in fandom 😭😭😭

Words: 2934

“Holy shit! How do you wear this?!” Gojo stood on the balcony of the student dormitory of the magic college and concentrated on stretching thin tiny women's panties in different directions.

“It's fine, you idiot!”

“Ouch!!!”

Shoko threw a comb at his head, causing the panties to fall out of his crooked hands. Gojo rubbed the back of his head, nonetheless looking at her with a smile as he fixed his glasses that had slipped down on the tip of his nose.

“We don't need to put stupid gyoniku sausage! That's why they're so small. Give it here.”

Shoko was laying out her clothes after drying, and Gojo came into her room to get under her skin. However, he obediently picked up the underwear and returned them to Shoko. Probably, another girl would have been ashamed to sort through underwear in front of a friend of the opposite sex, but Shoko didn't care at all. She had already taken away some bras from Gojo, which that jerk was trying on instead of his glasses. Asshole. “You'd better go to Getou. You have nothing to do.”

“To Getou?” Gojo repeated, idly searching for gold in his ear with his little finger. “I see him every day anyway. It's more interesting here. Oh, and what is this? Tights?”

Shoko turned to look sourly at Gojo. He had pulled off the nylon stockings from the clothesline and was now stretching them in all directions.

“Fuck, Satoru, these are stockings! Give them give back! You'll tear them up!” This time the white-haired boy was hit with deodorant. Gojo didn't let himself get caught off guard again, using his technique just in time, and the deodorant froze in mid-air a few centimeters away from him before falling.

“Haha, I'm sorry. So, these are stockings? They’re so… tight. Don’t your legs hurt in them? It must be very tight.” Gojo innocently fluttered his eyelashes and returned the stockings. Shoko rolled her eyes, took her piece of clothing away from him and began to fold it carefully.

“They don't hurt me at all. Nylon stretches well and is barely felt on the skin. These are not compression stockings.” The girl herself went out on the balcony and collected the rest of her things from there so that Gojo's playful hands would not get to them. He sat down on a chair in her room with his legs spread and his arms outstretched.

“Really? Come on! How is this possible?! Is nylon some kind of material for shamans? Is it using the territory expansion technique?!”

Shoko made a face that looked like a statue from Easter Island. Sometimes Gojo amazed her with his natural idiocy beyond measure, and being in the same room with him for more than fifteen minutes became a torture. And how did Getou tolerate him on a regular basis?! Moreover, how did Gojo manage to be one of the best college students if he had brains like a shrimp?!

“Oh Gods… Well, if you want, put them on yourself. Then tell me what's so tight about them.” Shoko rubbed the bridge of her nose. These words were not an invitation, but rather another mockery, but Gojo suddenly found himself near her underwear organizer.

“Really? Thanks!” He pulled out the stockings with lightning speed and returned to the chair. Shoko only saw him begin to unbutton his pants before she turned away.

“Fuck, Gojo! It wasn't an offer! You’re a complete idiot!

“Look, have I’ve already put on one… stocking? Is it the right word?

“Are you with your pants down?!”

“Of course! They're stockings. How do I put them on with my pants?!”

“I don't want to see your underwear!”

“But if I put on my pants, you won't see the stockings on me!”

“Satoru, for fuck's sake, Gojo, darn you,” Shoko sidled over to her closet and groped for one of the skirts. The soft cloth flew to the side where Gojo was supposedly sitting, and he deftly caught it.

“Thank you!” He rustled his clothes for a couple of minutes. “It's done! That's it, you can take a look.”

Shoko turned around and immediately doubled over with laughter. Gojo looked surprisingly natural — they wore the same uniform, and in general, the combination of a women's skirt and a men's Gojo's blouse looked as if it had been intended. The stockings were black, they gracefully darkened Gojo's legs, making them even thinner and longer than they already were. By the way, his legs were extraordinary long, not crooked, almost not hairy, with a chiseled curve of the calves and fragile ankles. What a model indeed.

“What's so funny?” Gojo was grinning stupidly, his hands on his hips. “You know, you're right! In general, nothing is tight. Only a little bit in the hips, but these are stockings, not tights, so it's kinds fine. If it were tights, I think I would have died when they squeezed my balls!

“Ha-ha-ha, what the hell, Gojo!” Shoko continued to laugh. “You should try heels with these on! You look like a balding Mei Mei!”

“Really?” Gojo laughed as well. He opened the door of Shoko's closet to admire himself in the mirror. “I think we have the same foot size”

Shoko, choking with laughter, pointed to the corner of the room. There stood really beautiful high-heeled shoes. Gojo put them on and tried to walk amid both’s laughter, but almost fell right on Shoko, and she caught him by the arms.

“What's going on here? Your roaring is heard from... — Getou knocked on the door and entered the room. He froze in mid-sentence when he saw this picture: Shoko on the bed holding Gojo standing on high-heels, wearing stockings and a skirt. Both of the merrymakers burst out laughing again, while Getou looked at them in complete awe.

“Getou... fuck, Getou...” Shoko moaned between fits of laughter and waved her hands “This is not what you thought!”

“Does it suit me, Suguru?!” Gojo somehow straightened up, trying to get into a sexy pose, but he looked like a locust.

Getou looked at them both for a couple of minutes with an unreadable expression on his face. Gojo giggled, and Shoko narrowed her eyes: Getou was clearly embarrassed, his light, slightly yellowish face became a couple of shades closer to red.

“Idiots,” Getou finally told them, quickly leaving the room and slamming the door.

“Suguru! Stop!” Gojo howled, falling off his heels in another burst of laughter.

Shoko narrowed her eyes again, but didn't say anything. She thought about something, but decided not to voice her suspicions yet.

***

A little over a week has passed since that incident. Shoko smoked slowly, listlessly twirling a short strand of hair on her finger. She watched her two friends practice. She had some small suspicions about Getou, and she was still thinking about how to confirm them.

The guys had been more than just friends for a long time. They both understood that. They even confessed to each other to some extent, but it was still as if something was missing, they were shy about it and preferred to behave as usual. Or maybe it was only Getou who thought so, and Gojo was just being stupid. This six-eyed dummy was capable of intelligent thoughts only during combat, but not in interpersonal relationships. It was partly true. Shoko knew Gojo well and he sometimes cried to her about Getou's cold attitude. Gojo was sure that he was the victim of unrequited sympathy. In general, everything was difficult. Shoko hated to get involved in this, but if it wasn't for her powers of observation, they would have continued to wallow helplessly in their pile of emotional shit like blind kittens. But they had eight eyes for two!

After lunch, she stole Gojo for a conversation. Getou went to take a shower, and it was a great opportunity to talk privately.

“Suguru likes legs. Legs in stockings.” Shoko said from the doorway, lighting another cigarette. She and Gojo were walking around the college grounds.

“What?” He bowed his head in a disbelief.” What kind of legs?!

“Ordinary fucking legs. Human legs.” Shoko rolled her eyes.

“Well… good for him. And where did that information come from?” Gojo grimaced.

“He has a second Twitter profile that he thinks no one knows about. He likes all kinds of foot fetish shit from it.” She chuckled. “He didn't even close the account. And only the main Getou profile is subscribed to it.”

“Shoko... why do I need to know that?” Gojo clearly became more gloomy, he kicked one of the stones on the road. “No one wants to know what his friends are jerking off to!”

Shoko rolled her eyes even more actively.

“He's jerking off on you, Gojo. On your legs, you stupid crustacean.”

“What makes you think that?!”

“Satoru, he liked it when you put on my stockings, skirt and heels!”

“Did he?!”

“Of course not, he was just looking at you for three minutes and blushing for nothing!”

“You're lying!”

“Like I have nothing else to do! Check it yourself, if you don't believe me! “Shoko threw her skirt at him, which she didn't have time to change into after training, and then left.”

***

Getou just wanted simple peace of mind, maybe life in the forest, so that no one would touch him. However, this wasn’t possible when your friend was Gojo Satoru. Getou made himself a cup of tea and sat on the floor in a traditional pose to relax a little when the door to his room was abruptly pushed open. Gojo was standing in the doorway. In a skirt. In stockings. And, damn, on heels.

“Ha, Suguru-kun! It's me, Shoko-chan! I think my stockings are torn from behind… Can you take a look?” Gojo howled in a squeaky voice, and then walked over to Getou, who was just stunned. He was staring up at Satoru, dumbfounded. His face was flushed.

”The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Suguru—kun, come on, help me!” Gojo continued to whine. He arched gracefully at the waist, slightly lifting the skirt so that Getou got a full view of what was under, not that he wanted to, though. There was indeed a small tear on one of the stockings, extending downwards with pulled-out nylon fibers. Getou grimaced and pushed his friend's ass away from him.

“Listen, I do not know how to help you. I advise you to start with a psychiatrist.” He had to continue pushing Gojo’s ass away as he immediately tried to shove it back in Getou’s face, threatening to sit on it.

“Wa-a-a! Suguru-kun baka!” Gojo finished his attack and eventually turned around, looking at Getou with displeasure from under his glasses. He spoke normally.” Actually… I just want to check something out. Relax.”

“What? …” Getou blushed even more, awkwardly crawling back until he was stopped by the toe of a delicate shoe pressing on his groin. From this, Suguru choked on air and gasped hoarsely.

“Really?! You’re hard already…” Gojo looked genuinely surprised.

“Wh-what?! No! Satoru!” Getou felt like he was drowning in a swamp, with every jerk he got more and more bogged down and could not do anything, he fell deeper into the very essence of his preferences, secret desires and fetishes, which Gojo somehow mysteriously revealed.

Meanwhile, he took off his glasses and put them on the table. Now big blue eyes full of tenderness were looking at Getou, glowing in the semi-darkness of the room.

“Suguru...” He moved closer and pressed Getou's head against his thigh, covered with a skirt’s fabric. “Just relax. I can do anything for you. That's why I'm here... looking like this.”

“How the hell did you even know ...” Getou felt a terrible mixture of seething feelings. It was difficult for him to resist Gojo. In this form.

“I know a lot of things.” Gojo chuckled. He brazenly lied, deciding to keep silent about Shoko's role in this study.

Getou carefully hugged his slender legs with both hands, stroking their curves, slightly pulling off the nylon with his fingers. Gojo was warm, and Getou's breathing was getting faster and faster. Gojo's legs were just... something. Luxurious, perfect. He lowered his head lower to bury his nose between the guy's thighs, which he immediately pushed together like a shy girl.

“I didn't want to tell you. I was afraid to scare you,” Getou admitted, lightly squeezing the soft part of Gojo's thighs before lowering his hands down. With a careful movement, he took off the shoe that was pressing on his groin. God… Gojo's legs were indeed perfection itself. The stockings clung tightly to a neat foot, emphasizing the protruding bones and the smooth curve of the ankle. A thicker black cloth hid the toes. Getou bit his lip, his pupils dilated with delight.

“You... you really don't mind what's going to happen? This is... not quite typical. But I can try to make it nice for you as well.” Getou raised his head to look adoringly at Gojo. He nodded quickly.

“Don't ask, Suguru! I've already said that I want this!” To be honest, he got turned on himself. Getou was sitting with his head right next to his groin, looking up at him… Gojo couldn't believe what was happening.

“Then… Let's take off the heels first. They look great on you, but I bet you're already tired of standing on them.” Getou chuckled, helping to get rid of the second shoe as well. Then he unzipped his fly and lowered his underwear. Gojo's foot went back to his groin, this time the toes gently caressed the erect length. Geto groaned, clutching at the guy's hips. “Damn, you... how did you know that…”

“You want me to jerk you off with my feet?” Gojo smiled. He understood. And once again he ran his foot down Getou’s penis, slightly squeezing it with his toes, as far as the nylon fabric would allow.

“I am!.. Fuck, Satoru... don't say it like that!” Getou groaned again, his fingers gripping the edges of Gojo's skirt. “I mean… Please…”

“I'll do it for you.” He nodded. He gently wrapped his arms around Geto's shoulders, playing with his dick with his feet. He alternated between them, making the guy below shudder and squirm. Getoг did not remain in debt for long, he indecently lifted Gojo's skirt and quickly pulled off his underwear.

“Kya-ya, Suguru-kun!” He screamed again like an anime girl. Getou's eyes widened.

“You… Are you also wearing women's underwear?!” He looked up at Gojo with a dumbfounded look.

“Please don't tell Shoko...” he giggled. “She only allowed me to take a skirt.… The rest… I had to get it. She's going to kill me!

“You're just... something.” Getou exhaled. Thin girlish panties didn't cover Gojo's erection in the slightest, and he tried to shove his cock upward, but it was obvious how uncomfortable it was. His scrotum dangled to one side and without support it didn't feel secure either. Getou felt like the dirtiest pervert in the world as he pulled Gojo's woman's panties down over his stockinged thighs and got under his skirt like in a tent. He began sucking, paying particular attention to his balls. Gojo twitched and moved closer. He was trying hard too, kneading and pressing lightly on Getou's cock, from which the pre-ejaculate was flowing generously. The socks of his stockings caught the drops and rubbed them higher, the stiff nylon was getting wet and painful, especially when Gojo started to play with the head. Getou kept up with him and took the other man's cock in his mouth, choking on it every time Gojo got particularly rough with it. His mouth was filling with saliva all too quickly. Getou thrust himself more roughly, tears of pleasure running down his cheeks and saliva from the corners of his lips, the tight fabric of the skirt and Gojo's gorgeous thighs were surrounding him, he felt like the happiest man in the world, not thinking about anything.

Gojo could barely keep from cumming, the blowjob from Getou was wet, he already felt saliva on his thighs, and soon on his feet — Getou came first right on them, unable to hold on any longer. Gojo rubbed his cum over his stockings and went over the entire length of the other’s penis again. They both puffed and moaned, clinging to each other: Getou grabbed Gojo by the hips and skirt edges, and Gojo grabbed his shoulders and hair. Satoru's orgasm was also approaching, he pulled Getou away from his groin, but, not calculating the speed of his discharge, accidentally poured out on his face.

“Ah... damn it… I'm sorry...” Gojo widened his eyes in surprise. He didn't expect it, but the sight of Getou wiping his cum off his face was mesmerizing.

“Don't apologize...” Geto was clearly delighted. “To take a cumshot on my face when you look like this… It's something.” He pulled Gojo by the hand and sat him down beside himself. “You're amazing.”

They kissed, reaching for that kiss at the same time.

Shoko was sitting in her room smoking. There were aahs, oohs, sighs, juicy wet slaps and the creaking of the bed from behind the wall.

«Having fun, these perverts… God, it's hard to work as a matchmaker. They'll keep me up all night after stealing half of my closet.» — she thought, sighing and throwing the cigarette into the ashtray. «Satoru, you're going to buy me new clothes. I won’t wear panties, skirt and stockings that both of you have finished off on.»

[ramblingautisticman]

Why Is This Song In My Poolverine Playlist, A Series.

(I am extremely insane and make playlists for every ship/character/show I like, and yes, there is a reason each one is in there. I think of lil scenarios, situations, or straight up story ideas because of a song- so enjoy this series where I write them all down!)

(Part 1, Part 2)

Monster from Adventure Time

So, I honestly hadn't thought about this song in relation to Wade and Logan until @ohitsthemindstuffagain said about it, and now it's all I can picture when I hear it.

This is such a Wade and Logan coded song and it's insane.

"I know we'll never grow old together, cause you'll never grow old to me."

Wade knows Logan is slowly ageing, something he doesn't do, and one day, he will be alone again. One day, he will watch Logan get grey hair, his face gaining wrinkles, his muscles getting softer. He's okay with that. He's made his peace, but it still hurts. Still makes his heart ache to know that one day Logan will die of old age and he will still be here. Wade will still have the same young body he does now. His body will always be 40 years old- and Logan's will always be ageing.

"You're the pink in my cheeks, and I'm scared cause that means I'm a little bit soft."

Logan has softened since knowing Wade. He's become less gruff and angry over time. Wade jokes that he managed to domesticated The Wolverine, and what's funny about that is the fact it's true. Where Logan used to be rough and jaded, he was soft and caring. It scared him. Alot. He was so used to the anger and violence coursing through his body that now- with this love and affection slowly replacing it- he wasn't sure what to do. Wasn't sure how to function.

"We were messed up kids who taught ourselves how to live, and I'm still scared that I'm not good enough."

Wade had always survived- never just lived. Ever since he was a kid. His dad had been an abusive asshole- his mother a cold-hearted bitch- and so he had grown up teaching himself how to survive. How to hide bruises from school, how to make food without getting noticed, how to avoid getting screamed at if he didn't do well on a test. It was ingrained into him as a kid- that he wasn't good. He would never be good. He was a broken fuck up that would never amount to anything. It was something he had taken with him through the rest of his life- and it was something he couldn't help but reflect back on when him and Logan had begun dating. Logan was a hero- he had saved the world more times that Wade could count- and here he was, dating Wade. Dating the one guy he shouldn't. Logan deserved better. Alot better. Deserved literally anyone that wasn't Wade. Logan was so genuine with him though- sounded like he meant every word he said- that slowly, he was helping to break that childhood trauma. He was showing Wade that he was worth something, no matter what some asshole father had said. It was ironic, because Logan had gone through a similar experience as a child, but here he was- helping Wade like it was nothing. He supposed that after 200 years, you resolve some of your issues.

"I've always felt like a monster, long before I was big, but only seen as a monster, let's just say I'm used to it."

Logan had always been told he was a freak, an animal, a killer. Ever since he was young. It hurt- until he had heard it enough times that it was second nature. He started to believe what they said about him. Think about the fact he really was a killer and an animal, the way he slashed through people like it was nothing or the way he growled when he was angry, it was true- wasn't it? And then he met Wade, and Wade showed him praise for all of those things. He never once seemed scared of Logan- infact he seemed to like all of the things he hated about himself. Wade would gush over the claws, joke about him being a cat, shout him on as he took out the bad guys on a mission. It felt strange, being show affection for the things people showed him hatred for for so long, but here it was. The praise he had always wanted.

"Yeah, I'm used to that, but I could get used to this."

His time with Vanessa had been amazing. Wade really had loved her with all of his heart- and he really did think they would be together until the end of time- but life got in the way as it often did. He had accepted she moved on, and while it hurt, he was happy she was happy. That she was finally with someone who could treat her right and keep her safe. It had felt strange to feel that similar fluttery feeling towards someone else- but Logan had managed to slip into that gap in his life with such ease that Wade never even noticed until he found himself not thinking of Vanessa anymore- instead he thought of Logan. It took him awhile to get used to that- to realise he could feel these things for someone else- and he liked it. Love it infact. The way Logan made him feel was so much more different than Vanessa, and he liked that. Logan complelty understood him. Never judged him for his looks or about the way he acted- loved every part of him like it was the easiest thing ever- and Wade couldn't help but find that so much better than what he had with Vanessa.

And the rest of the song? I could make up SEVERAL scenarios or ideas about each lyric for both of them. It fits so well it hurts.

[evilmoldywizard]

More Logan headcanons because I'm being given messages from god (pt 2!)

- music taste is actually just fucking all over the place with just being a weird combination of literally anything he's liked over the entire time he has been alive. do NOT let his silly ass on aux he will play something from the 20s followed by rob zombie or literally Creed or something and be like “Yeah I remember when these came out” like it's even remotely the same time period

- can and has frequently had fleas

- this is in addition to his “likes animals” hc I had but I feel like he sort of just collects them, sort of like Will Graham and Hellboy with dogs and cats, but hell just be here keeping his weird ass bear in the woods near the school that he shows up to feed and hang out with, and will bring home baby raccoons and opossums in just jacket at the time

- paranoid about sleeping next to anyone or anyone trying to wake him up because of his PTSD and how he wakes up from nightmares, especially after almost killing Rogue in the first movie.

- as far as immortality goes, he seems to be coping pretty well, but by god does this man need anxiety meds, and a high dose. Like now.

- has a lot of irrational small little fears despite being effectively immortal, like his canon fear of airplanes, I feel like he's also super freaked out by the ocean and large bodies of water. Like he will complain through a flight about feeling like its going to crash and kill him, but at least he doesn't need to SEE the water he's going over.

- the younger kids at Xavier's school have basically peer pressured him into really liking Halloween over time, he will even put on a really low-effort costume but he really does get excited about it now that he's around kids frequently, he will never admit it though.

- in addition to that, he honestly loves interacting with kids so much, and is really good with them. His situation growing up was godawful of course, especially with his immune system being as bad as it was before his mutation kicked in, so he is just subconsciously really careful about how much they look up to him and how he treats them. Most of them see him as like a cool uncle, and he would absolutely die for them no questions asked.

- is super sensitive to smell and hearing of course, but also he will usually hate this, and gets a lot of sensory issues because of this. Yeah, its super helpful, but he really is bothered by this and he has a hard time managing it. He's definitely curious about looking into ear protection but none of it is usually effective enough for him. He usually will just be able to hear electricity moving around with headphones and it bothers him a lot.

- On top of that, this is another reason he fucking stinks, is because most scented products like literally any deodorant bother him sensory-wise so much.

- he can of course survive any conditions really, but he's actually a big baby about discomfort that isn't direct pain, especially temperature, because of his mutation and immense sensory issues, he also literally has a metal skeleton, so cold is a nightmare. He will power through getting shot multiple times and stabbed easily, but the second its any degree near freezing he complains so much.

- he also just loves to complain👍

- adding, honestly though him complaining is a good sign from him that he's doing well. He's so used to dealing with insanely harsh conditions, and having to power through it, despite feeling every ounce of pain before his healing will kick in, including his claws. But when he starts to be annoying about the temperature or something, it really means he feels safe.

- again, I cannot express how much this man CANNOT drive! I don't care how much he is seen driving a car in x men media, I am NOT LISTENING. Motorcycle is different though to him. For some reason. Especially stolen. He CAN however steal a car, he just can't drive one, and will frequently get other xmen to drive him places like the little passenger princess he is. Mostly Scott. Scott hates this, Logan knows it.

- super sensory seeking with touch, as its one of his few senses he can control completely, so he will usually wear lots of layers, is super big on physical touch as a form of showing affection for people, anything deep pressure calms him down fast.

- he hoards bedding like a little nest. One million pillows and blankets for the freak. Again, deep pressure and control over temperature.

I think this is it for now, I will for sure be back with more, this thing (Logan) is so headcanon-able for some reason.

[ariaricottoncandy]

I fully agree with your post, like it's frustrating by this point and not in the good lore kind of way

their team/alliance already has no flare, no reason, no style and deadass nothing going on other than two meltdowns (the crashout and this) that have both managed to do exactly the same thing of blowing up spawn for no reason while Zam has to fight back only to end up killed. It's nonsense violence because nothing ever comes from it, just feels like a waste of time at this point

this shit pissed me off so bad I closed stream and went to touch grass, now Im playing webfishing instead

so valid to webfish to calm down from this stream :'D i'm singing to cope from it yeah, that's basically the best way to sum up how i feel about that team too. Like i WANT to like the new members (flame and mane), i want wemmbu to do something else for the love of fucking god i actually think mane stalking bacon and kab is/was super interesting! Because he's getting into their heads, and there's a psychological warfare to that's so interesting on a narrative level. (similar to when mapicc stalked zam i think in past seasons (i was late to s4)) This spawn griefing is so one note. Like. I don't like griefing cause i really care about builds, but you can make narrative conflict from doing that. But like they don't do that, it feels stale.

[sovaharbor]

i think im getting a migraine D:

[the-meme-monarch]

well that's the worst nightmare I've had in a while

[sollucets]

hi everyone :’) i havent been on tumblr much lately because i am 1) not watching anything and 2) still dealing with the effects of a bunch of fun medical stuff! i am doing ok but my body hates me so so so much lately. i have the energy and ability(?) to do only a few very specific things right now (play elden ring, let youtube forcefeed me kpop videos, languish) and that does not include watch show or make gif or even write no matter how much i might want to. so. this is how it is haha. miss u guys