#someone linked it to me so i was like fuck it we ball (only this once)

[lanshappycorner]

actually thats kind of me with alear and lapis too like u guys dont understand them like i do-

[musicalslugs]

Grace and the Lords in Black: an analysis.

Okay, so, this may be obvious; although I haven’t seen anyone mention this as of yet. The link between Grace Chastity and the Lords in Black is clear, I mean we’ve all agreed that she seems to be like that, and Dirty Dudes must Die highlights her “corruption” plainly.

That being said! I think there may be more.

Firstly, the Lords in Black mention/talk to Grace first, before Peter and Stephanie (the arguable proper protagonists of this story).

Sure, Blinky’s motif is obvious, it’s of eyes, of watching and of observation. But to speak to Grace first, even if it seems (on the surface level) that it’s just to flex their omniscience and make her uncomfortable, is a little strange. Especially since they then speak mostly (only) to Steph for the rest of the song [The Summoning].

Secondly, because if that were all this wouldn’t be a very good analysis, we have her (Grace) and Nibbly being echoes of eachother.

“Swallow” and “devour” are synonymous. Both fit into Nibbly’s motif of consumption. Now, Grace could’ve said anything. Absorb, harness, control etc. I think the wording here is particular. Not exactly the same, but clearly within the same ball park.

What is exactly the same though, is Grace Chastity and Wiggly.

This may seem a bit out of left field at first, but hear me out.

In The Summoning, it is said that “Wiggly wants his Wrath”, Wrath is a vice, a sin. It may not be the exact opposite of Chastity, however Chastity is to do with restraint, whereas Wrath is very much, not so. Moreover, Wrath can be defined as ‘a great anger that expresses itself in a desire to punish someone’. Now… who else could be described as wrathful? Obviously Max. And Grace. I mean, her song is called Dirty Dudes must Die. As well as being a direct reflection of Max, it implies that she wants to harm someone. Punish someone though? Well, yes. Grace says “This is the consequence of what you’ve done!” - she must believe that death is a worthy punishment for their actions (being ‘pervs’). Thus, Wrath.

Lastly, and this is where the exactly comes in, Grace and Wiggly both say the same things. (Again, of course, I could write another analysis on how Grace and Max reflect each other beautifully by also saying the same/extremely similar things) The difference between Grace saying similar things to Max, is that she and Wiggly aren’t similar. It’s the same.

Example A) Stephy / Stephie.

Upon rewatching Nerdy Prudes Must Die and listening to the album on repeat, I noticed that no one bar these two call Stephanie: Stephie. I know Grace calls Ruth, Ruthy and Peter, Petey- so her calling Stephanie, Stephie, makes sense linguistically. That doesn’t take from the fact that Wiggly is the only other ‘person’ to use that particular moniker.

Example B) “bloody bits”

A particularly strange phrase that these two say. However, not really. The point of this analysis is to point out the links between the Lords in Black and Grace Chastity, specifically Wiggly and Grace. By pointing out the parallels in their idiolects, I have come to the conclusion that they are not only linked but INCREDIBLY similar.

Both are characters that use cutesy, almost childish language (“mommy spot” / “belly-well”) to disguise the violence, the wrath that lays beneath the surface. Wiggly (as shown in Black Friday) uses it as a facade. Throughout Black Friday and throughout The Summoning, he expresses himself as non-threatening (“We’re all pally-wals.” etc) before eventually showing what’s beneath the surface (“..deck the fucking halls!” / “We don’t give a shit about your phone!”). Both times are as abrupt as each other, showing that Wiggly has a fairly short temper. Grace doesn’t necessarily have a short temper, instead she has periods of ‘sin’, when stressed: Dirty Girl, calling “God a son of a B-Word”, smoking (after), having sex with Max, the scene of her ordering hot water etc etc. The visage, her carefully constructed facade, slips. Wether it’s because deep down she doesn’t believe in God (possibly shown in her “are you religious?” conversation with Shapiro), or that due to her upbringing she’s being confined, restrained, controlled, and this is when her ‘true self’ begins to peer through the cracks.

Either way, these are two characters who use similar themes (one of childishness, the other of purity/innocence (which can also be linked to childishness)) to cover their violence, their real selves.

Uhhh- anyway, watch Nerdy Prudes must Die on Youtube- it gave me brain worms.

[iuspired]

confessions - suna rintarou

about: DEFINITELY ooc but we don’t talk about that 😙 just you nd ur bsf sunarin catching up as per usual with tea to spill from the past 😝 we love to see it!

a/n: i wrote this awhile ago actually🫣 im fully done w finals………. idk what to think im so scared for the future. also trying diff formats and will actually work on my navi post during the summer so bare w me lol. anyways thank u for all the love on my last post mwahhh <3

“you know i used to have a crush on you?” you say, in between bites of your food.

you and your childhood best friend, suna rintarou, are at your promised monthly hangout, which ended up only being every couple months because your universities were far away from each other, so you both settled to meet up whenever your breaks overlapped. but it didn’t matter to you either way because you texted each other almost every other day. whether it was a tiktok link or an 8 ball.

“you used to what?” he replies, mouth agape as he sets his chopsticks down.

“i mean, it wasn’t a huge crush,” you say, … “maybe i was gaslighting myself but we were really close back then y’know?”

“oh? why didn’t you ask me out then?”

“mmm not sure. i guess..” you think about it. it was probably because starting high school, girls were all over him. it was also probably because those same girls would come up to you. passive aggressively ask if you were his girlfriend. you’d reply with a lighthearted laugh, “noo! we’re just close friends. he’s all yours if you want him.” maybe it was because he wouldn’t reciprocate any of the interest and love he received. he always replied, saying something along the lines of ‘oh i’m focusing on school” or just a simple, “i’m not interested”

it was mostly though, because you thought he’d reject you if you initiated something. and not wanting to ruin the relationship you had already built throughout the years, you suppress your feelings.

“you guess?”

“fear of rejection?” you laugh nervously.

“you think i would’ve rejected you?” he asks. he tilts his head, raising his eyebrows, giving you a look as if you were supposed to know.

“you had no interest for anyone so… i mean. i-” you stammer. fuck, why did i even bring this up?!

“well, believe it or not, i too, had a crush on my bestfriend.”

and just like that, you almost spit out your drink. “sorry, you- you liked me?”

“and that’s so surprising because?” he questions.

he really cannot wrap his head around this, huh. “you turned everyone and their mother down? mr. i’m too focused on school and i’m not interested? i could only assume that i was not wanted.”

“but did i ever directly say that to you?”

“no, but you wouldn’t need to. i listened when you rejected their advances, i can take a hint y’know.”

he sighed. “if you had asked me out back then, my answer would be different.”

“really?” you ask.

“really.”

you raise your eyebrows as you sip your drink.

“don’t believe me? you can try me now.” he smirks, flashing the smile you had fallen for back then, and you almost fold right then and there. though despite his confident demeanor, the slight rosy tint on his cheeks gives his nervousness away.

“oh? it’s almost as if you want me to ask you out.”

he playfully rolls his eyes. “okay, so maybe i do, but only if you want to..”

you do your best to suppress a smile as your cheeks turn into the same rosy color.

“here goes. ahem.. i uh-” your mind goes blank.

“wait so.. how do you ask someone out?”

“well, i’ve never asked someone out before because they always ask me” he winks.

you playfully roll your eyes.

“don’t overthink it. it’s just me right?”

you almost forgot. it’s just rin. the same rin who’s always there for you. but this is different.

“right.. i say this in almost all your birthday cards but you’re truly my rock in life, and i reaally want to be yours, and maybe more so.. may i be your girlfriend, suna rintarou?”

“well, if you insist i guess,” he shrugs.

“wooooww.. i see how it is” you say, crossing your arms teasingly.

“r-rin..” he catches you off-guard as he takes your hand in his.

“yeess?” he grins.

you remove your hands, immediately missing the warmth from his hands.

“first date jitters?” he chuckles.

“this is our first date?”

“technically, i guess, but-“

“no way this is our official first date. i’m wearing sweats!” you exclaim, looking down at what you’re wearing.

“i don’t see an issue, you always look pretty in anything you wear.”

“th- thanks,” you blurt out. well that’s new.

but it’s something you could deeefinitely get used to.

[tojifile]

@Satosugu . . . ( ´ ꒳ ` )

Tags: NBAstars!satosugu, model!reader (f!), fluff, pining, competitive!satosugu, no curse au, 2018 style plot, surreal (obvious-fucking-ly)

A/N: I can’t stop thinking about Satosugu x reader fics.. I want them so bad, need them.. ☹️☹️ I will write the most self-indulgent fics about them. They’re my babies (especially Suguru). Someone get me a bf that looks exactly like Geto Suguru and another like Gojo Satoru!!!!!!!! Pretty sure most of the Geto pics I used are from a Satosugu manga fanfic but I can’t even find the original. (I don’t know a lot about bball, so I’m sosososoososososo sorry if this a bit inaccurate)

Links: Masterlist

Gojo Satoru

Geto Suguru

NBAstars!satosugu who always immediately look for you after their games. They know you’re always there to watch and support them.

“Princess!” Satoru yelled from across the court as soon as his eyes met yours. He was more than glad to see you. The ball game had just finished, he and Suguru then looked for you in the crowd. Satoru was delighted to be the first to spot you.

Like always, you happily ran to Satoru. He caught you, picked you up, and hugged you tightly. “You’re covered in sweat.” You huffed into the crook of his neck to which Satoru chuckled softly. He loved your little complaints, especially when your arms were wrapped around his neck.

Suguru then spotted the both of you. He walked over then whined with a faux pout. “Darling.. don’t you think it’s unfair that you’re only hugging Satoru?” He said as he gave you a kiss on your cheek.

NBAstar!suguru who always makes sure to receive a kiss from you before their games. It’s his “lucky charm” he says. You don’t want to jinx the game, right?

“Give me a kiss baby..” he whispered low in your ear to which you happily obliged.

NBAstar!satoru who popularized the “this is for you” look before shooting the ball. The camera that broadcasted the game got the perfect angle of you watching him play and him pointing at you before finishing the quarter. Satoru never missed a shot after looking at you.

NBAstar!suguru who likes to blow you a kiss during games. It makes Satoru jealous and pouty when you blow a kiss back. He was the one who shot the ball!

“That’s supposed to be my kiss!” Satoru whined, “You wish.” Suguru mocked.

NBAstars!satosugu who would sometimes model for companies with you. They’d do brands like Onitsuka Tiger, Calbee, Uniqlo, and other brands that you model for. The public love to see you all together and companies love milking that for publicity.

NBAstar!suguru who always makes sure you have a seat, specifically one he can see you in from the court. He wants to be able to see you and blow those kisses whenever he pleased.

NBAstar!satoru who was the one to convince you to move to the states with them. He didn’t want to leave without you but he also couldn’t deny that getting drafted to the states is a big leap in his career. Satoru made sure you were taken care of in the states and he made sure to hire someone to dote on your needs when they couldn’t.

NBAstar!suguru who was the one who helped you get a modeling gig at a large shoe company.

After training, Suguru was approached by a scout from the brand. He was told that they wanted him and Satoru to model for them. Suguru then called you and Satoru over and he said in full confidence, “We won’t do it if she’s not in it too.”

Soon enough, the three of you got more and more calls from businesses. You became more and more popular, especially with clothing brands.

NBAstar!satoru who loves posting you on his instagram. He makes sure you two look like a couple (he specifically loves this, this, this, and this). Satoru loves being touchy with you and he gushes about it when he talks to Suguru. He loves to brag about you.

His favorite picture of the two of you is when you were laying your pretty little head on his bare chest while taking a nap. He was giving you a soft kiss on the top of your head in the picture. It was so cute and your shippers thought so too! 700k likes in just an hour, breaking his notifications.

NBAstar!suguru who doesn’t post you as much but when he does it’s those intimate and sophisticated pictures. You guys in photoshoots, dinner dates, traveling, teasers (another teaser). He doesn’t love sharing his life to millions but he loves showing you off. (Agora Hills much?)

NBAstars!satosugu who overwhelm you with affection that you just can’t choose one or the other. Lucky for you, they sometimes find a way to share.

However, it’s different with the fans. Some of them say if they were in your situation they wouldn’t know who to choose, others would say you’re leading one of them on, and there would be people who just argue about who you should end up with.

At the end of the day, it’s still your choice. But god do they make it hard. You grew up with them both and you learned to love them both. How could you even decide between Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru?!

@toxicramune @oh-my-beel @nymphsdomain @morinuu @sweetcoorpse – Comment 🪩 to be on my taglist ! (Part 2?)

[itsabouttimex2]

MK and Mei’s Friendship

Wukong and Macaque’s Fallout

Mei isn’t the next “warrior”, and she would 100% beat your ass for implying she’s like Macaque

I’m going to preface this for anyone who might want to leave early- I personally dislike this theory!

Because to me, it isn’t a theory- it’s just wrong.

And usually it’s so wrong that it shatters the reality of MK’s and Mei’s character for the sake of forcing them into little “Sun Wukong” and “Macaque” shaped balls.

And so often it starts with demonizing MK/Wukong.

I see, so often, this portrayed in two ways:

1. MK loses his mind and becomes a vicious monster that must be collared and restrained for the good of all around him.

2. MK becomes obsessed with power and fighting, thus driving Mei away.

And both of these are done in an attempt to “link” the kids with the monkeys.

MK-Wukong and Mei-Macaque

We don’t really need to talk about the first two- most of the show is about MK interacting with the Monkey King and learned to handle his legacy and foes- we’d be here all day.

But, what sort of interactions do Mei and Macaque share? Well, for Mei, it’s:

1. Being a victim of his violent and murderous actions

2. Being extremely close to his other frequent victims

3. Bafflingly having no negative opinions on the man who led an assault on her people’s palace, tried to murder her friends, and forced Tang to unleash the Samadhi Fire, nearly killing her in the process.

4. Being a weaker character for her lack of hostile dynamic with someone who has hurt her again and again and again

5. Having a worthless “team-up” with Macaque without the show ever having her address what he’s done to her and her loved ones

6. Weaken her character by taking away characteristics like “willing to call people out” and “gets violent when people try to hurt the ones she loves” for the sake of a boring and short “team-up”.

…yeah, thats not a great list.

Already, Mei’s non-violent interactions with Macaque leave a lot to be desired- and don’t hint to anything even close to her being a “successor” to his story like MK is to Wukong.

Back to those two first bullet points, now, right under the read more.

Sun Wukong and MK are not; and never have been, “mindless monsters”, in spite of MK’s destructiveness in his monkey form- it is explicitly made clear that he’s in control of himself.

“There’s nothing “mindless” about this.”

And he was right. MK is completely awake and aware in his monkey form, with full mental faculties. He’s verbally capable of shredding Azure and decrying his crimes in an efficient fashion, all while kicking him around.

MK wasn’t “going insane”- he was having fun.

(That’s a rant for another day, though)

Nor did Sun Wukong solely drive Macaque away.

The crux of Wukong and Macaque’s fallout is clearly displayed in the show, in the fourth season of Monkie Kid- it started from a single fucking argument.

Now, I’d like to preface again: this is the first point that I see many, oh so many theorizers, artists, writers, etc- get wrong.

SUN WUKONG IS NOT THE “BAD GUY” IN THIS SCENE.

THEY ARE BOTH AT FAULT.

Sun Wukong is trapped. For attempting to overthrow the Jade Emperor, he is sentenced to FIVE HUNDRED YEARS trapped under a mountain.

Let me elaborate for anyone who doesn’t sympathize.

For the next five hundred years, Sun Wukong will be 75% immobile and alone under a nearly lightless mountain. There will be no noise, no stimulation, and no company. He will suffer in silence, and he will suffer alone.

But you know who ISN’T being punished for an attempt to overthrow the Jade Emperor?

Macaque.

Now, this is funny. Wukong leads a six strong band of brothers against the forces of the Celestial Realm, but only ONE of them faces consequences for the rebellion- himself.

Even five hundred years later when Wukong is set free and traveling with his fellow pilgrims…

No one else has faced consequences for the rebellion. All five of Wukong’s “brothers” (Azure Lion, Peng, Demon Bull King, Yellowtusk, and yes, Macaque) get away scot-free to continue their plans and schemes.

I would be pissed. You would be pissed. There is not ONE SINGLE PERSON in this world that would NOT be pissed about how blatantly unfair this is.

Especially not after spending five hundred years nearly immobile under a dark and lonely mountain.

So, even before all, here and now, under that mountain, before five long and lonely centuries have passed, faced with the current injustice of his predicament-

Wukong lashes out and blames Macaque.

No. Fucking. Shit.

All of us (none of us are saints, do not try to say otherwise) would have snapped in anger.

All of us would have been angry. Each and every last one.

Mostly immobile and imprisoned alone to take the blame of six guilty men, Wukong lashes out at the nearest person.

And what does Macaque do, when blamed one single time for something that is mutually the fault of six men, including himself?

He lies and runs away.

No the fuck you didn’t.

Macaque nudges the idea. He implies the idea. He hints, quietly and softly.

“You’re really going through with this?” Is not him shutting down the idea of fighting the Celestial Realm.

It’s him being a coward and trying to dance around the issue without a direct confrontation.

Not even once does Macaque say: “We shouldn’t fight the Jade Emperor.”

Macaque directly LIES to present himself as being the better person during this fight.

MACAQUE IS FUCKING LYING TO HIS BEST FRIEND’S FACE TO MAKE HIMSELF LOOK BETTER, THEN RUNS AWAY AND NEVER COMES BACK DESPITE HAVING FIVE HUNDRED YEARS TO DO SO.

(But because it’s their ‘pewfect pwecious Maccy’, the fandom blindly ate this blatant dogshit lie up and took it at face value. Y’all don’t deserve unreliable narrators and mature themes go watch cocomelon/s)

The moment something goes wrong, what do these two do?

Blame each other to absolve themselves of sin, and then one runs away and chooses to never come back.

This was fucked up and toxic from the start- Macaque was a cowardly little bitch, and Wukong was a power-hungry idiot.

And both of these dumbasses have ZERO communication skills.

You know who doesn’t fall into those categories? OUR KIDDOS.

Mei and MK fight too- as soon as the first season.

And what does Mei do when her best friend accidentally wrecks her bike and nearly costs her a race that was EXTREMELY important to her?

She forgives him almost the moment he apologizes, and he immediately works on making it up to her.

Well, hold on a minute! That doesn’t sound like, I don’t know…

Lying to make yourself look better, throwing the blame around instead of accepting it, and running away for five entire centuries?

Huh. It’s almost like, maybe, instead of being built on one-sided adoration and tenuous “brotherhood”, Mei and MK see each other as, of all things-!

Equals. Friends. Partners.

Mei will NEVER abandon her best friend. Nothing could make her. Even when facing down lethal odds, her first response will ALWAYS be to run to him.

Even if she has to be forcibly dragged away, screaming and in tears, Mei will always fight to stay by MK’s side.

Nothing in the world could tear them apart. Not a petty fight. Not a presumed death. Not demons or celestials. Not an inky scroll of eternity inscribed with the past.

There is ONE circumstance in which she runs away from him-

When she’s overwhelmed by the Samadhi Fire and terrified of hurting the person she loves most with a

DEMONIC FIRE FUSED TO HER BODY THAT COULD EASILY BE USED TO DESTROY THE ENTIRE PLANET

then, and only then… does Mei run.

That is what it takes to drive her and MK apart. Not an argument. Not a game of flinging blame. Not a mishap or a tumble.

But fear for his life.

She runs away because, even if she wants to stay- Mei loves him.

And she loves him too much to think of putting her own life and desires before his.

Mei and MK are not the “hero and the warrior”.

This is not MK and Mei. And it never will be.

This is Macaque and Wukong, two people driven apart by boldness that was brashness and cleverness that was cowardice. This is a tale of adoration and anger and heartbreak and betrayal.

This is not MK and Mei. And it never will be.

Because they love each other too much to ever be “the hero and the warrior”.

And they’re all the better for it.

[covetyou]

baubles

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: ball fucking, ball sucking, balls, wall to wall all ball, BIV (ball in vagina), sex toys (the balldo [link to website] is real and it has haunted my dreams for 6 months - pic in this ask), there's some PIV too I guess. word count: too many and they're all balls 4.4k summary: Santa Joel fucks you with his balls. That's it.

A/N: I am NOT sorry. Not now, not ever. And, yes, I watched the instructional video on how to put it on, purely for Research Purposes. We don't talk about how long I've spent thinking about balls.

Happy Ball-idays, don't say I never got you anythin' nice.

...

Santa Joel-y, slip your ballsack right into me, oh gee.

I've been a fuckin' good girl,

Santa Joel-y, so stuff 'em up my chimney tonight.

...

It was your first Christmas in Texas and your first Christmas in a place that felt unseasonably warm for the time of year. That's what you tell yourself every night as you strip off completely before slinking into bed, at least.

Except, this night is different.

It's Christmas Eve.

And someone is in your house. You're sure of it.

A click of a button and you're on your feet, creeping to your bedroom door to listen out for the intruder. You almost didn't hear it, too preoccupied to be on the lookout for burglars on Christmas Eve.

There's a tell tale rustle, the stomp of feet. Whoever it is, they're not even trying to be quiet. You'd respect the brazenness of it all if someone hadn't broken into your damn house. You toy with calling the cops, maybe a neighbor, but you know it'll be too late by the time anyone gets here to do anything, so you make the stupid decision to head downstairs and confront the intruder alone.

Wrapping your flimsy bath robe around yourself, you grab the nearest makeshift weapon you can find (a broken umbrella you still hadn't thrown away) and click the door open, slinking out into the hallway and down the stairs.

If he hears you before you get down the stairs, he doesn't let on. But there, right in front of your Christmas tree is the unmistakable figure of a man. A big man. He's tall, and broad, and his silhouette is wrapped in something fluffy, making it look like there's a giant teddy bear standing in your living room.

You flick the light on, startling him, making him drop a heavy bag undoubtedly filled with your things onto the floor with a heavy thud.

"Oh, shit."

A single ornament rolls out of the bag and across the floor. You both stand frozen and silent, watching it move until it knocks against your bare toes. Only when it's stopped do you drag your eyes back up to look at the man who broke into your house.

Your umbrella clatters to the floor.

"What the...?"

The man before you is dressed as Santa, hat and all.

Only this man was not as old as you would expect for someone claiming to be Santa Claus. His beard is patchy, the scruff around his chin only speckled with gray. He has lines around his eyes, crinkled divots in his skin from so many years of laughter. The red coat pulled around his form is unbelted, falling open at the middle to reveal a white vest and the soft swell of his belly.

"What the fuck are you doin' in my house?" you yell.

"Shh, quit your fuckin' hollerin'."

He takes a step toward you and you back into the wall, trying to keep your distance from the very Texan man who had broken into your house dressed as Santa on Christmas Eve.

And that's when you see behind him, to the glittering lights of your Christmas tree, and the branches covered in ornaments. Ornaments that did not belong to you. You'd bought the thing on sale at the grocery store just a week ago. When you put it up and plugged it in, grateful for the existence of pre-lit trees, you settled on the fact you wouldn't decorate it this year. Even so, it was beautiful as it was, and you enjoyed the soft glow of the lights in the evenings as you wound down after work. Now, that soft glow was accompanied by the twinkling reflections of the many ornaments hanging on it.

"Did you... did you decorate my tree?"

He looks at you like you're mad, and maybe you are. Maybe you came so hard on your vibrator upstairs that you passed out, and this is all a dream. A very vivid dream where you can smell the warm oaky scent of the man in front of you and feel the heat of him as he crowds you against the wall.

"What else do you think I've been doin'?" he says, as if it should be entirely obvious that he's been here decorating your tree all along.

"I don't know, maybe stealing my shit?"

He, once again, looks at you like you're stupid and gestures to his suit, red and velvety, draped around his body. It looks good on him, and does nothing to help the thick syrupy feeling still coursing through your veins. Having a man like him break into your house felt like one of lifes great injustices, but having him break in when you were mid-jerk off was purely inhumane. Other than point to the door and tell him to get out, there was nothing you could do but gape at him and hope he didn't notice you curl your toes as he looked at you.

He takes a step closer, heavy boot falling with a thud in front of you, and shrugs. "If you don't want it, I'll take it back."

Up this close, the smell of him goes straight to your head, your body seemingly ready and rearing to go at the slightest hint of something masculine in your presence. Your tongue suddenly feels too big and clumsy so, not trusting a single word that would come out of your mouth, you shake your head. You would actually, really, very much like the decorations to stay and the man who put them there.

Texas always felt hot to you, but something about this room was now super heating. You're keenly aware of the stickiness pooling between your thighs, and even more aware of the visible sheen of sweat on your head and the warmth in your cheeks. If he looked closely, he'd even be able to see glistening on your fingers, making you look glitter coated in the twinkle of the Christmas lights. You shift, trying to mask the buzzing in your veins at his eyes as they drag down your body.

You hadn't noticed the silky tie of your robe slowly loosen as you wiggled and fidgeted. You were too warm to notice when the fabric parted, gaping over your chest and giving him a perfect view of your tits. You were too busy staring into his deep brown eyes to notice him raise his hand.

You did, however, feel the moment his finger stroked a slow trail down the swell of your breast, puckering your nipple and making a shudder run through your spine.

"You're all unwrapped, darlin'," he whispers, just as you remember to breathe again. "S'gettin' a bit warm in here, huh?"

He absentmindedly discards his hat as his finger traces down your body, flicking the light back off behind you once his hat hits the floor. You know where he, and this, is heading, and you're not keen to stop it any time soon.

When his fingers stroke across your mound, you gasp. Your vibrator had made you sensitive, but you'd never had chance to finish the job, and now here he was threatening you with a good time. He cups you, completely engulfing your pussy in his broad hand, and slides it between your legs.

By now it's no secret you're already wet, your upper thighs already sticky with it. His fingers slide through with ease, the quirk of his eyebrow visible now his hat has been thrown to the side.

"Here I was thinkin' you were on the nice list. But this little thing right here tells me you're naughty as they come, darlin'. What you been doin' to yourself all alone up there in the dark?"

You're staring at him opened mouthed as he works is thick fingers over you, dragging slick over your already sensitive clit. You'd been moments away from coming when the noise from downstairs pulled you out of it, and now here he was working you back up and quickly.

"It's my house," you stutter. "Can do what I want." And right now you want to collapse into a heap on the floor with his fingers between your legs.

"That you can. You wanna go back up there and finish yourself off?"

Logically, you know your pre-orgasm desperation is clouding your judgement, that you should take him up on his offer to leave and put a stop to this, but there's something too enticing about him. You don't want to stop.

"Or do you maybe want a hand with your... Little problem?"

"Yeah," you're nodding, eyes so heavy now you want them to snap shut, but you can't resist looking at him in the glow of your Christmas lights. Red really suits him, and you swear you can see his cheeks get rosy in the dim lighting.

"S'good. Got some little problems here myself. But, seein' as you're already halfway there, seems only fair to get me to your level before we start anythin', don't you think?"

Biting your lip, you nod, taking a step closer to him. Tentatively, you reach out a hand and caress the front of his pants. They feel velvety soft, and you have no fucking clue how he doesn't look as sweaty as you feel.

"That's right. You feel that?"

You feel something grow beneath your palm. Big, thick, and heavy. You look down in stunned silence, seeing only the odd shadows cast by the Christmas tree lights sparkling over the front of his pants.

"Get on your knees and close your eyes."

You obey, wanting very much to stay on the nice list now that you know exactly what you want for Christmas. His belt jingles as he undoes the buckle, pulling it from his waist and discarding it on top of his bag. He can't resist giving his dick a quick squeeze over the fabric of his pants at the sight of your bare chest heaving in the twinkling light, before unzipping them and letting them fall down to his ankles. The fabric is so loose he can step out of them, easily tugging his booted feet from the legs.

It doesn't go unnoticed that you spend the entire time eyes closed, listening attentively, and gently rocking your hips, discreetly humping the air in a desperate attempt to find any kind of relief.

"Tsk, got an impatient one on our hands."

The same hand he'd been stroking your pussy with wraps around his cock, slowly dragging his sticky fingers up and down his rapidly hardening length. He wishes he'd told you to strip, or left the light on so he could see you more clearly, but something about your skin under the sparkling lights and the shadows cast between your legs is making him harder more quickly than ever. When his dick twitches in his hand at your deep sigh, he finally stops staring and speaks.

"Open your eyes."

You snap them open, eager to see what he has for you, and your eyes immediately turn the size of dinner plates.

His cock gorgeous, and even in the grip of his large hand it looks big. He's long, thick with a slight upward curve and a smattering of salt and pepper hair at the base. You're fairly certain he trims it, keeping it well groomed and flush to his skin, making his cock appear even larger as it juts out infront of him.

But, despite the gloriousness of this mans cock, what you can't get over are his balls. They're heavy, and full, and getting tighter and tighter as his cock hardens under your gaze. You flick your eyes up to his face and he has a knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

"Fuck," you say as you look back down at it, at them, and let out a shaky breath.

His whole body shakes with a laugh, jingling his bells, as you take in his length. Hand never leaving his cock, his gentle strokes become firmer, and he's guiding the tip toward your face a moment later.

"What should I call you?" you ask, realizing you don't even know his name yet, just as his tip touches to your lips. Exhilarating as it was to fuck a man who had broke into your house, you still wanted to know his name, and not even to press charges - you wanted to know what to scream when you came.

"Santa works just fine."

Pulling back, you scoff, "You want me to call you Santa Claus?"

"Fuck no! Do I look like a Claus to you? S'Joel."

"Santa Joel?"

"Fuck yeah darlin', now open up."

You stick out your tongue, waiting for his cock to slide along the spit slicked muscle. He drags his tip across it, letting you lick at his head before you capture his cock in your mouth, sucking it in and flicking your tongue lightly on his frenulum. The salty sweet taste of him makes you crave more, so you draw him further into your mouth, sliding up and down his cock as he stares down at you with an open mouth.

Dragging your hands up his bare thighs, you grab the base of his cock with one, steadying him as you suck. You tickle the other across his balls, looking up at him as he pulls in a sharp breath, before grabbing them and massaging them. His balls feel entirely smooth to the touch, and you have an irresistible urge to put them in your mouth.

Dragging your lips back from his cock, you lick broadly up the length of it again and again until you're dragging your tongue across his ballsack, slowly trailing up his cock to his tip, watching him all the while. Then you kiss his balls, humming in satisfaction as you finally press your lips to the soft skin.

The sight of you on your knees, making out with his balls is sending him stupid, and all he can do is stare down at you with a look of deep concentration on his face. If he's not careful, he's going to blow his load early, coming in your hand before he even gets to fuck you.

He watches you lightly drag your teeth over his delicate ball skin. He swears he sees your eyes flicker with something deserving of the naughty list when you hear his intake of breath, but he's too preoccupied by your tongue lathing across them to take much notice. You take it in turns with them, sucking each ball into your mouth as you slowly pump his cock in your fist, before releasing and working on the other. By the time you've had enough, his cock is dripping, smearing pre-cum over your hand as you jerk him.

Licking the drippy mess off of your hand, you look up at him, savouring the taste of his cum in your mouth.

"Please tell me you want to fuck me," you say, biting down on your swollen lips. You don't know what you'll do if he says no now, you know going back upstairs to your vibrator just won't cut it, even if you now have the fantasy of kissing Santa's balls to get off to.

"You kiddin' me, darlin'? Get up here."

Relief and desperation wash through you, and you climb off your aching knees, letting your robe fall from your arms.

"Couch?" you say, keeping a firm grip on his cock as you stroke up his chest. He pulls you toward him, holding the back of your neck as he kisses you, tasting his cum and balls on your tongue. His lips are impossibly soft, just like his balls, a stark contrast to the scratch of his beard.

Moving to the couch, you bend over, wiggling your bare ass for him. He chuckles, stepping closer to you and marvelling at the lights dancing over your jiggling backside. He shucks off his own coat now, leaving him in just his vest and boots, and hones in on the peek of your pussy from between your legs.

Sliding his length up and down your slit he groans, gripping your hip in his massive hand just as he notches at your entrance.

"Well, shit, that's nice," he says, sliding his tip into you.

You're inclined to agree - it had been a long time since anyone other than yourself had fucked you, and the red hot feeling of his hard cock in you felt better than you remembered. He rocks his hips a little, drenching his cock in you bit by bit until he's fully sheathed inside your eager pussy. The solid beat of your heart throbs through your veins and straight to your core, making you clench around him as he begins to fuck you.

"You're gonna yank my dick clean off if you keep that up."

"Can't help it," you moan, "Feels so good." You let your eyes close, succumbing to the slow, steady, pleasure building in you.

Snapping his hips more firmly, he bottoms out in you over and over, pushing deep inside you with each thrust. You can feel his wet balls slap against you, rhythmically whacking into your clit, but it's not enough. You're so desperate to come you lick your fingers and reach between your legs, swiping your digits over your clit. His balls instead slap against your fingers and you can't resist trying to stroke them again.

The noises you're making are going straight to Joel's dick, and he knows he's going to blow his snowy load way before he's ready if you don't stop, so he pulls away from you. You protest as his cock slides out of you, leaving you empty and still desperate to come.

"Got a present for you," he pants from behind you.

"The ornaments?"

"Yeah. Got some real pretty baubles for you, darlin'. You'll like 'em. I promise."

He goes to his bag, long forgotten on the floor, and bends over it. You watch his soft ass and the swing of his dick and balls as he rummages around inside the sack, pulling out two things before standing up. When he doesn't immediately turn back around, clearly playing with his own cock, you start to worry that you're not satisfying him. But then he rounds on you and you see his cock and balls glisten wetly in the twinkling Christmas lights just as he throws a bottle at you. Lube.

Catching him opening another box, you gasp and draw your hand to your chest in mock shock.

"Is that not my present to open?" you say coyly, now trickling lube over your own pussy. You don't need it, but whatever he has in mind clearly calls for it.

"Good things come to those who wait."

"I'm still waiting for the coming part."

He shoots you a admonishing look and you raise your hands in surrender, before snaking one back down to keep rubbing at your clit. You're about to go mad if you don't come soon, your clit is so sensitive, a firm nub between your legs now, and your pussy so puffy from so much stimulation. It's a wonder you have any blood left in your brain at all.

The object in the box is revealed, and you can do nothing but gape at it as Santa Joel proudly holds it up with a hand on his hip.

It looks like a torpedo cockring hybrid, and you have no fucking clue what it is.

"Get yourself comfy, gotta strap myself in."

Laying back on your couch - for all its flaws, an armless couch certainly had its benefits - you spread your legs and watch him with curiousity. You still can't work out what it is.

"What is -"

And then he stretches the silicone underneath his balls, pushing each ball into the cage with his thumbs before letting go. Oh.

Oh. "Oh."

You sit in stunned silence. He's turned his balls into a dick or, more accurately, a dildo. With the length of it and the girth of his balls, you can only imagine what it's going to feel like.

"If you don't fuck me with that in the next two seconds I'm gonna scream."

With the contraption strapped around his balls, pulling them down and taught, crouches over you, pushing your legs back so your pussy is pointing skyward like a sloppy wet landing pad for his balls.

He dunks the tip of the dildo into your pussy. It's cold and unfamiliar, not like the velvety warmth of his dick that stands straight ahead of you, taunting you with its glistening tip. If you could fold yourself in a pretzel you would, just to suck the head of his cock back into your mouth.

He pushes down, squatting over you with bare legs, sheathing the entire dildo into you. Another push and you feel the swell of his balls as they pop past your entrance and nestle themselves inside of you.

You gasp. The feeling is wholly unfamiliar, but still you feel yourself soaking him, slicking up his balls as they sit in your pussy.

"That hurtin'?"

"No. No, it's just I- I've never had someone's balls in me before."

"A first ball fuckin' for this little pussy," he says affectionately, stroking a thumb over your lips as they wrap themselves around his balls. His cock is protruding out of you now, like you're wearing a life like strap, and you really wish you could reach to taste where his tip threatens to drip onto you. Suddenly you understand the boys back in highschool and their failed attempts to suck their own dicks.

"They feel so big inside," you moan as he begins to gently shift above you. He pops out of you once, and pushes back in, and you throw your head back onto the soft sofa woth a moan. You have never felt anything like this. "Joel, please don't stop. Please keep fucking me with your balls."

"You got it darlin'," his voice is soft, in awe of you as you take his balls and the toy deep inside you. You feel incredible, and the wet slip of your walls on his ball skin shoots straight down his dick, and for a moment he thinks he's accidentally came too early. A quick look from your face, contorting with the fullness in your pussy, down to where his dick sticks outward, tells him otherwise. Thank fuck. He knows he has to get you off quickly. You were soaking his dick not too long ago, and before that his fingers, and before that your own sheets upstairs. You were ready, and he was nothing if not a giving man.

His thumb finds your clit, slippery from lube and your own slick, and he circles it, applying a firm pressure as he moves.

"Oh my god, that's it," you plead, opening your eyes to look at where he plays with you, balls still sunk deep.

You spur him on, rocking your hips as much as you can with your legs back, fucking yourself on his balls as he strokes your clit. You feel your pussy tense, little spasms warning you of what's to come, and you hold on tight to your own legs.

"That's it darlin'. Come on my balls. Squeeze 'em."

"F-fuuuck."

The swipe of his thumb sends you over, and you come hard on his balls with your head back and eyes squeezed shut. Your legs shake and you know he can feel how you twitch and spasm around his balls, drenching them as he dunks them in you, shallowly thrusting them as you tighten and grip him hard.

He's holding your legs back for you, looking you in the eye as he bends forward over your limp body when you open your eyes. The feral look on his face tells you he hasn't come yet, and you're desperate to see when he does.

"You been so nice I'm gonna give you an extra present. You ready?"

"Please Santa Joel, I've been so good this year," you say with a soft smirk.

He soon wipes the smirk off your face when he fucks down into you harder, practically bouncing off your ass as he slots his swollen balls into your pussy. They feel so big and heavy inside you, and even strapped down and pulled tight by the toy, you feel his balls tighten and try to draw up closer to his cock as he gets closer to coming.

"Come on me. Please. Come on me," you beg, staring between his cock and his face. Pre-cum had been steadily dripping onto you, splattering your belly, but you were hungry for more.

His fingers grip around his flushed head, stroking easily over the slicked surface. Pushing his balls deep, he bounces gently, loving the feel of his sensitive ball skin inside of your soaked hole.

"Here it comes, darlin'. Oh shit."

"Yeah, come on me. Come all over me Joel."

"Shit. Fuck."

You watch his slit as it seems to wink at you before ropes of come spurt out of the tip, shooting across your chest and neck, spattering your face and even your hair with his cum.

"Yes, yes, thank you," your eyes have snapped shut. You can feel the warm trickle of cum by your eyebrow, and you're not keen to feel the sting of semen in your eye.

For a little while he looks at you, fucked out by his balls and laying boneless on your couch. With a soft pop he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty without his balls in you. Your legs flop down and you listen to his deep breaths.

"Nothin' like a ballgasm," he pants.

Nothing like being ballfucked, you think, but the words are heavy in your mouth and you do nothing but moan, mumbling some nonsense.

"Mm... balls. They... mm. Yeah. Good."

"Too fucked out, huh?" he laughs, before swiping the cum from near your eye. "Make a Christmas wish," and he slips the finger into your waiting mouth.

He slides his finger from your mouth and you murmur a thank you as you make your wish, sighing and letting yourself relax completely for a moment.

When you tentatively open your eyes, wary of any errant drops of cum, he's gone, disappeared as soon as he'd arrived. You didn't hear the door, the window, anything. You certainly didn't hear him get dressed.

Feeling stupid, and like maybe it was all just a dream, you rush to the window. You don't expect to see anything, the man feeling too magical to have been real. But, there he is, walking down the street bare assed, his pants slung over his shoulder and his balls still swinging strapped into the toy.

No, you don't think you'll be forgetting your first Christmas in Texas any time soon at all.

next part

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[metranart]

Mitsuya Takashi x Reader (Tokyo Revengers)(Shameless smut)(PART 2)

LINK TO PART 1 HERE! - Warning tag: nsfw, possessive!Mitsuya, naive!reader, first time sucking cock, teenage hormones ragging, cock-drunk!reader, pet names, unprotected blowjob, praise, creampie, out in the open, cumplay, sloppy blowjob, love confessions , teenage craves, hormonal minds out of control, cum swallowing, face fucking, heavy teasing, Mitsuya being cute little fucker.

-

Takashi Mitsuya wasn't lying when he reminded you that he was a dangerous gang member, as no other boy his age would look so intimidatingly dangerous from the ground.

You don't know when he put you on your knees, nor when he took his cock out, the only thing you know is that now he prodded your closed lips, smearing the swollen head against the cold flesh, precum coating it like a lipstick before ordering.

“Open up,” Mitsuya commanded with the little patience you had left him and you being the instigator that he loved, obeyed.

You didn't know why you pushed him over the edge so hard, but you just couldn't stop, not when he looked so frustrated and stupidly handsome when he was flustered.

You looked at him from your kneeling position with eyes full of defiance and feigned innocence and it made him loose the little control he had left. Fuck! The boy thought, fucking hell! He cursed under his breath, he loved you so much that he could cum on your pretty face right then and there, but he held back. You wanted milk, he would give you milk.

Smirking dangerously calm, his fingers caressed your face making you lean into his touch like a purring kitten, and without warning, he pinched your nose, restricting the air. Your eyes widened at his sly move, and he just smiled when you instinctively opened your mouth. 

Your cheeks turned impossibly red at the act that you had already seen him use against his little sisters when they didn't want to eat... the context was totally different but still, it moistened your pussy making the fabric of your panties stick at how enticing you found it.

“There we go,” you heard him moan huskily as he shoved that huge piece of raw, palpitating meat down your frozen throat. “That’s it, kitten.” He purred, eyes shutting close as he bottomed down, kissing the back of your throat, “—nice and full, ngh.... want me to thrust or you think you had enough, babygirl?” 

The lilac haired boy was just showing a display of power, he loved you and would never, EVER hurt you, but you do need to know he wasn't someone to tease, he wasn't all honey, he was dangerous. He was a violent gang member, not just a talented seamstress…. but you weren't just an innocent kitten either.

Your arms hugged his thighs to his immense surprise, and your nose nuzzled against his pubic hair, swallowing him even deeper. Mitsuya had to swallow hard, ironically.

Your pretty, watery eyes looked up, lips impossibly stretched, and cheeks hollowed as your hands linked into a knot behind him. Without losing eye contact, you slid his thick, long cock out of your mouth, saliva painting every inch until your lips kissed the head. 

“When I asked you to use me, I was talking to the gang member, honey,” you teased openly, ignoring the tears falling on either side of your cheeks, “do you think he can fuck my mouth before the bell rings?”

It was an open challenge, and as a member of the Toman, Mitsuya was used to answer and emerging victorious. 

“My beautiful, wonderful, naive little girlfriend,” tsked the eager gang member, “—I suggest you breathe through your nose.”

And without further ado, his firm hands on either side of your face pulled you again to swallow it, this time you only got halfway before you started choking, which this time Mitsuya ignored.

He began to fuck your mouth as you had asked, pounding those narrow hips against your face, a delicious back and forth that only became more exciting when his heavy balls hit your chin, gaging sounds echoed around the deserted and hidden playground, saliva falling down your chin as you struggled to keep it inside your mouth, your jaw would no doubt hurt afterwards.

“That's it,” Mitsuya praised holy driven, taking his cock out just for a couple of seconds to give you a small break, he palmed the phallic flesh, prodding hard at your tongue to get your mouth to water more for him.

“Look-” he pointed his thumb back through his shoulder. “There’s a slide there, do you want me to sit on it?”

Your loving and caring boyfriend didn't want your knees to suffer and in that position he would definitely take longer to come, lying on the slide he would have better access and control of your head.

You all but moaned before nodding your head. “God that’s so cute-” your boyfriend purred with a loving smile and then pulled you up into his arms to carry you to the slide, where he sat and place you on top of his lap. 

“Ain’t you just the sweetest thing to ever sit on my lap?” He said more to himself, even so, staring straight into your eyes, strong palms doing the gentlest of massages along the shape of your jaw, easing the pain away with every careful motion of his working thumbs. 

“Mhm, yes, she definitely is.” He agreed to himself flippantly, leaning to kiss your heaving lips heatedly, his tongue tasting himself and the ice pop in a mix of new flavors that only serve to roughen him up, making him feral again. 

“Enough pampering for the princess, back to work, sweet thing.” Obeying like the good girlfriend you aimed to be, you climb down from his lap, and cuddled between his spread thighs. Yes, in that position you were comfier, so thoughtful of him. Nestling his cock back into your mouth, let him palm your skull with both hands to use your throat as his own personal fleshlight. 

“Fuck- that’s good.” He snarled, deep and husky, watching his progress as he thrusted into your throat- nice and lax thanks to your eagerness to please him. Your hazy, now watery eyes stared endearingly forward, right up at his cock while Mitsuya fucked your face. Your boy studying your pretty, teary and flushed face with a pleased hum. “I think my girl has sucked dick before.”

“Hm?” you questioned; an eyebrow raised.

“-If I dip my fingers inside your pussy how wet would they come out, pretty?” You kept bobbing your head up and down his shaft, openly ignoring his accusation with a blunt shrug of your shoulders, making him laugh heartedly. 

“Well hot damn.” Mitsuya spelled between chuckles, pulling your face up to nestle into his lilac pubic hair. “Won’t have to train you too much then, yeah sweetheart?”

He said, before shoving his cock down your throat at a steady pace. "That's better." The gang member hummed as he kept thrusting down your cold throat, fucking the back of your mouth. “Fuck! The mix of cold and warm inside your mouth is something else-,” you choked around his length, closing your eyes- trying to concentrate. 

There was no way to close your lips around him as he shoved into your gag-reflex, making you drool over yourself. 

"Swallow, (Y/N)." He commanded, and you did so, swallowing around him, which in turn made him groan. The heat of his body grew, and he quickly began to open his shirt because when felt that it was suffocating him, your small hands without hesitation climbed up his thighs, up, up until reached his toned stomach, where you traced each sinful muscle with special interest, scratching and tracing the soft skin until there were little red lines as a devastating proof of your need for him.

You hiccupped, blinking back tears as the burning in your throat began to sting. Shakily, you held up your hand- and Mitsuya had the courtesy to pull back and allow you to rest. You could feel the pressure build- your gag reflex going crazy- Mitsuya pulled out of your mouth entirely, gently grabbing you head by the hair and wrenching your face up.

"What does my little cocksucker needs?” he grunted, landing his thick thumb on your dripping lower lip, “Does my princess had enough?" Mitsuya smirked, one of those dangerous smirks of his. "Nah!" she can take it...."

⭕️ READ THE WHOLE CHAPTER IN MY PATREON LINK (Also find NSFW art of this story and an animation) .... Plus, more stories of Tokyo Revengers and JJK, each with a NSFW art from scenes of the story, plus! 'tier rewards' like: voting poll privilege for future stories, couple pairing selection and kinky mood selection for the story and images, and my eternal gratitude for your support!!!

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Check my TWITTER and see some examples of my NSFW art for free!

PATREON LINK

[maukiki1]

Ok idk who wants to read a chunk of text before someones art but.

Theres this poorly made metal fusion turkish parody i used to watch religiously as a kid and i got reminded of its existance recently because someone showed it to me and it literally unlocked a core memory and i went to watch it again thinking i wont find it funny anymore because i found it funny when i was like 4 yrs old but. Maybe its the nostalgia but this video is a work of art its so.

The ginga and kyouya wigs being cheap neon colours not even styled to look like the characters hair, the guy playing ginga’s linkin park shirt, the awkward but hilarious acting, the guy playing Ryūga constantly hunching over so the jacket doesn’t fall off his shoulders (it does multiple times) giving him a funny ass posture, the nike logo on the ginga headband, Ryūsei being ginga with a different shirt, the fact that the guy playing daidouji being the shortest one out of the three (yes only 3 people made this i thought there was more somehow) , or literally anything daidouji does ever, the expression ryuga has the entire time, the phoenix costume having a visible star wars shirt making it obvious that its the same guy playing Ryūga, one of the scenes having a visible rope attached to pegasus so its easier to make it look like its flying.. its literally a master its peak youtube ok. I wanted to draw some scenes from it bcs theyre so fucking funny to me. Its peak i fear. I havent posted mfb in a month and this is what im coming back with fuck it we ball

I was gonna draw this one properly but halfway through realized i couldnt capture the expression of the actor perfectly if i did so. Feast ur eyes upon my best work yet

Heres a compilation of clips that give some context to the pictures drawn, except the last one, it doesnt need context hes just standing there funnily

Link to the full parody under cut

Okay so its a turkish parody so ofc its funnier to someone who understands the language but surprisingly there are english subtitles and from what i checked its not translated perfectly some sentences were onviously put through a translator but none of the jokes seem completely lost i mean i made my friend who doesnt know a lick of turkish watch it and we both laughed our asses off so . I think everyone should watch this peak atleast once

[skk-fan-page]

I promise I took my meds, hear me out: this

Can give us insight into this

So: before we get into what it means, I'm going to tell you why these things are related. 15 is probably the best text we have when it comes to dissecting their relationship, and in 15, dazai says 2 things that relate to both raging romantic tension and also dogs.

This, as well as an arguably more loaded section:

This. Now bear with me, I really did take my meds, this second excerpt is almost a one to one copy of the dog treats panel. For those of you who have read 15, you'll know that this scene is the set up for chuuya being forced into the mafia. They duel, the "treats" (the sheep) appear, and then they disappear, and only when dazai walks away do both the dog and chuuya realize theyve been ensnared in a weirdly elaborate trap for someone who's supposed to not want anything to do with them.

Not only that, but it establishes that not only does he call chuuya his dog, but "his dog" is part of his future plans, and part of the reason he even has future plans.

Part of the reason that dazai wants to live at that point is to spend time with chuuya.

Now: with that we get back into the dog treat "duel".

First, I'll let you read it and draw your own links, as long as you promise to leave them in the notes

As a bsd reader, you'll probably know that dazai's plans often revolve around knowing what the other party will do. This is easily reflected in the dog encounter, because dogs don't know anything, and thus their behavior cannot be influenced to an unpredictable point. If you offer a dog a treat, you can count on that dog eating the treat. The problem is that dazai can't connect that motive to the dog's actions, because he specializes in dealings with egotistical people who rank highly in organizations who have massive flaws they overlook. Take him outside of his comfort zone, and he struggles to tilt things in his favor.

This analysis overlooks one teensy massive character trait that shapes the character: Dazai is the type to step on a rake, hit himself in the balls, and stick the landing so well that everyone thinks it was on purpose.

You can only tell what's "the plan" versus what is just improv by how hard he tries to sell that he's in control.

With this new lens, seeing how hard dazai tries to assert "the difference in [his status]" with the dog almost entirely colors the interaction as some sopping wet loser loses at his own game that he started against a small animal.

And now: how does this effect the skk reunion and how does it reflect on their previous relationship?

Well, I'm going to pull out some "oh holy shit... I mean, I meant to do that!" Moments

This man is going back and forth like it's his job. He doesn't know what to expect because chuuya is far beyond his comfort zone. Hes everything that should make him predictable, and yet he never is. Every time he's taken aback by his target not reacting the way he "should" he pulls another trick out from his sleeve. Even literally, in the lock picking case. Whenever he needs to try to assert that he totally planned this, he goes for another trick.

As with the dog, when dazai walks away, the only thing chuuya was left with was a distinct sense of "this guy needs friends." They're both low stakes interactions that are born from dazai not expecting something and not knowing how to regain control of the situation.

This implies that dazai just doesn't know how to deal with a straightforward person and thus can never predict what chuuya will do, because he runs on an unswayable internal logic that makes him as difficult to manipulate as a human can possibly be.

As a partnership, they're constantly confusing the fuck out of each other, because dazai is weird and eats dog treats, and because chuuya cannot be understood with the logic dazai excels in.

They know each other but they can never hope to understand each other.

[thanotaphobia]

fly bird fly

i'm losing my mind. i'm going crazy. i'm going CRAZYYYYY. i wrote this in like 2 seconds literally oh my god

i will crosspost this to ao3 in a second lmao EDIT: CROSSPOSTED

⋆

They trip through the portal, and Phil’s stomach drops.

Not that it wasn’t already on the fucking floor. Through the floor, even. All the way in fucking hell, where apparently, that goddamn eye beast thinks they belong. Phil trips through the global portal and ends up by the cornucopia, Tubbo shrieking in his ear and a vague ringing in his ears.

His lungs hurt, clogged with thick dust from the crumbling marble ceilings. He can still see Chayanne in his mind’s eye, terrified but hiding it well. Tallulah, openly terrified. All the other eggs, dirty and frightened. He can still hear Foolish’s voice in his ears, shouting, screaming. He can see Fit’s face, and that thing. He can’t believe how tall it was, towering over them. And El Quackity…

“Phil, lasso me,” Tubbo demands.

He shoves his face into Phil’s space. Phil doesn’t jump– just stares at Tubbo and the dust in his hair, the blood running down his face, and then blinks.

“What?” he asks.

“Lasso me, lasso me,” Tubbo says, already pulling out his glider and shoving it onto the floor, struggling to open it. “We can fly, you can fly–”

Phil inhales, the very action sending bolts of pain through him, and his wings extend without so much as a thought. It’s strange, having muscle memory for something you haven’t done in months. His feathers ruffle, and every inch of him aches with the effort.

“I don’t know if I can, Toby,” he says, and Tubbo shakes his head.

“You take the paraglider, I have water, we can– you can fly us out, can’t you? Can’t you? We have the coordinates–”

“My wings are– I can’t–”

“Can you get us there, Phil?” Tubbo asks, shoving a lasso into his hands. The other end is tied around Tubbo’s waist, and Phil looks at him. He sees Tubbo face and the blood and his own sword crushing through Tubbo’s sternum with the thick crack of still-wet bone, and he exhales. Then he nods.

“I don’t know,” he says, “but we can try.”

“Go,” Tubbo says. “I have a water bucket.”

“Okay,” Phil says, and he fumbles for his grappling squack, and fires.

Flying isn’t something that just comes naturally. It’s a skill that has to be learned and honed, a sport like any other. There are specific muscle groups linked to certain maneuvers, stretches specifically created just for avians who fly professionally, all sorts of things in order to make someone’s wings in perfect shape for all types of flying. Long distance, sprints, racing twirls. Phil is known for being able to do them all– or at least, he had been. He can remember the training, the time he’d put into it. The things he’d had to do in order to instruct his body over and over and make it used to the strain.

It has been more than six months, and his muscles scream.

His shoulders ache. His forearms burn with the stress of pulling Tubbo behind him. His legs cramp and his lower back throbs. The pain is immeasurable, uncountable, uncontrollable. Phil can grit his teeth but it doesn’t stop the flashes of white behind his eyes as he spreads his wings and flies, desperate. He can barely see the horizon as he goes, but he does anyway, listening intently for Tubbo and pushing down the instinct to curl into a ball and sob with the pain.

They land, and it’s a brief moment of relief before they’re off again, Phil firing his grappling squack and Tubbo shouting something unintelligible into the wind behind them. He trusts Tubbo to land the water bucket shots every time he lands, but he only has to a couple times before his MDA pings he’s getting close; his wings are numb by now, the shoots of pain frequent and intense, making him shudder and twitch every three seconds or so. Behind him, Tubbo is yelling, screaming into the wind, and Phil would join him if he wasn’t so out of breath. Every inch of him is on fire– and not in the good way, not in the Bolas way, just in the torturous way. 

He keeps seeing Chayanne. Flashes of yellow on the landscape below. Hope, like a flower, blooming in his chest. But every time he sees it, or sees Tallulah, a black fist crushes that hope with a quick blink. 

Finally, he sees water, and the boat. His wings are on the verge of giving out and he barely gets Tubbo out and over the water before he stumbles, cramps, and pulls into a nosedive.

When he slams into the water, it’s cold– it shocks him, and he inhales by accident, coughing as he breaks the surface. His wings are wet and heavy but he can’t bring himself to care, spitting out clumps of water and dust mixed together into a thick, glue-like paste. He feels like a cement mixer, and ahead of him he can see Tubbo crawling out of the water and onto the back of the boat, hair plastered to his forehead. Somehow, he finds the strength to lift his arms and make his wings spasm in a way that pushes him forward, towards the boat. He feels Tubbo’s hands on his arm and then the faint sound of him shouting, and then Fit invades his gaze and two other hands grasp him, dragging him onto the boat. 

The wood is hard beneath him and Phil lies there for a second, still spitting up water and gunk. Fit and Tubbo are talking, and he clues in just as Fit says–

“Phil, we have to go get the others.”

“I can’t,” he says. Neither of them seem to hear him. His wings lie limp and lifeless behind him, waterlogged and exhausted. His entire back is on fire and his feathers are dull, the weight dragging him back as he forces himself to stand. His body feels like one gigantic bruise.

“We have to get others,” Fit says, the elytra on his back ruffling. Phil envies him, but only for a moment.

“I can’t,” Phil insists. He rummages through his inventory, and comes up with a lasso in his hands. “My wings are gone, dude, they’re– I can’t fly, it’s not physically possible. I can’t get anyone–”

It doesn’t matter how much he wants to. It doesn’t matter how much guilt gnaws at him, tearing through his stomach lining with teeth that gnash and chew. 

“I will, then,” Fit says, determination writ on his brow. His face is impenetrable, but Phil sees his own guilt reflected back at him. “Here, the lasso, I’ll–”

And then he’s gone, and Tubbo is left supporting Phil with one hand, and Phil is still reeling. They have one singular moment to breathe. Phil spits onto the deck, and Tubbo follows suit, red blood mixing with water and then disappearing as another wave washes up onto their feet. They stumble forward and Phil shakes Tubbo off, then shakes off some of the water from his wings. Even that little motion sends acres of pain flashing through him, like sparks of electricity up and down his spinal cord. He thinks he might be dying.

He kind of hopes he is.

God, Chayanne.

“Phil,” Tubbo says, looking at his MDA. It’s ringing, and vaguely Phil realizes his is too. Everything is still a little fuzzy in his ears. “Shit. Meteor. We need to go, we need to–”

And then they’re on the move again.

He has no choice. He runs.

[crazylittlejester]

what do you think each member of the chain’s favorite food is? (Based on in-game foods that Wild can cook/the Links can cook?)

OOOOOH this is an interesting ask!! Thanks anon!!! I don’t really pay that much attention to foods in other games- So these are all (mostly) dishes from BOTW

Time: I think he’d seriously like the mushroom dishes Wild makes. I headcanon Time did not eat a whole lot of meat growing up, and like, he WILL eat it if he HAS to, but you really gotta convince him it’s worth it. So I think he’d like one of those mushroom dishes Wild makes. I’ll say either the mushroom soup or mushroom risotto

Warriors: oranges If someone else is cookin’ it, the less complex it is the better. Otherwise he’s standing over Wild’s shoulder staring the kid down, OR they’re cookin’ something together. I think he’d like the more simple meat things Wild cooks, like the ones that are quite literally just the meat. But if he can cook something for himself/with Wild I think he’d enjoy a heavier rice dish with meat or somethin’

Twilight: I don’t think this man gives a single fuck what you put down in front of him, he will eat it up every god damn time. We talk about how Wind could probably eat enough to feed a small family? Twi’s the same way, only he’s too embarrassed to ask for seconds so he just sits there. But he can and will eat pretty much anything, especially meats, in large quantities. Time definitely watched in absolute shock and horror as Twi wolfed (ha) down an entire steak in like a minute once. I also just think he’d love anything Wild cooks for him, but I’ll say his favorite would probably be similar to Warriors: One of Wild’s meat and rice dishes. Or something from Ordon, I’m not sure what foods are in Twilight princess- I haven’t gotten that far lmao🕺

Sky: That pumpkin soup from Skyloft. Wild’s tried so so hard to recreate it for him, and he’s come real close, but it’s not quite ever the same

Hyrule: I know in my heart he has a huge sweet tooth, and he’d LOVE Wild’s honey crepes, and the wildberry ones too! I dunno if he has any foods from his game, but I really think he’d love sweet treats and snacking on berries

Legend: Apple pie. Doesn’t matter who makes it, him, Wild, whoever. He’d kill a guy for some good apple pie any day of the week

Wild: He ain’t picky, whatever’s easiest for him in the moment is what he’ll eat. He does like pizza though

Four: He has the vibe to me of someone who doesn’t really eat full meals, but instead kinda eats small things constantly throughout the day. I think Wild would make him some veggie skewers and store them in his slate for Four when he’s hungry so he can then snack on em. And I know in my heart Four keeps a little bag of nuts on him that he snacks on too. He’ll eat meals with the others, but in significantly smaller portions because he eats so much during the day and he’s just not hungry

Wind: He’ll eat literally anything, but he really likes when Wild makes seafood dishes because it reminds him of home. I think he’d like the seafood curry or seafood fried rice, or the paella. He’s also a big snacker and Wild probably has a bunch of rice balls stored in his slate for him when he gets hungry

[boinin]

Blue Lock Chapter 263

What a wild (and wordy) chapter. I have a few rambly thoughts on it.

Firstly, on translations - as someone who posts meta and likes sticking to canon in my fic writing, the official translation is the one I tend to share panels or quotes from. While I'll hold it's a better source for nuance, the consequence is some truly clunky dialogue choices. Karasu's trashtalking to Isagi suffered this week - the PO2 version on the right flows far better:

Getting called a "non-dunce shooter" isn't going to have Isagi rocking in the corner anytime soon, even if it better reflects the original Japanese.

On the flip side, the official translators went harder on the Kaisagi shipbaiting this week. While you could argue Isagi's only talking about the match, his line of thought is more distinctly about Kaiser in the official release...

The last example, I'm split on - the official translation made me laugh, but Kaiser squeezing an unnecessary f-bomb into his dialogue detracts from the sense of wonder at his transformation. Tracks with his habit of saying ex-fucking-cuse me though.

Either way: what a gorgeous panel.

The other things I liked? Rin continues to talk in childish terms about football. He'd mentioned before how he views other players as toys; this week, he's cranky that he hasn't had the ball in a while. Boo hoo!

Not to depress anyone, but who else bets Sae was really good at sharing the ball with Rin when they were kids? 🥲

The last panel sets up Kiyora to do something audacious next chapter, which I'm super hyped for. He's a loose canon with seemingly no loyalties, besides a grudge against Isagi, so I have no idea what to expect!

I enjoyed how they framed his appearance in the last panel. Beforehand, they show Isagi and Kaiser (loosely) co-operating, but we get a glance at some of the others too.

It lays out the dependencies really nicely:

Noa, the BM coach, monitoring his team evolving at a rate of knots...

Karasu, PXG's strategist, who earlier commented on how much of a beast BM has become and whose value as a MF is suffering because...

Shidou, despite already scoring, has been rendered completely ineffective by...

Kunigami, assigned to mark Shidou and performing more effectively than he did vs Ubers while in a defensive position. He links back to Noa as his so-called "vessel", but he's not embodying Noa's ego all that much right now. Another source of chaos and anticipation...

It's just really well-done visual storytelling, so I wanted to point it out.

Now we've got another week or so to ponder what Kiyora might bring to the storm 🔥

[wnderify]

striptease | luke hughes

summary: fuck if i know. inspired by the song striptease by carwash. secret relationship??? with my favorite man, luke hughes!

warnings: cursing, horrible writing?? uhh lmk if there’s more!?

word count: 2606 words

authors note: this man got me going lalalala i be kicking my feet and giggling while looking at photos of him on pinterest. someone sedate me. also this is my first tumblr fic and first time ever writing with a reader insert so i apologize if it’s horrible!!

—

Luke had a smile on his face as he stood with his friends, a cold beer in his hand that he had been nursing for the past thirty minutes beginning to grow warm causing the glass to sweat, droplets of water sliding down to his fingers bringing him back to the conversation that the group was talking about.

"East Carolina sucked ass tonight!" Mark shouted with a laugh, his shoulders bouncing with the noise causing the mixed drink he had to splash in his cup.

"Umich is better." Jack grinned, shrugging as he lifted his beer to his lips to take a small sip.

You snorted from where you sat back against the couch next to Quinn who was mindlessly staring at the ceiling, having one too many drinks already and they had only been at the party for an hour.

"Rich coming from someone who didn't even come here." Your eyebrows pulled into a furrow as you stretched up your leg to nudge Jack who had been standing close.

Luke and you have known each other since freshman year, meeting whenever you asked him if you were in the right class. You weren't. You weren't even in the right building. You were lucky though because Luke had offered to walk you to the correct class and building.

From that moment he became absolutely intrigued in you. Bringing you around to the sophomore house where you ended up meeting some of his teammates. He was glad you connected with them almost instantly, understanding their humor. He was even more glad that you were also intrigued with him.

And you weren't afraid to show it. With lingering touches whenever no one was around and longing stares whenever someone was around to the kiss the two of you had shared merely two hours ago in a bathroom at Michigan Stadium just seconds after the game had ended leaving both his and your lips swollen.

Your shoelaces had been untied and you asked him for help, earning a few chirps from Rutger and a knowing look from his girlfriend, Kayleigh, and an eye roll from Jack who had told you two to not take too long. As soon as he hit the stall door, your lips were on his as if you had been starved.

He recalled the brief conversation you two had while your guys hands roamed one another. "Your shoelaces." He had breathed out in a quiet whisper against your lips that made you feel like hot wax was being poured down your spine, knowing for sure that other people were in the bathroom with them.

"That's how I like mine." You grinned up at him, the fabric of his maize colored University of Michigan jersey balled into your fists as you brought him closer, lifting him off the back stall as closer to you.

The moment was interrupted by his phone ringing, Quinn calling him to tell the two of you to hurry up earning a groan from you that he quickly cut off by smashing his lips against yours once more, despite his brother who was nagging him over the phone. "We'll be there in a second." He said whenever you pulled back to trail your kisses down his neck before he hung up, not waiting for a response from Quinn.

As you dragged him out of the bathroom whenever the coast was clear, your fingers intertwined as you stalked to the parking lot where your group of friends were waiting for you, he was rambling like a teenager who was experiencing his first love. He practically was.

"We could just runaway to, I don't know, — Mexico! We could run away to Mexico," he rambled, his eyes on your linked hands as he stumbled over his feet, certainly getting his new shoes dirty. "Not tell anybody." Your arm move with his shrug.

You playfully scoffed as you looked back to him, smiling at him. "As if, you're a professional hockey player." You shook your head as the wind blew your hair which for some reason he really liked for whatever reason.

That moment felt like a dream. You felt like a dream. He had snorted to himself at the thought, shaking his head along with the thoughts from his brain. Much to like right now as he stood there, distracted again by the moment you shared as he shook his head whenever Luca slapped his back.

"What you thinking about?" Luca's breath smelled like beer as he clung onto his old teammate, a dopey grin on his face as he looked around at the group.

"You would know if it was your business." Luke had quickly retorted as he looked over to his friend who playfully rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Jack and coke for your thoughts?" Ethan held out his red solo cup, one of his eyebrow raising as he tilted it to him.

Luke rolled his eyes despite the smile on his face as he chuckled, his shoulders rising and lowering. "It's classified," he switched his beer to his other hand to wipe the collected condensation off onto Luca's shirt. "Besides, you put too much whiskey in your drinks." He eyed his friend.

"Then another beer for your thoughts." Ethan shrugged as he leaned back against the couch, earning a grunt from Quinn who told him to stop moving.

Before Luke could open his mouth and spew out another witty comment, you spoke up. "Let it rest, guys," you laughed from behind your can as you looked up at Luke. Your eyes alone could make him melt on the spot. "He's probably thinking about hockey. Aren't you, Luke?" You questioned as your left eyebrow perked up, hiding your smile behind your drink. You knew what he was thinking about.

Luke nodded, his lips stilling into a gap momentarily before he finally spoke, "yeah, hockey." He finally got out, his eyes never leaving yours as he studied the mischievous glint that shimmered in your irises.

Owen rolled his eyes and stood up from the arm of the couch, shaking his head. "Whatever you say, dude." His teasing tone made Luke's face flush as he chuckled, looking down to his beer bottle as his tongue swiped against the inside of his lip, bulging the skin out momentarily. "I'm going to get another drink, anyone want?" His eyes scanned his group of friends, only getting a reply from Kent and Gavin.

"I'll come with you!" You chirped as you stood up quickly, earning a shriek from Quinn seeing as to how you were practically supporting his drunk body. Owen began to trail towards the kitchen with you in tow but not before you pretended to stumble into Luke.

Instinctively, his placed his hands on your hips to help you stand up straight. You weren't drunk, only having one Mai Tai so far. He knew that. So why were you acting like this. "You okay?" He asked with his hands still on your waist.

"Quinn's feet were in the way." You muttered as your slid your hands down his forearms quickly, sending shivers up his spine as you grabbed his hands. "Thank you." You chuckled, pulling his hands off of your clothed hips but not before slipping something into his hand.

Before he could question you, you were skipping towards the kitchen and gone. His eyebrows pulled together as he held onto what felt like thick paper. His assumption were correct as he flipped over his hand, holding a folded up and torn napkin. He looked up and through his eyelashes, making sure no one was paying attention before he tried to the best of his ability to be discreet about unraveling the napkin to see a few words written with your lip liner. The same lip liner that had decorated his skin before he had wiped it off.

'ditch w/ me? meet me outside in five.'

He reread the note for what seemed to be a thousand times, eventually mumbling the words to himself. Whenever he finally got the words registered and a remembrance of your smudged note imprinted in his brain, he looked up to scan the crowd.

His eyes met yours, watching as you said a few words to Owen who began to make his way back to the group with beers in hand. He noticed how you tilted your head as you held up your best poker face. Your hair slid from your shoulder and swung as it hit your back as Owen said something back to you with a small nod, a look of sincerity on his face.

Luke's eyebrows furrowed deeper as he wondered what the conversation was about, watching as you spun around and made your way out of the house, leaving Owen on his own to make his way through the crowd.

"She's going outside to get some air," the dark haired boy said as he passed the beers to his friends before continuing, "said it was too stuffy in here or something." He twisted the cap off the beer before letting it drop to the floor beneath him, lifting the bottle to his lips to take a long sip.

Like counted down the seconds until he could meet you outside, chirping into the conversation every now and then as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He glanced down to the watch that decorated his wrist before realizing he had only a minute left and should probably be making his way outside.

"Hey, I'm gonna go check up on her," he said mid conversation, passing his bottle over to Kayleigh who stood by Rutger. "I'll be back." He gave a thin lipped smile before he rushed away from the group having a feeling that he wouldn't be back.

Luke maneuvered through the crowd, giving a few nods to people who noticed him and turned down the girls that placed light touches to his skin. He grumbled as he made it past a group, grabbing hold of the cool medal of the doorknob before opening it. He let out a small breath whenever he made it outside, the cool air of the Michigan night coming into contact with him and nipping at his skin. But he couldn't worry about that as his eyes scanned the lawn for you.

You had been leaned against a light pole that shined down on you with another Mai Tai in hand that you looked disinterested in, spinning the can around as your nose scrunched and pulled your face into a gentle scowl.

He chuckled as he jogged down the steps, adjusting his hat that covered his curls while taking a glance back to the door to make sure no one else followed him out. Fortunately, no one had. He smiled to himself as he continued to jog towards you.

Your eyes lifted from the silver top of the red can, a smile coming onto your lips as you pushed yourself off the light pole. "You're early." You pointed out as you held the can in your hands, looking up at him.

"Couldn't wait." He sounded breathless and you knew it wasn't from his short jog. You lightly smirked as you looked behind you, placing your can down on the roof of someone's car without a care in the world.

"C'mon." You said and took his hand for the third time that night, beginning to pull him down the street and towards his car.

Neither of you had a destination, just wanting to be with one another in a secluded area. The worst part of Luke's job was the attention that came with it. He was a hockey superstar and you were a college student with no want or need for spotlight. At least not right now. Keeping your relationship on low from the world also meant keeping your relationship on the low from your friends. It's not that the two of you didn't trust them, it's just that neither of you wanted to risk what you guys had. You and Luke were both content with how things were going right then as you sat in the car, his left hand on the wheel as he drove away from the party and his right hand intertwined with yours.

The stereo slapped him across the face, playing a familiar tune of a song from the late eighties playing loudly as the two of you sat quietly, merely taking in one another's company as the two of you made your guys way out of Ann Arbor.

Luke had goosebumps from the light rub of your thumb against his knuckles as he took the backroads to get to Fenton. He hummed along to the song, eyes concentrated on the road as he let off of the gas pedal to slow down before turning the car to the left, making his way into Fenton.

You let your hand disconnect from his, sliding your arm over the center console to the point your ribcage pressed against it but you didn't mind as your hand rested on his thigh. He swallowed a noise that threatened to spill, instead letting out a shaky breath as your hand inched inched closer to where he needed you.

"My house is not far," you breathed out, still looking out the window as he slowed down at the red stoplight giving you a sight of the closed bank. "And no one's home." You added on, leaning your head back against the headrest.

Luke's breathing was labored as he understood what you meant. He was nervous to say the least seeing as to how the two of you haven't progressed that far your relationship. "Maybe we can just go to one of the lakes?" His voice was high pitched and he was sure he would've cared if the palm of your hand wasn't against him.

You let out a playful scoff, turning your head to look at him. Whenever you realized he was being serious and his nervousness was radiating off of him like his body heat, you rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt.

He watched from the corner of his eye as you adjusted to sit on your knees in the seat, retracting your hand from his lap to his arm that was on the center console. You were silent for a moment as you thought through your next words.

You leaned forward, your large jersey hanging low and skimming the surface of the console and his arm. "I think we both know what we need, Luke." You whispered out, your lips ghosting over his neck as you continued to look up at his eyes.

Luke stared at the light that seemed like it was going to bleed to death before he sighed and looked over to you. You were right, you did know what he needed in that moment. And for the moments to come. He inaudibly gulped but his adams apple bobbed slightly as he watched a grin grow onto your face.

"Okay." He whispered out, nodding as he kept his eyes on yours.

Your grin only grew from his confirmation as you leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his. It wasn't the most comfortable position for you but that was the last of your worries at the moment. All that mattered was him.

The light turned green, illuminating your guys skin causing you to pull away and press delicate kisses to his jaw. "Take a left." You muttered against his jaw before you made your way down to his neck bringing his skin between your lips, listening to his heavy breaths as he followed your directions to your house.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Comet Donati [Chapter 7: Heart Attack]

A/N: Hello all! Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥰 Thank you so much for loving this fic and giving all my eccentric AU ideas a chance. I’m currently in Washington DC visiting one of my best friends, so if I’m a little bit tardy replying to your comments/messages then that’s why. Don’t fear!! I will check in as soon as I can, and I am still amazed by and will forever cherish your support. 💜

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (+18), drugs, alcohol, smoking, Shelby being a bigger plague than the locusts of Egypt, mental health struggles, references to violence and abuse, New Jersey, pregnancy, mini golf, lots of content for the Cregan girlies.

Selected Chapter Quote: “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​@doingfondue​ @catalina-howard​ @randomdragonfires​ @myspotofcraziness​ @arcielee​ @fan-goddess​ @talesofoldandnew​ @marvelescvpe​ @tinykryptonitewerewolf​ @mariahossain​ @chainsawsangel​ @darkenchantress​ @not-a-glad-gladiator​ @gemini-mama​ @trifoliumviridi​ @herfantasyworldd​ @babyblue711​ @namelesslosers​ @thelittleswanao3​ @daenysx​ @moonlightfoxx​ @libroparaiso​ @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics​ @mizfortuna​ @florent1s​ @heimtathurs​ @bhanclegane​ @poohxlove​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @heavenly1927​ @mariahossain​ @echos-muses​ @padfooteyes​ @minttea07​ @queenofshinigamis​ @juliavilu1​ @amiraisgoingthruit​ @lauraneedstochill​ @wintrr13​ @r0segard3n​ @seabasscevans​ @tsujifreya​ 

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

You type into Google as you hide in the public bathroom stall, pink tile walls and mint green porcelain, very 1950s, phantom drips of water and humming florescent lights: Can Plan B make your period late?

You scroll through the results, clutching your iPhone with both hands. Faintly, you can hear the rest of the band outside, chattering, laughing, slurping on Slush Puppies, smacking trees and rocks with their golf clubs. Yes, the consensus seems to be; Plan B can delay your period. Incidentally, so can pregnancy.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You peer down at your panties, as if you can force bloodstains to appear: sparce rosy threads of warning, dark red splotches like rust, you aren’t particular. You’ll take anything. “Fuck,” you say again, defeated. You get dressed, wash your hands, and head back out into the cloudless afternoon sunshine.

“Stargirl, it’s your turn!” Aegon shouts as you trot over to them: tenth hole, shaped like an L, featuring an intimidating loop de loop. The course is dinosaur themed; Rhaena picked it. Aegon points to Jace. “This deformed bastard wanted to skip you.”

“I told you,” Jace moans. His speech is garbled and lisping, his face comically swollen, bruised yellow-emerald-indigo and drooling blood, stitches above his left eyebrow. He just had his dental implants placed yesterday; the four teeth that he lost at Club Camelot could not be readily located for reattachment. “I can’t keep track of who’s next. I’m on like four different opiates.”

Baela frets over him. “Shh, shh, baby. Try not to talk.” There’s something about watching someone get almost-murdered that makes you want to forgive them, you suppose.

You grab your club and golf ball, dark blue, from where you left them by a tree. Rhaena gives you a covert little thumbs up and raised eyebrows. Everything good? You smile—too widely, insincere, a liar—and nod. Technically, you have yet to obtain concrete evidence to the contrary.

You take your turn, somewhat awkwardly due to the splint that still encumbers your dominant hand. You are thinking about anything but mini golf. Your ball goes halfway through the loop de loop and then comes rolling back. How many strokes? Four, five, you lose count, it doesn’t matter. Aegon is snickering, though not in a mean way, never in a mean way. Aemond is watching you. He does this constantly; you can feel his eyes—river water, otherworldly atmosphere—on you all the time, you can see him on the periphery of your vision. But when you glance at Aemond, he looks away. You’re wearing flip flops, a black NSYNC t-shirt, and bright pink shorts that Baela insists are of the very short variety. Aemond is staring a little extra hard today. Shelby alternates between glaring at him and at you.

Jace putts next. He misses the ball twice. On the third try, he hits it into a nearby pond. Golden koi fish scatter beneath the rippling sheen of the water.

“Loser,” Aegon declares mildly. “Criston, why the fuck are we in New Jersey?”

“Because you’re playing three shows at the MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford,” Criston says as he putts; his green golf ball sails through the loop de loop, bounces off a wall, and then rolls straight into the cup, a hole in one. “One Direction did it, Taylor Swift did it, and now you’re going to do it too. And if you don’t make it too unbearable for me, I’ll even take you to the beach while we’re here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Aegon agrees. He slurps on his Slush Puppie. “Oh, Aemond, I need the Netflix password.”

“You forgot it again?!” Daeron says. Jace, groaning softly, lies down on the ground in a patch of shade. Baela gets a bottle of Orajel rinse out of her purse and starts pouring it into his mouth.

“Get your own account,” Aemond snaps at Aegon. “I think you can afford it.”

“Bruh, that’s not the point! I don’t know where I left off in Grey’s Anatomy!”

They keep bickering. You stop listening. You can only hear the sounds of rustling leaves, squawking seagulls, the whistling of the warm August wind. You can only feel the weight of Aemond’s half-fascinated, half-resentful gaze on you. He wouldn’t believe me, you think. If I really am pregnant, he would never believe that it was an accident. He would never believe that I was that guilelessly, unambitiously stupid. Hell, I did it and I barely believe it.

You steal a glimpse of Aemond—black shirt and black sunglasses, white shorts, Adidas sneakers—and he turns away, pretending to pick dirt off his golf ball. Interestingly, he will talk to you about things not related to that night in Tokyo; perhaps it would be too suspicious not to, a neon sign for the rest of the band to read. But he never allows himself to be alone with you. And he never touches you, not even a grazing of hands or an absentminded bump as he passes you in aisles or hallways.

Bump, you think miserably. An inauspicious choice of words.

“We should watch Se7en,” Aegon is saying now. “Comet fam movie night.”

You mutter: “We’re not watching Se7en.”

“What’s Se7en about?” Rhaena asks.

“You wouldn’t like it.”

“What’s in the box?!” Aegon shouts dramatically—quoting the beautiful yet doomed David Mills, a name he once borrowed to schedule a Zoom meeting with you—and then cackles. It’s his turn. He clobbers his golf ball and sends it flying through the loop de loop; it pops over the barrier and disappears into a bush. Startled squirrels dart out of the leaves.

“Loser!” Jace slurs as he lies sprawled across the ground, vindicated.

“Stop spitting blood everywhere,” Aemond says. He putts next, and badly: poor depth perception. “You’re getting it on my sneakers.”

“Watch it, cyclops.” Jace points to his own stitches, bruises, surgically replaced teeth. “I let you have this one. Now we’re even. But next time I won’t be so charitable.”

“You’re not even,” Aegon tells Jace, abruptly severe. He whips off his aviator sunglasses, crouches over Jace, glaring and thunderous like a storm. Baela observes this warily. “Not even close.”

Jace is intrigued. “No?”

“No. Your face will heal.” Then Aegon pokes him in the jaw and Jace screams, tears slithering down his puffy, mottled cheeks. Cregan yanks Aegon away before Baela can scratch his eyes out. Criston repossesses Aegon’s blue raspberry Slush Puppie as punishment. Luke wins the game, five under par.

Comet’s first shows in the United States this tour start just like the last few in Asia: Jace is iced, painted with concealer, thoroughly medicated, numbed into semi-consciousness. He does lines of coke in the bathroom under Cregan’s supervision. He can’t perform without it. Criston tried to negotiate a month off for Jace, but the label’s message was clear: get him on stage, we don’t care how you do it, we don’t want to know about it, here’s a blank check, figure it out or we’ll find another manager who can. Now Criston watches Jace with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes wounded and anxious, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of what he believes is failure.

The story released to the press is that Jace fell down a flight of stairs but is recovering smoothly. He can barely sing; his mic is turned up, and during Jace’s verses Cregan or Luke layer their voice with his. He wobbles and flubs his way through Night 1 in East Rutherford. You spend the show staring up at the stage without seeing it. Baela and Rhaena are with you, but you aren’t really with them; you feel like if they reached out to touch you, their hands would find only translucent emptiness like a mirage. Shelby is flocked by fellow influencers that she’s invited in from New York City. Aemond is somewhere, somewhere: lurking in shadows, brooding, avoiding, musing, suffering, jotting down starlight-colored judgments in his black-paged notebook.

Per tradition, the band and their entourage coalesce in Jace’s suite after the show. Jace himself, the gracious host, promptly collapses on a couch and lies there senseless as the party spins around him like the planets of a solar system. Baela is perched dutifully beside him, holding ice packs to his jaw, wiping away drool the color of one of Aemond’s Brambles. A tattoo artist is inking a goldfinch, New Jersey’s state bird, to the top of Jace’s right foot. Criston is across the room and speaking—rather tensely, it seems—with cigar-smoking label executives. Shelby is snapping photos with her friends; they take turns posing each other out on the balcony, adjusting elbows and wrists and knees, swiping away stray flecks of mascara, rearranging hair, recommending plastic surgeons. Aegon is typing WhatsApp messages—mostly emojis, from what you can see—to Miley Cyrus. At Luke’s prompting, Aemond begins sharing his comments to the presently sentient members of Comet. He puffs on one of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes as he reads aloud. He kindly skips over any criticisms of Jace’s performance.

You can’t stand hearing Aemond’s voice; not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because there isn’t, because you can’t stop remembering what he said to you in that florescent-white bathroom at Club Camelot in Tokyo, because he uses his words on so many people who aren’t you, because sooner or later your time with Comet will be over and you’ll only ever hear him again through Spotify songs and YouTube clips from before the accident, because he will one day be a ghost who haunts you, rattling doorknobs and chilling pockets of air but never speaking. You escape to ask the bartender: “Can I get a Coke?”

“A rum and Coke?”

“No.”

“Like…white powder coke?”

“No, a Coca-Cola. With nothing else in it.”

“Okay, whatever,” the bartender says, perplexed. He fills a glass with ice and dark liquid that pops and fizzes with carbonation, then slides it across the counter to you. You meander out into the hallway where you can be alone, where you don’t have to pretend to be okay.

The carpet is gold but frayed, the walls adorned with faux marble columns and scuffs from recklessly handled suitcases. Even the hotels are worse in New Jersey. You sip your soda—nonalcoholic, huh? you think, then push it aside—and roam past suite doors and vending machines until you reach the cove of elevators. There’s a full-length mirror hanging on the wall there, gilded, gaudy. You frown at yourself, a reflection that suddenly looks a bit like a stranger. You’re wearing a short seafoam green dress, gold earrings and sandals, and an eerily vacuous expression. You turn and move your hair aside so you can peer over your shoulder at what’s been indelibly penned there since Rome: the tiny comet, the lyrics that encircle it.

I wanted to remember this band forever. To remember Aemond. You can feel your stomach drop as it grows heavy with dread. The pulsing music from Jace’s suite has followed you down the hall, Sugar by Robin Schulz and Francesco Yates. I think I might just have more than a tattoo to remember him by after all.

One of the elevators dings and opens. A man lumbers out, towering, broad, monstrous. You gape up at him: brown threadbare coat, heavy boots, unruly dark beard, grey eyes like a bleak winter sky. There is a miasma that colors the air around him with smoke and alcohol, sweat and earth.

“Hello there,” he says, politely enough. His voice is such a baritone rumble that it’s difficult to understand. He has a British accent, but not like Aegon’s, not like Aemond’s. He reminds you of someone you can’t quite place. “I’m looking for a certain young gentleman. I’m hoping you can point me in his direction.”

“Sure,” you reply, trying to disguise your shock so you don’t offend him. He could be someone important. He could be an eccentric producer or a consultant. Or a drug dealer. “Who…uh…who was it you were hoping to speak with…?”

He smiles: sharp canine teeth yellowed by nicotine, glinting eyes like silver coins. “Cregan Stark.”

“Okay,” you stammer. Drug dealer?? “Okay, okay, I’ll…uh…I’ll go get him.”

You hurry down the hall and into Jace’s crowded, smokey suite, clinking glasses and flirtatious titters in dim lighting like late twilight. You return your empty drink to the bartender, then tap Cregan on the shoulder and inform him that someone out in the hallway is asking for him. He doesn’t seem surprised to hear this. Drug dealer, you think confidently. Cregan gulps his vodka shot and follows you out of the suite. He steps through the doorway. He turns towards the stranger. And then he stops dead. His eyes go wide. The blood drains from his face. And Cregan—immovable, inscrutable, unflappable Cregan—shrinks until he is a child again.

Immediately, you know you’ve made a mistake. You reach for him. “Cregan, wait—”

“My son,” the monstrous man sighs. And of course now you’ve realized exactly who the mirrorlike grey of his eyes reminded you of. “My son.”

You can’t stop him. How could you stop him? Faster than you can think, he has crossed the space between you and entombed Cregan in a stifling embrace. Cregan stands paralyzed, his eyes shifting, searching for escape. Tentatively, appeasingly, his hands slowly rise to hug the man in return.

“Criston?!” you shout. But within the suite, he cannot hear you over the music and the berating of smoke-veiled, bejeweled label executives.

“Did you forget about me, huh?” the man asks Cregan gruffly. And as he steps back he grips one of Cregan’s shoulders: not like Criston would, not like a father, like a vice, like a bear trap. He shakes Cregan once, not too hard. “You can fly your private jet all over the world but you can’t call your own father back? Huh? Huh?!” He shakes Cregan again, harder.

“Criston!” you scream. “Security! Somebody!”

Nobody can hear me. Nobody is coming.

You sprint into Jace’s suite, seize Criston by one hand, drag him out into the hall. On the blurry periphery of your vision, you can see Aemond getting up off the couch to follow you. The second he spots the monstrous man, Criston is roaring. “No no no, get away from him!” He pushes between Cregan and the giant, terrifying, wrathful. The man dwarfs him. Criston doesn’t seem to know it. “You can’t be here. We’ve been over this, you’re not allowed to be here—”

The man tries to reach around him to clutch at Cregan’s shirt. Aemond pulls you away from the scuffle. Criston hits the man in the solar plexus; he is momentarily stunned, wheezing. By the time he straightens up, Criston—louder than you, bellowing and fierce—has summoned security. They are swarming the man and escorting him back down the hallway towards the elevators. Aemond goes to Cregan. Criston looks at you. You’re quivering, penitent.

“I had no idea…he asked for Cregan…I would never have…I thought maybe he was a friend of the band…”

“He’s on our no fly list,” Criston says. His voice is tired yet patient. “But you wouldn’t know that.”

You try to apologize to Cregan, but he isn’t listening to you. He’s listening to Aemond. Aemond is speaking to him, low and calm, too quietly for you to hear. “I’m okay,” Cregan says unsteadily. “I’m fine.”

“It’s alright if you’re not,” Aemond tells him.

And you know that right now you are unnecessary, intrusive. Criston goes downstairs to figure out how Comet’s security guards in the lobby didn’t catch this and—presumably—to ensure that the invader is properly dealt with. Aemond slings an arm across Cregan’s shoulders and leads him back to the party where he is cared for, welcome, valued, safe. You hide in your own suite and try not to think about the dates on the calendar—missing blood, summer days ticking down towards zero—as you steep in a hot bath and attempt to scrub everything you’ve done wrong, today, yesterday, ever, off your skin. Then you change into an oversized Backstreet Boys t-shirt and your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants.

You try to sleep but of course you can’t, surrounded by a silence that only gets louder. When you hear the swipe of a keycard and the creaking of your door, you don’t know who to expect: Cregan, Criston, Rhaena, Luke, Baela, Jace, Daeron, Shelby, Aemond, ghosts. The clopping of his Crocs gives him away, neon pink to match his tank top. “I’m really not in the mood for anything resembling sex.”

Aegon replies as he kicks off his Crocs: “Did I ask, succubus?” He crawls into the bed, throws an arm casually across your waist, rests his head on your belly as your fingers thread through his chaotic blond hair, fond and tender. He burrows into you, into your softness and your warmth and your truth and your mysteries. Sometimes you feel like you’ll give until he falls into you like a trapdoor, the bones of his hands tangling around your spine, his blood vessels spilling into all of your rage-scarlet cavities, hollows of the flesh, hollows of the soul. “You’re sad.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what. That’s the strange thing. Usually I can tell.”

“You’ve been gone.”

He looks up at you, confused. “I’ve been right here.”

“You know what I meant.”

Aegon doesn’t argue with you, doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t make promises both of you know he could never keep. He only lays his head down on your belly again and pulls himself closer to you, closer, closer, melting into your melancholy, dissolving into dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I was eleven when he broke my arm. Thirteen when he cracked my skull for the first time. Then I got big enough to hurt him back.” Cregan looks out over the waves: blue currents, white froth, sunbeams like glinting blades. As Criston promised, Comet is spending an afternoon in Seaside Heights. You and Cregan are sitting on the sand together twenty yards from the others. “I grew up in a two-bedroom cabin with no electricity or running water. We had a metal wash tub outside, ate deer and squirrels and rabbits, never had clothes that fit, never saw a doctor except when what was wrong might kill us. We had a woodstove and chopped down trees to burn in the winter. I had eight siblings, six of whom are still alive. Barnett overdosed. Courtland drove his friend’s Nissan into a brick wall. I’m not sure it was accidental.”

Your words are soft like a whisper, like gentle hands. “Cregan, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not…” His voice breaks. He stops for a while, composes himself, begins again. “It’s not something I talk about. Not because I’m trying to forget it. I can’t forget it, I’ll never be able to, I understand that, believe me. There’s just nothing to be gained from talking about it. I never feel better afterwards. I always feel worse.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

You wait, watching him. There’s something he needs to say. Down the beach a ways, Baela is doing yoga, her bare feet sure and agile in shifting sand. Rhaena, Luke, and Aemond are flying kites in the breeze: black dragons, green dragons. Shelby is, predictably, filming them from where she stands on Aemond’s good side. Aegon and Daeron are swimming so far out that you’re beginning to worry about sharks. Criston is parked under an umbrella with an unconscious Jace, reading Memoirs Of A Geisha and eating a sandwich full of something called pork roll.

“After Comet happened, I got all of them out,” Cregan continues. “My mum, my siblings. Good houses in safe neighborhoods. Security in case Dad makes an appearance. He does, every once in a while. He’s locked up, he’s free, he’s locked up again. He has nothing else to do but haunt us. I’ve been waiting for him to die since I was old enough to understand what a graveyard is.” Cregan looks at you. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” you answer immediately.

“The thing is…” He holds out one large hand, palm down, like he’s resting it on a table. Then he shakes it. “Nothing ever feels stable. Nothing ever feels safe. No matter how much money I see stack up in accounts, I lie awake at night wondering what I’ll do if it disappears. So many people rely on me. I can’t stop worrying I’ll end up back in that cabin somehow. I can still hear drops of rainwater seeping in through the gaps in the roof. I can still smell burning wood.”

“The fact that you feel this way, given your history, is completely logical…even if the fear itself is not. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Cregan says. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you think it would help if we sat down and looked at the numbers and did some math? Because I suspect that even with a hundred dependents, you’d easily be able to float them for the rest of your lifetime just using the money you already have. And there will be royalties from Comet’s songs forever. Maybe if we can show you exactly how improbable your worst case scenario is, that fear will begin to fade a bit. Not go away, not completely, maybe not ever…but I think you’ll be able to quiet it down.”

“I’ll give it a try. If you recommend it.” Cregan lights a cigarette and takes a drag. Criston glances over and then pretends he didn’t notice. “I have a daughter,” Cregan says; and you can’t stop the shock from hitting your face like a fist. He smiles faintly, wistfully. “I know. I’ve worked very hard to make sure she is kept away from…” He gestures broadly. “All of this.” Fame. Debauchery. Tabloids. Reddit threads. “I was way too young. And her mother and I…we were never really together. It was contentious for a while, but we’ve sorted through things. I support them financially, obviously. And when I’m not on tour or in the studio, I disappear up to Lancaster for a few weeks at a time and no one is the wiser.”

You study him as wind tears in off the Atlantic Ocean, as seagulls swoop and screech overhead. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate how you’ve protected her once she can understand.”

“I don’t know how to be a father. Not a good one. But I try. I don’t just show up for movie nights and birthdays. I take her shopping for school supplies. I put her back to bed when she has nightmares. I take her to the dentist, to the park, to the library. She really likes pigs, so I adopted a few from a farm animal rescue and we learned how to raise them together.”

“You caring about being a good parent puts you ahead of a lot of people already,” you say. “Nobody in Comet knows?”

“Just Aemond. Once, years ago, her mother needed something and I was out of the country. I had to let somebody in on the secret, somebody I could trust. I chose Aemond. I chose right.” Now Cregan is amused. “He’s the one who suggested the pigs.”

“Of course he did,” you say; and you can’t help but smile. “How old is she?”

“Six and a half. Do you want to see a picture her?”

“Absolutely. If it’s alright with you.”

Cregan pulls his iPhone from his pocket, swipes around for a while, and then turns the screen so you can see. She looks like him, a lot like him, but with round cheeks and long dark lashes. And Cregan is beaming as he says: “Her name is Iris.”

“So you didn’t have to do the Maury paternity test thing.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I knew from the second I saw her she was mine.”

“She’s lucky to have you.”

Cregan shrugs, pensive, evasive. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” And he believes that you mean it; you can see it on his face. Aemond is watching you and Cregan, you notice now. He glances over, pretends he didn’t, glances again. You gesture to the crashing waves and say to Cregan: “If Aegon gets attacked by a shark, will you jump in and punch it or something please?”

Cregan chuckles. “Yeah. That’s my main job here, I think. Stopping people from dying.” And then, seriously: “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything that warrants it.”

“No. Really.” Cregan reaches out, takes your uninjured hand, squeezes it briefly before releasing you. “Thank you, Stargirl.” Then he stands and walks to the water’s edge, letting the surf rush up over his ankles, for just a moment feeling nothing on his shoulders but the sunlight.

Aemond gives Shelby his kite and, as she glares bitterly, makes his way over to you. He takes off his sunglasses so he can see you better and hooks them on the waistband of his swim trunks: black, of course, his usual color. You’re actually wearing black today too, a flowing coverup over a pink swimsuit. You feel very much like hiding. When Aemond speaks, there is perhaps a hint of envy, green like leaves of poison, gleaming like snakeskin. “What were you and Cregan talking about?”

“Fatherhood.” And then you realize how it might sound.

There is a split second where Aemond looks startled; then he remembers Iris. “Right. Not so easy for people like us to navigate.”

People like us. Celebrities, boy band members, haunted men. You scramble for a nonchalant way to feel out the subject with him. “How does Louis Tomlinson handle it?”

“He’s a saint,” Aemond says. And you think: Patron saint of baby daddies? “Freddie was very, very unplanned. The mother was a nobody, a rebound. And a lot of people assumed she did it on purpose to try to keep Louis. Or to get eighteen years of a luxury lifestyle out of him. Or to just get fame in general. Personally, I believe it was all of the above.”

“Right,” you say, sweating heavily beneath your coverup.

“But none of that is the kid’s fault, and Louis is a good enough guy to realize it. So he plays nice with Freddie’s mother and they don’t go to war through tabloids anymore.”

“So, uh…” How can I put this? “You’re good with kids too. Cregan told me you had the pig idea.”

And the look that crosses Aemond’s face, the look: caustic, incredulous, night-dark, self-loathing. “Are you insane? Have you met me? I terrify kids. And I should, but not just because of the eye and the scar. What the hell do I know about being a decent father? What do I know about being a decent anything? I’d have no idea where to start. I’d fuck it up even if I tried desperately not to. I’d end up with kids like Aegon: addicts who hate themselves, people who are irrevocably lost.”

You say meekly: “I think Criston is something like a father to you. He could be a role model.”

“I’m not half as good a man as Criston is.”

Change the topic, change the topic, before Aemond gets suspicious. And there’s something else you’ve been meaning to ask him. “Aemond…after you almost murdered Jace…when we didn’t know if or how he was going to be able to perform until he healed…did anyone ask you to come back to Comet and fill in for him?”

“No,” Aemond says. And he’s thunderstruck by the thought, appalled, petrified.

“You don’t think that it might have been a good idea? That it might make sense?”

“No,” he says again instantly.

“But…in Tokyo…when Daeron made that speech at the last show…I think the crowd’s reaction was pretty powerful, don’t you? People still care about you. They love and respect you. And I think…maybe…it might help you with what you’ve experienced. To get back on stage—even just one last time—and prove to yourself that you still have what it takes. To know that if you do leave Comet, it’s your choice, not anyone else’s.”

“They love who I was,” Aemond says. “Not who I am now. And that’s easy to do. They don’t have to look at me.”

“Goddammit, there’s nothing wrong with how you look, Aemond!” you burst out. “You look fantastic. I never get tired of looking at you. I want to look at you all the fucking time. I’d hang life-sized portraits of you on every wall in my apartment in Kansas City. That’s how much I enjoy looking at you.”

He thinks you’re joking, he thinks you’re trying to make him feel better. You can’t stop him from thinking these things. And yet still, as he turns away, he is smiling: just a whisper of a curl at the corner of his lips, secretive, fragile.

As Comet is leaving the beach, you stop at a souvenir shop on the boardwalk to buy your keepsake for this tour destination. You settle on a pink frisbee that has I love the Jersey Shore! embossed on it in large, abrasive letters. You think your parents’ Australian cattle dogs will enjoy fetching it when you get home. Home feels so much closer—both literally and figuratively—than it did just a few weeks ago.

Criston is browsing through the t-shirts. “Hey, what size is your mom, Aegon? Medium?”

“How the hell would I know? Probably.” He holds up a pair of red, white, and blue bikini bottoms that say Firecracker across the ass. “You think my dad would mind if you sent her these?”

Criston is blushing. “Aegon, stop.”

“You could get her a bikini top too. Oh look, that one over there is red, it matches. And it says MILF across the tits. So that’s pertinent.”

“Stop!” Criston cries, distressed, and flees the store.

Halfway through the hour-long drive back to the hotel, Aegon insists that Criston stop the Escalades so he can get a hoagie from a Wawa. Aegon has never had a hoagie before. He says he cannot truly experience America without one.

At the ordering counter, Jace—slightly less bruised and swollen today, and thus in better spirits—taunts Aegon: “Are you sure you need all that bread? You’re going to be wearing a muumuu on stage by the time we get to the Midwest.”

“You know, just because you said that, now I’m going to get two hoagies…”

On the television mounted inside the Wawa, CNN is reporting on a group of tornadoes that just struck Wichita. And it occurs to you that tornadoes don’t have trajectories to calculate like hurricanes or airplanes or comets; they are climatological sharks. They strike quickly, indiscriminately, and then they’re gone again. They aren’t named. They aren’t enshrined. They don’t even have a belly to cut open and retrieve pieces of your loved ones from. If they take someone, they’re just gone.

While the rest of the band is in line to order their food, and Aemond is scrutinizing the dried fruit and nuts selection, you sneak through the other aisles.

It’s time. I have to find out eventually. I have to know.

You pluck a pregnancy test—cute, pink, nausea-inducing—off a rack, purchase it with truly impressive speed at the checkout counter, and race to the bathroom. It’s surprisingly difficult to piss on a tiny stick of doom, especially when your primary hand is in a splint and only partially useable. Eventually, you manage. You put the cap back on the pregnancy test, set it on top of the toilet paper dispenser, and stare at the metal door of the stall. The Wawa speakers are playing The Fray’s Over My Head.

It won’t be positive. It can’t be positive.

You think of pregnancy test commercials you’ve seen: happy couples rejoicing, happy single women getting negatives. How are you supposed to react to bad news? Nobody ever tells you. Do you scream, sob, beg for forgiveness, schedule an appointment at Planned Parenthood? Do you kick the bathroom stall door down in mindless feminine fury? Do you throw yourself off a balcony?

There’s no way it will be positive. It was one time. Just one goddamn time.

And who knows if that will ever happen again with Aemond. This does not improve your mood.

You pick up the pregnancy test. It is unequivocally positive.

You shove it into the small rectangular trashcan for pads and tampons, things you won’t be needing in the immediate future. You get dressed, leave the stall, go to the sink and wash your hands. Then you grip the cool, slick, white porcelain and gaze at yourself in the mirror under nowhere-to-hide florescent lights. What do you feel? Everything, nothing, things you can’t name yet. You’re a raw nerve, you’re completely numb.

The bathroom door swings open. Shelby enters. She squares up with great purpose. Your eyes roll to her, slowly, with no tolerance left, not a drop of it. “Stay away from Aemond,” she demands.

“Make me.”

She is in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”

You turn all the way towards her. “Fucking make me, Shelby.”

“I knew you wanted him,” she says, she seethes. “I saw you in those paparazzi photos from Reykjavik and I knew you were already twisting your claws into him.”

You hold up your hands to show her; your thoughts are fuzzy, dazed, without inhibition. “I have no claws whatsoever. If I did, you’d know about it. Believe me. You’d be able to look down and watch your heart beating through the gashes.”

“You don’t belong here. Some Midwestern farm girl running around in flip flops and Cookie Monster pajama pants? You’re trash. You’re a user. You’re a nobody. And if you’re trying to steal a taken man, then you’re a whore too.”

“I’ve been called worse things by better people.”

“I can make them hate you,” Shelby says indignantly. “Comet. The world.”

“Good luck with that, Malibu Barbie. Nobody even knows I exist.”

“Stay away from Aemond,” she says again, trembling with her futile bleach-blond rage. “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

“And yet no future.” You smile sweetly, breeze past her, step on one of her perfectly pedicured feet with a thoroughly unpretentious flip flop. By the time you return to them, the band is almost ready to leave Wawa.

You’re not hungry, but Aegon coaxes you into taking a few bites from his hoagie. You’re not able to focus on what people are saying, but you hear Aemond mention that he wishes Comet had time to visit a planetarium in some nearby town called Toms River. You think about what it would be like to lie side by side with him under the stars, under the sky where comets appear again after vanishing for centuries. You wonder if there’s anyplace where you and Aemond could ever be truthful with each other.

At night you can’t sleep. There is no shortage of reasons why. You wander from your bed to the gold-carpet hallway to the vending machines, where you stare brainlessly at the options. Am I supposed to not be drinking caffein? Did I get any Vitamin D today? How much sugar is too much? You buy a bottle of apple juice—surely a safe bet—and head back to your suite.

As you walk by Aemond and Shelby’s door, your steps slow. Some nights you can hear them in there arguing: Shelby reiterating all the reasons why they’re perfect for each other, clearly a rebuttal to an accusation you weren’t privy to. Some nights you hear muffled casual conversation or episodes of Cosmos. Some nights you hear nothing at all. Some nights your imagination colors in the gaps before you can stop it: his hands on her, his mouth on her, things you know you have no right to dread and yet you do. But tonight, Shelby is momentarily removed from the scene. You can hear the distant pattering of the shower, and then Aemond alone in the living room gathering up plates and glasses. He’s singing something very quietly, so quietly it takes you a while to recognize it. It’s not even a Comet Donati song. It’s Through The Dark.

You sit down in the empty hallway, your back to his door. And you lean your head against it as you listen to Aemond singing softly to himself, doubt sinking into you the same way that trapped blood fills a bruise: Maybe it wasn’t as good for him as it was for me. Maybe he doesn’t talk to me because he doesn’t want to. Maybe I don’t belong here anymore. Maybe I’ve invented a history that we don’t really share. Maybe he didn’t mean it when he said he loves me.

“What am I going to do?” you whisper, scalding tears brimming in your eyes, shivering hands settling on your belly. In a few months, you’ll be showing. “What the hell am I going to do?”

[n0cturnalflesh]

Two's Company, Three's a Crowd

Heyo ! First fic done in a while lets goooooo hope you enjoy! (its also on AO3!)

Synopsis: Maybe having a quickie with your boyfriend in the hallway of your old high school isn't the smartest idea. Or is it?

Characters(s): Choso, Gojo, Geto

tw: 18+, smut (jumps right into it lol), p in v, breeding kink, exhibitionism, teasing, praising, caught, semi-public, oral (receiving),

wc: 8.5k (jeez)

A/N: I'm not even kidding it took me months to finish this so hopefully posting it will help motivate me to write more. Lowkey went wild with this so enjoy, them boys boutta DESTROY you

“Shhhh, gotta be quiet baby or someone could hear us.”

Choso’s hand presses tight against your mouth to muffle your moans, as if the whines leaving his mouth weren’t just as loud. He’s got your clothed back pressed against the wall, one leg hiked up around his broad waist as he drills his cock into you from under your skirt. The shlick and slap of his balls slamming onto your cunt makes your head roll down against your chest, fucked out of your mind.

—————

You were supposed to debrief at Jujutsu High after a mission and get back to lesson planning, but your giant puppy of a boyfriend just couldn’t leave you alone.

“Please baby, please,” he pleaded as he led you down an empty hallway, pushing you lightly against the wall of lockers, “Please just let me put it in quickly, please? You look so good, and I missed you so much while you were away. Please, I need you.”

He leans down to bury his face in your neck, whimpering pleas and begging into your ear as his hands roam up and down your body.

“No Choso, we can’t, not here and not now.” You sigh as your hands reach up to grab at his tied-up hair, but make no move to push him away.

“Please, I’ll be good, I promise! I’ll keep it quiet, no one will know.”

—————

That’s how you got to where you are now. Your hands shakily raise from where they lie limp at your sides as you place your palms flat against him, feeling his hard chest beneath his clothes. The rhythm of his cock pumping into you has your head bobbing with each thrust. It only stops when he pushes you harder against the wall, the hand not pressed against your mouth coming up under your chin. Calloused but still smooth fingers lift your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Oh fuck, thank you, thank you, n-needed you.”

You try to mumble back some form of sentence but all that escapes your lips is a jumble of muffled cries against his hand.

“What was that baby?” Choso removes his hand from your mouth, gripping your head with both hands.

“Cho-Ahh!” A moan rips through you as he pushes you harder against the wall, hitting your cervix hard with each pump of his hips.

“What?,” Choso thrusts hard into you. “I couldn’t quite get that,” He thrusts again, “Baby?” He asks innocently as he fucks you harder and harder with each word. The metal ridges of the lockers behind you dig into your back awkwardly and his nails begin to dig deep into your cheeks as he squeezes them tight.

Drool begins to dribble down your chin, dripping onto his hands while he waits for your response.

“I- uhg Cho-oso, ‘y fuck me so good!” You finally moan out, reaching your arms around behind his head and linking your fingers behind his head, attempting to grasp some kind of leverage in the position he has you in.

Resting his forehead against yours, he whimpers into your mouth as he hungrily captures your lips with his. Your back aches from each hard thrust he fucks into you, thighs trembling while the pressure in your cunt grows with each passing second. Choso’s sweaty bangs brush against your closed eyes, a hand moving to your throat and squeezing tighter with every pump of his cock like he’s trying to steal the moans out of you.

“You’re perfect.” He grunts into your ear, pulling back from the kiss to look into your eyes. “Can you cum for me?” He quickens his pace, tilting at an angle that grinds his pelvis against your clit each time he moves. With a jumble of incoherent moans, your body begins to tense up in pleasure, wet slick dribbling down his thighs from where his body becomes one with yours.

Arching your back incredibly until your tits nearly press flush against his chest, you can feel the initial tingling ball of pleasure begin to unravel deep within you.

“That’s it baby, I can feel you getting tighter. Please cum for me, cum on my cock for me pleas-” He moans, cutting himself off as a particularly hard thrust has his sensitive tip brushing harder against your bruised cervix. His eyes lose focus on you for a moment, his hips stuttering, before leaning back to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“C’mon baby. Do you want to cum for me?” He drags his tongue slowly from your collarbone up to your ear, leaving behind a wet trail of saliva, “Or, do you want to cum for them?”

Your eyes flash open in confusion, just as Choso lowers a hand down to flick his fingers over your clit. In a second, you see them. Down the hall, standing in the open doorframe; Geto and Gojo. Before you can react, the pressure within you bursts, heat spreading throughout your body as you cum on Choso’s cock. The two men at the end of the hallway stare back at you, before you finally close your eyes, unable to focus on anything but the full body takeover of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck, sh-shit, yea-ngh yes baby!” Choso’s whines flood your ears, your body spazzing and tightening around him. It feels like your limbs are on fire, numbing and tingling as your core flutters with pleasure. Toes curling in your shoes from the immense pleasure, your hands bury deep into his hair as if it's the only thing keeping you tied to this world. “Choso - ! F-fuck!” You moan out, still unable to form words as you quiver on his body.

“My god, fu-uck, gonna f-fucking fill you up. Gonna make you a mama, pl-please, need to get you stuffed with me.” Before long, you feel his grasp on you waiver as he shoots his load deep into your belly, still begging to get you round and full.

“Baby, o-oh, baby. Please take it, please please.” Choso’s become a drooling mess, slowly pumping his softening cock back into your cunt, fucking his cum back in before any can fall out. He slowly unwraps your leg from around him, lowering it until your feet are firmly on the ground. Arsm wrapping around your torso, he pulls you close to him, catching his breath.

The change in gravity has you feeling weak, well, that and the creampie he left in your womb. His shoulder feels damp against your forehead as you lean forward into his touch. Before you can open your eyes, Choso turns you around so your back leans against his chest. His large hands reach up to grope at your clothed tits before sliding down to wrap around your waist, his fingers massaging your belly.

“So, just gonna watch like the perverts you are?”

That has your eyes splitting opening in record time, remembering who you saw just moments ago, who watched Choso fuck you open and cum inside you.

“Oh my god, Chos-” You whimper out shyly before his large hand rises to cover your mouth. “Shhh, it’s ok baby, I wanna hear what they have to say.”

Gojo and Geto stand frozen in the same place as when you saw them last. You get a better look at them now that your vision isn’t misted over by lust and blurry from being fucked, ready to take in judgment from them.

Stern expressions on their faces, eyebrows furrowed, Gojo’s mouth hangs open in a small gasp while Geto’s lips are pushed together into a small line. But there’s something hidden in their expressions, they don’t necessarily look disgusted. Still, the embarrassment and shame of being caught nags at your mind again, preventing you from questioning the looks on the two sorcerers’ faces.

Anxiety crawls up your body as you squirm under the intense gaze of Gojo and Geto which only causes Choso’s cum to leak from your cunt and drip down your thighs. Your boyfriend’s hands squeeze tighter into your body as he stares back at them, waiting for an answer.

“Hey who are you to-” Geto starts but is cut off by the white-haired man beside him.

“Yeah, yeah we are just gonna watch.” Gojo answers, voice low and leveled in a tone you’d never heard him use before. You expect Choso to lash out and yell at him, or even Geto to protest, but they don’t. A pregnant pause takes over the room again, silence so loud you can hear a ringing in your ears.

“But you’re ok with that, aren’t you Choso?”, he continues, “Hmmm? Don’t be shy now, you seemed pretty outgoing when you fucked her full a few minutes ago. ‘Oh please baby please let me fuck you full with my cum’.” Gojo moans out in a mocking voice. It’s meant to be a taunt, but hearing him whine like that has… elicited a reaction out of you that you hadn’t expected. Ever loyal and in love with Choso, you can’t deny that hearing those words come from Gojo’s mouth was hot.

“Poor thing couldn’t even get a word out.” Geto cuts in with a smirk.

It’s only then do you notice the large tent in Gojo’s pants and the way Geto’s hand stays glued inside his pocket. They’re turned on by this. And judging by the way Choso isn’t screaming at them, he is too.

“So, what’re you gonna do now that you’ve got everyone all hot and horny, huh? I’m bricked up, Geto’s bricked up, lil missy here clearly has some kinda mess going on between her legs other than your jizz, - judging by the way she’s rubbing her thighs together, and you’re blushing like a teenage boy seeing his crush.”

The tension in the room remains, but you can feel the sudden shift in the air. Choso’s not a very outgoing person but if he was truly upset by being caught, he absolutely would’ve said something by now. Turning in his arms to face him, the skin beneath his shirt feels hot to touch, matching the crimson blush on his face.

“Choso…” You whisper, forcing his chin to face you as he turns to look at the ground, “Are you ok with what’s happening right now? What are you thinking, hun?” The blush across his cheeks deepens as he holds you tight to him, murmuring something under his breath that is too quiet to hear.

“What was that?” You probe genuinely, voice just above a hum as you wait for his answer.

“I’m not… disappointed that we got caught.” He sighs. “I’m so sorry baby, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I love you so much, you’re mine, only mine. But for some reason, I’m not -” He’s panting with anxiety between his words, trembling in shame.

“Choso, love, are you turned on by this?”

He nods.

“It’s ok, I am too.”

His head perks up at your words, a newfound sparkle in his eyes. “Really?”

Now its your turn to nod your head yes. Something about his demeanor changes. He stands taller, straightens his back, tightens his hands into fists. “Baby, can I ask something of you? You don’t have to say yes and I understand if you think I’m weird, but I have to ask.”

Grasping his hand in yours, you smile up at him expectantly, hoping you know what he’s going to say. He looks at the floor sheepishly, clearing his throat before making eye contact with you again.

“I think I wanna watch them fuck you.”

You close your eyes in relief knowing that the feeling is mutual, that you’re not the only perverted one in your relationship. Squeezing his hand, a voice interrupts you before you can even respond.

“Huh? What was that? Didn’t quite hear that from back here, mind repeating that for us?” Gojo calls out, sneering in your direction as he leans an elbow on Geto’s shoulder.

Choso’s eyes flickering to yours, all it takes is a small nod of confirmation and he’s regained the confidence you’re used to seeing your boyfriend have around you.

“I said, I want to watch my girl get fucked on you and Geto’s cocks. Think you can handle her?” He replies back, slowly turning you around to face them once again, hands beginning to roam across your body. His hands glide up from your waist, circling above your womb for a moment before they split, one sliding up to grope your chest through your shirt, the other dipping down under your skirt as he uses two fingers to push the cum dripping out of you back in.

It’s obvious the two sorcerers are caught off guard by Choso’s blunt words, both blinking blankly at you and your boyfriend before sharing a look between them.

“Well Choso, I think it's your lucky day. You’re wish is our desire.” Gojo bends in a slight bow, offering a growing toothy grin with a slight glint of mischief in his eyes.

“And her pleasure.”, Geto lulls, taking a step forward, “I just hope you two can handle us.”

Choso gives you another look, searching deep into your eyes, looking for something, any reaction. His eyebrows are tightly knit together in a protective expression but the softness in which he holds you tells you he’s asking if you consent to this. You stare back lovingly, smiling, and bring him in for a quick kiss, feeling his raw and warm lips mash against yours. Pulling away slowly, a trail of spit keeps you two connected.

“I have some rules.” He calls out, voice low and husky as he holds you close to him, “One, whoever fucks her pussy has to wear a condom. You can cum inside her if you’re wearing it, but remember that it’s my cum that you’re fucking into her. Two, whatever comes out of her mouth, you worship it. She says stop, you’re both out of her before I can count to three. She says slow down, you slow down even if you’re seconds away from cuming. And three, don’t hit her. She doesn’t like it.”

“Got it.” Geto agrees.

You give Choso one last squeeze before turning to face the two men approaching you, eyeing them up cautiously. They stop in front of you, standing tall above as Gojo begins to circle you like a wolf stalking its prey. He takes a step towards you, angling his head down to meet your eye level. “Cute,” he draws out, voice cocky as ever as he invades your space, “who would have thought you were so scandalous, fucking in the back hallways of our old high school.”. He reaches out to grab your face, large hand gently holding your chin as he examines you through his blindfold.

“Tsk, she was always hiding something behind that sweet smile, weren't you?” Geto purrs from his spot beside you as he watches his friend. “Just needed someone to treat you to it,” his eyes flicker briefly to Choso before latching back onto your expression, hand reaching into the brim of his pants as he begins to palm himself through his boxers.

You’re body trembles, feeling hot under their stares. It feels like they’re speaking to each other more than you, almost like planning something without you even knowing it. Flashing your eyes up to Choso, he leans on the wall opposite of you, back to the lockers as he bores an unreadable expression on his face. Eyebrows furrowed yet no trace of anger with rosy cheeks as he watches Gojo and Geto get closer to you. You flash him a tiny smile before turning your attention back to the two men in front of you, confidence beginning to flow within you as you watch Choso smile back.

“Maybe.” You reply to Geto cheekily, trying to sound as assertive as possible as Gojo holds your face in his large hands. “What about it?”

“Obviously we have to show our thanks to the man of the hour.” Gojo huffs.

“What do you-” Your words are cut off as he leans forward, pushing his lips against yours passionately. It’s not a gentle kiss, it’s wet and heavy as he tries to devour you, tongue licking against your lips until he parts them and begins to explore the inside of your mouth. His hands lift from your face and begin to grab at your body, wrapping around your shoulders, sliding down your back, before returning to your front. His fingers fondle at your chest before teasing at the buttons lining the front of your shirt.

A shriek leaves your lips in shock as he rips down the middle of your clothes, leaving you standing in your bra as your torn shirt hangs on either side of your arms. “Gojo!” You whine out in a mix of anger and embarrassment, trying to cover yourself up, “What if we get caught!”

“Well, you already got caught, and look how that turned out, hmm? Want more people to come? Want Nanami to come and see Choso’s little whore?”

A low cough-turned growl interrupts the moment, Choso glaring at Gojo’s words as he crosses his arms across his chest, eyes filled with anger at his implications.

“Don’t worry, already put up a veil, no one can see us. Just teasing.” Gojo speaks out without breaking his gaze upon you.

“Satoru, you’re too disruptive.” Geto coos, breaking the tension as he walks behind and pulls you close to his chest so you can feel his hard package press against your ass. “Ripping a perfectly fine shirt? You know not everyone is as rich as you.” He lulls as you feel his hands grab at your hips. Gojo pouts at him as he remains bent down to your eye level, muttering some incoherent words under his breath.

“Besides,” Geto speaks again, “You didn’t even finish the job.” He slides his hands up your back and quickly pulls at the clasps of your bra, letting it slink down your shoulders before falling to the ground. He gasps into your ear from behind you, large hands sliding down to capture your now free tits. You lean into him, a sigh escaping your lips as he kneads at you, the warmth from his hands contrasting the cool air of the hallway that hardened your nipples.

“Fuck, baby.” Gojo purrs, leaning his head forward to motorboat your chest. The sharp breath of his nose pushes warm air onto your sternum as Geto pushes your tits forward to smush against Gojo’s cheeks. You remain stuck between the two of them, nothing but mutual panting in the hallway as you lean your head back against Geto’s shoulder. Wetness begins to spread across your chest (amongst other places) as Gojo starts licking and sucking at your skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to have your legs shaking at the numbing pain blossoming across your chest between his lips.

“Gojo,” you gasp, hands leaving your side to steady yourself on his shoulders, “please.”

“So polite, but I don’t know what you could possibly want me to do. You’ll have to tell me.” he replies with a smirk after licking a long strip up to your chin.

“Please touch me.”

“Mmm touch you where? Gonna have to be a bit more specific than that.”

“Please,” you whine out, rubbing your thighs together impatiently. You stick your lip out in a pout, voice coming out much more quiet than moments ago. “Please touch my pussy, need it.”

“Cmon Satoru, you heard her. Don’t pretend like you’re not desperate to shove your face in her cunt.” Geto groans out, hand reaching out past your head to grab Gojo by his hair and shove him down to the ground. “Stop teasing and dig in.” He thrusts his hips against your ass, pushing your pussy into the white-haired man’s face. His nose bumps your skirt-covered mound and he lets out a muffled moan as his hands wrap through your thighs, hand searching around your waist so he can keep you close in a mangled mess of limbs.

“Fuck, need a taste.” He draws out, hands tightening around your waist as he tucks his head under your skirt. He leaves a cool trail of spit up your cunt as he licks at your lips, licking up until he reaches your clit. “Need this off now.” He mutters as he quickly unzips your skirt and lets it drop to the ground, abandoned with the rest of your clothes.

“Come on, don’t be shy now. You were just putting on such a good show for us with Choso, do it again, won’t you?” Geto purrs into your ear. Your body slowly becomes putty in their hands as he wraps his arms under yours, tucking them up around your chest. His warm hands trail across your upper body, leaving goose bumps behind as his fingers caress your skin. “Look at how pretty your pussy looks when it's soaking his blindfold, princess.” Geto whispers in your ear, one hand reaching up to grab your chin and tilt it downwards, forcing you to look down.

Gojo buries his face back into your cunt at his words, lapping up and kissing your clit, sending tingles across your core as you buck your hips forward. One of his large and warm hands trails down from where it rests at your hip, dividing through the wet mess between your legs.

“Mmph, can’t have you leaking out Choso’s cum, now can we?” He grumbles between licks, “no, good girlfriends keep their boyfriend’s cum fucked up inside them even when they’re being fucked out by their friends.” He speaks, though mostly to himself as his words are muffled by your pussy. “Isn’t that right Choso? I know you don’t have a naughty girlfriend.”

“Fuck, Gojo!” you cry out as you buck your hips forward into his face again, letting Geto take the full weight of your body behind you. “Geto, please, touch me too!”

Geto hums behind you and lets his hands move forward to grope your chest. Your tits mold into his grip as he assaults your skin, tugging and pulling on the skin until it nearly hurts. “Choso, you know I’ve heard making a girl cum increases her chances of getting pregnant.” His left hand reaches out and tugs at your nipple, squeezing it, before continuing. “Want us to see how much we can make her cum?” Another twist. “For you?”

As if speaking a secret language, at his words Gojo begins to fuck his fingers into your cunt, pushing Choso’s cum back inside you. “Take it back, keep it stuffed inside you, huh cum dump?” You hear amongst the jumbling of words he speaks into your pussy, like he’s having a conversation with it over you.

The increasing pressure of Gojo lapping at your cunt mixed with Geto playing with your chest pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “F-fuck, so good!” You open your eyes and look up to your boyfriend standing across from you. The hem of his shirt is tucked between his lips, his abs tensing and pulsing as he pumps his hand slowly over the tip of his cock. His eyebrows point upwards and he pants wantonly, almost like it causes him pain to keep his eyes open and focus on the sight before him. Despite this, his eyes latch onto yours in an instant.

“Choso, l-love you!” you cry out, grinding your pelvis harder into Gojo’s face. Tingles shake at your thighs while a numbing pressure builds in your stomach. Gojo’s thick fingers pump into your cunt, and you can feel Choso’s cum on his fingers as they push up into you, exploring all there is to explore; pushing up against your cervix walls, pushing into that soft fleshy spot you thought only Choso could find. His thumb reaches around to rub at your clit as he sucks it too, creating a suction that flips between kissing the bundle of nerves and grinding it hard against his thumb. It’s almost too much for you to handle.

And then it is, as his remaining hand on your hip slides south, grabbing at your ass and spreading it for himself. He gropes at your fat, a tingling sting left behind as he slaps your ass and you yelp, lurching forward in shock.

“Damn Satoru,” Geto purrs, “you have got to see this recoil.”

Without responding, Gojo slides the hand further down until it reaches your tight, untouched hole. He pulls back from your pussy for just a moment, chin drenched in your slick, and asks “Anyone ever visit this hole before?”, tapping his finger lightly on your ass. At his words, Geto slows his gropes, licking up your neck before waiting for your answer.

The pause in movement makes everything around you slow down, you can feel the cool wind of the hallway breeze against your skin, can feel where they touch you besides your tits and pussy, can feel them waiting for your answer. It’s embarrassing.

“We, I -”

“I’m finger fucking your boyfriend’s cum back into you while my best friend gropes your tits in our old high school hallway, but you’re afraid to admit if you’ve done anal?”

“Fuck you.” You mutter, not intimidating at all.

“I’m trying to. Now tell me,” he puts his finger on your hole, “have you”, he rubs against the entrance, “ever done,” he presses further, pushing past the tension of your tight skin until it slips in with ease. “Ha, naughty girl, that went in far too easy for an ass virgin.” He grins.

The heavy pressure as he pushes into your ass has you tightening your whole body, grabbing at Geto’s arm around your chest and digging your nails into his skin, feeling the tension of his skin beneath your nails.

“Ah, yea, yes I have, we have!” you pant.

“Freaky.” he smirks, removing the hand from your clit and grabbing one of your legs, lifting it over his shoulder for leverage as he kneels before you. “Now shut up again and let me eat.”

And suddenly everything sparks back up at rapid speeds. Gojo’s attached to your clit once again, hands ravaging your holes as he finger fucks them both at the same time. He slips another finger into each of your holes and it's a miracle you’re still standing as he wrecks you. Your lower body is almost entirely supported by his arms as you shake from pleasure while he kneels before you. His large arms wrap around your hips, twisting and contorting into whatever position allows one hand to enter your ass and one hand to enter your pussy. All the while, his face is still buried at your clit. Every lick, every finger forward motion has you bucking harder, grinding your pelvis against his nose, moving entirely on its own; a purely erotic reaction.

His licks have your back arching in both directions, heaving back and forth as Geto holds you tight against his skin. Your back rubs against his shirt, feeling the buttons press into your skin. He moans into your ear, panting hard enough to feel his warm breath on your neck. Your nipples are sore from his teasing, and as if he knows when it's too much he switches from pinching to lightly groping your tits, one in each hand. “Gonna cum? Gonna soak Satoru’s blindfold?”

You’re unable to form words, only small whines escaping your lips as you nod your head back against his shoulder. Your hips buck forward widely as your balance sways, your right hand moving back to burrow through Geto’s hair in a fist as the left reaches down to tug at the white-haired man between your legs.

With just Gojo’s fingers alone, you already feel full as they rapidly bring you closer to your end. It’s when Geto slides a hand down across your front, dipping below your hips to land on your clit, right beside Gojo’s tongue, that you finally feel yourself beginning to snap.

“That’s it, good girl. Cum for us.” Geto coos in your ear, fingers playing tag with Gojo’s tongue as they circle around your clit, your body twisting in his arms, tightening around Gojo’s fingers. The pleasure keeps building, impossibly, and it feels different than you’ve ever felt before. “Fuck, I-” you gasp, tits puffing out as you arch your back, “It feels like, mmph my god, something’s happening!”.

One last glance over at your boyfriend, seeing his flushed face and sweaty body, and your orgasm rips through you, tightening around Gojo’s fingers as you feel a gush from below, squirting on his face. Tingles spread throughout your body, you twitch in the arms of the strong men holding you as you experience one of the most intense orgasms of your life. You’d have certainly collapsed to the floor if they weren’t holding up your body.

It feels like ages have gone by as you lie limply across their bodies, your breath heavy as your soul returns to your body. Small kisses to your neck bring you back to reality. “Such a good girl.” Geto whispers into your skin, “Look at the mess you made hmmm?” Gojo slowly lowers your legs to stand up and it's then that you see how his blindfold is a shade darker, dripping and drenched with your cum. He leans in, capturing your lips with his gently. When he pulls back, he slides the blindfold down, revealing his diamond-blue eyes as he maintains eye contact and sucks the blindfold into his mouth. “Mmm, you taste so good.” He hums.

His eyes flicker past yours briefly, a smirk on his face as he leans forward. “Jealous, Suguru? Want a taste?” He fully unties the blindfold, still holding it flush against his mouth as he leans his chin over your shoulder. There’s movement behind you, and as you turn your body slightly to watch Geto’s reaction, you catch him swear under his breath before leaning grabbing Gojo by his hair, slamming his lips against his, through the blindfold.

You take a small step back to watch as the two devour each other, only separated by Gojo’s cum drenched blindfold. The white-haired sorcerer’s hands begin to roam the other’s body as the blindfold is held up solely by their lips. He tugs at Geto’s hips, pulling their clothed erections together as they begin to grind against each other, hands wandering further as he gropes his ass.

The moment is cut shorter than you would’ve liked as you watch idly, slowly feeling yourself become aroused once again. The two men pull apart with a gasp, eyes wide and crazed as the blindfold falls to the ground between them. A quiet, breathy moan erupts from Gojo’s chest as he stares at his friend. “Pretty fucking tasty, huh?”

Geto stares back at him, chest heaving until his eyes drift to your naked form. “Come here, it’s my turn.” He growls, unbuttoning the front of his shirt before pulling you flush against him. You wrap your arms around his neck, the heat of his strong pecks warming your hardened nipples as he grazes his lips across yours. Moaning into his mouth, hands begin to roam across your body, although whose, you cannot tell.

“Ready princess?” Geto asks as he pulls out his wallet from his pants, flips it open, and takes out a condom. He maintains eye contact with you as he rips the top of it open with his teeth and undoes the top of his pants, only looking away to slide the condom over his dick, pumping it slowly between his hands in the process. His cock is beautiful, - everything about the man is. It twitches between you, your eyes following thick veins to the pink, weeping tip that sticks out from his hands.

“Gonna plug you up real nice.” He leans forward, tapping the tip against your belly, “Make sure all his cum stays right here” And then he’s sliding his cock between your legs, getting it wet on your juices as he pulls your hips closer to him, easing a leg up to sit on his waist. “Want you straddling me just like you were Choso.” He links your other leg up and around until both legs wrap around his body, arms coming to link together behind his head as he holds you up.

“No offense, but I don’t think I need to ease it in”. He points his dick at your hole. “No, I think you’ll take it in like the thirsty whore you are.”

With that, he drops you down onto his length and he’s right, your pussy takes in all of him easily. That doesn’t mean the heavy feeling of being filled isn’t a shock; with your cunt sitting on his pelvis, his tip probes at a tender spot inside that has you seeing stars.

“Mmm,” He moans as he pulls you closer, smushing his face against yours, “f-fuck. Still so tight.” He tilts his head and kisses you desperately, gasping and moaning into your mouth as he begins to buck his hips until he’s fucking you at a fast pace.

With every thrust, your body lurches up in pleasure, your mind blank aside from the way your sensitive cunt continues to drip for more. Somewhere behind you, there’s the sound of a zipper being undone and a cocky, wanton voice speaking, not that you’re able to process it in your current state.

“Damn,” the voice draws out, low and raspy. “How she feel, Suguru? She taking good care of your cock?” Geto’s hips stutter, losing their pacing at his friend’s words, letting the conversation flow through with you as nothing more than a fuck toy between them. From behind you can hear the sounds of faintly wet slapping. “Losing it already? C’mon Suguru, I know you can do better than that.”

“St-stop talking.” Geto manages to reply between thrusts. Warm arms suddenly wrap around your front from behind, pulling your upper half away from Geto slightly. A musky, slightly sweet scent surrounds you, and Gojo’s voice calls out from beside your head, “I can’t help it. Look so fucking hot, wanna - fuck.”

Gojo pulls you closer to him, your back pressing against his chest as his hands begin to roam across your body like he’s trying to touch as much of you as he can. He takes a deep breath in as he buries his head into the crest of your neck, taking in your scent. Then, within seconds, he wraps his arms around your chest, holding underneath your shoulders as he allows you to rest against him. You melt between them, upper half held up by Gojo’s arms while Geto keeps your hips held flush against his waist.

“Mmm, Geto-” You cry out as he slows his thrusts, slowing to a deep grind.

“I’m not stopping for you, Satoru.” He murmurs, eyes glued to where your sopping cunt swallows him, “Better get in quick.”. His massive hands grab at your ass, pulling your cheeks apart for the man behind you.

With every small grind of his hips, your clit hitches on his pelvis, the sensitive pleasure lurching your back and forth, urging his hands closer into you until one of his fingers lands on your back hole. Movement slows even more, and Geto lifts his head to look over your shoulder at Gojo. The hallway is silent once again, save for heavy breathing. Geto holds an intensity in his eyes, a complicated, taunting expression beneath. Given the breather, a slight shuffle to the side draws your attention back to your beautiful boyfriend.

Choso’s leaning back against a wall of lockers, crimson blush creeping across his face and down onto his heaving chest. His leaking cock is just as sensitive, bleeding with precum as it cries in his hands. The tip twitches as he makes eye contact with you, his eyebrows arching upwards in pleasure as he bites down on the bottom of his shirt in his mouth, whimpering into the cloth. Lowering your eyes from his face, you notice the way he grabs and squeezes at the bottom of his girth, slowing the pace at which he pumps his length; he’s edging himself.

“Choso baby, are you Ah-” Your words catch in your throat as what you can only assume to be Gojo’s dick begins pushing against your ass. “Fuck!” It’s so much thicker than the fingers he had in you before and although you haven’t seen it, you know it’s massive by the feel of it.

“Knock knock.” Gojo whispers in your ear, “hope I’m not interrupting anything.” He turns his head to look towards Choso in his disheveled state, making eye contact with him as he slowly eases himself further into you. “I’d like to come in now.” He speaks, and although he’s talking to you, the way he looks at your boyfriend gives you the impression he’s doing this just as much for him as well.

After a few more seconds of slow movement, he’s finally in your ass fully. The feeling is so intense, the tight skin stretching thin as you take him in, tearing your mind away from the fact that Geto still rests deep in your cunt. The deep pressure of Gojo’s cock feels heavy within you, but not unfamiliar. “Fuck, sweet girl.” He gasps in your ear. “Swallowing me whole back here.” His hands glide over your hips, colliding with Geto’s as he squeezes your soft flesh between his fingers.

“Ready for the main course?”

With an experimental buck of his hips, his cock pounds deeper within you and knocks you forward into Geto’s warm chest. Even with such a small movement, the wind is knocked out of you as your lower region is restricted and fuller than it’s ever felt before. By the way that Geto bows his head down beside yours, he’s affected too. “Fuck,” the brunette moans, “I can feel you inside her.”

“Yeah, Sugu?” Gojo pulls back slightly, “You like that feeling?”, and he thrusts forward again, a little harder this time, “Like feeling my cock rub you through her ass?”.

Geto lets out a breathy groan, flinging his head back to look at the ceiling. “H-ha, don’t act like you’re so put together.” He lowers his head back to level, making eye contact with you. “You doing ok princess?”. With all the attention back on you, the feeling of both their cocks in you finally settles in. With every breath, it feels like their cocks reach a new part of your insides. It’s hard to decipher where Geto’s cock in your pussy ends and where Gojo’s cock in your ass begins. It’s like they’ve turned you into one massive slut hole, -and they haven’t even started fucking you yet.

Geto���s question lingers in the air as you try to focus back on his face and not his fat dick. A red flush covers his swollen lips, and you don’t miss the crazed focus in his eyes that hide behind a few strands of hair that’ve fallen over his face. Raising one hand up to his face, you cup his cheek while the other reaches behind you, blindly grabbing until you feel the top of Gojo’s soft hair enter your palm. Geto’s skin is warm and sweaty under your touch, and you slide your hand down until you reach his parted and panting mouth.

With little to no resistance, you push your thumb past his lips, feeling the tips of his teeth graze your finger as it rests against his warm, wet tongue. For just a split second, that crazed expression is replaced with a hazy, complacent look of shock, his eyes flickering past you to Gojo. The thick pants of both men fill your ears as blood pumps quickly throughout you, and for a second you’re convinced that your cunt is throbbing around them to the beat of your heart.

“Fuck me, please.”

Both sorcerers seem to take that as consent to start, and it takes no time for you to become a sloppy mess around them. Both cocks drag in and out of you, fucking messily until they settle on a rhythm; Gojo pulls back as Geto pushes in, and so on. It’s like being fucked twice, at the same time, which technically is what’s happening, but it feels impossible to wrap your head around. At no point do you feel less than full, your g-spot feeling constant pressure and with every thrust from behind, Geto’s pelvis is pushed up against your clit. Your head bobs loosely around your shoulders, struggling to stay up as they manhandle and bounce you on them. Somewhere in the mix you manage to settle your head back against Gojo’s shoulder.

Geto’s hands remain glued to your hips as he holds you up, fingers digging deep into your flesh as the skin around them reddens. Gojo takes this as an opportunity to roam, dragging his hands up your stomach until they circle around your tits. He squeezes them forward, inviting Geto who happily leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple.

“Mmmm, you like that pretty girl? So fucking pretty, taking us like this.” Gojo growls against your cheek as he looks down, watching his friend suck on your body. “Fuck, Suguru. I can see you inside her.” He moans out from over your shoulder, losing his pace for a moment as he curses and groans, the words “six eyes” lost somewhere in the mix. “Can see you fucking Choso’s jizz right up into her”.

His hips stutter behind you from their usual pounding pace, his breath hot against your cheek as his head hangs low beside yours. Low moans escape him, and you feel him leaving a wet trail of saliva across your jaw. In front of you, Geto leaves your breasts and leans forward to press his forehead against yours. “Yeah?” He captures your lips in his, quickly licking alongside your tongue before pulling back, “What about this?”

He grabs one of Gojo’s hands in his, sliding it down until it reaches your waist. Placing his hand over his friend’s, he pushes it down against your warm skin on a spot that has you gasping loudly at a new sensation. The tip of Geto’s cock strikes hard against the inside of your cunt as he tilts his hips up, bulging through your belly as it hits the tips of Gojo’s fingers that rest on your lower stomach.

“Oh my god” you moan out as all three of you watch the scene unfold, as if Gojo’s jerking off Geto through your body. It makes you want to scream in pleasure, but no sounds can escape you aside from empty cries, tears forming around your eyes as you let them fuck you into oblivion. As Geto slides his hand back to your hip, Gojo repositions his so he can rub your clit and still press down on that special spot.

“My god, pretty thing. Re-, fuck, ready for the finale?” Gojo picks up his pace, once again matching Geto’s, “Don’t forget about your boyfriend, hmmm? Wanna have him help out?” He whispers, voice taunting and whiny before he calls out his name, startling Choso from his moment of bliss. Between all the pleasure and movement, you’re barely able to register how lusted over he looks as he holds his hard member in his hand with what looks like a load of cum already sprayed across his abdomen.

“C’mon, look at your darling girl all fucked out for you. Come help us finish her.” He beckons, making a point to draw out his thrusts, showing off your body and how it reacts to them. In the slow movement, both Geto and Gojo take the opportunity to lean forward and begin tearing apart your body with their mouths, biting down across your shoulders and chest. Arching your head back, you maintain eye contact with Choso as you lean into the bites and thrusts of the two men holding you.

“Baby.”

His eyes light up at your calling.

“Baby please, need you.” You whine out.

As your boyfriend slowly approaches, you reach out a hand until he’s close enough to rest his cheek in your palm, closing his eyes briefly as he moans at your touch. It would’ve been a sweet moment if it weren’t for the other two men ravaging you with their mouths and cocks.

“Hi.” He smiles.

“Oh come on Choso, now’s not the time to be shy.” Gojo removes a hand from your chest, reaching out and yanking your boyfriend closer. He stumbles in you, sensitive cock brushing up between you and Geto’s waists.

“That’s it big guy, join in on the fun. Wouldn’t be here without you.” The man behind you speaks again before whispering in your ear, “Let’s help him out, yeah?”. He grabs your hand, snaking down until wrapping it around Choso’s length. He keeps his hand wrapped around yours as he squeezes your hand around him, slowly beginning to pump up and down.

The scene playing out around you is what finally makes you snap. As each of you falls into a perfect rhythm, the slowly growing coil of pleasure begins to bubble up inside you. Between the deep thrusts of Geto and Gojo inside you and Choso’s growing whimpers, your muscles begin to clench. Trembling in the arms of your fellow sorcerers, vision blurring through tears, you can barely register anything besides your own pleasure.

Like the way moans ring in your ears as someone mumbles incoherently out loud, or the way Geto is looking deep not into your eyes but Gojo’s beside you, flickering between your messy cunt and the piercing blue eyes of his friend. Or the way Choso lays a hand on the dark-haired sorcerer’s waist, groping for something to hold onto as he watches the way his cock looks sandwiched between you and Gojo’s hands.

“Taking us so f-fucking well, princess” Geto groaned, although his eyes remained on Gojo’s as he leaned forward and nipped at your chest, a small peck, before dragging his tongue slowly up to your neck. “Such a good fucking girl, you like being bred? Like having me fuck Choso’s cum into you?”. His hips slam against yours with every word, squeezing the words out of your throat “yesyespleaseyesyesyes-”

Gojo slides a hand down to your hips, rubbing at the skin over your womb. “Want that Choso? Wanna your little slut to walk around pregnant knowing we fucked your baby into her?” He leans forward, lips tantalizingly close to where Geto sucks at your neck. His voice deepens with his next words, and you get the feeling they’re meant more for Geto than you. “Feel so fucking good against me, want ‘t cum with you. Fuck fuck, fuck, wantyousobadwant-” His voice is cut off suddenly at the same time Geto’s lips leave your neck, and you can hear the sloppy spit of their kiss beside your cheek.

Choso’s warm hand pulls your cheek towards him amidst the chaos, smashing his lips against yours. “Almost there baby, please, cum with me, please.” Gojo’s hand re-tightens in yours around Choso’s cock from where it’d loosened when he began kissing Geto. The mass sounds of moans and whimpers seem to be escalating, everyone is nearing their end.

Choso is the first to cum, shaking in your hand as his jizz shoots up across the three of you. Seeing his remaining warm seed leak down from his tip to you and Gojo’s hands is what does it for you. That, alongside the two other cocks pounding your insides and Choso’s free hand reaching between to rub your clit.

“Mmmm, ‘my god, ‘m gonna!” Your words are cut off as your boyfriend recaptures your lips, whining alongside you as you finally cum. The pleasure is uncontrollable and unmeasurable. It almost hurts, intense spasms coming in waves and shooting up from all parts of your nether regions. Opening your eyes, you’re met with Geto’s upturned eyebrows and open mouth panting in desperation and Choso’s flushed face as he comes to his senses. You can’t see Gojo, but from the side, you can feel the sweat coming off him as he presses a cheek to your face. It’s too much of a sight to handle, and you slam your eyes shut to ride out your high. Your legs tighten around Geto, heart rate pulsing around your clit as your whole body tenses.

“Holy fuck, squeezing me so hard princess, don’t think, god, don’t think I can hold off any longer.” The wetness of his sweaty loose bangs rests against your shoulder. In seconds, a whiny moan erupts from behind you, warmth spreading throughout your behind. As both you and Gojo shake in unison, Geto thrusts up into you one last time before following suit.

Silence, aside from heavy panting, finally rings throughout the hallway as the four of you catch your breath. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you barely register Geto unwrapping your legs from his waist, only realizing as he painfully slides out of you. A small moan escapes your lips before you can stop it as Gojo joins him, leaving you feeling empty and worn out. A soreness spreads throughout your body as you attempt to stand, stiff legs and bruised hips causing you to nearly fall if Gojo had not caught you in time.

“Don’t worry sweet thing, I got you.” He steadies you, assisting in holding you up as you catch your breath. “Feeling ok?” You nod your head, still hazy and in disbelief at what just happened. “Good, you took us like a lil champ there.” He smirks, giving your ass a brief squeeze despite your boyfriend’s jealous glare. Taking the hint, the sorcerer passes your limp body back to him, not letting go until Choso’s strong arm steadies you by the hip. “Don’t worry, she’s all yours.”

After settling their clothes, the men slowly gather your clothes and help dress you. Once back in appropriate attire (aside from a layer of Choso’s shirt used to hide your torn shirt), Geto tucks a few strands of unkempt hair back down on your head. “There. Looking almost like you didn’t get ravaged in the hallway.” He looks to Choso, “I trust you’ll take extra good care of her?”.

“Always.” He replies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him.

“Good.” Geto winks down at you. “Now, Satoru, I believe it's our time to head out.”

The six-eyes user bends down, pocketing the damp blindfold off the ground into his pocket casually as he gives both you and Choso one last look over. “Yup, it’s been more than a pleasure.” He snickers, receiving three annoyed grunts in return. “Anyways, you know how to reach us if you ever need more… special grade assistance.” He winks, turns on his heel, and waves goodbye.

—————

The two men walk together down the hallway, and you don’t miss their newfound proximity as they walk, whispering in each other’s ears as they go. Choso keeps you close in his arms, watching as they walk away.

“So I guess he turns infinity off for sex?”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Butterfly IV

a/n I hope y'all are still enjoying this! Do let me know if you want me to continue to write this or should we have one more lovely chapter to end this with.

summary: When Joel thinks that his life is over his little butterfly sends him a new reason to stay alive. The only problem is that he doesn't know how to love but when you are the meaning of love itself how can he not fall.

Previous chapters are on my blog cause tumblr ain't letting me add links.

warnings: mention of past trauma, forced starvation, fainting spells.

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Your eyes snapped open in a frantic attempt to search for the body that was laying pressed right beside you all night long. Ellie wasn't there. You sat up quickly, your hand instantly coming to hold your head as a wave of pain shot through it. The sleep seemed restless at best. You tried to first fall asleep in the bed you and Joel shared, but the sheer size of the emptiness that surrounded you only made your heart hurt more. So you made your way to Ellie, wrapping your hands around her as you focused your mind on her presence.

Yet your dreams were still filled with images of Joel. Of the times you two were utterly, truly, fully emotionally naked in front of one another, when the knives you two held for self-defense were long forgotten. Pushed to the side. And you two just were. Fingers laced together as you started at one another. No words were needed at moments like that. Eyes said it all. Truly the window to one's soul.

If only loving and staying true to yourself was that easy. Writing it all off as the consequence of the outbreak felt lame after twenty-plus years. Surely by now, people would have adapted. Moved on from the past. Well, if not moved on, at least make peace with it. You hated the fact that all you wanted to do now was cuddle closer to Joel, hiding your face from the morning sun in the crook of his neck just like most mornings. He had been your shelter. He still was. Nothing besides death could truly keep you apart. If that scared you, it sure as fuck scared him. With that, you fell back onto the bed. Eyes staring at the ceiling.

"So what is this?", Ellie had slipped out of bed to the sound of Joel walking downstairs. The sight of you asleep, even if your eyebrows were slightly crunched up, made Ellie choose against waking you up. So she made the best of the situation and followed Joel. Now, about an hour later, she was inspecting the car that was supposed to take you to three places. Joel looked up from the side of the garage, "A wing mirror." Ellie looked around, "Where's the wing?" She questioned, truly invested in breaking down every part of the spaceship in front of her. "Have you never seen a car before?", Joel asked, and Ellie quickly shook her head.

Joel was not expecting Ellie to follow him out to the garage. When he heard someone stepping in, he hoped it was you. He needed to clear the water. The tension and the lack of your presence in the past 24 hours had been torture for him. "Sorry for pointing a knife at you," Ellie had first croaked out, and Joel had shifted in his seat. He cared for the girl. Even if he was constantly telling himself that he didn't. He had started to care for her the moment he bashed her into a wall. Joel wasn't expecting to do that to a kid. He could have given her a concussion.

"You defended Y/N; good to know you have some serious balls," Joel said, turning away from Ellie as he looked over the wall of guns. Ellie snickered, "You said balls", "You're a kid if it still makes you laugh", Ellie went into a defensive monologue after that. Trying to prove Joel wrong, but his face stayed blank. She offered to help him do whatever Joel was doing, but that mostly resulted in her getting star-struck by the car as she circled it.

"You want to sit in it?", Ellie's eyes grew big at that suggestion, a light smile tugging at her lips. "Get in then", Joel stood up to approach her. The worrier inside was afraid that if he was too far away and Ellie somehow got the car started, he wouldn't be fast enough to stop it. He watched as Ellie looked around the inside. Fingers grazing over different buttons, "Don't press anything", Joel said firmly, yet deep down he was enjoying seeing her like this.

"Dude, it's a spaceship," Ellie said as her hands clasped the steering wheel. Until she moved to turn it slightly, at which point it yielded to her motion. Ellie's hands instantly came off the wheel as it did, eyes snapping to Joel. "If you'll let go of it like that in the middle of the road, you will be dead", Ellie could swear she heard a light snort before Joel said it. Her eyes fell to the side mirror, catching a figure in it. She turned behind her but was met with the seat instead of the view of the garage. Quickly leaving out of the door, she turned to look back again. "Look, I'm in the car wroom, wroom," Ellie chirped happily.

Joel turned to the side as well. He met your gaze as you stood there leaning onto the door frame, hands crossed over your chest. For the first time, Joel found it hard to read your face. He couldn't make out if it was anger or just pure nothingness that lingered in your features. Was this how you felt looking at him? When he had one of his masks on. Or have you learned to read through them as well?

"Looks like you two have been busy," you said, taking a step closer. Joel debated whether he should speak up. More importantly, he didn't know if he could take being ignored by you. "Morning," you muttered to him as you passed, strolling closer to Ellie. A breath got caught in Joel's throat, and all he managed to do was nod his head your way.

"Missy, your things are still unpacked. If we want to leave today you better get going", you pointed your finger Ellie's way, and she copied your actions. Pressing her finger against yours. "Are we leaving today, though?" Ellie questioned, turning to Joel. "Yes, it's best if we do that and as soon as possible", Ellie hopped out of the car before embracing you in the side hug. Head resting right below your chest. You ran your hands up and down her side as you smiled down at her.

You couldn't and didn't blame her for making up with Joel. She probably needed him more than she needed you. And they had been secretly wanting to grow closer. Just instead, they constantly stepped on each other's toes. You moved to drag her with you. Her hands did not leave your torso as you pulled her through the garage. Ellie's laughter echoed throughout the place. "Could we possibly talk?", Joel's fingers skimmed over your skin, making you stop in your tracks. Ellie quickly looked between the two of you before muttering something about how she preferred to pack alone anyway as she stepped out of the garage.

You only stood there. Keeping your gaze fixed on the man in front of you. A male with whom you had been through a lot of shit. You two always made it. No matter how darn hard it was. You always clawed through. You could see it in Joel's eyes that this whole tension was suffocating him as much as it was suffocating you. "I didn't…I," Joel stuttered, quickly running his fingers through his beard, "I overstepped a line." You let out a bitter laugh, eyes coming up to look at him. "Ain't the first time, now that we think about it, huh", you wanted to be sweet and let him off. But you had done that for too long. Joel's jaw clenched, yet he didn't say anything in return.

"I'm trying to see eye to eye with you," "Joel, come on, your eye to eye seems backward", you pulled out a chair for yourself, sitting right in front of him. Joel's arms came to rest over his knees as he looked at the floor. "Well, forgive me that I want this. I want calmness, a touch of normality. I'm tired of running," you rasped. You knew those things you both envisioned differently. Or, more accurately, Joel had never discussed his vision for the future. If he even saw one. Sometimes his carelessness led him on suicide missions. Once again proving to you that he didn't want to live. And there was only so much you could do for a drowning man.

Joel shook his head, "Don't you apologize, I don't blame you for it", you let out a sigh, fingers twisting the strand of the hair between them as you contemplated the next step. "You can be angry all you want, but all I ask of you is human decency. You can want the whole world to get fucked because of what happened, because of the things that got taken from you, but there is a line in Joel". He opened his mouth to speak up, but you quickly lifted your hand. "I'm not asking you to become a ray of sunshine. In all honesty, that wouldn't suit you", you reached for his hand, and to Joel, it felt surreal to once again feel the warmth of your skin. He felt like an addict. Who through the years had formed a serious dependence on you. "Just try to be more human. Emotions are a natural thing, you know", you whispered the last part. Your eyes glossed over with tears once again. Joel pulled you closer by the hand. Instantly wrapping you up in his embrace. Finally being able to breathe. Finally being able to think. You were here. You were with him. You two were going to make it through. Yet the hug didn't last long as you pushed against his chest and stepped away from Joel.

"I'm not ready to forgive you." Those words cut deeper than Joel could have imagined. But he nodded his head anyway. "It'll take more than one nice conversation with Ellie," "I know. I… I will try", Joel spoke out with not that much confidence but he was willing to. Mostly for you. But he was willing to. You nodded. Just like the evening on the terrace, your fingers grazed over his chest as you stood to leave. "Meet you down here in twenty?", you asked softly. Joel's hand moved up to catch your palm, letting his fingers linger on your skin just a little longer. "Okay," he rasped out as you walked out.

Your hand was pushed out through the open window as you drove through the empty highway. The breeze was nice and cool. Ellie was passed out in the front seat. Like a true kid after too many stimulations. Joel barely allowed you to drive. Most of your attempts were met with him saying that you needed to rest or that he wasn't as tired yet, so after a while, you dropped your attempts. The last couple of days felt repetitive. Stops at every potential gas station or by any left-out car in the open. Sleeping somewhere deep down in the woods or further down the main road. Then repeat. Repeat. And repeat.

Ellie had slipped into the abandoned station as you and Joel walked around the cars checking for petrol. You stumbled slightly, bracing yourself against the broken-down car. Black dots start to cloud your vision. You let out a sharp breath. "Not now," you whispered under your breath as you slowly lowered yourself to the ground.

Your food supply was good, but knowing your overthinking brain, you had opted for lowering your portions and making sure that the two of them ate more instead. In situations like that, you were familiar with Joel and his habits. Bad habits. Habits of not sleeping. So if his body wasn't getting sleep, he at least needed to make up for it with food. And Ellie was always hungry. Like a true little puppy. As long as there was food in front of her, no one was going to stop her from eating.

You heard Joel's voice, "Y/N." Cursing under your breath, you tried to get back up but failed miserably. Hands slip down the side of the car as your bum hit the ground. "Love," Joel put the fuel tank down as he walked towards you, "You okay?" You nodded your head. Nonetheless, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as your consciousness started to slip. The ringing in your ears became increasingly loud. It seemed like there was just not enough oxygen left in the air.

"Did you fucking eat today?", Joel was kneeling right in front of you now. He cupped your cheek with his hand as he snapped his fingers in front of you, trying to keep you alert. "Ellie!", Joel shouts, turning back. Ellie quickly turned her head towards the two of you. The sight of you on the ground forewarned her instantly. "Fucking fuck", your head limped into Joel's palm as he held you up from falling over. "Hand me your jacket", Joel reaches for Ellie, and she quickly shrugged it off her shoulders. Worried eyes watching Joel. He carefully lowered you to the ground so you would be lying on your back before moving to lift your legs slightly, rubbing his palms alongside your thighs, "Come on, now love, come on".

You had your fair share of fainting spells when you two had just met. You were severely underweight then. The fuckers who had you under their control had run you down to the last drop. Joel had visited them after he got you to a somewhat stable state. That was the moment he realized he was ready to burn down the world for you. QZ was painfully quick to realize that you were Miller's girl. And sure as hell, only brainless people dared to cross your path after that.

"Joel," Ellie's worried voice jolted Joel out of his reverie. Making him remember the first time he saw this happening. Genuinely thinking the worse. "It's okay. She just fainted. The front pocket of my bag, grab a packet or two", he had never seen Ellie move so quickly before. She took off like a bullet, coming back with handfuls of tiny glucose packets that Joel always carries with him. "Hold this up", he motioned for Ellie to replace him by your legs. Joel quickly opened the packet, pouring some of it into his fingers. Ellie frowned as she watched Joel rub the white powder on the inside of your cheek before his fingers moved to rest over your pulse points. "Joel…", she whispered again. Ellie had never seen people faint. It looked too close to death for her liking, and you couldn't die. Not now. Not ever.

Joel only got to glance at Ellie as your eyes twitched, and you started to blink frantically. "Here you are, here you are, easy", Joel's fingers ran down the side of your face as he looked at you. "You didn't eat," he said firmly, "You two needed to eat", you rasped out. Hating the bright sun that found its way into your eyes despite Joel's shadow. "Y/N," Joel said in a warning tone, yet you were quick to copy him, "Joel."

"Should have told me at least", now came in a worried tone. It always slipped out. "Our communication is complicated at the moment," you sassed back as, he slowly helped you sit up. "It's not funny", "Who's laughing?", Joel only rolled his eyes. He was glad you were okay. That's all that matters now. He reached for the water that Ellie must have brought with her, handing it to you, "Drink this, and then we'll try to stand up." You downed the water as if you hadn't drunk in days. Your body still felt strange, but that little rush of sweetness seemed to have been enough to kickstart your system.

"Y/N," your gaze shifted to the side, where a concerned Ellie stood. You reached your hand towards her, and she was quick to sink next to you. "I'm a fine baby," you muttered, kissing the side of her head. "You should have listened to Joel," you snorted, "Oh, nice, you two are now ganging up," making Ellie giggle as well. "But he does know best. Sometimes…," you raised your eyes to Joel, giving him a small smile that he returned.

"Okay, let's get going", Joel helped Ellie up as she picked up the fuel tank that was closest to her. Joel's arms sneaked under your legs, "I can walk", you fought back as he carefully lifted you up, "Yeah, and I can carry you", in any other way, you would have argued back, but you still didn't have it in you to do so. So you let him. Wrapping your arms around Joel's neck, you cling closer to him. Joel hoped the walk to the car would have lasted forever. He missed your touch. Even if you were in speaking condition, it was clear that you had drawn a line. You were just business partners now. The affection you two once shared was nowhere to be found.

You were sat by Joel now. Ellie said she wanted to sleep in the back, but you knew the real reason, and so did Ellie. Joel still wanted to keep an eye on you. It was quiet for some time until Ellie pulled something out of her back. The ruffling of pages caught your attention, making you turn around to look at her. "There's not much reading here, but the pictures are quite something," she said, as Joel's eyes looked up to the rearview mirror.

His eyes grew big as he turned to her, "Throw that away now", his voice had a warning tone but the sense of panic was way more visible. "No way, dude, I want to see what the fuss is about!", Ellie shifted the magazine in her hands, flipping through the pages, "How do you walk with that thing between your legs?", "Let me see", you curved towards her, and Ellie was quiet to turn the picture to you. "Y/N, don't encourage it", Joel growled from beside you, but you only let out a laugh, "Oh, this is average. I've seen bigger and better".

You clapped Joel's lap a couple of times as you turned back around. A smirk spread over your face as you bit your lip, trying hard not to laugh. Joel shook his head in disbelief before glaring at you, "I will throw you both out of the car." You lifted your hands defensively, "Only speaking facts." A gasp left Ellie's mouth once she finally clocked in on your words, "Oh gross, you've seen his… no, don't answer that", she pulled a disgusted face as she lead closer to the window to get rid of the magazine. "Seen? Girl, I've…", "No!", Ellie clapped her hands over her ears and hummed a loud melody to herself to muffle the noise. You let out a laugh. Eyes meeting Joel's as he turned to you breathily, shaking his head, "You are losing it", you let out another giggle, "For you? Always".

The camp for the night was set, and Ellie was already fast asleep. Clenching your hand in hers. You looked at the ever-so-slowly approaching darkness. How it slowly seeped through the trees. The suspense of what was still ahead of you was unsettling. Were you doing the right thing? What if you were willingly bringing Ellie into even more danger? What if you didn't even make it? What was Joel thinking? Was he thinking of you?

You felt someone nudging your shoulder, and moments later Joel slipped to sit right beside you. You two seemed okay the past couple of days. But were you? "You're thinking loudly again," Joel said, handing you another cup. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. He kept a close watch on you tonight during dinner. Joel knew you hated when he counted your bites, but it was for precaution. There wasn't much medication on hand. If your conditions were to go bad again. Well, Joel would have gained a whole head of white hair trying to find the right medication and help for you.

"You know I will be pissing all night if you'll keep this up", you growled, only making Joel smile a little, "I see plenty of bushes that could be utilized," he said and you hit his chest playfully. "How are you feeling?" Joel asked you, bringing his own cup closer to his lips. "About us or in general?", your words took Joel by surprise. Of course, first and foremost, he was referring to your health. That was the most important thing in Joel's eyes now. "I want to give you space. I don't want you rushing into a relationship, especially when I'm like this," Joel blurred out, hands gripping the cup tightly. "Well, it's ten years too late, Joel," you said, moving to rest your head on his shoulders.

"You should give up on me," Joel said, the darkness making it easier for him to speak. He felt like he could almost hide behind it. Like it somehow shielded his fears, "Here you are wrong. Plus, we made a promise to each other." You lifted your left hand. The hand with the butterflies. The hand Joel had slipped a makeshift ring on a couple of years into your being together. He had sat down every night for over a week, trying to make a ring for you out of all the little things he found around the place. Joel had no idea why, but he had to do it.

"We had a little too much to drink and…", "Excuses, excuses. Unless you want me to take it off," you said, lifting the hand that was playing with Ellie's hair and moving it toward the ring as Joel caught both of your hands in his. "You promised to never take it off," Joel said firmly, "And I ain't planning to. That should be an answer in itself." Your hand reached for the side of Joel's face as you once again rested your hand on his shoulder. He gently kissed your palm before kissing the side of your head. Watching over the dark forest in front of him. That's why a man like you and I are here.