#it sounds so good on the surface. like when am i ever going to find this many lesbians concentrated into one place at the same time

[blueskittlesart]

Feel free to ignore this but as someone who also goes to art school, I find it really interesting how other art schools also have a “don’t date your peers” sort of faux pa. Like so many people I know (including me) refuse to date anyone else who goes to my college 😭

I wonder why that is tbh, small school thing maybe?

being so serious i didn't have anything against dating other art school peers when i first came here and i think most freshmen dont but once you have one or two art school relationships under your belt you realize why all the upperclassmen avoid dating each other like the plague

[norrizzandpia]

i am Politely Asking for the lando post-race imagine you mentioned 👀👀👀

Your guys’ wish is my command 🤭

All He Needed Was Her (LN4)

Summary: Following the Vegas ‘23 crash, Y/n and Adam find Lando in his hospital bed, yearning for the comfort of his girlfriend’s touch.

Warnings: a panic attack, inferences of death, Lando crashing

Note: that crash was so hard to watch and i still have not recovered

Silence encompassed the space around her, her mind sick with the images of Lando’s crash. What she thought could potentially be his first race win had turned into her worst nightmare as Lando’s car laid smashed against the protecting fences. Her mouth stayed agape as she listened to her boyfriend’s broken “I’m ok,” followed by concerning whimpers and groans. Her eyes frantically searched the room, the faces of his loved ones burned into her brain with their watery eyes and panicked looks. She couldn’t bear the tension within the space, the expressions of the people around her like he had died. The room closed in on her quickly, allowing for no space to breathe or get out of the anxiety filling her lungs. She felt trapped, a panic attack coming on inevitably when she saw the way his hand shook, his arms trying to push himself out of the car yet failing continuously.

She shoved the headset off her ears, shutting out the taunting sounds, before throwing herself into the crowd behind her and pushing them to the side as she tried desperately to claw herself out. She couldn’t turn her head back to see the screens, not even when applauding emitted and a good sign emerged. Y/n reached the door, her hand grasping the handle and hesitating. A large hand grasping her shoulder called her back, willing her to open her eyes and see the survival of her love. When she turned around, her eyes looking up, she was met with the soft look of Adam, Lando’s father.

No matter how comforting he was trying to be, his bloodshot eyes reminded her of the risks her boyfriend took, the chances of him not getting out of that car after a race.

It was too much.

Her heart beat out of her chest and she struggled to find air, her impending anxiety surely, gradually, painfully encroaching her being.

Adam, being familiar with the anxiety attacks his son got, saw the signs, opening the door behind her quickly and shoving her into the empty hallway. His hands landed on her biceps, gripping them as he shook her gently.

“Y/n?” His voice was distant and Y/n wanted to run toward it, however nothing was ever that easy.

He tried again, “Y/n, breathe with me.”

Her mind understood, her lungs expanding shortly as he began to inhale. Tears seeped through the crack of her lips, adding to the drowning she felt she was enduring.

She blubbered and sobbed as she tried to follow his pattern, proving difficult when suffocation seemed probable.

Nevertheless, Adam’s determination triumphed, her mind slowing down as her body caught up.

He looked at her with pity as she came down, his eyes swimming in a certain sympathy she didn’t recognize. This was deeper, he was seeing the pain she was bearing, relating to it because of the exact connection they both nurtured with the boy.

His hands left her arms, stilling at his sides as he began to coax her toward his driver’s room, “How about you rest for a while? That seemed really bad.”

She shook her head immediately, “No, I need to be awake for Lando. What if he needs to go to the hospital?”

Adam closed his eyes as he nudged her into the small room, “Then, I will come wake you. But, for now, he’s going to go to the circuit’s medical center and there’s nothing we can do. It’s best if you allow yourself to relax after that.”

She knew he was right, more so because he sounded exactly like his son. When she had these horrid experiences, Lando was right beside her immediately, gently leading her to any surface where she could lie down. He knew exactly how to make it go away, she never expected to have to do it without him or because of him. He was consistently advocating for her rest after an attack, something that always helped her recover more quickly.

That memory, those habitual instances, persuaded her to give in to Adam’s pleas. He smiled at her as she brought a blanket over her body, Lando’s scent encompassing her body.

“I promise I’ll be back when I have updates.”

She nodded, trusting him like she had for the past few years, “Okay, thank you.”

He closed the door with a nod, the dark haunting her enough to close her eyes and lean into the quiet, peaceful embrace of sleep.

—

She was awoken by shaking, more specifically Adam’s hands shaking her upper body.

“Y/n, wake up.” He whispered, his words guiding her back to the world.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Yeah?”

He seemed stoic, rigid and stressed, something that made Y/n truly wake up, “Lando’s at the hospital. They said we can meet him there.”

She shot up from her laid down position, “What?! The hospital?! Is he okay?!”

His father sighed beside her, getting up and showing how antsy he was to move when he lingered by the door, “I don’t know.”

—

The pair burst through the doors of the hospital, launching themselves at the nurses who sat behind the desk. Their words mixed together as they sputtered out his name, occupation, and situation. This proved to be inefficient because the women looked back at them blankly.

Y/n tried again, “We are here to see Lando Norris. He is a Formula 1 driver and he was involved in an accident.”

It dawns on the employee and her head tilts slightly, “I can’t give out information on him because of his status and occupation. I am sorry. Unless you can prove you are family to him then I can’t give you anything.”

Adam’s hand flew to his pocket, whipping out his wallet and showing her his identification, proving his blood relation to Lando. Y/n watched with a heavy heart as she realized she had nothing to show, she wasn’t family. She was crushed as she realized he would be able to go on to see their boy without her.

When the woman gave him the room number, she gave it to him on paper so as to deter anyone overhearing, he bolted. He was right at the door that led to another hallway when he stopped and turned around, motions for Y/n to follow him.

“I need to see your proof of family relations.” The nurse beside her said expectantly whilst Adam moved back over to the desk.

She shook her head, “I’m his girlfriend. I don’t have proof of blood relations.”

The nurse shrugged, “Then, I’m sorry, I can’t have you go through.”

Y/n opened her mouth to fight back, but Adam interrupted her, “No, she has to. I’ve just shown you I’m his father, take my word for it. Please. My son needs her right now.”

The nurse seemed to be at a crossroads as her gaze flickered between Adam and Y/n. Finally, she nodded curtly and the two were running throughout the building. Down different hallways within the floor, they quickly reached his room. Without thinking, Adam charged in, a strong wave of emotion hitting him when he saw his son wrapped up in a hospital bed.

“Lando,” He sighed, arms falling around Lando’s body as he squeezed him softly, careful with him.

“Hi, dad. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He mumbled into his shoulder, hand laying loosely over the back of his father.

Y/n watched from the corner, tears pricking the sides of her eyes at the sight of him. She watched as they pulled back, Lando’s eyes meeting hers and softening with relief before Adam was coughing and excusing himself from the room.

When they were left alone, she walked slowly to him. She stood in front of him for a moment, both individuals taking in the other after the traumatic time apart. When he had had enough of not holding her in his arms, Lando reached out and pulled her closer to his body, arms linking around her hips as he stuffed his face into her chest. She breathed out as her hands tangled in his hair, both of them memorizing the way the other calmed them in such a state.

He clung to her, breathing steady as she whispered sweet, quiet words of love and encouragement to him.

“Sit with me?” He asked with a low volume, pulling back slightly and looking up at her.

She could never say no to his deep green eyes, “Always.”

He shifted to the side as she slid in next to him. She watched the way his eyes lingered over her lap. Chuckling, Y/n sat further against the wall, “Lay your head on my lap, baby.”

He smiled at her brightly, a childlike grin as he shuffled down and set his curly hair over her pants.

A silence passed before she was whispering again, “I love you so much. It was so scary seeing you crash today and I just could not live a life without you. I love you, Lan. You’ve ruined my life for the better. There’s no way I could ever go a day without you.”

He nodded below her, “I can’t either. I kept asking for you when I was at the circuit after the crash, but they kept telling me I couldn’t have any visitors with the impact I had just endured. I was so angry, all I wanted was you. I’ve been like a sitting duck as I stared at the wall and waited for you to arrive. But, now that you’re here, I already feel like I’m getting better. That’s your impact on me. I love you too, love. Being without you for that was worse than the crash itself.”

She looked down at him, leaning over to kiss his temple. When he felt the pressure, he turned his head. She had been pulling back, but got the hint when he looked up at her expectantly. He giggled as she leaned back down, meeting his lips with her own in an intimate, soft kiss.

When they pulled back, she watched his eyes slowly close when she began massaging his scalp and tugging gently at his brown hair. He moaned quietly at the feeling, stroking his hand over her leg as she comforted him with just her presence.

He buried his face further into her lap, breathing her in. By the change of angle, she lost sight of his face, only relying on the monitor to tell her he had fallen asleep when it evened out, reaching a rhythm.

Only then did Adam return, smiling lightly at his sleeping son laying in the lap of his girlfriend. Truly the sweetest sight, he thought, something he would’ve taken a picture of had Y/n been asleep as well.

He sat in the chair beside them, cocking his head at her.

“Thank you.”

The two words caused Y/n’s eyebrows to draw together, confusion etched into her face, “For what?”

Adam sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “For being there for him. Not just now, but all the time. He’s always put everyone else first. He’s always made it the biggest priority to make others feel good when he wasn’t at all. Cisca and I always wished for someone to come along and take care of him right back. Turns out our wishing wasn’t in vain. Here you are and he’s finally understanding what it’s like to be loved that way.”

Y/n stared at him for a moment, eyes averting back to her sleeping boyfriend strewn across her lap, before choking out, “Thank you, Adam. That means the world from you.”

“Just speaking the truth.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair before kicking his legs up toward the end of the bed. He watched her lean her head back, scumming to sleep just like Lando, her hands still buried in his hair.

That was when he took the picture, sending it to the Norris Family group chat, it including Y/n, and assuring the members of Lando’s wellness.

Adam (2:35 AM)

Image Attachment

Adam (2:35 AM)

Lando’s okay! Don’t worry! All he needed was some medication to calm his nerves and Y/n 🧡

[sugurusdiscordmoderator]

Halo bby! <3

Do u perhaps take request? I have been thinking about husband!gojo who feels offended after wife!reader told him about how men can only ejaculate 3 times a day after after she saw it on facebook :3 So Satoru had to cum in wifey more than what she believes because the truth is better than rumours, right? 🤔

hi anon! my inbox is always open for requests (it just might take me a little to finish them lol)

Sorry I’ve been working on this for like 3 weeks lol, I am going to take a break from writing Gojo for a little after this though (:

I didn’t proof read this my apologies

MDNI

cw: smut lmao, handjob, 69, riding, missionary, doggy, daddy kink (oops), shower sex, etc.

—

You scroll through your Facebook feed, when an article from Cosmopolitan magazine pops up called “How To Make Your Man Orgasm Better”. You read through some of it, not really absorbing much until you see an actual doctor’s name listed as research for the article. I mean of course if there’s a penis doctor listed in this article it must be legit!

‘Generally, a person with a penis can orgasm no more than 3 times a day. It can become painfully overstimulating the penis after that I’m afraid. In fact over 80% of this study shows that the person with the penis could not go longer than one orgasm, and 95% could not continue after the second one. That leaves just 5% of the population able to orgasm a third time in a day. There is the possibility for an asymptote - a line that never actually reaches zero although approaching it rapidly after the number 3.’

After reading through the article you decide to scroll through the comments, reading about middle aged women’s sex lives and how their husbands are rather bad at being intimate.

But oh, you could not relate.

After all, you are married to the Satoru Gojo. As a newer married couple with no kids, the two of you fuck at least once a day, usually after work or before bed. You like to get a little more creative on weekends, with morning sex, shower sex, kitchen counter, couch (and just about any surface in the house he can bend you over he’s already fucked you on). You guys can have sex for hours, pulling multiple orgasms from you, but the most he’s ever came in a day is three! So that doctor must have been right.

Just then, your lovely husband Satoru comes home to your beautiful little house, strolling in with a smile on his face like usual. He sits his bag down and takes off his blindfold before making his way over to you and kissing the top of your head where you sit on the couch.

“Hi baby, how was your day?” he asks

“Good, I was just reading a medical article!” You giggle mischievously, getting up to join him in the kitchen with your phone in hand.

“You can read?!” He sarcastically responds, pretending to be shocked before coming up behind you to hug you. This time he kisses the side of your head near your temple, smelling your freshly done hair and you can smell the remnants of his cologne that he sprayed before leaving this morning. “What were ya reading baby?” He kindly asks, not joking this time.

“Well this doctor says guys can cum at most three times a day! And I was thinking about it and even when we stay in bed all day on the weekends having sex the maximum you’ve hit is 3 so it must be true!”

Your husband breaks out laughing, a truly angelic sound, but you’re not quite sure what he’s laughing at. He breaks your hug turning you around to face him with his hands on your shoulders.

“Oh. You actually weren’t joking.” He says reading the expression on your face.

“No babe. Here read it!” You shove your phone towards him with the article pulled up. He reads the same paragraph as above and makes a mental note of the doctors name and credentials and thinks about how he’s going to contact him once he proves this theory wrong.

“Oh, interesting babe. Since you’re so into these ‘medical’ articles you find on cosmopolitan, why don’t we test this theory for ourselves?”

You giggle and blush at his sentiment, still getting shy when initiating sex even after being together for 5 years! You close the distance between your bodies, wrapping your arms around your husbands neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

“Yes please” you whisper against his lips. Satoru deepens the kiss, taking control over you like always. He continues kissing you and backing you up until your back reaches the refrigerator. He plants kisses all over your face before moving down to your neck.

“Y’know, I think we’ll have to make me orgasm all different ways for it to count. Something about a control variable.” Satoru mumbles against your neck.

You’d protest but your pretty little head is thinking about the way his mouth is on your sensitive spot, too horny to shut him up. He pats the back of your thighs for you to jump into his grasp, and you do wrapping your legs around him like a koala. The two of you continue your passionate make out before heading to the bedroom.

Leading you to the gorgeous master bedroom satoru closes the door behind you even though nobody else is there. He begins unbuttoning his jacket and throws it on the floor followed by his undershirt and black jeans. He lays back, his stiff member pulling his boxer briefs tight as he looks over to you expectantly. You waltz closer to the bed, only wearing your matching silk tank top and short set that satoru bought multiple of and loves so much.

He bought every pastel color and loves when he can see your somehow always hardened nipples through the silky fabric. Today’s outfit was baby blue, which happened to be his favorite. Being Satoru’s housewife really isn’t so bad, he makes good money and takes care of you in every way. You just can’t help but be submissive to him when he asks you to wear certain things or cook a certain food. For this man, you threw feminism out the window, and oh how he knew that.

Satoru pulls you onto his lap, looking up at you with those stupidly beautiful eyes as he gently squeezes your hip. “Cmon princess let’s start this experiment,” he winks at you before helping you take off your tank top.

While yes, you play a submissive role in your relationship, he doesn’t always dominate you in the bedroom.

That being said, you roll off satoru so you are laying beside him, leaning to him to resume your steamy make out session.

“Mmm.. I love making out with you, we need to do this more,” he mumbles against your lips. You “mhm” in agreement before proceeding to enter your tongue into his mouth. One hand grips into his white locks while the other reaches down to rub his erection through his boxer briefs. He moans at your touch, reaching his slender arm around you and firmly grabs ahold of your ass, as if you would run away. Satoru takes over the kiss a little more, but as you’re still trying to be in control you stick your hand inside his underwear, rubbing your thumb against his slit.

You break the kiss so he can lower the underwear, before spiting on your hand to lube his shaft as your soft hand runs up and down. He shudders and rolls his eyes back, putting both of his hands behind his head, showing off his sculpted physique completed by the tufts of white hair on his armpits.

You try your best to talk dirty to your lover, being shy in bed like usual is not going to work if you want to make him cum more than 3 times.

“Such a pretty cock belonging to my pretty man”

Satoru knows he’s in for a wild ride when you start to talk seductively. It doesn’t happen often because while you’re vocal in bed… it doesn’t usually include words or full sentences. 😉

You keep eye contact with your lover while you rub your thumb in circles against his sensitive spot, on the back side of the shaft where it meets the head. He lets out a mixture of a whimper and moan while closing his eyes. You add the dripping precum to the tip of his cock will you rub him up and down just like he had shown you previously. He likes when you start towards the middle and rotate up and down, not too fast and not too slow, but not too much pressure and not too light of a touch. He openly told you before that you weren’t very good with the whole handjob concept even though you’re basically professional at everything else, and so he went into great detail, and now you can really make the man quiver.

You sit up, moving so you can use both hands, because his balls look just a little too neglected. You straddle his left leg, allowing him to feel your bare soaking pussy against him. He grunts at the new feelings, getting to be too much for him to handle.

“Baby please make me cum,” he whines as you start to grind yourself on his leg, matching the rhythm that you’re stroking his length. Your other hand gently caresses his full sack, you know he will be cumming so much tonight and you cannot wait.

“Satoru, baby, please? Cum for me?” You let out a small moan as he rubs his leg against you for some extra friction, which simply sends him over the edge. Looking into your big sweetly innocent eyes he shoots his seed all over his abs. Neither of you even look at his cock when he cums, too mesmerized by the lust contained within the eye contact.

Finally, you let go of his penis as he catches his breath with his eyes closed. You want to give him some time to recover but not too much, because it will mess up the variable data!

“My sweet, are you ready for more?” You ask innocently already devising a plan for what you’ll do to him next.

“Whatever you want princess,” he breathes out finally opening his eyes when he has caught his breath.

You try to remain confident as you shift your weight off of his leg and swing your body around.

“Can I sit on your face please baby?” You ask again sounding way too innocent for the words coming out of your mouth. Satoru lets out a moan at the unexpected question, his cock growing hard again.

“Please, fuck yes, please let me make you feel good,” Satoru begs, grabbing your legs to help you get adjusted.

“No baby, I want to face the other way.”

“Oh,” Satoru breathes out, knowing what is coming next.

You get adjusted, your warm soaking cunt hovering over your husbands mouth, thinking about how long it has been since you’ve done this position, surely it won’t take him long to reach peak number 2.

Satoru wastes no time diving in like a starved man. That is the thing about your husband, is he loves pleasuring you almost more than he likes being pleasured himself. Seeing and hearing and feeling you feel good drives him crazy, being the reason he loves sixty-nine so much.

Pulling out all the stops tonight you lean down, licking a strip down Satoru’s abdomen, the exact line where all of his previous cum was. You lick from the bottom of his pecs down the whole way until you reach the base of his dick, proceeding to lick a stripe up and wrap your lips around his tip.

“Oh my fucking god baby that was the hottest thing ever”

Now he really starts eating you out with a passion, tongue circling your clit before plunging in your hole. You attempt to match the bobbing of your mouth on his cock but he simply goes too fast. You come off his cock to let out a guttural moan of his name, which only eggs him on further.

“I’m - I’m not going to last long - ahhha - if you keep that up S’toruuu”

“Mhmmm,” he hums against your clit, knowing how good the vibrations feel for you.

You close your eyes before going back down on his cock, feeling him twitch as you messily tongue his tip.

“-m sensitive hmm” a muffled Satoru says but you don’t care. Using your previously covered in cum hand, you run up and down his shaft while moving down to suck on his balls. This sends toe curling electricity through his body, and he reaches his arm around your thigh so he can access your tight hole with his thumb. Sucking and licking while you feel his thick thumb being sucked into you. Being as turned on as you were, a first orgasm is almost instantly ripped from you, catching both of you off guard but you moan against Satoru’s balls. The combination of feeling you convulse against his thumb plus the sensitive state of his dick in your hand sends Satoru over the edge, but he at least gets to give you a warning.

“Cummin for ya again baby please take it all,” he says barely coherent being so overtaken by pleasure. You attach your lips back to his tip and finish sucking him off until you feel cum stop coming out. You try to get off of him as gracefully as you can, moving to lay down for a minute to give you both some air. You look at the lower half of his face as he licks his lips, and you hold out your tongue showing him you swallowed all of it.

“Cmere pretty girl,” he murmurs, wrapping his right arm around your shoulders and pulling your sweaty bodies close.

“Don’t get too comfortable my baby were only half done, at least,” you smile up at him and watch as he realizes you really weren’t kidding earlier.

Once you’ve recovered from your orgasm, you crawl back on top of Satoru, but this time straddling his pelvis, his semi-hard cock under you. He still looks a little out of breath, but you’re going to do all the work so he doesn’t need to worry right?

You grind your soft wet folds against his growing erection, “can I have it in my sweet pussy this time baby?” You ask doing your best to give him puppy eyes. His eyes roll to the back of his head, humping his hips up a little to give more friction.

“You can have anything you want Princess, you’re being such a vocal good girl t’night,” he sounds out of breath, whiney, and desperate as he watches you reach your hand down to line him up with you. You smile as you playfully rub his tip on your clit.

His hands cover his face, “please. Please stop teasing me, please baby,”

Without further notice you slip him inside, slippery from the previous orgasm Satoru ripped from you.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he whispers before a porn like moan courses through him, “y/n I’m so sensitive, I don’t think I can do it!”

You slowly ride and grind up and down his shaft, one hand on his chest to support you, the other rubbing at your clit. “Please, daddy… for me?” You emphasize that word, knowing being called that drives your husband crazy.

Satoru’s large skinny hands find the squishy sides of your hips and he squeezes hard. Not that he meant to, but there will definitely be 10 small oval bruises on your ass and hips tomorrow.

“Say it again…” he moans.

“Say what again?” You smile innocently, batting your eyelashes. With that he lifts one hand off your hip and lashes out a spank on your ass check, making your tight hole clench down on him more.

“You know what I meant.” God, something just slightly feral comes out of Gojo when you play so innocent but also act so seductive for him, especially when he hears that word from your lips.

“Daddy, I need two more orgasms from you, please?” You whine as you find a particularly good spot that his cock is rubbing inside you. It’s like your words revived Satoru’s stamina, firmly grabbing your hips again before helping you lift off and on him at almost inhuman speed. Each thrust goes so deep in you, you think you feel it in your stomach. A few more hard thrusts and he is pulling you off of him, and pushing you straight back so your back is on the bed now. He hovers above you, reclaiming his dominance, before pushing back into you with both legs dangling off his shoulders. You know he is holding out as long as he can, but he’s going to want you to cum first so he can feel you clench around his cock and push him over the edge. He leans down kissing your lips, forehead, and cheek before whispering seductively, “such a good girlll,” while emphasizing the last two words with two particularly rough thrusts. He continues his praises inbetween licks and sucks on your neck

“You looked so pretty on top princess but I just had to have my way with you,” before he leans down to suck which will surely leave a hickey. When he comes back up for air he breathlessly groans,

“And you just taste so good and your throat knows my cock so well!” You think he may be slightly going insane and wonder if orgasm numbers 3 and 4 are necessary. Moaning with him, he knows you love his dirty talk because he can feel you squeeze his cock without trying.

Satoru fucks into you with relentless speed, causing your chest to bounce up and down, and all you can do is grip onto his shoulders and let your toes curl from pleasure.

“Mmm, daddy, g’na cum for you,” you barely breathe out, getting closer to the edge as your back arches off the bed. At this he puts your legs together and pushes them back towards you, knowing exactly how to hit your favorite spot in this position.

“Come on princess, cum for daddy, that’s it,” he groans, temporarily forgetting about his overstimulated cock while being so focused on your eyes rolled back and mouth hanging open in pleasure. Just a few more thrusts and he has you squeezing his dick so tight, he knows he won’t last much longer. Your orgasm hits you, not even able to control the beautiful sounds coming out of your mouth, face red, tears threatening to spill from pure bliss. Satoru slowed his pace to let you finish your orgasm before pounding into you harder than before

“Sa-tor-u” his name comes out of your mouth broken up not being able to catch your breath.

“I-I’m gonna - toru!” Being fucking into overstimulation has made you squirt all over Satoru’s cock and lower abdomen, which puts him over the edge, two more hard thrusts before he pauses, spilling his third load of the evening into your throbbing cunt.

His breathing heavy, sweat making his usually fluffy white hair stick to his forehead and his whole body seems to be glowing from the shine of sweat covering him. God you feel so bad for him but also do you really? As he’s said before “your pussy is heaven” so like it’s not really bad that you’re giving it to him…

“Let’s get you in the shower hun,” you whisper next to his ear, having plans for how you can get at least one more orgasm out of him. Still huffing, he gets up and his glorious skinny body looks so beautiful you feel yourself getting horny again. At least you weren’t as tired as your husband!

You set out 3 fluffy clean towels from the linen closet and turn the shower on a good temperature. Satoru has his arms wrapped around you from behind as you both wait for the water to warm up. “I love you,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“Love you too, Toru” you smile up at him, turning around in his grasp. You kiss him sensually slowly at first, on your tippy toes gently rubbing your fingers along his cheek and neck. You deepen the kiss, knowing exactly how your husband loves it. He reaches down, each hand grabbing each ass cheek and squeezing before giving you a light spank, causing you to giggle.

“Naughty girl, still haven’t had enough?” He asks down to you. Without responding you gently wrap your had around him and pull him into your beautiful giant shower. The water is perfectly hot , making your eyes roll back in relaxation. You pull Satoru under the water taking care of him first. He turns into your big baby, leaning down to let you shampoo his hair and wash his body. When you get to clean his pelvis area you gently lather his soft penis with soap. He whimpers just from you touching it, but you have to clean it! Next you fondle his balls, massaging the soap in. His erection slowly starts to grow again and you know orgasm number 4 won’t be too far away.

“My turn,” you say looking up at him and turning around so you ass rubs up against his hardening member.

Satoru pumps a generous amount of your fancy smelling body wash onto your pink loofa, his frontside still pressed up against your backside. His long arms maneuver around your smaller frame, using all his energy to make sure he washes you in every hard to reach spot, only detaching himself when he had to wash your back and ass. He ignores the boner that impossibly came back after cumming 3 times already, and thought you didn’t notice.

He opts to hang the loofa back up and uses his hands to sensually rub the soap in, starting with your tits, although they needed no extra attention. Your nipples have always been sensitive in the best way, so when he starts rubbing them you can’t help but feel your core heat up again.

“Spread your legs hun,” he whispers, barely able to hear it over the running water. You do as satoru tells you, and he runs his hands down from your chest to your folds, making sure the area is soapy and clean. Your eyes close, leaning your head back against his chest while he massages your slightly tender pussy.

You take this opportunity to reach behind you, grabbing your husbands hardened shaft, and lining it up with your slick cunt.

“Baby…” he groans, voice laced with concern.

“Shhh, it’s okay I’m going to take care of you,” you answer back and with that, push yourself back onto his cock. You both moan in unison at the connection, like a melody between the differences in your voices. You can tell Satoru is tired by his rather lazy thrusts, so you hold onto the shower wall in front of you, fucking yourself back onto him. He is back there whining and groaning uncontrollably, being such a trooper for letting you do this experiment on him.

He puts his hand over yours on the wall, while snaking his other around your waist and under you to rub at your swollen clit. Immediately when he touches it you gasp, not realizing just how sensitive it was from this evening’s fun.

“-hmygod, don’t squeeze me like that,” Satoru whimpers, you turn your head to the side to see his eyes squeezed shut, a blush covering his whole face and chest, and his abs flexing over and over.

Seeing your hot husband so worked up is just the ammunition you needed to finish this last round. You ask him to sit on the little stone bench you have in the shower, which the two of you don’t utilize enough. He sits and you turn around, reverse cowgirl, and bounce up and down with as much energy as you can.

You didn’t even realize how loud your own moans had gotten, his hands on your waist, with yours resting on his knees.

“Please Satoru, let go for me, cum for me please,” you babble and moan with your head empty. Satoru is completely pussy drunk and fucked out in a way you’ve never seen him before.

“Love you ‘Toru,” you moan out as you reach your last peak and the combination of words and friction send him over the edge. He nearly convulses, gripping your hips to the point it actually kind of hurts. No moans, whimpers, or grunts can even come out of his mouth at this point, his jaw is just slack and eyes pressed shut.

You still on his lap, he leans forward and presses his head against your shoulder, and you think you may have made him pass out.

“Babe, cmn, let’s get you out of the shower.” You stand up turning around to see your husband in all his glory, looking half dead on the shower bench with his cock softened and red. You give him and yourself one more rinse over to get the last rounds residue off and turn the water off. You help Satoru stand, although nearly a head above your height, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and lets you guide him out. You wrap his fluffy extra large towel around him and he slowly grabs the edges, just standing there letting water drip off and making no attempt to dry himself. You wrap your hair in a towel, and quickly dry your body off, tired yes, but not nearly as worn out as your husband.

You look over to him, head thrown back, holding onto the towel. You decide to pamper him for the rest of the evening, drying him off, putting his usual hair product in for him, helping him put on a clean pair of boxer briefs and crawl into bed. It’s not even 8 pm and the sun is just starting to set, you giggle but he hasn’t eaten dinner since being home from work. For christs sake he hasn’t had dessert either. He rolls onto his side scrolling through his phone as you get yourself dressed and brush through your hair.

You kiss his forehead and he tiredly smiles up at you. “Thank you babe,” you whisper, “you helped me prove that article wrong.”

His eyes roll jokingly, “well thanks to your damn article I don’t think my dick is going to work for a few days, so who’s loss is it really?”

You ignore his question, “do you want takeout babe? Are you hungry?”

“Can I just have ice cream..?” He squints up at you like a kid asking their parent to have dessert without finishing their vegetables.

“I guess..” it’s your turn to roll your eyes at him, “stay here I know how you like it.” That brings a smile to his face, snuggling into your cozy bed.

You leave the room to head to the kitchen and Satoru goes back on his phone. He googles the doctors name from the article that he noted to himself earlier and finds the email address.

Dear Doctor Yeager,

Please note that my partner and I experimented after reading your article, and I would like to inform you I am an outlier, and finished four times before nearly passing out. If you would like to do any tests on me please let me know.

- world famous Satoru Gojo

he pushes the send button as you walk back in with his ice cream.

[sneezypeasy]

Why I Deliberately Avoided the "Colonizer" Argument in my Zutara Thesis - and Why I'll Continue to Avoid it Forever

This is a question that occasionally comes up under my Zutara video essay, because somehow in 2 hours worth of content I still didn't manage to address everything (lol.) But this argument specifically is one I made a point of avoiding entirely, and there are some slightly complicated reasons behind that. I figure I'll write them all out here.

From a surface-level perspective, Zuko's whole arc, his raison d'etre, is to be a de-colonizer. Zuko's redemption arc is kinda all about being a de-colonizer, and his redemption arc is probably like the most talked about plot point of ATLA, so from a basic media literacy standpoint, the whole argument is unsound in the first place, and on that basis alone I find it childish to even entertain as an argument worth engaging with, to be honest.

(At least one person in my comments pointed out that if any ship's "political implications" are problematic in some way, it really ought to be Maiko, as Mai herself is never shown or suggested to be a strong candidate for being a de-colonizing co-ruler alongside Zuko. If anything her attitudes towards lording over servants/underlings would make her… a less than suitable choice for this role, but I digress.)

But the reason I avoided rebutting this particular argument in my video goes deeper than that. From what I've observed of fandom discourse, I find that the colonizer argument is usually an attempt to smear the ship as "problematic" - i.e., this ship is an immoral dynamic, which would make it problematic to depict as canon (and by extension, if you ship it regardless, you're probably problematic yourself.)

And here is where I end up taking a stand that differentiates me from the more authoritarian sectors of fandom.

I'm not here to be the fandom morality police. When it comes to lit crit, I'm really just here to talk about good vs. bad writing. (And when I say "good", I mean structurally sound, thematically cohesive, etc; works that are well-written - I don't mean works that are morally virtuous. More on this in a minute.) So the whole colonizer angle isn't something I'm interested in discussing, for the same reason that I actually avoided discussing Katara "mothering" Aang or the "problematic" aspects of the Kataang ship (such as how he kissed her twice without her consent). My whole entire sections on "Kataang bad" or "Maiko bad" in my 2 hour video was specifically, "how are they written in a way that did a disservice to the story", and "how making them false leads would have created valuable meaning". I deliberately avoided making an argument that consisted purely of, "here's how Kataang/Maiko toxic and Zutara wholesome, hence Zutara superiority, the end".

Why am I not willing to be the fandom morality police? Two reasons:

I don't really have a refined take on these subjects anyway. Unless a piece of literature or art happens to touch on a particular issue that resonates with me personally, the moral value of art is something that doesn't usually spark my interest, so I rarely have much to say on it to begin with. On the whole "colonizer ship" subject specifically, other people who have more passion and knowledge than me on the topic can (and have) put their arguments into words far better than I ever could. I'm more than happy to defer to their take(s), because honestly, they can do these subjects justice in a way I can't. Passing the mic over to someone else is the most responsible thing I can do here, lol. But more importantly:

I reject the conflation of literary merit with moral virtue. It is my opinion that a good story well-told is not always, and does not have to be, a story free from moral vices/questionable themes. In my opinion, there are good problematic stories and bad "pure" stories and literally everything in between. To go one step further, I believe that there are ways that a romance can come off "icky", and then there are ways that it might actually be bad for the story, and meming/shitposting aside, the fact that these two things don't always neatly align is not only a truth I recognise about art but also one of those truths that makes art incredibly interesting to me! So on the one hand, I don't think it is either fair or accurate to conflate literary "goodness" with moral "goodness". On a more serious note, I not only find this type of conflation unfair/inaccurate, I also find it potentially dangerous - and this is why I am really critical of this mindset beyond just disagreeing with it factually. What I see is that people who espouse this rhetoric tend to encourage (or even personally engage in) wilful blindness one way or the other, because ultimately, viewing art through these lens ends up boxing all art into either "morally permissible" or "morally impermissible" categories, and shames anyone enjoying art in the "morally impermissible" box. Unfortunately, I see a lot of people responding to this by A) making excuses for art that they guiltily love despite its problematic elements and/or B) denying the value of any art that they are unable to defend as free from moral wickedness.

Now, I'm not saying that media shouldn't be critiqued on its moral virtue. I actually think morally critiquing art has its place, and assuming it's being done in good faith, it absolutely should be done, and probably even more often than it is now.

Because here's the truth: Sometimes, a story can be really good. Sometimes, you can have a genuinely amazing story with well developed characters and powerful themes that resonate deeply with anyone who reads it. Sometimes, a story can be all of these things - and still be problematic.*

(Or, sometimes a story can be all of those things, and still be written by a problematic author.)

That's why I say, when people conflate moral art with good art, they become blind to the possibility that the art they like being potentially immoral (or vice versa). If only "bad art" is immoral, how can the art that tells the story hitting all the right beats and with perfect rhythm and emotional depth, be ever problematic?

(And how can the art I love, be ever problematic?)

This is why I reject the idea that literary merit = moral virtue (or vice versa) - because I do care about holding art accountable. Even the art that is "good art". Actually, especially the art that is "good art". Especially the art that is well loved and respected and appreciated. The failure to distinguish literary critique from moral critique bothers me on a personal level because I think that conflating the two results in the detriment of both - the latter being the most concerning to me, actually.

So while I respect the inherent value of moral criticism, I'm really not a fan of any argument that presents moral criticism as equivalent to literary criticism, and I will call that out when I see it. And from what I've observed, a lot of the "but Zutara is a colonizer ship" tries to do exactly that, which is why I find it a dishonest and frankly harmful media analysis framework to begin with.

But even when it is done in good faith, moral criticism of art is also just something I personally am neither interested nor good at talking about, and I prefer to talk about the things that I am interested and good at talking about.

(And some people are genuinely good at tackling the moral side of things! I mean, I for one really enjoyed Lindsay Ellis's take on Rent contextualising it within the broader political landscape at the time to show how it's not the progressive queer story it might otherwise appear to be. Moral critique has value, and has its place, and there are definitely circumstances where it can lead to societal progress. Just because I'm not personally interested in addressing it doesn't mean nobody else can do it let alone that nobody else should do it, but also, just because it can and should be done, doesn't mean that it's the only "one true way" to approach lit crit by anyone ever. You know, sometimes... two things… can be true… at once?)

Anyway, if anyone reading this far has recognised that this is basically a variant of the proship vs. antiship debate, you're right, it is. And on that note, I'm just going to leave some links here. I've said about as much as I'm willing/able to say on this subject, but in case anyone is interested in delving deeper into the philosophy behind my convictions, including why I believe leftist authoritarian rhetoric is harmful, and why the whole "but it would be problematic in real life" is an anti-ship argument that doesn't always hold up to scrutiny, I highly recommend these posts/threads:

In general this blog is pretty solid; I agree with almost all of their takes - though they focus more specifically on fanfic/fanart than mainstream media, and I think quite a lot of their arguments are at least somewhat appropriate to extrapolate to mainstream media as well.

I also strongly recommend Bob Altemeyer's book "The Authoritarians" which the author, a verified giga chad, actually made free to download as a pdf, here. His work focuses primarily on right-wing authoritarians, but a lot of his research and conclusions are, you guessed it, applicable to left-wing authoritarians also.

And if you're an anti yourself, welp, you won't find support from me here. This is not an anti-ship safe space, sorrynotsorry 👆

In conclusion, honestly any "but Zutara is problematic" argument is one I'm likely to consider unsound to begin with, let alone the "Zutara is a colonizer ship" argument - but even if it wasn't, it's not something I'm interested in discussing, even if I recognise there are contexts where these discussions have value. I resent the idea that just because I have refined opinions on one aspect of a discussion means I must have (and be willing to preach) refined opinions on all aspects of said discussion. (I don't mean to sound reproachful here - actually the vast majority of the comments I get on my video/tumblr are really sweet and respectful, but I do get a handful of silly comments here and there and I'm at the point where I do feel like this is something worth saying.) Anyway, I'm quite happy to defer to other analysts who have the passion and knowledge to give complicated topics the justice they deserve. All I request is that care is taken not to conflate literary criticism with moral criticism to the detriment of both - and I think it's important to acknowledge when that is indeed happening. And respectfully, don't expect me to give my own take on the matter when other people are already willing and able to put their thoughts into words so much better than me. Peace ✌

*P.S. This works for real life too, by the way. There are people out there who are genuinely not only charming and likeable, but also generous, charitable and warm to the vast majority of the people they know. They may also be amazing at their work, and if they have a job that involves saving lives like firefighting or surgery or w.e, they may even be the reason dozens of people are still alive today. They may honestly do a lot of things you'd have to concede are "good" deeds.

They may be all of these things, and still be someone's abuser. 🙃

Two things can be true at once. It's important never to forget that.

[kyberblade]

Just Need You (Din x Reader)

A/N: Okay. This turned into waaayyyyyy more than I expected but once it started it just kept coming, and I…. I kinda love it? Like for real? These two are a mess and I’m kind of obsessed with them. (Also, thank you, Anon, for being my first Mando request and for sending a request at all! You made me happy dance, you have no idea.)

Anon asked: “Hey babes, can you do a Mando x reader where the reader is a bounty hunter and leaves the ship to complete a mission and is only supposed to be gone a few hours but they’re gone all night and Din starts to panic and the next morning they show up slightly injured sand Din completely loses it and he was so scared then feels guilty? (fluff and ANGST) (sorry this is long!)”

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Space swearing. Arguing? Mentions of injury, brief mention of blood, stitches. Mando’a.

Word count: 4,014 (I’m this person now, okay?)

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex​, @grippingbeskar​, and @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis​ for reading this over for me and letting me know I’m not crazy.

Masterlist

Xxx

“It’ll only be a few hours,” you grumbled, shoving another blaster in your belt from the weapons locker.

“Do you know anything about this planet?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a vibroblade to tuck into your boot. “I know it’s hot.” Reaching for a thermal detonator, a gloved hand came out to grab your wrist, stopping you just short, your fingers barely scraping along its surface. With a sigh you turned your head to your left to find the Mandalorian’s helmet inches from your face.

“I’m serious,” he said in a low voice, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly.

“So am I,” you whispered. “Mando, I’m fine. I’ve done this a few times.” He scoffed at your sarcastic remark, making you smirk. When he released your wrist, you grabbed the detonator, fixing it to the back of your belt. “Besides, like I said, this’ll be easy. In and out. This guy’s not particularly dangerous, just a bail jumper. Probably won’t even get a scratch.”

He grunted. “And when you come back limping, what do I get? Hmmm?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leveling a flat glare on him. “That’s just rude.”

“What?” He asked innocently, holding his hands out to the sides. “I’m not saying he would hurt you. I’m saying you’re known to…. Trip. A lot.”

After a loaded moment where you two just stared in silence, the only sound the child ambling down the ladder from the cockpit, you turned to the ramp, grumbling, “I’m going now.”

Pulling the lever to release the ramp, you stood at the top as it lowered, feeling the wall of beskar hovering closer and closer behind you until finally the modulated voice taunted by your ear, “Good luck.”

A wave of hot air rolled up into the Crest, making Grogu scrunch his face and babble as he tried to scale his guardian's armor.

Din bent down and scooped up the child, cradling him in his arms and shaking his head as the little green ward squinted at the bright sunlight pouring in the now open hull. Bringing his visor back up to meet your gaze as you made last minute adjustments to your belt, he tilted his head to the side just slightly before he added, “You’re gonna need it.”

With a roll of your head to face back toward the unforgiving landscape, you began down the ramp, disappearing in the glare of the sun beating down on the barren tundra.

Tugging the lever to close the ship back up, the Mandalorian turned to the child in his arms as he cooed softly. Letting out a sigh, his shoulders rolling forward slightly as he still held on to the lever with one hand, he let his head fall forward toward the kid. “I know. I know, I miss her already too, little guy. But don’t worry. She’s gonna be okay.” Bringing the hand down from the lever to rest comfortingly on the child’s front, Din patted it distractedly. “And she’ll be right back.”

Xxx

A few hours had come and passed while Din worked on a handful of odd repairs around the ship. He was currently under the control panel in the cockpit, laying on his back as he fiddled with the wiring under the console. 

Grogu was playing with his ball in the copilot's chair, chittering happily about something or other. 

Looking down toward the child, Din sighed, pulling Grogu’s attention to him. “Don’t worry. She’s just running a little late. That’s all.”

The kid tilted his head as he hummed questioningly at the Mandalorian. “She’s just a little late,” Din repeated, a bit more forcefully. “That’s all.” Looking back up at the mess of wiring overhead, he stared at it absently, his voice quiet. “Don’t worry.”

Xxx

More time had passed, it was the middle of the night, and Din began to pace. There wasn’t anything left on the ship to fix to occupy his time. Well, there was, but it would take hours, and you’d be back soon, probably needing to take off as soon as possible, so he didn’t want to get tied up in that.

The kid blinked blearily from a nearby crate, watching his protector pace back and forth as he ate from a ration pack. He paused his snacking, offering a warm, “Patu!” when the Mandalorian stopped for a moment. Grogu grinned when the shiny visor turned toward him soundlessly, beginning to babble aimlessly as he reached back into the ration pack to pull out a piece to offer to his friend, extending it as far as his little arms could go.

“Thanks, kid,” Din mumbled, taking the dried whatever it was and lifting his helmet just enough to take a small bite. He hummed in satisfaction once the modulator was back in place, the child grinning like he’d solved a dire problem for a world at war.

And in a way, Din guessed he had. It offered him peace, if only for a moment. His mind found rest, some silence for a beat, long enough to get some perspective, long enough to take a breath, and tamp down the worry niggling away at him under his armor. 

It was an unfamiliar feeling to him, worry. Something he’d not really experienced until the child, and something he didn’t altogether quite understand. He’d been in worrying situations before, but this was different. It was removed from him. It was for something outside of himself, his control, and it drove him crazy. 

You drove him crazy. 

Absolutely insane.

….and he loved it.

With you gone, something was missing. Some part of him, some piece that made up the rest of him was lost, and it was like he couldn’t settle, couldn’t find any semblance of peace until you were…. Home.

He didn’t know when or how the Crest had become home, much less when you had joined that picture, but there it was.

He needed you home.

He needed you back.

He needed you….

Just needed you.

Xxx

The child was asleep in the bunk, sealed away as Din rearranged the weapons locker for probably the seventy fifth time, or something near there, it felt like. The open spots for the weapons you’d taken out yesterday glaringly obvious no matter how he rearranged things.

With another long sigh, he moved to open the ramp, and he watched as a brilliant sunrise peeked through, streaking the reflective surfaces of the Crest in shades of pink and orange.

He’d sighed enough to sail a ship across the seas on Kamino, he thought bitterly. Every huff of air an attempt to release pent up emotions, something longing in his chest, but all it did was fog up the inside of his visor. ….Which made him sigh in frustration, doing it again, and it was a whole cycle.

A figure appeared on the horizon, and his spine straightened, attention on full alert. He hoped it was you, but since it was well past when you’d said, there was no telling at this point.

The outline looked closer much faster than anticipated, and it was then he heard the hum of a speeder engine begin to whir closer. Hand going to rest on his blaster, he drew it slowly, aiming at the rapidly approaching stranger as he pressed a button on the side of his helmet to zoom in with his display.

A fog had rolled in, concealing the features of the person atop the speeder, but something in his chest began to constrict when he thought it looked a lot like you.

As the speeder swooped to a stop in front of the ramp, Din took a cautious step forward, blaster raised and aimed as he switched the safety off. 

The figure astride the vehicle hopped off, stumbling slightly before pushing themselves up using the seat of the bike for leverage, grunting as they went. Taking a few wobbling steps toward the ramp, finally the figure stepped out of the fog enough for Din to see who it was, and his throat was suddenly so dry, he could barely croak out your name.

You huffed out a breathy laugh before grimacing and grabbing your right side with your hand. “I know I’m late, but, kriff, it’s no reason to shoot me, Mando.” Moaning, you slumped with your back against the speeder, head tilted back as you winced. “Actually, go ahead. It might be better than this.” With a hiss through your teeth, you slid to the ground, landing with a plop onto the dusty earth, barely registering the rapid holstering of a blaster, the heavy footfalls of beskar quickly making their way down to you, or his hurried questions over your tight lipped groans as you were lifted from the ground.

“What’s wrong? What happened? No, kid. Get back. Go to your- kid, no.”

Opening your eyes as much as you could muster, you peeked at the kid standing at the top of the ramp, his expression drawn in concern. “I’m fine, tiny. Do what he says.” The last part of the word came out on a strangled hiss as a wave of pain jolted through you, the Mandalorian adjusting his hold under your knees and behind your back with a soft apology. 

“I must be dying. Did Mando just apologize to me?” Reaching out, you ran your hand exaggeratedly over his helmet, patting it down like it held something you’d lost. “Is this real? Am I dreaming? I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?”

“Be quiet, mesh’la,” he rumbled, setting you on the floor of the Crest before pressing a button on his vambrace to close the ramp. 

“No! No wait!” You said as strongly as you could. Reaching out you smashed the buttons on his vambrace until you found the right one, ignoring his protests, halting the ramp's upward movement. “My bag. On the speeder. The quarry…. What’s left of him….” You relaxed back onto the floor, closing your eyes.

Din shook your shoulders, making you sit up abruptly, wincing before you turned to him. “What does mesh’la mean?”

Din hesitated only a moment. “The quarry?”

You pointed at the speeder, your eyes shutting tight in pain. “He grabbed the thermal detonator. Idiot. All that I could find left of him is in that bag. I’m never using those again. The clean up isn’t worth the credits.” Turning back up to his visor with knit eyebrows, you peeked up at him. “Can we put him on ice?” You shuddered. “I don’t want to look at that bag ever again.”

Nodding, Din ran over and jumped off the ramp, grabbing your stuff off the speeder, and freezing the bag in carbonite as the ramp sealed shut behind him. You carelessly tossed your weapons to the side, mumbling about feeling heavy, so heavy….

When Din turned back from the chamber, you were slumped back against some crates, jaw hanging open limply. As he took a cautious step toward you, he realized your chest was barely moving with your shallow breaths. 

Yelling your name with no response, Din closed the last few feet left between you in seconds, sliding the last foot or so on his knees, numb to anything besides the pain in his chest at the thought of you leaving him. Not like this. 

Not today. 

No. 

“Kid!” He said determinedly, looking across your body to find Grogu already reaching out, a few inches from you. That’s all that would come out. Tilting his head to the side pleadingly, Din turned his visor back down toward your face, smoothing some hair back away from your eyes. 

Grogu understood. He always did. Putting one clawed hand on your shoulder, he closed his eyes in concentration, his already wrinkled face crinkling further. 

Din watched in amazement as color returned to your face, a dull lifeless mask having settled over it before, your eyes fluttering open as you took a deep breath.

Your eyes darted over to Din before landing on the child, wide in wonder, but you didn’t say anything. 

Reaching out, Din nudged him off of you with a gentle push of his finger. “Thanks, ad’ika.” Grogu blinked up at him in confusion. “I’ll take it from here. You rest.” Turning back to look down at you, he wagged a finger close to your face. “Don’t move.” (“Little one.”)

“Don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” you mumbled, smiling softly when he chuckled.

Getting to his feet with a quiet groan, Din got the med kit before settling back beside you. Peeling your blood soaked shirt up just enough to see the sear from the blaster shot along your side, he apologized quietly before he got to work cleaning and stitching the wound.

“You’re lucky. They just grazed you.”

“I know,” you mumbled, looking up at the ceiling of the Crest as he worked on the side of your abdomen, wincing every now and then. “Thank you. For not saying anything. I know, you warned me, I just….”

“You just….” He repeated your words back at you questioningly when you never attempted to finish the statement.

Blinking up at him a few times, you changed the subject. “You never told me what mesh’la means.”

Din just went back to sewing you up carefully, his head tilted to the side at an odd angle to see properly. Silence settled between you, and you’d accepted that’s how it would be - this was normal for him, after all - until he spoke so quietly you almost missed it.

“Beautiful.”

“Wha-”

“It means beautiful.”

Smiling softly, you winced when he pulled the thread taught. “And adi- ad- the kid? What you called him?” Stumbling over the word, you pointed to the little green face in his hammock for reference.

The Mandalorian chuckled, his voice a little louder now, but only slightly. “Little one.”

Looking at the little one, you smiled, nodding. “It fits. Speaking of,” you turned back to face your reflection in his visor. “What the hell did he do to me?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Din paused in his work for a moment, bringing his gaze up to look at you straight on. “He’s…. Special.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” you snorted, turning back to face the child, finding him peeking over the edge of the hammock, only from his nose up showing, and of course, his ears. Smiling, you tilted your head at him affectionately. “You could open a sideshow. Make some nice credits between quarry’s.”

“You sound like Peli,” Din grumbled. 

“Hey, that woman has wisdom, you should listen to her.” You held up a finger while speaking, sitting up straighter, only to collapse in on yourself as Din tugged the stitches tight with a grunt and began working on them again.

Another silence settled in between you, filling the spaces between breaths with something comfortable and familiar.

“Well, Mando,” you finally decided to break it. “Have you eaten?”

“The…. The child fed me.”

You hesitated. “I…. I’m sorry?”

“Yes,” he said instead, tying off the stitches as he cleared his throat, reaching for a gauze pad to cover them. “And it’s Din.”

You blinked at him, your mind failing to keep up with the last few topics, especially still struggling with the image of the tiny baby feeding the giant beskar warrior. Amusing as it was. “I’m so lost.”

The Mandalorian stayed silent as he used some adhesive to keep the pad on your side, smoothing it down gently with a gloved hand. He fumbled in the kit for something else, but you couldn’t see, your pant leg being tugged by impossibly small green hands drawing your attention away.

The child ambled up into your lap and settled, giggling when you yelped at a sharp pain in your side. Looking down you saw the Mandalorian withdrawing a bacta shot and letting your shirt fall back down to cover it before turning your fury up toward his visor. 

“My name,” he explained simply. “It’s Din.”

“That hurt!” Your face crumpled from anger to nothing. “Wait. What?”

“You heard me,” he said tiredly, but amused, as he collected the used items and the kit, taking them back over to the corner they came from. 

“I did,” you nodded, staring at the floor. “And…. Wait. What?” Looking back over at him, you groaned as you pushed yourself up with the help of some crates at your back. 

Grogu’s hand resting on your cheek instantly relieved some of the pain, pulling your focus down to him. “That will never not be amazing,” you breathed with a smile.

Din rushed over, helping you to sit on top of the boxes you’d just used as leverage.

“Sit,” you demanded, finger pointed at him. 

With a sigh, he obliged, plopping on the crate next to you gracelessly.

“Explain.”

“When I was born, my parents had to give me a moniker-”

“Don’t make me shoot you.”

With the heaviest sigh you’d heard yet, he leaned back against the hull of the Crest. He looked so tired.

When he began speaking, it was the softest voice you’d ever heard him use, and somehow that made you pay more attention than anytime he’d yelled at you in the middle of a firefight.

“When you were gone…. I realized something.”

“….Be more cryptic. Please.” You sassed when he didn’t continue after a long moment, only raising your eyebrows at him when he rolled his visor toward you with as much attitude as you had just voiced. The kid squeaked something as his own contribution, pulling your eyes down to him, and you pointed at him, nodding in agreement before looking back at Man- Din. “Yeah!”

Din couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped as he turned his head back to look across the lower level of the Crest at nothing in particular.

“I don’t know what I would do…. If I lost you. If I really lost you.” He looked down at his hands as he fiddled with the ends of his gloves needlessly. “I’ve…. I’ve only ever felt that way about the kid, and- and I honestly don’t know what to do with this.” He looked at you again, and somehow this time you could feel his eyes on you, not just the weight of his visor. “Don’t know how.”

Holding his gaze in silence, you let his words sink in. It’s a lot to process. In reality, it’s not much, but emotionally, you need a minute. Everything you thought you knew about this man has just been turned on its head, and you just…. Need a minute. 

When you didn’t say anything, Din nodded silently, going to rise from the crate when you reached out to stop him, hand resting over his. Opening your mouth, you stared at your reflection in his visor, then turned your face to look at the floor as if it held the words you needed.

From the corner of your eye you saw Din’s shoulders deflate, roll forward in defeat, but you put a stop to that with a squeeze of his hand in yours. Weaseling your fingers into his clenched fist to open it, you threaded them with his, holding tight while you searched for the words, using the grip as an anchor while you took a leap.

“Din,” you tried, smiling at the way it felt rolling off your tongue, enjoying the way he squeezed your hand at the sound, and his breath stuttered through the modulator.

“Din,” you said more confidently, unable to shake the smile as you go on. “There is nothing I can think of that would make me happier in the entire galaxy than anything you just told me.” Pulling your eyes up toward his visor, you looked at him through your lashes, face still down towards the floor. “When I’m here, on this piece of shit ship-”

“Watch it,” Din mumbled good-naturedly.

“-I have never felt safer or more at home anywhere in my life.” Lifting your face up to him in some insane wave of courage, you squeezed his hand again. “And whether that’s as your friend, or…. Whatever,” you tucked your face into your chest for a moment to hide the smile that’s not going anywhere. “I’m just honored to get to be a part of…. This.” You gestured around the ship then between the two of you and a sleeping Grogu in your arms with your joined hands before resting them back on his knee softly. “Din,” you mumbled around another grin, unable to shake the renewed pull of your lips no matter how you tried. “I’m honored to know you.”

After staring at one another for a long moment, Din finally shook his head in amusement, gently tugging you closer by your joined hands. “Well that’s all nice, but…. I was thinking of something a little more…. Personal.”

“Oh, thank the Force,” you said in relief, letting your eyes flutter shut as he rested his forehead against yours. “Ner cyare.” (“My beloved.”)

Din pulled away slightly, tilting his head at you in question. 

You just kept grinning. “Elek, Ni jorhaa'i Mando'a.” (“Yes, I speak Mando'a.”)

Shaking his head at you, he began to chuckle. “Mir'sheb,” he mumbled. “Then why ask me all about what I said?” (“Smartass.”)

“I just wanted to see if you would tell me. You’re always so secretive.” You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Plus, it also seemed kind of important to you, so I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Din tilted his head to the side as he stared at you, shaking it in disbelief and amusement. “Well, way to go with that.”

The smile wasn’t going anywhere, and you didn’t mind. “I also know Huttese, Jawaese, and- oh, what else? What would you like to hear, I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

Tilting his beskar back against your soft skin, he watched as your lashes fluttered to look up at him. Despite being so close, and not truly being able to see him through the visor, he felt like you really could. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to hide from that feeling. 

“I just want to hear about your hunt while we get off this hellhole,” he mumbled, standing and lifting the child from your arms. Tucking him into his hammock before sealing him in, he turned back to find you standing at the ladder to the cockpit, looking at it like it’d wronged you. “What’s wrong?”

Looking up into his visor, you pouted. “I don’t think I can get up there with these stitches pulling against me the whole way up.”

“Oh, come on,” he teased, touching his forehead to yours one more time briefly simply because he could now, then turning you to face the ladder and mumbling right into your ear as he crowded in behind you. “You just got shot today, and you’re complaining about stitches?”

“I’m not complaining, it’s a genuine concern,” you mumbled, fighting another grin trying to tug up the corners of your lips.

“Well, don’t be concerned,” he lilted, taking a step closer and making you begin up the ladder with nowhere left to go but up. “I’m right behind you, the whole way. I won’t let you fall.” His voice softened as you began climbing the ladder, and true to his word, he stayed behind you, almost caging you in the whole way. “Don’t worry.”

“I can see that,” you mused, climbing up into the cockpit with a soft smile. “I’m not.”

Din brushed past you, settling into the pilot’s seat, beginning the take off sequence. “Now. Tell me about this quarry.”

You sighed, plopping into the copilot seat with a roll of your eyes. “Oh, you would not believe the chaos that started from the moment- the moment-” you held up your finger, pausing for emphasis as you closed your eyes for dramatic effect, “I was off this ship.”

Din spun in his seat to face you as the ship began to lift off, his voice smug. “Try me.”

Xxx

My everything taglist: @lam-ila​, @oliviajdjarin​, @peonyophelia​, @Itsavicf, @jxvipike​, @momc95​ What’s this?

[gabessquishytum]

Mermaid!Dream has been watching this human for a while now. He lives in a small house by the sea and takes walks along the shore almost daily and he's the handsomest human Dream has ever seen. So Dream finally decides that he's going to court his human.

He finds the prettiest rock he can. It's perfectly smooth, a swirl of different shades of pink with tinges of purple, and fits nicely in his palm. It's perfect and he's sure it will make the human fall in love with him.

So he goes back to the surface and waits for the human to walk by. Once he sees his human he realizes he doesn't know how to give him the rock. Dream usually lingers a small distance from the shoreline around some rocks where the water is still deep enough for him to swim, but it's a little far from his human. So, he just kinda. Throws it. At Hob.

Unfortunately Dream's aim is a little too good and it hits Hob square in the head and knocks him out. Dream panics, thinking he's maybe just killed his beautiful human and he rushes as fast as he can out of the ocean and shifts and squirms up the beach until he's leaning over the human and moving his head around gently trying to see if he's okay.

Hob wakes up and his vision's a little blurry and he's a lot confused and his head hurts but inches away from his face is the most gorgeous man he's ever seen and there are hands on either side of his face and the pretty man is saying something, he sounds worried? Hob's not totally sure, his hearing is all weird and muffled, but he's pretty sure he's in heaven and this man is an angel.

Akskdjffhsj Dream accidentally almost killing his crush is so funny, bless him.

Hob is like "Are you an angel?" And Dream is like "no I am a merperson." All deadpan and serious. Hob nearly passes out all over again, but he manages to calm down by gazing into the pretty man's eyes. He's pretty sure that any head injury is worth being able to gaze at this beautiful creature. And he only gets more enamored when he's well enough to lift his head, and he gets to see Dream’s smooth pale body and incredible iridescent tail.

Dream is now totally embarrassed and he kind of shoves the rock into Hob’s hand, blushing and muttering about courting gifts. Hob lights up and admires the rock, turning it and holding it up to the light, even though moving around makes his head hurt. He's so amazed that someone as beautiful as Dream would want to court him and give him a gift!

Dream has to get back to the water, and Hob needs to go lie down, but they agree to meet the next day. Hob spends the time bandaging his head and desperately trying to think of a gift that's good enough for Dream. He wants to court Dream and woo him, but what kind of gift would a merperson like to receive?

Hob ends up gathering a bouquet of wild flowers and seaweed from around the sand dunes and the beach. Hopefully Dream will like it! And of course, he does. He's not quite sure if he's meant to eat it (luckily he's doesn't) but he's absolutely thrilled that Hob got him a gift! Even after Dream accidently nearly killed him!

They share their first kiss at the edge of the water, as the sun sets over the sea. Hob’s vision may still be a little fuzzy, but he already knows - Dream is the most beautiful creature in the world!

[nocturnowlette]

The Dragon

The dragon walks up behind me. I'm in a nondescript white room. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all the same material: something ethereal, almost seeming to glow but only when I'm not directly looking. The light emanating from seemingly nowhere seems to infinitely reflect off every surface, making it sometimes hard to tell if the walls are even there, or how big this space really is. Though I haven't turned around, I know it's the dragon. I've seen him before, but I forget where. More importantly, I've felt him before. It feels like it's something I've always known, some part of my DNA, maybe my entire lineage. This dragon's presence is known more to my instincts than my mind. His name is - translated to something I can understand - is Sunny. Though, honestly, I don't think there is a name that can accurately represent a creature like this. He's right behind me now.

I haven't turned around, in a way it doesn't feel necessary. I've known his ears, half cones tapering off to a point at the back. I know his horns, between the two ears, bowed outwards and bending in 90 degree angles. They rise until they're just above the ear, tilting gently forward just past the ears before sharply bending straight backwards, then bending one more time downwards, ending in a sharp point. I know his tail, seemingly large and yet ever-changing in its largeness. Dulled fins, equally spaced, line the top; the bottom half, a lighter pink than his short-furred purple everywhere else, runs with slight waves along its surface. They feel like waves frozen in time. I sense waves of something wash over me. Energy? Pressure? Like a dull droning hum without any sound. It's surrounding me.

As he kneels down behind me, the presence seems to double, then triple in intensity; the air feels tough to move through, and so I don't. Cutting through the invisible waves assaulting my mind, thoughts come flooding to me; Where am I? What is this? What's going to happen to me? A sense of danger starts to creep over me, the hair standing on my back, heart rate increasing- The dragon puts his arms over my shoulders, gently, and places his head over his arm on my left. He seems almost impossibly peaceful. A moving statue. The presence seems to have disappeared entirely, giving me room to think. And yet, I'm paralyzed. All I can really do is stare.

The dragon, whose gaze was near immobile and dull moments before, seems to have the shine of the room gently reflect in his eye. He takes a deep breath in, holding for a short moment, before breathing slowly, slowly out. His breath is a light purple. Due to his snout and head position, the breath is missing me entirely: likely a good thing, perhaps he's purposefully avoiding my nose? We sit there for a while. A few minutes, maybe. He breathes in, slowly, holding it for a moment, then out, slower. I find myself starting to sync with his breaths, so steady that it feels like a gentle rhythm. As much as I don't want to admit it, it's giving some comforting solace in the middle of the confusion. That, and the slight smell of lavender.

The contrast of the artificial coldness of the room and the smell of pure nature is dizzying. Or, something is dizzying. I close my eyes, trying to take in fewer senses and get my mind sorted. He starts to purr. Can dragons purr? Apparently, they can. The rumble has a strong feeling to it, like snoring, but I adjust quickly to it. It reminds me of game controllers and earthquakes and dryers. Definitely dryers. It has that slight rumble to it, like something light is tumbling, and the warmth. I'm surrounded by warmth, like a dense blanket.

The arms around my shoulders are like a scarf, the dragon seeming to be ever closer than before. When did he move? Wait, where am I? Why am I thinking about all of this? I open my eyes. The room looks different. I swear, it does. The color is slightly different, but only in the corners of my vision. A light purple? It smells like lavender. I look to my left again, the breath still steadily pumping out. Is there no ventilation? It feels harder to breathe, like the air is dense. I need to breathe in more, but I'm only getting dizzier. I need to find a way out-

"Breathe in, deeply."

I feel my lungs work on their own, taking a breath that feels impossibly large.

"Breathe out, slowly."

My lungs empty as if there was nothing there in the first place.

My brain feels heavy, exhausted.

"I'm sure it does."

What?

"Don't think too hard."

My thoughts are like molasses.

"Isn't that such a nice feeling?"

It's hard to disagree. It's actually very, very hard.

It feels like I've always loved this feeling.

"You have."

I have?

"Yes. You ask a lot of questions for a pet."

I'm a pet?

The dragon chuckles.

"Of course. Why do you think you're here?"

Why am I here?

"To meet me, officially. You've always known me."

I have?

"You have."

I have.

"There we are. Don't you feel lovely?"

I do.

"Isn't that all that matters?"

It is.

"Good pet. Let's go home, now."

Anything you wish.

[notroosterbradshaw]

warm blood

FULL FIC HERE.

The sound that escaped Rooster’s lips as you dragged your nails through his unruly sunkissed curls had you cackling. “Rooster Bradshaw, you need a girlfriend,” you decided.

“I don’t need a girlfriend; I just need to get laid,” he protested, realising how pitiful he sounded and then adding softly, “Please don’t stop. That feels so fuckin’ good. It’s like the most physical contact I’ve had in...” his eyes fluttered closed and took a deep, satisfied pull of his beer. He didn’t want to admit how long it had been since someone had touched him like that.

Continuing to press your fingertips into his scalp, his shoulders dropped, completely melting in your touch. “This must be the longest dry spell you’ve ever had,” you reckoned quietly.

“Feels like it,” he said dismally.

“How long?” you dared ask.

“It’s goin’ with me to the grave, don’t ask stupid questions,” he muttered in reply as you hide your grin with a sip of your beer. He turned back to you and made a face; he’d let pretences lie. “Maybe you’re right, I just need a girlfriend.”

“Rooster, you have no trouble finding someone to fuck… why are you off your game? Why don’t you go drag all the single ladies in with a song or something?” you suggested, hoping to perk him up. He shook his head. Honestly, he didn’t need to sit at the piano to have all eyes on him. At any point of the night, you’d look up and find some poor soul caught staring.

“Naw,” he didn’t feel like the spectacle tonight.

“Want me to wing woman for you?” you offered. “Babe on the other side of the bar. Tall, curvy...” you chewed your own lip.

“You’d do that?” he asked, honestly touched.

“Of course. I can’t deal with you when you’re being a whiny little bitch. If it means you get your cock wet, I’m here for you, pal.”

He laughed quietly as you asked him how you looked. He gave you a once over and frowned. “Beautiful, but are you trying to get laid, or am I?”

"I swore off your kind, any kind, as a New Year’s resolution. I want the year to myself,” you grandstanded, and he chuckled.

“You’ll be begging for sex soon enough,” he straightened, glaring at you out of the side of his hazel eyes and took another long slug of his beer.

“I’ve got toys, I’ve got fingers,” you reminded him, reaching for him with grabby hands as he bit back a grin and leaned away from you.

“You fuckin’ deviant,” he joked. It was untrue, but he loved to tease you… and you loved when he teased you too.

“Hey. If I want to find someone to share my time with, I won’t hesitate to break that resolution if I need to. They’re made to be broken anyway,” you shrugged casually.

He nodded, not disagreeing. “I’m sick of my hands,” he muttered as you took the hand that rested on his quad and cupped it in your own. You didn’t know why, he brought it up and they were just there begging to be held. He laughed quietly and gripped your palm back. “I just miss the warmth, you know?”

Putting the back of his hand to your cheek, he laughed again. You gave him the eyes, and he sighed.

“Don’t start. Knock it off immediately.”

“No, tell me exactly what you miss. Tell me what you need.” You settled in. You would love to know what turned Rooster Bradshaw on. He wasn’t like the other guys – he kept his conquests quiet. Lowkey. Sure, you knew when he was in the game, he made no secret of his intentions. But gee, he always seemed more complicated than an easy fuck kinda guy.

“You don’t need to hear about any of that stuff,” he rolled his eyes and retrieved his hand, stuffing it back in his jeans pocket. “Trust me, you’ll be just like me soon enough.”

“Look, if you get to a point you’re absolutely desperate, blue from top to toe, I’ll drop my standards for a night and give you a night you won’t forget, okay?” you tried to bite back the laugh that bubbled under the surface. You weren’t surprised he gave you the bird in response. “You’re just lazy. Go lay a line on any woman in here, and I guarantee, she will be putty in your hands.”

It seemed like such a nut-up or shut-up order, Rooster knew he had no choice but to follow through. Standing to his height and adjusting to his posture, he muttered, “Fine,” he stole your fresh beer as you protested and wandered over to the gorgeous woman, who if truth be told, was exactly his usual type, you’d pointed out only moments earlier. Well, what was expected to be his type - that glint in her eye that told him he wouldn’t have to work too hard to get her number either. He had a rule that one-night stands were never at his place. He’d rather sneak out than kick someone out. Win-win really.

[orshii]

Will I Ever See You Again? CHAPTER 1: Last To Fall

Author: orshii

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x reader

Warning: cursing, violence, blood

Word count: 4,6 k

Summary: You were left alone with your brother, Yunho, and his best friend Hongjoong, after your parents' death. Yunho had someone to grieve with, but you? You had no one as your brother and his best friend pushed you away, singing becoming your only savior. There was one rule that Yunho made inside his friend group: “Don’t touch my sister”. And for this reason, Hongjoong had always kept his distance. But one night, you find yourself in danger. And from then on, Hongjoong does not leave your side. He is suddenly overprotective of you, and your relationship shifts and becomes fraught with tension and unspoken feelings, with secrets lurking beneath the surface and a painful past haunting you. Will you find out the secrets your brother and best friend have been keeping away from you? Will you be able to finally free yourself from your cruel past?

Will you fall in love amidst the chaos around you?

A/N: Finallyy...the adventure starts everyone!! Yayy, I really hope you are going to like this whole rollercoaster, I really tried with this one. Please look forward to this story, as it has a really special place in my heart. Before reading, or while reading, please listen to WTF by Sasha Sloan, as it is included in the story. Okaay, enjoy!! hehet.

Taglist: @bvidzsoo @vixensss @deltamoon666 @scarfac3 <3 (taglist is still open if you are interested)

I stepped onto the stage, darkness tightly hugging around me as I became one with it. I stood by the microphone, waiting for my bandmates to settle down. They nodded once they were ready and the lights suddenly blinded me as everyone could see us now. I felt vulnerable for a second, but when Yeosang, my best friend, started playing the acoustic guitar as he gave me a reassuring look, I finally got the courage to start singing.

♪ Sometimes I got a hard time seeing the point to existing ♪

My vocals resounded around the enclosed space as Yeosang accompanied me with his guitar, representative of our real-life connection. He has always followed after me, guiding me, holding my hand if I needed a little extra support. 

♪ Sometimes I got a hard time

Seeing the good in the chaos ♪

And then Jongho joined in with the drums that sounded like thunder, followed by San, who was our bass guitarist. I looked over to him as I sang, our gazes connecting as he smiled at me, telling me everything was alright with his soft eyes. These boys gave me the strength I needed to step out in front of the world and sing about my feelings.

♪ Am I the only one losing my mind? 

What the fuck am I doing here? ♪

It was weird singing about my feelings right in front of so many strangers, who came to the pub either to get laid or just have some fun. The thing is, that I feel more comfortable singing in front of people who I don't know, because I know they won't judge me. They are only here to enjoy themselves, listen to my singing, which is more like background music to them after a certain amount of alcohol has made it inside their systems, however, sometimes they would sympathize with the lyrics, I could easily see it in their eyes.

♪ Stuck in a one-man circus

Trying to find some purpose

But it’s unclear  ♪

Singing, was the only thing that kept me going after all the bad things that have happened in my life. I could escape my feelings like this, letting them out into the world. This was the only time when I allowed people to see the real me, my real feelings, because the second the music was over and people cheered, my mask was back on and my emotionless self was back again, showing no interest in anything at all. I was back to the state of not feeling, of being a robot who had to just simply survive. Days mushed into one, monotone and repetitive, there was no fun in being alive anymore. But still, something kept me going, something kept me alive, and I wasn't allowed to leave, yet. 

I had nobody except my brother, Yunho, whom I love the most, and my only purpose in life is to make his easier, so he doesn't have to suffer like me. We went through tough times together, and we had to stick to each other in order to survive. I have always tried my best, and I still do everything I can to support him. 

Speaking of him, I have to be at his boxing match in ten minutes. I quickly hurried backstage, where my bandmates were and hugged them tightly. I was happy to see them, and grateful that they were doing this with me. We have created our band just for fun, no serious intentions were put into it, however, we got an opportunity to perform some nights at a pub called, MIST. We asked the owner a few times to let us play, and in the end he allowed it. I guess it was an escape for all of us. An escape from a cruel world in which we couldn’t truly be ourselves. 

I ran towards my car with Yeosang trying to keep up so that we wouldn't be late to the match. 

"Are you okay?" Yeosang asked me as I drove off fast once we were seated inside the car. I really didn't want to be late.

"Yeah, of course." I briefly glanced at him. He saw how tired I was, so he was worried. I haven't slept well at least in the past three years, so my face kinda always looked like. Some people may think I was a living zombie, so I get it.

"You sang beautifully tonight." He smiled at me proudly.

I felt the urge to smile back at him, "Thank you, for being there for me too." I didn’t look at him, but I knew he was still smiling.

"I had no choice, I was the one playing the guitar." Yeosang teased with a chuckle.

"Mhm, so I am forcing you to play now?" I gave him a quick side glance.

"No, no." He put his hand on mine as it was on the gearstick, "I'm glad I can play alongside you, it's an honor, Milady." He grabbed my hand and gently pecked my knuckles. 

I chuckled as after running a few traffic lights and avoiding traffic as best as I could, we finally arrived to the Boxing Club. A few people were still outside, smoking a cigarette or waiting for someone, so this meant that the match hadn't started yet. We went inside the building and there were already a lot of people sitting in the grandstands. The air was a bit cold in the big hall. Some people stood around the boxing ring while behind them there were seats available, our reserved ones being among them. We went over to find them as I could feel excitement overcoming my whole body. The atmosphere was full with anticipation as everyone was here to see some fist fighting between bulky and angry men. I had no idea what the rules of these boxing matches were, but when my brother was in there, I felt like if anyone tried to harm him, I was going to get inside that ring and punch the motherfucker until he’s passed out. But to my luck, Yunho was one of the best boxers here. He was tall and well-built, and he didn't have enemies in this little town that would come to challenge him. Everyone feared him.

And he rarely lost too. One of the few occasions when he did lose, was against his best friend, Kim Hongjoong. He was shorter than Yunho, but he was strong still, and since he was smaller, he had the advantage of being quicker as well, so, he outplayed Yunho. Even though Hongjoong lost one of his teeth that one time, he was still smiling proudly over his win. I had a feeling that Yunho maybe let him win.

Yunho and Hongjoong have been best friends since forever. Hongjoong was kind of part of our family at this point as he had lost his own family in a car accident, and my father was there for him, together with Yunho, trying to breathe life into Hongjoong again. After a while, my dad started taking care of Hongjoong as if he were his own son, and one day I woke up to him suddenly living with us. Yunho and Hongjoong were like brothers and I was so envious of their relationship, because Yunho never told me anything, he never told me what he was feeling, he pushed me away, only letting Hongjoong in. I hated it, I hated that I was left alone, alone with my thoughts, with my feelings, after our father died. It was tough for everyone; the three of us were left without a parental figure for good now. Everything just seemed so suspicious to me, I didn’t know anything about how my father died, about what happened to him. Yunho and I were alone now, but he had another sibling to grieve with and I had to stay strong, alone. It was the three of us, yet they pushed me away like I was some stray cat, unworthy of their time and attention anymore.

I looked over at Yeosang, and I smiled as he sat next to me, looking around with big puppy eyes, taking in the atmosphere. Suddenly, I felt the urge to hug him. He was by my side from the second we met last year, when we bumped into each other as both of us were trying to find our next class, realizing in the process that we both were music majors. From then on, we did everything together. He kind of brought me back to life, he was a real sunshine in my life as his blonde hair lightened his beautiful face with a glow always to it, his birthmark under his left eye making him look even more ethereal. I have always admired him, and felt lucky that I had bumped into him. So, I hugged him, hiding my face in his neck, his scent enveloping me, offering me peace. He smelled like orchids, that's why my favorite flowers were orchids. 

He chuckled, "Okay, you’re acting strange, Y/N. Are you sick?" He pressed his palm against my forehead, checking if I had a fever. 

I smiled, "No, I’m not. I just wanted to hug my best friend, is that such a bad thing now?" I moved closer to him, not wanting to let go just yet.

"You never hug me, sorry, but it is strange." He looked down at me, smiling.

"I know…that's why I'm doing it now, because I'm glad you’re here, with me." It was rare that I expressed how I felt, I wasn’t the type to vocalize my thoughts so easily. 

"Yeah, me too." He hugged me tight and warmly. I felt safe in his arms, never wanting to let go of him.

After we killed the time by goofing around, finally the match started and we were waiting for my brother to appear in the ring, so that we could cheer for him. Kim Hongjoong was the first to compete against a big guy, so buffed up that I was kind of worried he would break Hongjoong into pieces. Both participants prepared for the fight, and when it started, Hongjoong looked like a little bunny next to the big man. However, Hongjoong never failed to surprise me with his strength as he attacked his big opponent with two perfectly timed strikes. The guy had no choice at all, Hongjoong didn’t even give him time to try and attack him. The man just blinked, and then he was on the floor. The crowd cheered for Hongjoong as he fist bumped the air as he celebrated his quick win with the crowd. 

After Hongjoong, more men fought inside the ring and it was becoming boring. They were playing the cat and mouse game, but finally one of them punched the other one and he was knocked out so hard that the ambulance had to be called. Nothing too unusual. 

Finally, Yunho appeared inside the ring with a confident smile, his opponent being Song Mingi, his other best friend. They had a very interesting dynamic, always glued together, they acted like I imagine soulmates would. I have always adored their friendship; it was unbreakable and full of respect. I really wouldn’t be surprised if one day they announced they were in love, really, I wasn’t blind, I could see the tension between them. I could see the way Yunho looked at Mingi, his eyes having a particular glint in them as if Mingi was his whole world, Yunho always only saw him. Yunho not only had Hongjoong by his side, but Song Mingi as well.

It was shitty when you had to compete against your best friend, but, may the better man win. They were standing in front of each other, both tall, but their bodies shaped differently. Mingi was always quick to dodge the strikes, but Yunho was merciless, and he never stopped. The crowd went silent as the thick tension between them made everyone shut up and follow their match on the edge of their seats. I knew Yunho well, and I was sure he did not care about the fact that he was going to kick his best friend’s ass in no time, because he only wanted to win. He was addicted to the rush he felt when winning. May you be lucky enough to never encounter Yunho after a match he lost, his rage scary and dangerous. I saw how Yunho and Mingi murmured to each other, something only they could. Mingi seemed a little off today, like he wanted to be anywhere, but here. Yunho, on the other hand, continued smiling confidently and quite smugly, not even noticing the expression on Mingi’s face, which seemed to be screaming that he didn’t want to fight against his best friend. 

Yunho was the first to attempt strike against Mingi, and he hit him straight in his ribs. After a few more tricks and moves, all we could see was Mingi trying to hit Yunho, but my brother dodged all of his poor attempts. Mingi seemed to have loosened up a bit as a smile appeared on his face. Suddenly, they smiled at each other, it seemed like a friendly match between the two, until it wasn’t anymore, until Yunho suddenly managed to strike some counter kicks and hits at Mingi and he was on the floor, his mouth bleeding. Mingi looked mad, disappointment showing on his face. But he suddenly got up and hit Yunho straight in the face. Yunho was taken aback, so he couldn’t fight back for a moment, and Mingi managed to hit him once or twice. But Yunho was the type to never give up, even if he had only one unbroken bone. The crowd around us suddenly roared with such loudness I wanted to cover my ears, especially when they cheered because my brother got hit, I didn’t like that. But Yunho suddenly got the strength to hit back, and that was Mingi’s last chance. He was on the floor after getting showed against the iron bars aggressively and roughly, now barely able to move from the pain. I felt sorry for Mingi. Yunho was so blinded by the rush of adrenaline he got, that he didn’t even realize that his best friend was on the ground, bleeding, because of him. This side of Yunho had always scared me, I didn’t recognize him when he was like this. And I was sure Mingi was fighting his inner demons as well, trying to understand Yunho somehow. In the end, the referee raised Yunho’s arm into the air, announcing he had won against his best friend, who had stormed off angrily towards the changing room. 

A few more matches passed, and then in the next one Hongjoong lost against a guy who seemed to know every calculated move of his. The guy easily dodged Hongjoong’s attempts, and quickly gave a few strikes back, straight into Hongjoong’s face and ribs. Hongjoong was breathing quickly, and my heart started to race. I was a bit worried for him as the guy tried to hit him again, but he dodged it, and punched the guy’s solar plexus. The guy fell to the ground, but it seemed he was a tough guy, and he got angry as I watched Hongjoong tell him something. That was when the guy moved forward quickly and stroke Hongjoong in the ribs with force, immediately making Hongjoong pass out. The crowd stood up at once, myself included, as Yeosang followed with a gasp, all of us shocked as we couldn’t believe the fucker knocked Hongjoong out.. The referee announced the guy as the winner, and finally, Hongjoong slowly opened his eyes, barely moving as someone helped him out of the ring. So, Hongjoong was out of the competition. After that, Yunho had a few more fights, Mingi as well, but in the end, Yunho was announced as the number one winner of the night. 

When the matches were finally over and the crowd started to slowly disperse, I waited for Yunho so I could congratulate him. Yeosang had already left as he needed to go home for some unknown reason to me. I was near the ring, but nobody was in the room as I read briefly over the history of boxing displayed on the walls. There were a pair of old boxing gloves on a shelf and I took it into my hands, wanting a closer look.

"Wanna learn?" A sudden voice from behind made me jump a little.

I turned around and saw Hongjoong coming my way, freshly showered, wearing a black tank top that tightened around his upper body perfectly, paired with black sweatpants. He had some fresh bleeding cuts on his eyebrows and lips, his two-colored, black and blonde hair was still wet, falling into his eyes. The colors of his hair kind of represented his personality. I knew he had a bright side that he only allowed Yunho to see, and whom he felt close with. And he had a dark side, which I have known from the beginning as he was always unnecessarily protective and mean with everyone. He had a really bad reputation, and he was a bad influence on Yunho. That’s why I hated him as he made Yunho become part of some dangerous gang, the two doing some illegal shit together. These things never ended well…

"Not really." I shrugged, and placed the old gloves back in their spot. 

"Come, I'll teach you some tricks. It may come in handy, and who knows, you may have to knock out some bastards." He said, motioning with his hands to follow him as he jumped up into the ring.

"When is Yunho coming?" I asked, looking up at him.

"In a few minutes. He is currently yelling at Mingi, so until they finally figure their shit out, come." He reached his hand out towards me, so that he could pull me up beside himself.

I sighed, and with a frown grabbed his hand, allowing him to pull me up. I suddenly felt worried about Yunho, I didn’t want him to fuck up whatever had been lately happening between him and Mingi. On the other hand, I didn't understand why Hongjoong was suddenly acting like this. We were never really on good terms, but we also weren't on bad terms. It was always as if the other wasn’t there, like we grazed past the other. Most of times, it was Hongjoong doing this, so, after a while, I started doing the same. And yes, I started hating him as well, because I felt jealous of him stealing my brother away from me.

I put the gloves on Hongjoong handed me. It was a weird feeling, but if I’m being honest, I would gladly punch him in the face with these gloves on or off. Preferably off, would feel more real.

"Can I punch you?" I blurted out without thinking much. 

"No? Why would you?” He looked at me with a frown, “Wasn't it enough when that other guy just knocked me out like I was nothing but a feather?"

"No, it wasn't. I want to be the one to knock you out." I tried to scare him as I hit the air in front of his face.

"Okay, okay, chill out, sugar." He grabbed my wrists, "You'll have another chance to take me out, but it’s not now." He said with a smirk, and I scoffed at the realization of how he meant it. Hell, no. I wanted to punch that smirk off of his face.

He started explaining how to hit someone in the solar plexus so that you knock them out immediately. I could practice as he held his palms up. I held my right hand in front of my face, because like he said, one hand must be there to protect your face. With my other hand, I punched his palm. Left-right, then right-right, and so on. After a few strikes he said that I could practice some more on his abs as he pulled his tank top up. I gulped seeing his toned abs, bruised with black and blue marks on his ribs.

“God, you are so bruised. I’m not merciless enough to hit you in this state, Hong.” I said, my eyes still on the cruel bruises. 

“Don’t worry, sugar. You only need to hit my lower stomach now. Try and find my solar plexus, but you can’t hit me strong enough to knock me out.” He smiled confidently and took his lifted-up top between his teeth, his hands held up behind his head, waiting for me to strike. 

Oh, so I couldn’t hit him strong enough? At first, I softly punched his stomach as he was watching me with eyes that made me feel like I was his prey and he’d pounce on me any minute now.

“C’mon, sugar. You can do better.” He said, taking the top out of his mouth just so he could talk to me.

“Fuck you.” I snapped, getting angrier. Suddenly, I struck him with all the strength I could muster up, aiming at his solar plexus only. It felt good. I started cackling loudly when I successfully hit him hard enough that he hunched over, trying to catch his stolen breath.

"Okay, okay, I think you've got this now." He raised his hands in the air in surrender, "But next time, you have to get it right away. It hurts, but it has to be the perfect timing if you want to knock the other one out." 

He stepped closer, reaching his hands out, one settling on my lower back and the other on my lower stomach, "You have to hit right here, without missing." He said it in a low voice, whispering it into my ear, his warm breathing sent shivers down my body as it tickled my skin.

“Your strikes are good, but if I wasn’t an unmoving target, I could’ve knocked you out in seconds, your left-hand needs to be here.” He raised my left hand slowly to hold it in front my face, “You need to protect that pretty face of yours.” His face was emotionless, I couldn’t read his features.

“You couldn't protect your dumb face, from that guy who knocked you out.” I said, getting angrier.

He chuckled, “Okay, sugar, fair enough.” He stepped even closer, watching me with an unnerving hunger in his eyes.

“One last thing.” Slowly, he let his hands travel down to my inner thighs, close to my knees, and made me stand in a wider stance, “You need to stand balanced so that you can put all your power into your fists.”  

Fuck this, I didn’t sign up for this. He really just touched me without asking for permission first, acting like he could do anything to me without it there being repercussions to his actions.

“Can you like, not touch me every time you try to explain something?” I snapped with a glare as I got more furious because of his actions.

Hongjoong looked at me with a surprised look on his face. I guess he didn’t even realize he made me feel uncomfortable. I was seconds away from recoiling and hitting him hard, showing him just how easily I could knock him out if I really wanted to, but suddenly Yunho was shouting at us.

"Hands off my sister, Joong!" Yunho approached the ring just as Hongjoong quickly jumped back, putting a great distance between our bodies.

"I just wanted to teach her some techniques she can use in the future." He raised his hands again in the air, genuineness showing on his face as he slowly walked near Yunho. Now he was acting like he was the hero and I was some damsel in distress needing his help, how funny.

"Let's hope she won’t have to use them, then." Yunho looked at Hongjoong with deadly eyes. This always happened when I was the subject of their conversation, they acted like I wasn’t even there, they talked about me like I was an object. 

There was a stupid rule that Yunho had come up with, “My sister is off limits, if you try to touch her, I'll just simply kill you.” And this rule did work because no one really dared to even as much as look at me. I hated it because I never had the chance to have fun. Yunho was always there in the shadows, letting others know that, “If you touch her—well you know what happens.” 

I have always felt like I was a princess held in a big tower, wanting to desperately escape...

"Let's drink something at MIST." Yunho said, sounding a bit angry and tired. He reached his hands out towards me, helping me off the platform.

"I thought you were coming home, that's why I waited for you." I jumped off the ring, accepting my brother’s help. It was alarming how cold I felt without Hongjoong by my side.

"I want to celebrate, come drink with us." Yunho looked at me through his dark eyelashes, his black hair still wet from the shower. 

"Nah, I'm tired, I'll just go home." I said, rubbing my face as I fought against a yawn.

"Do you need a lift? Hong can take you home, I came by bike." He pointed at Hongjoong, who finally jumped off from the ring, ready to take me home.

"I came by my car, so I don't need a lift.” I said, looking at Hongjoong with a sharp glare, “Alright then, see you at home, don't get shitfaced." I turned around and walked towards the exit.

"Drive safely, and send me a message when you have arrived!" Yunho shouted after me.

I just lifted my thumb up in as a silent way of telling him okay, and left the building. The weather was a bit chilly this evening as I was headed towards my car, trying to find my keys in my backpack full of notebooks and torn out pages. As I was walking towards my car under the moonlight, my mind was whirling around with thoughts accompanied by an unfamiliar melody, that I have noticed I started making up lately very randomly. The words that came to me had the potential to be even some lyrics, but it wasn’t anything I have heard before. It was my own song.

≫ The feeling of being drowned in your thoughts,

Trying to find someone who’ll jump to save you. ≪

I have never wrote music before, I thought I wasn’t talented enough for that, but this melody that lately had been playing in my head made me want to write these random lyrics down, so that maybe I could create something special too one day..

I finally found the keys to my car, and I sat inside my black Honda Civic, igniting the engine to life. I suddenly felt hungry, so I decided to stop at a restaurant, called Granny's, on my way home to order some takeout. It was a fifteen-minute drive from where the boxing matches were held, and after I arrived, I went inside the restaurant and ordered some chicken wings with french fries. I patiently waited around a bit for my order to be finished, then I paid and said my goodbyes.

I was currently headed to my car, grabbing the keys from my pocket, food in my other hand, when suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me. I had no time to think as I suddenly found myself on the dirty ground. I hadn't even reached my car, it was blocked by two tall figures dressed in all black, and as I looked behind myself, I saw two other men staring at me like they were going to kill me right then and there.

A/N: Ty for reading, just one thing, if that Yungi fight scene caught your eyes (wink), my best friend @bvidzsoo, wrote a behind story for them on AO3, I recommend it is very good, I died.

「Series masterlist」 -Next part-

[babytarttdoodoo]

The team somehow find out about what Jamie’s dad did in Amsterdam and are horrified/furious.

I’m skipping ahead to write this one because it won’t leave my brain alone. I apologise to all readers for the pain this is about to inflict.

If it makes you feel better, I am not okay after writing it.

It will also be in multiple parts since I really feel like the Reveal and the Reaction are things that need separate room to breathe.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (pending)

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

It came down to the timing, really.

Every locker room Jamie had ever been in had worked its way around to this topic sooner or later. Especially in the Academy, where the typical teenaged obsession with ‘who had done it’ reigned supreme.

Jamie had never had a problem with it. He’d shrugged or laughed or lied and no one ever called him out. He was Jamie Fucking Tartt, after all.

He’d never had to breathe a word about Amsterdam.

Telling Roy had been a spur of the moment decision, and one that hadn’t really bothered him at the time. It hadn’t fundamentally altered their friendship or made Roy tiptoe around him (thank fuck).

But his reaction - Jesus. Must have been traumatising. - had played on Jamie’s mind. So much so that when his talks with Dr Sharon had broached the subject of ‘intimacy’, he thought it was probably worth bringing up.

Yeah. That conversation had gone a bit differently.

And now, here Jamie was, two days into processing his freshly unpacked trauma and his teammates were cheerfully regaling each other with stories about losing their virginity.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“It was my last night before flying out here.” Sam was telling the group, a sweet, bashful smile on his face.

“Didn’t know you’d had a girlfriend back home.” Isaac chimed in.

“We had already decided to break up, instead of doing the whole long-distance thing,” Sam explained. “It was a nice way to say goodbye, though.”

There was a general sound of agreement and Richard took the opportunity to launch into a questionable story about charming a runway model at the ripe age of 17.

Jamie just continued getting changed in silence, letting the voices wash over him and trying not to let the sudden nausea show on his face. Removing his jersey felt like a Herculean task when all he wanted to do was get the fuck out of here.

Sam’s experience sounded like something out of one of Ted’s rom-coms. That was good. That’s what someone as nice as Sam deserved.

What had Jamie deserved, then?

He quickly cut off that line of thought. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to think about it. Not here. Not now.

It was like trying to cover up an open wound when everyone else had a morbid impulse to poke at it.

A ripple of laughter pulled him back to the room and set his teeth on edge. He pulled a fresh shirt over his head and tried to breathe through the swelling, pulsating anger and shame that threatened to surface.

It was utter bullshit. He hadn’t thought about what had happened with anything more than vague disgust and detachment for years. A whole decade, even. Fuck Dr Sharon and Roy and all these giggling idiots for changing that.

“Oi, you’ve gone quiet, Jamie.”

A few curious eyes turned in his direction and the only thing that stopped him from shrinking away was years of playing at being untouchable.

Instead, Jamie scoffed and plastered on a smile, hiding his fists in his clothes and digging his nails as deep into his palms as they would go. “Eh, a gentleman never tells, mate.”

But he had hesitated a second too long and he saw the potential for mischief light up in a few faces. They knew him too well, he realised, the knowledge churning in his gut.

He wasn’t Jamie Fucking Tartt here. He was just Jamie.

“You are not a gentleman.” Richard stated bluntly, eyebrows raised and a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

“That is true.” Jan agreed, because of course he fucking did. “You have bragged many times about being with women.”

“What happened, amigo?” It wasn’t fucking fair that Dani sounded so genuinely interested.

“Maybe she didn’t like his pink pants.” Isaac threw in and it drew another round of laughter. The noise echoed in Jamie’s head.

He knew, he knew they were just teasing because they didn’t know better. They were being dickheads because they were always kind of dickheads to each other. It was banter. On any other day it would be fine.

His neon underwear had nearly caused a riot the week before and it had been hilarious.

Why couldn’t he just act like it was funny now?

“It’s none of your fucking business.” he finally managed, not quite keeping the harsh edge out of his tone. He turned away and pretended to be looking for something in his bag so he wouldn’t have to meet anyone’s eyes.

“C’mon, mate, can’t be more embarrassing than mine.” Colin added easily, utterly comfortable with the conversation, in spite of all the implications it had for him specifically. Jamie really fucking admired that.

He was ridiculously, fiercely envious of it.

“Guys, he doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to.” Sam admonished lightly. He was offering him a liferaft and it rankled at Jamie in all the wrong ways.

He didn’t need fucking saving. He wasn’t some soft, delicate little thing that needed Sam Obisanya of all people rushing to his rescue.

Suddenly, he was speaking without having made any conscious decision to do so.

“14.” Jamie’s voice was too loud, too sharp in this safe space that on any other day felt like home. But his fingers were clenching and unclenching, and his shoulders were coiled tight, and there was a rushing in his ears.

The vitriol pooled like acid on his tongue and Jamie couldn’t help but spew it out before it began to eat him away.

“I were 14.” He smirked and it felt wrong. It felt cruel and bitter. He rounded on Colin and relished in the flicker of unease that crossed his face. “No fucking idea how old she were but I can tell you how much my dad paid for her to fuck me straight.”

The silence should have been oppressive, he thought distantly. The way the air stilled should have made it hard to breathe. The colour leaching from not just Colin’s face, but Jan’s and Richard’s on either side, should have been concerning.

It just felt freeing, in a twisted, emptying sort of way.

“Jamie-”

“No! No, it’s alright!” Jamie turned wild eyes and a manic grin on Sam, finding it abstractly funny that the younger player took a step back. “You wanted details, right?”

He shrugged, looking around at the slack faces of his teammates. He’d moved forward, he realised, making himself the centre of attention. Typical.

“Tell you what, yeah? Next time we’re in Amsterdam, I’ll take you all on a little tour. Don’t remember her name but I’m pretty sure I could find the place again, no problem.”

And he probably could. He remembered his dad talking to some bloke smoking in a doorway while Jamie stood in the rain, confused. He remembered loud people and neon lights all around. He remembered how the place had smelled when he’d been pulled inside…

Someone else was saying his name now. He didn’t care. He just got louder.

“You wanted a show, didn’t you Thierry? We could put on a repeat performance. Play-by-play reenactment, ‘cept you’ve got to think I can do better now, right? Better with age and all that.”

Arms closed around him from behind and whatever vile shit he was about to spray out into the atmosphere died in his throat. Jamie’s entire body bucked, trying to break away.

“Fuck off!”

It didn’t sound like his voice, a screeching snarl that cracked partway through.

“Jamie.” Roy’s voice in his ear. Roy’s arms around his chest. “Jamie. Stop. Don’t make it worse.”

And what response was there to that except to laugh? Fucking hilarious, that one. Too little too fucking late.

Jamie only registered that he was being half pulled, half carried out of the locker room when the laughter started to hitch in his chest. When the air wasn’t coming like it was supposed to. When Roy manhandled him into an office chair and the tears started in earnest.

All the fight went out of him like a marionette with its strings cut and he just cried.

(TBC)

[transhuman-priestess]

Not to sound like a boomer and/or hipster but you really do lose something listening to like, 70s prog rock on Spotify or CD vs vinyl

It’s not about sound quality, it’s about the intentionality, the intimacy, physically touching this disc with the music etched into its surface.

Like, Pink Floud’s The Dark Side of the Moon is one of my favorite albums ever. It was the first vinyl record I ever had (stolen from my father) and it was how I became familiar with that album.

(I realize, at this juncture, that I am not helping my “I am not a boomer and/or hipster” case. I’ll cop to the latter but I’m 31, shut up.)

Anyway, on the vinyl, side A ends with “Great Gig in the Sky.” It’s a vocal instrumental, there’s a singer but no lyrics. It is a quiet, solemn, deeply haunting piece, that fades out slowly before the silence of the lock groove, the inner portion of the record leads the groove into a circle which holds the needle until the tone arm is pulled back.

In practice this means there’s a good 10-30 seconds of silence (though usually there’s some dust in the groove that leads to a few clicks and pops) while you go over and flip the record. It’s punctuation, a pause that has intense artistic value.

When you flip the record over to side b, the first track is “Money”, a deeply cynical and sardonic song about, well, greed. It starts with the sound of a cash register dinging and sliding the till out. It’s very loud, very sudden, and then immediately it cuts into Roger Waters’ off-kilter, 7/8 bass riff.

If you’re listening to this on vinyl, by the time “Money” kicks in you’ve been sitting in relative silence for a moment, and when you drop the needle on a record it makes a bit of a “pop” sound as the needle finds the run-in groove, which again, serves as punctuation. Almost an inhalation, a singer taking a deep breath before belting out their opening lines. It all flows together.

On the CD you get none of that and it’s kinda like being woken up by a fucking flashlight to the face.

It just feels so off in a way that’s difficult to describe, hence this big post. Anyway, records rule.

[storiesforftm]

Astarion x Masc! Reader

The Brink on The River Bank

(Not Requested)

Disclaimer: this story may have some lore not relevant to the lore of BG3 and/or D&D. I have not completed BG3, but figured this would be a fun story to write anyways! I hope you enjoy.

As my wound worsened by the hour, I could feel myself getting weaker, and with no one around, I knew death was certain. I clutched my wound with both my hands, holding onto my side where I had been cut deeply. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

The sound of a river nearby. I knew if I were to die, I’d want to die somewhere peaceful. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere where I could gaze upon the stars one last time. As I approached the river, I collapsed onto the ground, and couldn’t find the strength to get back up. I had to crawl the short distance to be beside the creek.

I laid on my back, allowing my hand to touch the water, washing off my bloodstained hands. I could feel my eyelids droop, I could feel death approaching me slowly, like an animal hunting it’s prey. Slowly, quietly, then it pounces. I was going in and out of consciousness, and soon, found myself in a world of dreams.

My dreamscape had been interrupted by a sharp pain in my throat. It was almost painful enough for my adrenaline to kick in so I could fight. But I couldn’t. The initial pain was the worst part. Now, I hardly felt a thing. I allowed myself to relax, believing that some animal was now eating me alive, but soon, everything would be over.

To my surprise, I woke up the next morning, under the shade inside a tent. In my confusion, I set out to discover where I was. As I went to open the tent’s door, I heard a voice, strictly telling me to not touch it.

“Ah, ah, ah!” The white haired man started.

“Where am I?” I stuttered, “Who are you?”

“Now now, let’s just take a seat and I’ll explain everything,” the man said. I took a seat the farthest away from this stranger I just met. He sat opposite of me, his eyes almost peering into my soul.

“First of all, my name is Astarion. Second of all, last night, I found you. Just by the riverside. You were almost dead.” That’s when I noticed I had no pain where my wound was. I had almost completely forgotten about it. I lifted my shirt to take a look, and it was gone. Healed.

I was amazed, and I looked at Astarion. “What happened to me? I thought I was as good as dead?”

“You would’ve been, had you not placed your hand in the water.”

“Wait, I don’t understand?” I said, confused.

“You placed a bloody hand in the river, and as it washed off, the blood went down the river. I found you that way, by following the blood trail in the river. It les me straight to you,” he let out a small chuckle,” you didn’t even flinch when I bit you! Ha!”

“Wait, that was… you? I felt it, but went numb shortly after.”

“Yes, we’ll, darling, you were almost dry. You were bleeding out so much, I’m surprised you even made it as far as you did.”

As he spoke his words, I took in all his features. His white hair, his red eyes, his pointy teeth. A vampire. This only triggered me to start exploring my own features, mostly by feeling my teeth with my tongue. Two sharpened canine teeth sat in the front, and I looked around for any reflective surface.

In almost a panic, I get up and try to find a mirror or spoon or anything I could see myself in. I was rummaging through anything Astarion had, when his footsteps kept getting closer. He held out a mirror to me, and I took it from his hands. I peered into it hesitantly, but was shocked when I could see everything behind me, but I couldn’t see me.

“Did you turn me into a vampire?” I asked hesitantly, my back facing him, my arms to my side. Slowly, I turned to face him.

“Yes, I did, darling, and I must say, you make a handsome vampire at that. Your eyes are the most astonishing shade of red I’ve ever seen.”

“Did you save me?”

“I guess in some ways, yes. But if you’re asking if I wanted to change you, the answer is also yes. When I smelled your blood, I traced it to you. I was hunting alongside the woods when the smell started coming down the stream. It was the most delicious smelling blood I have ever had the pleasure of smelling.”

I listened to him tell me how he found me, how he saved me, and how he carried me back to his tent. He explained that he stayed by my side while I was turning, and he was preparing to tell me about everything once I woke up. He carefully sealed up the opening of the tent so no daylight could reach me, and so I wouldn’t accidentally burn myself when I awoken scared.

He explained how he had his mirror ready, so I could understand quicker, and he brought me back up to date. At this point, I felt a deepening burning in the back of my throat. I started to feel weak again, throughout the day. And as night came, Astarion helped me hunt for the first time.

He taught me how to be stealthy on my feet, as to not scare off prey, and how to be persuasive and confident. I hugged him after our first full day together, and thanked him for saving me. To my surprise, he hugged me back, and assured me that I would always be welcome if I needed a friend or any advice, although I don’t plan on leaving him any time soon. I’m glad that now, I have a second chance at life.

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

03 shining light. where you find yourself making friends with two more volleyball players

<< 02 fly high. | >> 04 new dawn. | << the collection >>

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: so excited for them to finally be friends, ahhh! - ave word count: 1k warnings: cursing, not much, fluffy

september, first year

the next time you see semi after shiratorizawa wins the miyagi prefecture preliminaries for spring nationals, he had a remorseful expression about him, looking like a kicked puppy. “what did you do now?” 

“awh, y/n, did you not miss me?”

“i did, but you are acting suspicious…” you squint at the ash blonde, trying to pinpoint what it was that he is hiding from you. 

he tilts his head to the side, trying to act innocent. “tendo and ushijima may or may not be joining our little study session…”

“hah? explain that, you idiot” you smack him in the arm. perhaps you did not smack him hard enough because he was completely unfazed by your hit. 

“it was not my fault i swear. i had a bet with tendo for him to stop calling me semi-semi if i won, you know how much i hate him calling me that, but i lost, so they are coming with us today…” he trails off, looking guilty for agreeing to such a bet when the stakes are not even his to decide. it’s your house they are going to, for goodness sake.

you shake your head at your best friend in disbelief and resignation, “what the heck did you even bet on, idiot? you know what, i don’t even want to know, don’t tell me.” and that was that. 

so you find yourself at home with the three boys, bringing the strawberry shortcake out from the fridge. “don’t touch it!” you swat semi’s hands away from you as you carefully bring it to the kitchen counter to be cut.

“you know, this is all your fault, semi eita. you could have had a whole strawberry shortcake to yourself, but now you have to share.” you don’t think you will ever let him live it down. he may be in one of the top classes in school, but sometimes he really makes you question his intellect when he pulls shit like this. 

you hand out the plates of shortcake to the two newcomers first before offering one to semi just to torture him a little more. they quickly finish their own helping of the light dessert before asking you for more, to which you gestured towards the cake for them to go ahead and don’t be shy.

before long, the cake disappears. the appetite of three growing boys is astonishing. semi burps loudly, to which you yelled “disgusting!” 

you suppose it’s up to you to clean up before your parents come home. better do it before you forget and get an earful about it again. you stand up from the coffee table where you and semi and his friends are seated, collecting the plates and cutleries. ushijima follows suit, carrying his used plate to the kitchen behind you. 

“oh you can leave that in the sink, i will get that.” you start scrubbing the dishes with soap and sponge, methodically going over each surface. 

“let me help,” he comes up to stand next to you, making you suddenly conscious of his large frame. putting himself to work, he rinses off the soaped items that you place in his side of the sink and stands them neatly on the dish rack in the corner. “you know, you didn’t have to go along with semi’s loss bet if you didn’t want to have us here.” he speaks up over the sound of water.

you shrug, “it’s not like i am opposed to it… more like, i don’t know, out of my comfort zone, maybe? you’re eita’s friends and not my friends, so there’s definitely the degree of separation there,” you pause, trying to find your words, “plus im not the brightest at making friends and talking to people i'm not familiar with, so it’s not like i have many friends to begin with. in fact, i can count on one hand how many friends i have at school,” you lift your soapy left hand in front of him. “and it’s extroverts like eita who adopts an introvert like me to be their friend” 

“hmm, i see. want to hear something about myself in return?” you nod in answer. “i don’t have many friends either. when people look at me, all they see is the ace, the immense value i bring to the team or how they can best use my skills. i think they forget i am just human like them too.”

“ehh, i mean, the vibe you give off scares me a little, you do this thing with your face where i feel like you’re judging me all the time.” he raises an eyebrow at you. “exactly, just like that!” 

“you do realize people don’t say that to my face, right?” 

you scrunch your nose at ushijima. “well, i just did. what are you gonna do about it?” 

he lets out a laugh, a rumble with a higher pitch than you expected coming from him. “well, i guess we have to be friends now.” 

“friends?” you echo after him, confused. 

“yep, you said we’re eita’s friend, which made you uncomfortable. so now we’re friends, and you don’t have to feel awkward around us. deal?” he holds out his right hand. 

“that’s totally not what i said!” you try to protest, but finally relent as he wiggles his fingers waiting for you to shake hands with him. “fine, fine. i’ll be your friend.” you pretend to be exasperated as you seal the deal with a shake of your hands. 

“what’s that?” tendo pokes his head around the corner startling you. ushijima’s hand keeps you firmly planted in place as though he thought you might accidentally slip and crack your head open on the sink. you scoff at the thought, as if. but knowing yourself, it was a huge possibility. not that you would ever let him know. 

“you scared the shit out of me!” you exclaim at the redhead.

he tilts his head to one side. “why, why, you’ll forgive me, won’t you, dear friend?” 

“huh?!” 

“stop stealing y/n, she’s my friend” semi pops into the kitchen, strolling around to your fridge to look for more snacks. 

what did you just agree to?

and just like that, the two boys walked into your life. not only do you have one volleyball friend, you now have three. three volleyball players for a powerhouse school. oh, you absolutely can’t wait until the volleyball fan club starts harassing you.

what the fuck just happened. 

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[ultralightpoe]

Nightmares - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: a SMALL aemond blurb that i wrote. Finding a gif that fit should not be that hard man 

Word Count:885

Warnings:none  Description: THIS WAS A REQUEST 

Aemond Targaryen had a bad habit of dreaming absolute terrors. 

It wasn’t a habit he bragged about, in fact he kept this to himself most of the time since his mother and brother would probably take it as a sign of weakness. But it was definitely a problem. 

Most nights he didn’t sleep and any night he managed to close his eyes and slip into the world beyond he was drawn back panting and screaming. Tonight was one of those nights. 

He had stayed with you throughout the day and had been so calm from your presence he thought he could slip into his chambers and fall between his sheets without a panicky night. He had been wrong. It was the exact opposite, a dream so brutal he woke in a cold sweat.

He was walking with you through the gardens, just as he did every morning, your hand on his elbow as he smiles down at you. It had never been a secret amongst the court on just how pretty Aemond thought you were. He had even announced such matters on the day of your tourney where he won your hand. 

Ever since he had taken to escorting you anywhere you wished to go, desperate to spend time with you as your wedding was planned by his mother. A walk in the gardens would be considered normal, but something about the day seemed to cling to his skin. 

The clouds were covering the sun, so the flowers seemed to wilt under the harsh shade and the smell of rain just before it hit began to fill his senses. But he persisted on walking with you, claiming that if it would rain that you both would find shelter. 

You said something about how beautiful the roses were, turning away from him to move and pluck one from the stem, Aemond taking this chance to look to another row of flowers before you would find your way back to him. 

But after a moment of no sound he turned to check on where you were, only to find you huddled to the stone ground beneath and sobbing. He is lunging for you in a moment, voice gently asking what had happened as he pried your hands away from his face.

Just as your hands fall you release a violent scream like none he has heard before and show the blood pouring from your eye, an eye that was missing. 

He shouts out for help as his hands come up to cover the wound but you scream and tear away from him, crying as you scream at him over and over. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

Before he knows it he is launching up from his pillow, ragged breaths filling the air as he tried to catch up to his lungs, salt from tears leaking down his cheeks. He has one hand clutched to his chest while the other grips a pillow as he finally catches his breath, shaking a bit as the memory of the dream surfaces.

Before he can truly process what he is doing, Aemond struggles from the bed, grabbing the candle on the nightstand and lighting it before making his way to the secret alcove. Pressing it softly to enter the tunnels within the castle as he follows the chalk path he made along the walls to your room. 

When he finds the hidden entrance he debates for a moment whether this was a good idea, but he needed to see you otherwise he would go mad, so he takes a breath in and presses the door gently as to not make sound. 

He steps in softly, looking around in the dark before he finds your figure laying in the bed, breathing evenly. His entire body relaxes, releasing a sigh of relief as he sees you, moving closer to tuck the hair out of your face. 

He watches you for a moment, loving the peaceful sight of you, before he would move to make his exit as to not wake you. But before he could take two steps away you are moaning as your eyes squint to the dark, a groggy lilt to your voice as your hand reaches out to catch his. “Prince Aemond?”

“Yes my love?” He whispers, heart beating rapidly at having been caught. “I am sorry to wake you, I just had to make sure you were okay.”

You sniffle, wiping your eye as you try desperately to wake up. He kneels down and runs his thumb across your bottom lip, smiling as you kiss it softly before tugging his arm. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t answer, instead you lean to place the candle on your nightstand before tugging him until he is on the bed with you, pulling him into you and wrapping around him. “Then I demand you sleep here.”

“It would be improper.” He argues, though he gets comfortable as he drags you closer, breathing you in as his entire body relaxes into you. 

“You will just have to leave through the secret door you thought I did not know was there.” You smile sleepily, kissing his chest before letting sleep claim you once more. 

Aemond falls asleep with a small smile, and though it was a late start it was still the best sleep he had ever had.

[doingitforbokuto]

First Date

-> OBITO UCHIHA X READER (MODERN AU)

Summary: You go on your first date with Obito. He is nervous you won't like his looks, but he couldn't be more wrong. You know just the thing that will show him how attractive you find him.

Words: 4,129

Warnings: mentions of masturbation, semi-public blow job

Obito scratched the surface of the restaurant table he was sitting at. It was made of thick wood, covered in a thin layer of varnish. Obviously well used, it was a testament of how popular and old the restaurant was, still doing well even after all those years. There were other scratches on it, from both knives and fingernails. He let his own nails trace over the already existing lines before starting to create his own. He almost felt a little bad. After all, it wasn't the wood's fault that he was as nervous as he was. You were. 

The reason he was sitting at this table in the first place was because you two were going on a date. Obito had not been on a date in ages so he was nervous enough to start with, adding the fact that he really liked you into the mix was certainly not helping. 

A couple of months ago, a mutual friend had the genius idea of giving you Obito's number since the two of you would (quote) "totally make the perfect couple!". Both of you knew that that was just code for "you seem lonely because you haven't been on a date in a while so now I am trying to set you up with other lonely, miserable people". But neither of you really tried to argue it because, well, it was true. You were lonely, and you did crave the intimacy that came with dating someone. Like having someone to talk to about your day, someone who you could rely on, every day. That's why you ended up actually texting him, even though it was so weird at first. Both of you knew why this was happening and that it was only a half-hearted attempt at getting to know each other - at best.��

At least, that's what it used to be. After just a couple of hours of texting with one another you two came to realize that maybe, just maybe, your friend had not been so entirely wrong about you making a good couple. You found yourself smiling at your phone whenever a message from Obito popped up, Obito found himself thinking about you when he was at work, longing for a break to shoot you another text. Your eyes were glued to your phone screen almost constantly until you started sharing phone calls too. If you had not been in love before, you definitely were now. 

His voice was so calming and deep, you could practically imagine how his chest had to rumble every time he spoke. It did not help with your fantasies at all, you imagined yourself laying on his chest, imagined the way he would sound in bed, even. When he sent you a voice memo one morning right after waking up, with his voice still thick with sleep, you almost lost it. All you wanted was for you to finally, finally be able to see him, touch him after so many weeks of longing for him. You wanted to feel his warm skin, smell his cologne and hear his voice without the phone line distorting it ever so slightly. 

Even though Obito felt the same, he was the one who avoided meeting you in real life. He liked talking to you, he liked your humor and your advice, he liked you. And you liked him, he knew that - that much was more than clear. But that was just for now. There was no guarantee that you would still like him after you had come face to face with him. That was what he was most scared of: The way you would look at him, the things you would see in his scarred, distorted face. 

Until now, you only knew what he looked like from descriptions. Your friend had told you that he had an accident some time ago and that almost half his body was covered in scars. Obito knew that you knew that much. But you had not seen a picture of him yet, as Obito didn't have a profile picture with his face on it. He had even asked his friend if they had showed you one - which they hadn't. You were understanding of the fact that he might be insecure because of his condition but that didn't still your curiosity, it didn't stop you from imagining his looks based on the description your friend had given you. 

You would think about how his disheveled black hair would feel under your touch, how you would run your fingers through it when you cuddled. You would think about your fingers tracing his back, one hand feeling smooth, soft skin, the other one hard scar tissue. You would think about looking into dark, black eyes in the dim light of the morning after having him stay the night. You would think about kissing him, feeling the scars on his lips catch onto yours. You couldn't stop thinking about him. 

So, after what you felt was enough time to make him trust you, be comfortable around you, you asked Obito to go out with you. The first time, he declined by giving you a very obviously fake excuse as to why he couldn't make it. It bruised your ego, to say the least. But you knew that this had to be hard for Obito, maybe you hadn’t given him enough time yet. What you didn't know though, was that that night, Obito laid awake thinking about you. 

Yes, he was scared that you might reject him once you saw him. But what if you didn't? What if you still liked him? What would you say, once you saw him - all of him? How would you touch him? 

Unbeknownst to him, his own thoughts mirrored yours. His mind was full of images of you two hugging, kissing.. touching. But he would never tell you about that. He would certainly never tell you about the fact that he imagined your voice while he fisted his cock that night. Or about how he imagined how warm and soft your mouth would feel around him. Or about how all he wanted to do was paint your pretty face white with his cum. Or about how he came wishing it was your hand touching him, not his. He would never tell you all that. 

No, he would rather wait a couple of days to gather all his courage to ask you out. As much as he was scared, avoiding you and not meeting you would be worse for him than his looks. And that's how he ended up in this restaurant, tormenting the poor table in front of him as he waited for you to arrive. 

It was a good spot to get food, well visited but never so full that it was uncomfortably crowded or too loud. He made a good choice, if he did say so himself. He was so uncharacteristically early, he surprised himself. He didn't have anything else to do all day except for the date to come around and he was so nervous, he just needed to get out of the confines of his apartment. For twenty minutes he had already been sitting there, taking small sips out of his glass and shooting scared glances towards the poor door. But so far, you had failed to come in and save the door from his stare by pulling it onto yourself. 

Obito sighed. Maybe this had been a bad idea. With his luck, this was all gonna go downhill anyway. Maybe you wouldn't even come around? Maybe you never wanted to see him at all. Maybe you were just playing with him! Just when he started contemplating the biggest dick-move ever, ghosting a lovely girl like you by simply leaving, the door swung open like it had finally had enough of Obito staring at it, finally giving him what he wanted: You. 

You looked even better than your pictures, making Obito straighten his back in an attempt to look less disheveled than usual - he didn't know what it was, but it was never possible for him to look.. polished. Something about him was always a little bit out of place, a little bit wild, boyish. Maybe it would add to his charm?

Your eyes found him quickly and to his surprise, a big smile appeared on your lips. With quick steps you managed to get through the labyrinth of tables separating the two of you until you were standing right in front of him, smile still plastered on your face. 

"Hey," you breathed out. 

"Hi." He got up to greet you properly, surprised when you even leaned in for a hug. He did not expect you to be so friendly right after seeing him for the first time. And even though the hug was short and admittedly, a little awkward, it felt good. Being close to you felt good.

"Sorry," you said as you pulled away to sit down on the other side of the table, "have you been waiting for long?" 

"Oh, no." He sat back down himself, trying to cover up the scratches he had created on the table just before you arrived. "I'm usually the one that arrives after everyone else." 

"Yeah, I heard that," you laughed. "But you're here early?" 

Even with the dim lights, Obito did not miss the blush that started to spread over you. 

"Well.." He could feel himself starting to blush in return. "I was really excited to see you." 

"Yeah, me too." 

Both of your voices were just a whisper now. You had talked so much before, about how much you liked each other, but doing it in person.. it was so personal, almost too personal. 

Obito's nervousness proved itself to be uncalled for. Even though you had seen his face now, there was no sign of disgust or repulsion. Of course, your eyes inevitably slid over the scars a couple of times, unsure of what to do. It was only natural for people to want to look at them since they stood out like that, Obito knew that. And you were now faced with the same problem everyone else was: Look at them and make it obvious that you are focusing on them? Or not look at them at all and make it obvious that you are purposefully avoiding them? It was a thin line one had to tiptoe with him, but as long as you didn't stare, he was fine with whatever choice you made. Surprisingly, he found that he actually liked having your eyes on him, with your soft, loving gaze. You had him hooked already. 

"So," you asked. "What dishes can you recommend?" 

"Okay, so.." 

Obito moved a little to the side, as did you. Both of you were leaning over the table to look into the same menu. His fingers drifted over the paper to point at his favorite dishes. You could hear his breath, smell his cologne, see the blush on his face whenever he looked at you through his lashes. He had even more charisma now than he did over text. He was funny, charming and there was always some level of admiration and even innocence in his eyes when he looked at you. Like every time he saw you he reassured himself that you were actually there, with him, for him. Like he was relieved every time. 

You were sure you didn't look as innocent as he did. You tried not to ogle him but you just couldn't turn your gaze away. Not when he looked the way that he did while waiting for someone to bring your food. He was relaxed in his seat, leaning back, one arm tossed over the backrest of the chair next to him. The other one was reaching for his glass which he occasionally lifted to his lips to take a sip that made his Adam's apple bob. You were sure that under the table, his legs were spread out comfortably, taking up space he knew no one else needed. His shirt was well-filled out by his biceps and pulled taut over his chest as it moved in sync with his breaths. You wondered how his pants must look under the table. You were almost tempted to bend down and take a look. 

As much as you tried not to stare at him too much, it was impossible. There was no hiding and you were sure that at this point, Obito had noticed the way you looked at him, his lips, his hands, his arms and chest - any part of him you could see, really. But he didn't mention it. Until the very end of your meal, until after he had paid and offered to drive you home since you came by cab, he did not say a word about your stares. 

You walked beside him to his car and tried to ignore the way your shoulders bumped into each other and his hand brushed against yours. Did he do that on purpose? Was it the way your body naturally gravitated towards his? Or was it both? After all, it was undeniable that both of you were drawn towards each other. Both of you wanted to feel the presence of the other one. The amount of time you had spent at dinner was a testament to this. You two had been unwilling to leave the other's side.

The restaurant was almost empty by the time you got up, as was the parking lot. When Obito had arrived, it had been almost completely full and he had made it just in time to snag the last empty space. It was a warm summer evening, many people were letting loose and not in the mood to cook and eat at home. 

Now, there was only one other car left. The metal of Obito's car shone in the yellow light of the street lamps, as did his face when you glanced at him. 

"What?" Obito smiled as he met your gaze. Now seemed to be the time he was tired of waiting, tired of letting you do as you pleased. He wanted answers - though he probably knew them already. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

"You.." You looked away as you felt your face getting hotter. "You just look really good." You started fiddling with your shirt before looking back at him. "I don't know why you were so nervous before meeting me." 

"Yeah?" He leaned against his car, now that you had reached it. "So you think I look.. good?" 

His voice was low and his arms were crossed in front of his chest, making him seem even bigger, his biceps bulging even more than before. It was unfair how good he looked. His looks, his smell, his charisma.. it was like a drug to you. You didn't just want him, you needed him. Even though you had only just met him, he already had you hooked. It was like he had his own gravity surrounding him and he was pulling you into his orbit until you were crashing into him. And so you did. 

Your lips smacked against his, your hands went to his arms that unfolded from his chest. They opened to welcome you as you smashed into him. The force of it shook you and his car but neither of you were bothered by it. His arms wrapped around your waist and you could finally, finally feel his body heat against yours. The layers of clothing you were wearing did nothing to hide your erratic heartbeats. Chest pressed to chest, you could feel his pulse thrum against your own ribcage and you were sure Obito could say the same - if you would let him speak. 

The kiss quickly got more and more intense and before long Obito's tongue was prodding your mouth. It slipped in easily as you parted your lips at his request. It felt even better than you had imagined. The kiss had you weak in the knees and even though you were already leaning onto Obito, he still had to hold you up with his strong arms around you. His hands moved from your waist, one up to your shoulder, the other lower until it reached the curve of your ass. All you were able to do in return was moan into his mouth. You would let him do whatever he wanted right now, as long as it felt as good as this. 

Somehow, during the kiss, Obito managed to move the two of you onto the other side of the car, facing away from the restaurant. Not everyone needed to see the two of you making out in the parking lot like horny teenagers. 

And while he was at it, he switched your positions, now you were the one leaning onto the car and he was pressed against you. His body caged you in and you were unable to go anywhere other than into him. His hands started roaming your body, one traveling up and down your stomach, the other one slipping towards your neck. He took full advantage of the new position where he could have you put your weight onto the car for support. You had already slipped down a little, but you were standing more steadily now. 

It took you a while to regain your strength and composure but when you did, you knew exactly what you wanted to do. His tongue in your mouth just wasn't enough, you had to have more. 

It was almost natural for you to slip out of his grasp and down to the ground. You didn't care about the dirt or about the way that the small stones and the hard concrete were digging into the flesh of your legs. All you could think about was Obito and how badly you wanted him. 

"Wait, wait.." Obito placed a hand on your head, careful not to use too much force. His eyes did not meet yours, instead they were frantically looking around. He was searching for anyone, an onlooker who could catch you two red handed. "What if someone sees?" 

Now he met your gaze. It didn't matter how nervous he was or how much he would try and tell you that this was probably a bad idea: He wanted this at least as much as you did - if not more. 

"I'll be quick." 

You looked up at him with big eyes, practically begging him to let you suck his dick. And who was he to deny a pretty thing like you? So with one last glance towards the restaurant he gave you a small nod. The hand on your head pushed you forward gently and you were all too eager to follow his lead as you nuzzled your face into his crotch. You were mouthing at his bulge before you had even started to unbuckle his belt. 

"Fuck, fuck.." 

Almost involuntarily he bucked his hips into your face while he closed his eyes. He couldn't wait to be in your warm, wet mouth. Neither could you, so you made quick work of his belt and zipper and with another quick motion, you pulled both his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. 

"Hah, God.." 

You were gonna be the death of him. Not even a second after pulling him free your mouth was already on him. Little kisses littered his cock from tip to base just before you went ahead and licked a long, wet stripe back up again. 

"Fu-uck.." 

Obito was whispering now. This was all new to him. He hadn't been on a date in forever, much less had anyone sucked his cock in that time. He would have never dared to ask for a blow job in a fucking parking lot. Damn it, how was he supposed to deal with this? It was all too much, he felt too exposed to everything and everyone. Anyone could walk out and see you two. But at the same time, he had never felt closer to anyone than he did to you in this very moment. He knew that he had to trust you and just let you do what you were doing with him.

And God, did he want you to keep doing what you were doing. Your mouth was so warm, so welcoming. He didn't even remember what blow job's from other people felt like. Were they always this good? No, that couldn't be. He was sure he had never felt something this good in his life. 

Obito wanted to ask you - beg you to keep going, to please let him cum, but he just wasn't able to. All he could do was moan again and lean onto the car. With his forearm on top of it and his forehead resting against it, it was giving him the perfect angle to look down at you. It was hard to keep his eyes open, but it was worth it. Your lips created such a nice contrast against his pale skin and your hands looked so good against his thighs while you supported yourself on them.

"S-sweetheart.." 

His grip on the back of your head got tighter and you could tell that he was getting close.

"Hmm?" 

You let him slip out of your mouth to pepper kisses all over his length while you kept stroking him. 

"What is it, Obito?" 

Were you an angel? You had to be. With the way you were looking up at him with big doe eyes while pumping his cock with long, even strokes, you were making him feel as good as humanly possible. Even when you were so obviously teasing him, he couldn't thank you enough. At least, he wanted to thank you. But forming coherent sentences seemed a little too hard right now.

Instead, he just gripped his cock, with his hand wrapped around yours, and tapped the sensitive tip back against your lips. It was nothing short of him begging and if he could, he would go down on his knees now. But he figured that might make the whole blow job situation a little more complicated. 

You weren't ready to give in just yet. You wanted him to say it. But instead of telling him that, you just pressed another kiss on his tip and continued to give him your best "innocent" look. When he still didn't say it, you finally gave him a little help.

"What do you want, Obito?" 

Your voice sounded so insincerely confused, it was obvious to him what you wanted. But it was hard for him to say it. 

"Just.. ple- let me - please!" 

He really couldn't hold it together any longer. His hand had begun to uncontrollably pump his cock and he was dragging your hand with him, up and down his length. His eyes were screwed shut with the effort it took him not to move his hips, too. 

"Okay." You gave him yet another, reassuring kiss. "Okay. Just fuck me already."

And with that he was back in your mouth and this time, you were not stopping until you had given him your all. You tried to relax your throat as much as possible since you already felt his other hand coming down to your head already. He did not waste any time after you gave him the confirmation he needed. The knot in his abdomen was already pulled taut but the feeling of being able to just use your mouth to his desire was more than enough to finally make it snap. 

He pumped his hips a couple of times while he kept your head secure in his hands and he was already spilling his load into you. The moment his tip hit the back of your throat he could swear he was seeing stars. Maybe he even passed out, he could not recall. All he knew was that the next time he opened his eyes, his hands were still on your head and his forehead was resting on the car again. You had pulled away a little and were still busy swallowing the rest of his load that he had just released into you. A little bit had spilled and was rolling down your chin, but not for long. As you looked up at him, through half lidded eyes, you swept your thumb over it and pushed it back into your mouth. In front of you, Obito's cock jumped just from looking at you like that. He couldn't stop. He wanted to keep looking at you forever, take a picture of this very moment and frame it on his wall. (Preferably next to his bed.) 

"Thank you," he whispered and brushed his fingers over your cheeks. "You look really pretty right now, too." 

[phantomspiderr]

Eros

Pairing: Steven Grant x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: A passing comment ends up in an invite back to your friends flat and things take an unexpected turn, which you’re not complaining about.

Warnings/Tags: there’s smooching, little hints at marc/jake but they aren’t outrightly mentioned, Steven with his glasses on(because that needs to be a warning), teasing, steven being adorable and freaking out just a little bit, just some fluff

･☆: *.☽ .* :☆

“Have a look on that shelf,” your gaze follows where Steven points, “I think there’s some books about Ancient Greece there.” You’re barely in the door by the time he’s already crossed over to his desk, books and stacks of paper piled high on and around the surface. You’re still standing in the doorway wondering whether or not to take your shoes off. This is the first time you’ve ever been in Steven’s flat and maybe you’re a little overwhelmed. With him, you’re usually comfortable and chatty, not afraid to speak your mind. In just a few short months he’s become a great friend. Him bumping into you in a supermarket while mindlessly chatting to himself had been one of the greatest moments of your life—minus the fact you’d accidentally dropped a tin on his toes. You’d become fast friends, enjoyed learning about each other, going out to different museums, and going on nature walks on days it didn’t rain. But this was new, being in each other’s space was different for you, it felt so personal to be stood looking at the place Steven lived day to day. You’re still wondering how a small mention of having a Percy Jackson phase wound up with you here.

“Hey, you alright? You’re looking a bit dazed over there.” Your eyes snap back to Steven, not realising they’d wandered to look around the cosy flat. “Oh sorry! That was rude of me, ‘m not a very good host now am I?” Steven approaches you again, offering to take your coat off, “welcome, come in.” This time you follow Steven when he walks toward the desk again after hanging up your coat, you stop to look in the fish tank as you pass, seeing two goldfish swimming around each other. “They’re Gus,” Steven’s distorted face appears on the other side of the tank, the little wave and smile he does makes you relax.

“Both of them? They have the same name?” You chuckle a little as you come around to join Steven.

“Yeah, i-it’s a bit of a story,” he nervously laughs and turns back to the desk, focusing his mind back onto finding the big beautiful book he’d told you about, the one that had led you here.

“Maybe you can tell me one day,” you smile, trying to lighten the mood because the slightest change in mood made you feel uneasy. Steven looks at you with a genuine smile and mumbles out “yeah that’d be really nice.”

Finally, you move to the shelf he’d pointed out, eyes skimming over the spines of books. Some titles are debossed and filled in with gold and others are a bit worn out and camouflaged within the dark overfilled shelves. You settle on a dark navy book, reaching up to pull it from the shelf and hoping you’re not just playing a giant game of jenga by taking it out.

“Ah!” The sudden sound makes you jump immediately turning to the source with wide eyes, “I found it!” Steven holds up a book with a huge smile on his face but you’re distracted. You didn’t know Steven wore glasses but here he is somehow looking so adorable yet extremely tempting and you’re totally having normal, platonic thoughts about him right now. Definitely not thinking about the fact he looks like some kind of academic or about how he fits perfectly into the type of stories you used to read– “Are you okay?”

“Yeah-yes. Sorry, show me.” You snap your thoughts back to Greek mythology, trying to forget about the way you were just thinking about your friend. But then you’re close to him and your thoughts feel foggy again. Steven pulls out the chair from under the desk and offers it to you, spreads the book out on the surface so you can see it, and then he’s over your shoulder, his arms caging you in as he leans over. You need to remember how to breathe because he is unbelievably close, talking to you about mythology and pointing out beautiful illustrations from the book in front of you and you feel bad. You feel terrible because you’re not really listening, too caught up in the way he smells like honey and amber and he’s so warm, like a comforting warmth, not the overbearing, unpleasant kind. Focus. You’re listening, not thinking about the way his breath fans against the side of your face. You are focused on the intricate drawings, and on the colours that pop off the page. You’re definitely not focused on Steven when you feel his lips against your cheek and you’re shocked, it’s evident on your face apparently because Steven recoils.

“I-I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what came over me.” He’s instantly freaking out and he’s kinda cute when he freaks out. The way he can’t stay still, his hands going from his hair to his hips and back up to his forehead, it’s endearing… and he’s still stuttering out apologies.

“It’s okay,” your voice is so quiet he doesn’t even acknowledge you, not even when you stand and start approaching him. He’s looking anywhere but at you, muttering to his reflection in the fish tank. “Steven, it’s okay.” You speak a little more sternly this time but he still doesn’t stop, “Steven!” Your hands land on his cheeks, turning his head so you can look at each other again. Just like that, you forget how to breathe again, he’s so pretty this close up. Hair all disheveled and eyes frantically wide like a deer in headlights. The rooms silent except for the lull of the Gus’ tank filter, your brain unable to think of what to say. Then you’re looking at his parted lips, begging him to say something before you inevitably kiss him but he doesn’t and your eyes are back on his and they almost look like they’re shining in this light. Then you’re leaning in, letting some feral part of your brain take over and you’re almost there but some more logical part of your brain pulls back just ever so slightly. Now you’re overthinking it, your thoughts now flooded with questions but before you can even decipher a single one, he’s kissing you. Your sweet friend Steven is kissing you and now you’re kissing him. You’re intoxicated by the way it feels. Your hands slip from his face, one easily sliding into his smooth curls and the other resting on his neck, from there you can feel how his pulse races. His arms were surprisingly quick to sink around your waist, his hands bunched into the fabric of your shirt like you might disappear.

“Sorry,” he’s panting so hard, like he just ran a mile, both simultaneously leaning your foreheads against each other. There’s a second where you’re both just deeply breathing until you laugh, right in his face and you can’t stop. You have to drop your head onto his shoulder, the giggling continuing. This man has probably just given you the best first kiss of your life and he’s apologising. For a moment you feel bad for laughing but then he’s right there with you, he starts off a little hesitant then you’re looking at each other trying to stop giggling, “so was it that bad?” His tone is light and he’s still grinning while he looks at you especially when you shake your head.

“No, not bad! Just- not what I expected,” the giggles finally subside, and now you’re just nervously twirling his hair around your fingers.

“So you had expectations of kissing me?” His eyebrows raise and Steven Grant is teasing you-

“Uh-no-maybe. Not until you put those goddamn glasses on.” You can feel your face warming at the admission and it only makes Steven grin a bit wider.

“Oh, so you want to kiss me now but not now?” He raises his glasses off his face and put them back down and repeats, “now, not now?” He’s got you giggling again, hiding your face in his neck. You never expected Steven to be so teasing but you find yourself loving the attention. Now he’s rubbing your back and it feels like the most comforting thing ever.

“I liked kissing you,” you cringe the second you say it, your voice sounding adolescent but before you can think too much of it Steven responds, “I really liked kissing you.” You manage to hold your head up again so you can look at the dopey, lovesick man in front of you. “D-Do you think you’d wanna do it again?” You’re nodding before he can even finish his sentence, tugging him in to connect your lips again. His fingers brush against your cheek this time before he cups the back of your head, trying to hold you there for as long as possible. You may have only, just maybe, thought about kissing Steven a couple times before tonight but somehow it’s not how you imagined at all. He’s a little more confident than you had expected but still simultaneously nervous and giddy like you expected. Then when you both eventually pull away he’s smiling so much you’re sure his cheeks will hurt and that was something you should have expected. He’s adorable when he smiles like that, and reserves that kind of expression for things he’s passionate about, things that make him really happy.

“So just to be clear… you don’t want to kiss me now?” Steven takes off his glasses again, thinking he’s the funniest man in the world he’s giggling again especially when you nudge his shoulder and let out a little whine. Still, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth which catches him off guard clearly as his giggles stop and that giant grin is back.

“Just to be clear, still want to kiss you.”