#but like i just had to speak my mind somewhere

[homiesexuallaj]

Friday the 13th

Pairing: Eric Draven x reader

Genre/Warnings: fluff (kinda), Eric loves Halloween and its decorations, he tries to scare the reader, kinda proofread

A/N: I know it’s not friday the 13th anymore but I couldn’t help but feel inspired (both by the date and my recent love for Brandon Lee/The Crow). Gif belongs to @thecreechercatalog

———

Eric would love Friday the 13th, no matter what month it falls on. But when it’s a month near October, it gets the man super excited and in the spirit. Eric already puts out Halloween decorations early, but with friday the 13th making its rare appearance Eric is putting spooky decorations up super early.

You left for work that morning from a normal looked apartment and a sleeping boyfriend. You’d given Eric a tender kiss to his forehead before leaving quietly. The crisp morning fall air bit at your cheeks, but you didn’t mind at all. You were just happy to wrap up in some clothing.

You worked late tonight, arriving home in the late evening. You climbed the stairs on shaky, tired legs. Upon approaching your door, a white skull was placed in the middle and a garland of purple bats hung from the top of the doorway. You could only shake your head as you unlocked and opened the front door.

You locked the door behind you and turned around to face your shared apartment. It honestly looked like Halloween had exploded in the loft. Strings of bats and little skeletons hung from the ceiling, going from the kitchen all the way into the living room. Orange and purple string lights were wrapped around table legs and lamp poles. Some of the lamp lights had even been changed out for a low, red light. Life-size skeletons were even sat in chairs that you and Eric didn’t occupy that often. Fake pumpkins of all sizes and faces carved also littered the apartment. Up on the little kitchen island and coffee table, white candles of all shapes and sizes were lit. They didn’t smell but added to the ambience of the spooky apartment.

As you milled around, you also discovered that there was a large candy bowl with all of your favorite candies piled in. Just as you were about to pluck a piece from the bowl, you’d gone blind. Ice cold hands blocked your vision. A spark of fear ignited through your body until you heard a voice speak.

“Boo,” A familiar low voice spoke before turning you around with a swift movement.

You were met with a ghostly white face. His eyes were painted black, thin spikes going halfway up his forehead and just over the tops of his cheek bones. His lips were painted a black as well, blood red spilling from his inner slips and his top lip overpainted to show a faux smile.

Despite the frightening features, his eyes swirled with amusement and affection and an adored smile twisted his lips. The man held you by the shoulders softly, excitedly pattering his fingers against your damp jacket.

“Did I scare you?” Amusement laced his words.

“Only a little,” You shrugged.

The man hummed, “Guess i’ll have to try a little harder next time.”

“I guess,” You hummed back, amused at your boyfriend’s antics.

Without a word, Eric began shedding you of your outside clothes. Throwing your jacket and handbag onto a nearby chair, your boyfriend backed away and headed towards the open window to the fire escape. Rain pitter-pattered outside.

“What’s on the agenda tonight, Mr. Draven?” You asked, following him slowly.

“Come find out,” Eric smirked, disappearing out the window and up the fire escape.

You could only chuckle and shake your head at his mysterious antics. Eric Draven always kept you up on your toes.

———

A/N: I have a part 2 idea so if yall want it or if I write it I’ll tag it somewhere on here! And also requests for Mr. Draven are open so go ahead and drop some in my askbox!!

[cheynovak]

Lose Control - pt 3

Characters: Azriel x F/Reader Y/N     

Summary:  Azriel, struggling with the emotional aftermath of his fight with Rhysand over Elain and the fact that Gwen found out his gift for her was a returned gift for Elain made him seek out some company at the pleasure hall. Y/N an old... 'friend'

Warnings: 18+ - Pure SMUT - Sexual content, Dominance, Spice, jealousy

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own fanfiction, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

* Published September 21th 2024 *

It's a long story... brace yourself.

As I slowly gathered my things, trying to be as quiet as possible, Elain’s name echoed in my mind. Elain. The name carried an elegance to it, something sweet, soft, and undeniably sophisticated. She had to be beautiful, probably as stunning as Mor, with a grace and serenity that I couldn’t help but imagine.

I couldn’t stop wondering what she looked like as I pulled my clothes back on, stealing a final glance at Azriel as he lay asleep in his bed. My heart ached as I looked at him, remembering how he’d unknowingly stolen my heart the night we first met—decades ago. The connection we shared had always been undeniable to me, even when I hadn’t fully realized what he meant to me. But now, everything felt painfully clear.

I opened the door, not paying much attention as I stepped out, lost in my thoughts. Suddenly, I bumped into someone, startling us both. A young woman with soft, delicate features stood before me, her expression gentle but surprised.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I blurted, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“No, it’s my fault,” she replied, her voice as soft as a summer breeze. “I didn’t expect someone to walk out.”

Her voice was so light, almost musical. It took me a second to process her presence, and before I could respond, she asked, “Who are you?”

Caught off guard, I quickly extended my hand, trying to appear composed. “I’m… Y/N.”

She smiled politely, shaking my hand. “I’m—”

“Elain?”

Azriel’s voice cut through the moment like a blade, making the air between us suddenly feel too thick, too heavy. I turned, seeing him standing in the doorway, his face betraying the mixture of surprise and tension that hung between all of us.

Elain. The woman in front of me, the one I had been wondering about—this was her. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, and my world shrunk around me, the walls pressing in. I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened as the weight of her presence and what she represented crushed me.

Elain glanced between us, her own confusion clear as her soft gaze flickered to Azriel, and then back to me. I felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, with no way to pull myself back.

This is her. The girl who had broken his heart. Or the girl who still held it. And here I was, standing between them.

“I—” I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat. The look on Azriel’s face, the weight of everything unspoken, left me feeling like I didn’t belong in this moment, in this place, in his life.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I turned to leave, catching a glimpse of Azriel still standing there, shirtless, his wings relaxed but imposing. I tried not to stare, not to let my heart ache at the sight of him, but it was impossible. My whispered “Bye” barely made it past my lips as I moved to slip past Elain, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of the situation.

I had just made it to the door when Azriel’s voice stopped me. “Y/N, wait!”

I froze, my back still to him. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I heard him take a step toward me. “What… why are you leaving without saying goodbye?”

I clenched my jaw, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to keep it together. I could feel his presence, looming, concerned, and I knew that if I looked at him, the fragile composure I had would break.

“I just…” My voice wavered, betraying me. I kept my gaze firmly fixed on the floor. “I remembered I had to be somewhere. I’m sorry.”

Before he could say anything else, I brushed past him, my body tense and on the verge of fleeing. But just as I moved toward the exit, I walked straight into a room that was anything but empty.

Rhysand and Feyre were there, standing at the far end, their expressions poised but curious. Nesta stood beside them, her icy gaze sharp and calculating. Amren sat nearby, observing everything with her usual detached interest, while Mor stood with her arms crossed, glancing between me and Azriel. And then there was Cassian, his broad grin lighting up the room.

“Y/N!” he boomed, moving toward me like an excited puppy. “Long time no see!” Before I could even react, he swept me into a bone-crushing hug, lifting me off the ground and kissing my cheek in his usual affectionate way.

I forced a smile, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks as I caught a glimpse of Azriel and Elain walking up behind me, clearly still part of whatever gathering was happening. The weight of it all—their stares, their presence, the sudden awkwardness—settled over me like a heavy cloak.

“I’m sorry,” Rhysand said, his tone smooth but amused as he looked from me to Azriel, a grin tugging at his lips. “If I’d known Azriel had a guest over, I would’ve set the meeting at the River House.”

The playful lilt in his voice made my stomach twist. He knew. They all knew. I could see it in the way Mor’s lips twitched, in the way Nesta’s eyes narrowed slightly in recognition.

Azriel stood behind me, his presence an anchor I wasn’t sure I wanted to lean on. The room felt impossibly full, the tension thick enough to cut through, and I suddenly felt like I was drowning.

Cassian, oblivious to the undercurrent, set me down but kept his arm around my shoulders. “Come on, you’re not leaving yet, right? We’ve barely said hello!”

I forced another smile, but my eyes darted to Azriel, who was watching me closely. I could see the concern, the confusion in his gaze. He hadn’t expected this. Neither had I.

But all I wanted was to escape. To get away from the mess I had just walked into.

“No, no, I should really leave,” I stammered, trying to back out, but Cassian waved me off with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“Bullshit,” he said, his voice booming. “You’re staying for breakfast.”

I opened my mouth to protest again, but the words died on my tongue. Cassian’s energy was infectious, and as much as I wanted to bolt, something in me gave in. “Well… at least let me make it,” I offered, mostly as an excuse to stay out of the way and avoid the tension swirling in the room. If I kept myself busy, maybe I wouldn’t have to think about the mess I had just stumbled into.

Cassian shrugged, all too happy to accept. “Works for me!”

I moved to the kitchen, grateful for the distraction. I could hear the others talking softly, but I wasn’t paying attention—wasn’t trying to pay attention. The meeting, whatever it was, didn’t involve me. And frankly, I didn’t want to get involved in anything more than I already was. I had enough to deal with, given the awkwardness of Azriel and Elain standing just feet away.

As I was preparing the food, I felt someone walk up behind me. I didn’t have to turn to know who it was—her soft, delicate presence was unmistakable.

“So you and…?” Elain’s voice was quiet, but the question hung heavily between us. Her finger moved over the kitchen counter, clearly afraid or shy to look at me.

I fumbled with the food, my heart racing. “Oh, uh, we’ve known each other for a while,” I said, my words tumbling out clumsily. “It was, um…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain what Azriel and I were. How could I, when even I didn’t fully understand it?

Elain gave me a polite nod, an awkward smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I get it,” she said softly, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

We exchanged uneasy smiles before I quickly turned back to the food, setting it on the table in hopes of avoiding any more awkward questions. The tension in the room was suffocating, but before it could settle too deeply, Cassian’s loud voice cut through again.

“Oh my gods, Y/N!” he exclaimed, his mouth full as he dug into the food. “You should open a restaurant! This is even better than the last time you made food.”

I couldn’t help but blush at his enthusiasm. Cassian’s praise was always so genuine, even if his timing could be a bit off.

Azriel, who had been conspicuously silent the entire time, finally spoke, his voice sharp. “You’ve had her food before?” The irritation in his tone wasn’t lost on anyone except Cass.

Cassian, oblivious to the tension that thickened the air, nodded enthusiastically, still chewing. “Yeah! A few times. Honestly, Y/N, you chose the wrong profession. You should try her pies" he said to Nesta.

I felt my face heat up even more, the attention making me uncomfortable. I could feel Azriel’s gaze on me, something unreadable in his expression as Cassian continued eating, completely unfazed by the awkwardness swirling around us.

I tried to smile, tried to act normal, but the weight of it all was too much. Elain’s lingering presence, Azriel’s sudden shift in mood—it was all pressing down on me. "So, eh... What do you do?" Elain asked with innocence in her voice.

The room was suddenly charged with a new wave of tension as Elain’s question hung in the air. Amren and Mor almost spilled their drinks, their reactions betraying their surprise. I glanced at them, feeling a sharp sting of embarrassment as Cassian answered for me.

“Y/N works in the flower shop in Velaris,” Cassian said, his tone matter-of-fact but somehow completely missing the undercurrent of discomfort in the room. His eyes met mine, knowing, telling he has my back.

Azriel’s face twisted in confusion. “You do?”

I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yes, I’ve been working there for a while now.” Azriel’s brows furrowed, and his eyes darted between Cassian and me. “I didn’t know. How do you even know?”

He turned to Cassian, his irritation palpable. “How do you even know her?”

Cassian, who had been in good spirits, suddenly felt the shift in the room’s atmosphere. His face fell as he realized the tension. “Dude, relax. I helped her move and find a job. She made food as a thank you.”

Azriel’s anger flared, his voice sharper than before. “Was that all she did to thank you?”

Mor’s voice cut through, firm and authoritative. “Azriel!”

The room fell into a tense silence as Azriel’s eyes softened when he turned back to me. I could feel the tears threatening to spill, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I couldn’t handle the scrutiny, the judgment. I just wanted to escape.

“If you will excuse me,” I said, my voice trembling as I gave a respectful bow to Rhysand and Feyre. “I would like to go home now.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and made my way toward the door. The weight of their stares was almost too much to bear.

Cassian, still visibly annoyed with Azriel, got up from his seat with determination. “I’ll take you home,” he said, his voice firm.

As I moved toward the door, Cassian followed closely behind, his presence a comforting contrast to the heavy atmosphere I left behind. I could hear the muffled conversation behind me, but I didn’t turn back.

All I wanted was to get out of there, away from the confusion and hurt, away from Azriel.

The flight home was quiet, the weight of the day hanging heavily between us. I was grateful for the silence, though it gave me too much time to think about everything that had happened.

Cassian dropped me off at my apartment and before he left, he placed a hand on my shoulder, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t hate Azriel. He’s clearly protective of you.”

I huffed, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “Or he just felt guilty about being caught with a whore in his bed.”

Cassian’s laughter was a rare, genuine sound in the tense air. “A florist, to be precise,” he teased gently, though the humor didn’t quite reach my eyes.

I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of my own foolishness. “It was stupid to go home with him. I should have just left.”

Cassian’s hand stayed on my shoulder, his touch surprisingly comforting. “You care for him,” he said, his tone warm. “That’s beautiful. Azriel just has a twisted idea of not being worthy of someone’s love. He doesn’t see how much you care. You need to tell him.”

I looked away, shaking my head. “After seeing the look on his face when he saw Elain? I’m not telling him anything, Cass. I’m not Mor, I’m not Elain. I’m not the woman he wants a life with. I have to accept that.” I will not be loved

Cassian’s eyes softened with understanding, though a shadow of sadness lingered. “At least you two have one thing in common,” he said as he prepared to leave.

I looked at him, puzzled. He offered a small, knowing smile. “You both struggle with feeling unworthy.”

With that being said he kissed my cheek and took off into the night sky, leaving me alone at my door. The cool night air was a sharp contrast to the warmth and tension of the evening.

I entered my apartment, I tried to shake off the lingering feelings of hurt and confusion. Cassian’s words echoed in my mind, a bittersweet reminder of the complexities of love and self-worth.

--

The next day dragged on at a slow, almost torturous pace. I took a long, steamy shower, read a book, and made dinner for myself, trying to keep my mind off the chaos from the night before. My hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and I was dressed in just some comfy panties and an old shirt that had seen better days.

As I was tidying up the kitchen, there was a knock at the door. I was expecting it to be Cassian, perhaps checking in on me. But when I opened the door, my heart skipped a beat. It was Azriel.

I looked at him, confused. “How did you find me?”

“Cassian,” he replied simply, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. His eyes scanned the modest space, and he seemed to be taking in every detail.

“It’s not much,” I said quietly, trying to avoid his gaze. “But it’s more than I had before.”

Azriel’s eyes remained fixed on the room as he walked further inside. “Cassian helped you?”

“Yes,” I replied, my voice soft as I moved towards the kitchen. I attempted to shift the focus away from the uncomfortable situation. “I made some pie. Would you like a slice?”

I turned to face him, holding out a piece of pie. “I have one slice left, you’re lucky.”

Before I could fully register what was happening, Azriel had me cornered against the counter. His eyes locked onto mine for a split second before he took a piece of the pie from my hand. He took a bite, and as he did, a low, appreciative moan escaped his lips. His eyes closed, savoring the taste.

“Cassian was right,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

My cheeks flushed with a deep blush at his reaction. “I’m glad you like it,” I managed to say, trying to steady my breath as his proximity and the intensity of the moment overwhelmed me.

Azriel opened his eyes, and the heat in his gaze made me catch my breath. For a moment, the room felt charged, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension. I could feel the warmth of his body so close to mine, and the closeness was both thrilling and terrifying.

He finally spoke, his tone softer, almost vulnerable. “I’m sorry for everything. For how things went last night. I didn’t handle it well.”

I swallowed, my heart racing. “I don’t know what to say.”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he stepped back slightly, giving me space. “I’ve been struggling with how to make things right. I just… I needed to see you.”

I looked at him, the confusion and hurt from the previous day still fresh but mingled with the undeniable relief of seeing him again. “You didn’t have to come here. I'm not mad, I’m just trying to move on.”

He nodded, his expression one of regret and understanding. “I know. I just wanted to tell you that… despite everything, I appreciate you and I'm sorry for what I said. I care about you more than I’ve allowed myself to admit. I know I shouldn't be jealous, but the idea of you and other males... Stupid I know.”

The words hung in the air between us, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. The mix of emotions, the remnants of our past interactions, and the reality of our current situation left me feeling torn.

Azriel seemed to sense my inner conflict. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. I just needed to make sure you knew how I felt.”

I panicked, the thought of him leaving so abruptly hitting me hard. “No! No, I don’t want you to leave. Please.” I grabbed his hand, my fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around his. Azriel looked down at our intertwined hands, his gaze catching on the small burn mark on my finger.

His eyes moved back to mine, a mixture of concern and tenderness in his gaze. “You burned yourself?” he asked softly. I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. “Yes, this morning. It’s nothing major, just...” Before I could finish, Azriel’s lips moved to the burn, pressing a gentle kiss to the sting. The softness of his touch, the warmth of his lips, sent a shiver through me.

My breath caught, and my lips parted slightly at the unexpected intimacy of the gesture. Azriel looked up at me, his eyes filled with an intense, vulnerable emotion.

“I’m sorry for how things have been,” he said softly. “I just wanted to make things right.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The tenderness of his kiss and his words broke through the walls I had built around my heart.

Azriel’s lips traveled up my arm, moving slowly and deliberately, their warmth and softness sending shivers across my skin. He traced a path to my shoulder, then up my neck, his breath warm against my ear. I leaned into his touch, the sensation both soothing and electrifying. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. The words were a caress in themselves, and I felt a rush of emotions flood through me.

He nipped gently at the sensitive skin beneath my ear, his lips then moving to lick and soothe the spot. My breath came in heavy, uneven gasps. “Az… what are you doing?” He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my heart race. “I’m making it up to you,” he said softly, his hands cupping my cheeks.

His gaze was full of earnestness, as if he were pleading for a chance to right the wrongs. Before I could fully process his words, he leaned in, capturing my lips in a heated, passionate kiss. The kiss was deep and fervent, his lips melding with mine in a way that conveyed everything he was trying to say without words.

The world seemed to narrow down to just the sensation of his touch and the warmth of his embrace. His hands were gentle but firm as they held my face, and his kiss was a blend of regret and desire, a promise of something more if only I could let go of my fears. I responded to him, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer as I gave in to the intensity of the moment.

As the kiss deepened, the boundaries of our previous hurt seemed to dissolve, replaced by the raw, undeniable connection that had always existed between us.

Azriel’s touch was both tender and electrifying as he gently turned me around, his hands slipping up under my shirt, his hands made their way up to cup my breasts. His lips continued their trail of kisses along my neck, sending waves of warmth through me.

A deep, approving hum rumbled from his throat when his fingers made contact with my bare skin beneath the shirt. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as if he were savoring the moment, trying to make up for everything that had come between us.

His fingers played delicately over the exposed skin, tracing patterns that made my breath hitch and my body respond eagerly. His kisses on my neck became more insistent, his breath hot against my skin as he explored my body further.

The sensation of his fingers moving slowly and deliberately made my pulse quicken, my body arching slightly into his touch. I let out a soft moan, my head falling back as I lost myself in the intensity of his caress.

“Az,” I breathed, my voice trembling with the mix of emotions swirling inside me. The intensity of his touch was overwhelming, both comforting and intoxicating.

He paused for a moment, his lips brushing softly against my ear as he whispered, “I want to show you how much you mean to me. How sorry I am for everything.” His words were a soothing balm.

Azriel’s hand moved to my hip with deliberate, measured movements, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my panties, making contact with the sensitive skin there. The sensation of his touch was both intimate and intense, a mixture of warmth and anticipation.

He explored gently, his fingers finding the wetness that had accumulated in response to his touches and kisses. His breath hitched slightly at the contact, a soft, approving growl rumbling in his chest. His touch was careful and purposeful, seeking to both reassure and arouse.

The warmth of his fingers against me made my body tense and then melt into his touch, my breath coming in uneven gasps. I arched into his hand, unable to suppress the soft moans that escaped my lips. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure through me as he explored with a tenderness that contrasted with the raw need we both felt.

Azriel’s eyes were focused on me, his expression a blend of concentration and desire. His fingers moved with a deliberate, rhythmic motion, adding to the mounting intensity between us. Each movement was measured, designed to build anticipation and pleasure, to make the moment as intense and meaningful as possible.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against my ear, his voice low and urgent. His fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration, the pressure and rhythm building in a way that made it hard to think clearly.

I struggled to find words, my thoughts muddled by the overwhelming sensation and the raw vulnerability of the moment. “Azriel… just… don’t stop,” I managed to gasp, my voice barely audible over the sounds of our breathing and the quiet rustling of the room.

He responded with a soft, appreciative hum, his fingers continuing their exploration as he leaned in to press a tender kiss to my neck. The dual sensations of his touch and his kisses created a potent mix of pleasure and intimacy, making it hard to focus on anything but the way he made me feel.

Azriel’s hands moved with a mix of urgency and tenderness, pulling my panties down and letting them fall to the floor. As he guided me over the counter, his touch was both firm and gentle, guiding me into position. I felt a rush of anticipation and vulnerability as he helped me settle against the cool surface.

His lips brushed against my behind, the kiss a teasing promise of what was to come. The sensation of his warm breath and the light touch of his lips against my skin made me shiver, heightening the anticipation and making me acutely aware of every nerve in my body.

As he widened my stance, I heard the sound of his zipper, the soft rustling of fabric as he freed himself from his pants. The sound was both exciting and daunting, a tangible reminder of the passion and desire that we were about to indulge in. His hands moved to hold my hips, positioning me just right, and I felt the heat of his body close behind me. The tension in the air was palpable, a blend of desire and intimacy that made my heart race.

Azriel’s touch was both commanding and reassuring as he guided himself to my entrance, his breath warm against my skin. He paused for a moment, his fingers brushing along my hips as he prepared to enter me. The anticipation was almost overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and nervousness as we both braced for the intensity of the moment.

His entry was slow and deliberate, allowing me to adjust and savor the sensation as he filled me. Each movement was measured, his hands gripping my hips firmly as he began to move, his rhythm steady and purposeful. The connection between us was electric, the combination of his touch, his kisses, and the deep, rhythmic thrusts creating a potent mix of pleasure and intimacy.

As he continued, the counter beneath me felt solid and grounding, a stark contrast to the intensity of the feelings coursing through me. The sounds of our combined breaths and the rhythmic movement filled the space, a symphony of desire and connection.

Azriel’s hands moved to hold me closer, his grip on my hips firm and steady. His movements were both powerful and tender, each thrust a testament to his need and desire, as well as his care and consideration for me.

Azriel’s movements were deliberate and filled with a raw intensity as he gently turned me around to face him. I was now sitting on the counter, my legs spread apart, and his gaze was unwavering as he positioned himself between my thighs once more.

When he entered me again, it was with a deep, controlled motion that made me gasp. The sensation was both thrilling and intimate, the warmth of his body pressing against mine as he filled me completely. His eyes locked onto mine, a fiery intensity in his gaze that spoke of his longing and need.

The look he gave me was filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, his eyes dark with passion as he took me in. “Gods, I love that look on your face,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. His hands rested on my hips, his touch firm yet gentle, guiding me as we found our rhythm.

“I love how much you care,” he continued, his voice a rough whisper against my skin. “I love… I love… all of you.”

His words were a potent mix of adoration and desire, each declaration a testament to the depth of his feelings. As he spoke, he moved inside me with a steady, rhythmic thrust, each motion accentuated by the heat and urgency of the moment. His gaze never wavered, his eyes locked onto mine with a fierce intensity that made my heart race and my breath come in shallow gasps.

The connection between us was palpable, a powerful blend of passion and emotion that made every touch and movement feel significant. His hands caressed my hips, his fingers digging in slightly as he continued to thrust, his breath coming in uneven pants as he chased his release.

As the intensity built, I felt every part of him—the way he moved, the way he looked at me, the way his words and touches made me feel. Each thrust was a testament to his desire, each word a declaration of his love and longing.

The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the electric connection between us. The counter beneath us was a solid, grounding presence, a stark contrast to the intense emotions and sensations that enveloped us. In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the powerful, intimate connection we shared.

As we reached the peak of our desire, the culmination of our passion was a profound mix of pleasure and vulnerability, a reminder of the depth of our feelings and the complexity of our relationship.

Our breaths came in ragged, sharp, and heavy, the intensity of everything between us settling into the stillness. His forehead pressed gently against mine, and his eyes—soft, vulnerable, and full of regret—held mine like they were searching for answers. "I mean it," Azriel whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Every word. I was a fool. It wasn’t until I thought about you and Cassian… that it hit me. Will you forgive me?"

I didn't respond right away, still reeling from his words. “Me and Cassian?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, confusion spreading across my face. His gaze faltered for a moment, shame flickering in those eyes that were usually so steady.

“I—” Azriel hesitated, a pained expression overtaking him. “I never knew he was a… a client.”

The words struck me like a blow, and I instinctively pulled back, my heart sinking. "Az, no." I shook my head, my voice gaining strength. "He never was. Cassian and I… we met, we clicked as friends. He saw other girls, but that was years ago, when he was much younger. Never me. We’ve never slept together.”

Relief washed over his face, the tension in his body visibly loosening. “I didn’t know,” he murmured. “I let my jealousy and insecurity get the better of me, and I… I should have never.”

I could see the sincerity in his eyes, the weight of his words hanging in the space between us. Guilt, regret, and love all swirled together in his expression. He closed the gap between us again, his lips pressing softly against mine in a kiss that felt like both an apology and a plea for forgiveness.

When we pulled back, he cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently across my skin. "I should have never dragged you through the mud like I did yesterday," he said, his voice thick with regret. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. You deserve better than that… better than me treating you like I did."

There was something raw in his confession, something that tugged at the tender places in my heart. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say, but seeing him like this—vulnerable and remorseful—reminded me of why I had fallen for him in the first place.

--

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Taglist:@lilah-asteria @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @mich0731

[inkandtension]

OF INK AND CHARCOAL.

Artist! Hyunjin x Writer! Reader

Theme: sad, drifting away from each other, hope towards end

You sat by the window, your laptop open, fingers tapping idly against the keyboard. Outside, the sky was bleeding into sunset—the colors fierce and bold, blending like they couldn't decide whether to end the day or prolong the inevitable.

It made you think of the words in Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar:

"I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, 'This is what it is to be happy.' But happiness, too, can feel like suffocation."

You often found yourself writing through that lens. Capturing moments that stood still, forever on the brink of something profound. But today, your mind was blank, heart weighed down by an inexplicable heaviness. It was like you had too many words, too many emotions, and no way to release them.

“I don’t want a box of fancy chocolates, I want you, sitting next to me”

The words were those that you said, yesterday was your 4th year anniversary, and he wasn’t home.

Or rather a house, because it refused to be your home, not anymore.

He thought you were overthinking, He said many anniversaries like this would come, that you both could spend them in amazing ways when things weren’t so busy. But that’s when it hit you—he actually believed you’d be together for a long time. That there were countless tomorrows waiting for the two of you.

He didn’t understand.

It wasn’t about the day. It was about him. About how he was drifting further away from you with every passing second, and he didn’t even realize it. People change; so did he.

He used to be your best friend, your confidant, the one who understood every silence, every glance. He could finish your thoughts before you even had to speak them. Now, the silence between you is heavy, tense, and unbearable. You’ve started to feel like strangers who share the same space but live in entirely different worlds. You’re still here, still trying, but him? He’s somewhere else.

You feel like strangers, when you meet a stranger, you smile, not out of undying love, out of compulsion.

He thinks it’s about the missed anniversary. But it’s not. It’s about all the moments that have passed with him not truly seeing you. You’re right there in front of him, but it’s like he’s looking past you, through you, at something else—something you can’t reach.

The problem is, he doesn’t notice. He doesn’t see how his distance is tearing you apart. How your conversations have become shallow, how the meaningful exchanges you used to have are now just brief, distracted words before he retreats into his world. You wonder if he even remembers what it used to be like, back when the two of you would sit in silence, and it would still feel full, still feel like everything was right in the world.

Now, the silence feels empty, a void between you that grows wider each day.

He spends more time with his art, disappearing into it. And maybe, that’s where he’s been hiding all along. You think of how he once told you that art was about capturing a moment, freezing it in time so it could live forever. But you don’t want to live in frozen moments. You want him here, now, fully present. You want him to realize that the distance between you isn’t something that can be brushed aside with promises of a future. It’s something that needs to be addressed now.

He’s always that you tend to dwell too much on feelings, on little things that don’t matter. But this isn’t little. This is everything.

You miss the way he used to look at you, the way his presence alone could make you feel whole. Now, even when he’s there, it’s like he’s somewhere else. You see it in the way his eyes glaze over when you talk, how his focus always seems to drift. You’ve started to wonder if he even cares anymore, if he even realizes that his absence—though physical—has become emotional too.

The truth is, you don’t care about fancy chocolates or grand gestures. You never did. You just want him. You want the man who used to make you feel like the only person in the room, the man who used to understand you without needing to ask. You don’t need extravagant gifts. You need his time, his attention, his love—the way it used to be.

But he doesn’t see that. He thinks there’s always time. That you can make it up later. But what he doesn’t realize is that every day he pulls away, a little more of you pulls back too. The cracks in your relationship are growing, and the longer they’re ignored, the harder they’ll be to repair. He thinks you’re just upset because of the anniversary. But this has been building for months, maybe even longer. And now, it feels like you’re both on the verge of breaking.

You wish you could find the right words to make him understand, to make him see what’s happening between you. But every time you try, you stop yourself. Because deep down, you know that he’s not ready to hear it. Or worse, he doesn’t want to.

People change. You’ve changed too, but you’ve grown in ways that are trying to hold onto him, while he’s slipping away into someone you barely recognize. And the hardest part is knowing that he thinks everything is fine. That you have time. That you’ll figure it out later.

But you don’t want to live in the future. You want the present. You want him next to you, really next to you, not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, in every way that matters.

Because you’re tired of waiting. You’re tired of hoping that things will get better on their own, that the distance between you will magically close. You know now that it won’t—not unless something changes. Not unless he changes.

Hyunjin must have noticed the stillness, as he quietly approached.

He stood behind you, his fingers brushing against your shoulder, warm and grounding. you tilted your head back to meet his gaze, but his eyes were somewhere else—far off in a world you couldn't reach.

"Writer's block?" he asked softly, his voice like the brush of a fine-tipped pen over canvas.

You shrugged, looking out at the twilight, thinking of how words could so easily fail when you needed them most.

It wasn't that, and the fact that he failed to recognise that was proof, that he indeed is drifting.

"Something like that."

He knelt beside you, his head resting against your knee.

Hyunjin had never needed words in the way you did. His language came in strokes, colors, textures—the way paint blended into something more than itself, how the space between two figures could tell a thousand stories without saying a word.

He pulled out a sketchbook, his charcoal pencil already dancing over the page. He didn’t need to speak; his art was the dialogue. The curves and edges of the lines formed into abstract shapes, slowly coming into focus.

You watched as he sketched two figures—"us" he said. But something was different.

"You’ve drawn us before," you said, your voice softer now. "Why does this feel different?"

Hyunjin paused, looking at the sketch. "It’s not about us. It’s about the distance between us."

you stared at the unfinished drawing, your breath catching in your throat. "Distance?"

His hand traced the space between the two figures he’d drawn. "We’re close, but not touching. Like we’re in different worlds... I don’t know how to explain it with words, but sometimes, I feel like we’re speaking different languages."

So he did feel it.

It made you think of Picasso, how his blue period captured his own internal isolation—despair hidden in soft hues, sadness under every stroke.

Hyunjin smiled, though his eyes remained serious. "I think silence is a language all on its own. Just like your pauses when you write, they say just as much as the words."

The silence stretched between you both then, a moment so textured with meaning that words would have felt intrusive. You turned away from the window and faced him, the intensity of his gaze making you feel as though you were a character in one of his pieces—forever captured on canvas, never truly understood.

"Do you ever feel like we’re stuck in our own worlds?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. "You, with your art. Me, with my writing. Sometimes I wonder if we’re talking past each other."

He frowned, his fingers pausing over the sketchbook. "Sometimes, yes. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I think we’re just... translating differently."

You suddenly remembered a quote from

Murakami's Norwegian Wood:

"What happens when people open their hearts?" I asked. "They get better," she said.

You wanted to believe that. That even in the silence between you both, even in the spaces, that you were opening your hearts in the only ways you knew how.

"I write because I want to make sense of things," You said quietly. "But you—" You hesitated, unsure if you were getting it right. "You create to express what can’t be made sense of, don’t you?"

He smiled, his eyes softening. "Exactly."

For Hyunjin, art was never about answers. It was about capturing moments that words could never fully express. He often spoke of how Van Gogh’s Starry Night wasn’t about the sky or the stars—it was about feeling the vastness of everything and knowing you were a part of it, yet so far away from touching it all.

He slid the sketchbook toward you, and you stared at the drawing again. The figures—"us"—still remained apart. But this time, you noticed something you hadn’t before. The way his hand had darkened the space between 'us', as if to suggest that the distance wasn’t empty, but full of unsaid things.

"This is how I feel when you’re lost in your stories," Hyunjin said. "Like you’re right next to me, but your mind is miles away. I don’t know if you’re with me or somewhere else."

you ran my fingers over the page, over the shadowed space. "Maybe that’s just how we’re meant to be. Maybe that space is what gives us room to grow."

He watched me for a moment, his lips parting as if to say something, but then he paused. Instead, he reached for his paintbrush, dipped it in blue, and ran it over the page. The blue spilled between the figures, a vibrant, living thing, connecting us in a way the lines alone couldn’t.

"It’s not about closing the distance," he murmured. "It’s about filling it with something meaningful."

You sat with that for a moment, letting it sink in. How you had both been trying to make sense of the space between yourselves in your own ways—you with your words, him with his art. But maybe Hyunjin was right. Maybe the space wasn’t something to fear or fill, but to cherish. A space where your worlds could coexist without fully merging.

"Virginia Woolf once wrote," You began, " ‘I am rooted, but I flow.’ I think that’s us. We’re both rooted in who we are—me as a writer, you as an artist—but we flow through each other’s worlds. We don’t need to be the same to be together."

He reached across the table then, his fingers brushing yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence between you both wasn’t heavy. It was light. Full.

Hyunjin smiled, his eyes softening as he closed the sketchbook. "We don’t need words or paintings for everything. Sometimes, just being here is enough."

[ninnosaurus]

Yo NINNO! It’s turtle tats!

If you’re still doing the pining prompt request, can I ask for Bayverse Mikey and…. “You like them, don't you?" "I-...no. Possibly. Maybe. Fine, yes." "Hmm, why don't you tell them?" "I can't, I don't want to ruin what we have for what I wish to have. They wouldn't. They could never like me back like that."

🫶🏼💚🫵🏼✨

HI TATTIE

Yeh, lets go! I had some trouble with this because I had this clear scene in my head but it was harder to write out than I thought it would be so ahahaaha 🫠 Hope you like it though <333

Contains: Bay!Mikey and Leo. Leo being a lil shit. Pining. Mikey is a lil sad :( but its okay. Gender neutral... uhhh... Leo is wearing grey sweatpants, iykyk 😏 AN: The link provided in the text is for a simple google search to show what kind of "scratch art" I mean in case anyone doesn't know what it is.

“There you are.” 

“Huh? Oh, hi Leo.”

Mikey looked up at his oldest brother. “Didn't think you liked going up here unarmed.” 

The eldest was unusually dressed down for going topside. While Mikey was correct that he didn't like going topside without his gear, he also didn't feel like putting it all on after a shower. Only putting on a pair of sweats and slippers and letting his blue mask hang from his neck. Leo chuckled and patted Mikey's head before sitting down on the ledge. 

“I got my stars on me.” 

The brothers sat in silence for a while. Watching a cat jump down from a reeling. Some people laughed at a party somewhere as a glass broke. 

Leonardo glanced down at how Mikey turned his phone around in his hands. 

“You're uncharacteristically quiet tonight, Mikey. Are you okay?” He leaned back on his hands to give his baby brother some space. 

It was like Mikey's entire being deflated. He wasn't new to showing his feelings, the only one who bested him in emotions was Raphael.  He looked down at the device in his hand, pressing the lock button to check for messages. But like it had been the past four hours, it was empty. 

“ ‘m good.” 

“You sure?”

“...no.” 

“Wanna talk ‘bout it?” Leo glanced at Mikey's back as he fiddled with his own phone before putting it down next to him. 

The youngest shrugged. “I don't know what's there to talk about, bro. I sent them a text four hours ago. Still no answer.” 

His brother hummed. 

“You like them, don't you?” 

Michelangelo turned sharply back to look at his brother. “I-... No. Possibly. Maybe. Fine, yes.” He groaned at the shit eating grin and laugh Leo shot him before he turned back to look at the street below again. “Very funny…” 

Leo tapped the screen on his phone again. “Hmm, why don't you tell them?” 

Orange threw his hands up. “I can't! I… Don't want to ruin what we have for what I wish to have.” He unlocked his phone and navigated to his photos. A sigh leaving him as he looked at a picture he'd taken off you in secret. Bathed in fairy lights, a look of concentration on your face as you were nose deep in a scratch art piece. “They wouldn't. They could never like me back like th-” 

His heart nearly jumped out his chest and he almost dropped his phone when a call came in with your name on it. 

You barely gave him time to say “hi” when he answered it. 

“You like me?” 

Leonardo held his phone up to Mikey's face, showing a conversation between him and you illuminating the youngest face. 

Sent 10:45 PM hey, I'm calling you. But don't speak, alright? 

adopted annoyance 10:46 PM Okay? Why? 

Sent 10:46 PM Just listen to me

adopted annoyance 10:48 PM  Fine fine 🙄 

The look on Mikey's face when he realized what Leo had done would forever be ingrained in his mind. He laughed before whispering “good luck, lil bro. See ya at home”, turned and began to walk back home to the lair.

Tag list :3 : @avery73 @thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @redsrooftopprincess @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos Please let me know if I missed you c:

[fadewalking]

I barely know who Jojo Siwa is, but ive also publicly defended her numerous times for all the "relationship drama" she seems to get cancelled for on twitter and tiktok, and i guess i still stand by that we need to be leaving ourselves out of the romantic affairs of celebrities. But now i also feel like having publicly defended her for anything is a bad look, given her stupid statement on Colleen Ballinger and her victims. And thankfully this situation is nowhere near on the scale of horrific as the Danny Masterson situation, but I can't help but draw some kind of parallel between Ashton & Friends defending Danny in their letters and Jojo defending Colleen. Like... why on earth would anyone make a decision to publicly support someone who has victims... is it money?? Just like being famous and having money??? That's the only thing jojo and Ashton seem to have in common, is that they're both famous and have money. So like when you're rich and famous do you automatically just not have a soul? I'm just floored at what could possibly cause this behavior of supporting people who do awful things. Unlike Ashton & Friends though, I think Jojo could recover from this if she just realized she's in the wrong and apologized. But i dont see her as the type to admit to being in the wrong, which is based off of nothing tbf, it's just a vibe and my own personal opinion. But yeah, horrible look. Not a girl's girl, i hope she grows up real quick and sees this situation for what it is.

[stjernespiller]

Another eye

Can also be found on AO3

You can’t see anything.

Blood drips from your face. You think it hurts, in that distant way everything does now. You try to get it out of your eye, just enough to see the fight, but your vision stays dark through the wet sounds of blood and flesh.

Stupid, you think to yourself. Stupid stupid idiot, zoning out in a battle. Should have just looped forward to the king instead of taking that bathroom break and fighting the floor boss. Couldn’t even blinding cry, so what did it matter?

Your family members are speaking. They don’t do that much in battle. You should probably listen.

Bonnie is crying.

Mirabelle heals you again, a light feeling drifting over you that does nothing to take away the weight in your stomach. You don’t know why she did it again, you just need to get this blood out of your eye and you can go back to the fight, stop zoning out just enough to beat the sadness blocking your way to asking the king the question you’ve been dreading.

Isabeau is saying something very close to you. You think it’s him, at least, from the deeper tone. You can’t hear it. Can’t fight can’t see can’t hear. You’re pathetic.

He touches your face.

It’s- new, strange, unexpected. You flinch, and he takes his hand back, like your family always does because you’re so weak you can’t even handle being touched. But the hand only leaves for a moment before it’s back again, holding your cheek. you stand very, very still.

Is the fight over? It has to be. You almost had it before you got distracted and let yourself get hit. Maybe Isabeau and Odile got it while Mirabelle was healing you. He wouldn’t be touching you like this if the sadness was still attacking, back turned to where it stood.

He wipes the blood away from your eye, unstained hand doing a much better job than yours had. You still can’t see. You still can’t hear what any of them are saying. He sounds close to tears, though.

Ah. You know why you can’t see.

It clears your hearing. Fear, for some reason, leaves when you exhale. You breathe deep in, again, and a full sense of calmness fills the space of the fear you breathe out.

The blood hadn’t covered your eye, it was coming out of it. Stupid Siffrin didn’t pay attention to the fight and lost another eye.

Isabeau is cursing, voice wet with tears. His other hand cups your jaw, keeping your head in place. He wipes more blood away, touching your eyeball with so much gentleness you feel it should heal it. Mirabelle crafts another healing spell, and Odile asks Bonnie for the one sweet tonic you picked up this loop.

You pick up your wooden arms, raising them slowly, like through a thick fog, to land your hands on Isabeau’s. He drops his hands from your face. You’re speaking to your whole party when you say, “It won’t work.”

Bonnie sobs. Someone, likely Odile, pours a tonic on your eye anyway.

You just need to get to a frozen tear. You don’t remember where they are, but maybe you could convince your family to lead you to one. If you could find some excuse. Or just swing your arms around until you hit one.

“The head housemaiden could heal you,” Mirabelle whispers, voice just as teary as Isabeau’s. “I should have taken more healing classes. Studied more on my own. I can’t do it. And by the time we get to her...”

She trails of. Crafts another healing cure. It works just as well as the others.

Healing of this scale needs to be done quick. You know, because you all talked about it when you lost your first eye, and when Isabeau showed you a small scar on his bicep. Go more than an hour or two without the right healing craft, and it’ll be permanent.

An idea lights up in your mind. You turn your head, but it all stays black, and you can’t look anyone in the eye.

“We can find a tear. Freeze me.” It’s so perfect. You almost have to stop yourself from grinning. The best excuse you could have ever asked for. “when you beat the king and everyone unfreezes, someone can help me.”

The lie is easy, as easy as all the others you’ve filled these two days with. They won’t beat the king without you. You won’t unfreeze with everyone else, and the head housemaiden will never help you. But you need to see to fight, and you need to loop to see, and you need a tear to loop.

It’s quiet for a moment. “Will that work?” Odile asks, voice strangely soft.

“It’s worth a try.”

“We’ll find a tear!” Bonnie yells. They either stamp their foot or jump in place. “We’ll defeat the king and you’ll get your eye back!” their voice is still wet. You don’t know why. Are they scared of fighting the king without you? Now you’re thinking about the loop you let them go alone. Stars, you really are an awful person. Of course they’re scared when you can’t keep fighting, and just before the king, too.

“Let’s bandage it until then.” Mirabelle says, and a piece of cloth presses against your face. It’s nice and cool. “Your coat is all dark know.”

Odile, you think, listening to the footsteps, start walking. “We can’t go back,” she says, “hopefully there will be some tears further in.”

You walk after her. The corridor is as familiar to you as the rest of this blinding house. You don’t need an eye to know the way.

Isabeau still hovers beside you, steps heavy but careful. He doesn’t offer to guide you, probably afraid to touch you, but you can imagine his arm reaching out, hovering above your shoulder, ready to steer you away from the walls or the floor or what else you might kill yourself on. Fragile little Siffrin, can’t walk on his own.

Bonnie is to your other side, rushing ahead for two steps at a time before falling back again, never straying far. They hiccup, and audibly sniff their snot in. You feel awful. The tear is close. You just need to loop.

Mirabelle walks in front of you with Odile. You can almost feel her continuously looking back at you, footsteps irregular in that familiar pattern. You don’t know why it’s familiar, and when you try to remember, it slips away like lightless sand between your fingers.

The air is tense. You slip into your mind, a little. Claude is up ahead, frozen in time with the secret ingredient. You turn a corner, and don’t think about how strange it looks to your family for you to walk through the corridor like this. Isabeau calling you graceful is there, memory pushing itself to the front of your mind, but you don’t force yourself to act as if you don’t know this place better than yourself. They won’t remember.

“Does it hurt?” Bonnie whispers besides you. You instinctively look towards them, but still see nothing but darkness around you. “Sorry, stupid question. Of course it hurts.” Their voice is still wet. They sniffle. “You just act like it doesn’t.”

You’ve been acting a lot. Almost everything feels like a secret, a lie, a play. This isn’t one of them. “It’s just an eye.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN JUST AN EYE?!” Bonnie yells, and their voice is still wet, but it cracks in fury. “You always do this, you don’t care about anything! It’s your eye, you can’t see, you lost both of them now! You have to care!”

They hate you. You remember, now, that they don’t love you. You couldn’t get yourself to help them this loop, too tired from hearing the same thing again and again and again. In this moment, Bonnie hasn’t hugged you. In this moment, you haven’t talked with Bonnie about losing your first eye. In this moment, they still hate you.

But it’s fine. You’re on your way to a tear. You’ve all been walking this stretch for a while, Mirabelle should see Claude soon, and then they’ll find the safe room, and after that - you think you’ve seen tears there before.

“It’s just an eye,” you say again, because you can’t bring yourself to pretend any differently, that it matters to you more than having to loop and run through the third floor again. “I’ve lost worse.”

Bonnie doesn’t respond. Claude has to be here soon, right? Was she always this deep in the corridor?

"How is your eyes not the worst thing you've lost?" Mirabelle asks, so quiet you almost don’t hear her. The kind of question she doesn’t expect a response to.

You shouldn’t respond. You don’t want to respond. How can you. You can’t speak it’s name, can’t tell them anything about it, and you already didn’t help Odile this loop because you couldn’t bring yourself to follow the blinding script again when she won’t understand and won’t remember and won’t care.

“I lost my home,” you say anyway, because it’s all one big cosmic joke. They won’t remember anyway. It doesn’t matter. “And I don’t even remember it.”

Does your country matter, if no one remembers it?

Isabeau speaks up, always the emotionally mature one. “I’m sorry, that sounds awful.”

“You never remember anything,” Bonnie sniffles, sounding tired. The kind of exhausted you get calming down from crying. You wish your stupid eye would let you cry.

You’ve already broken the dam. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. “I don’t.” Isabeau tugs at you cloak, pulling you slightly towards him. He lets you go, a meter more to the left of the corridor than before, and doesn’t explain anything. You don’t ask.

“Not even the word for a stuffed animal. Or a sharpening stone, which you use all the time. Or bananas.” It seems to calm Bonnie down, listing all the things you don’t remember. You follow along.

“Not the name for all the birds in Dormount. What bonding earring are. What we did last week. My family. My country. Your names, that one time.”

It doesn’t calm you down. Or the others, for that matter. Isabeau stopped walking. The other three follow suit.

You stop too, because the others did. Then you wish you had kept going, because now you’re just standing here, and you still can’t see anything.

“Sif...” Isabeau starts, soft and careful. “I’m sorry. We’ve been poking fun at your memory, but this... We need to talk, after we beat the king.”

You don’t want to talk. Have you already made the pun on your memory this loop? Bonnie said you couldn’t remember the name, so probably, you need something else, something to divert the attention, it doesn’t matter because they’ll forget but right now they remember and you don’t want to talk.

“Aren’t there any tears here?” You ask, and it comes out harsher than you planned.

“Oh! No, not yet, but there’s a door here, maybe on the other side?” Mirabelle sounds nervous and jumpy. Did you do that? Stars, you’re awful.

Then you think. There’s a door, and you hear someone open it. Claude was before the door. She was, you know it, you can’t have forgotten that, Mirabelle stops you all and says the same thing every time.

Did you all walk past her? Did... did Mirabelle change the script? Because you’re blind now?

Your head hurts. You walk towards the door, and only need to follow the wall for a moment before you reach it, having been pulled from the middle of the corridor by Isabeau. Was that.... because of Claude? Did he pull you out of the way?

When Mirabelle tells everyone to hurry through the safe room, they do so. No one talks about taking a break, and Odile’s stomach doesn’t rumble. You’re through the room without eating or touching the star.

“There!” Bonnie yells, first out of the second door.

“A tear,” Odile says simply. “Two, actually. Pick your poison, Siffrin.”

You chuckle, just a little. Lean right. But you don’t actually know where in the room the tears are. You just know the door to the king is straight ahead.

“Can I lead you to it?” Isabeau offers. You empty your mind, think of nothing, and hold out your hand.

He guides you in an arch. Let’s go of your hand. You reach out, and dream of nothing.

[orchideae]

Me over here: Yelan in her 20s? I can't warrant it. 31 is the go-to on this blog for madame.

[killjoy-prince]

If Misha ends up being the Watchmaker ill scream

[uncanny-tranny]

Hi, I love your blog! 😁❤

There are so many terms and identities out there now, which is awesome, but I'm ashamed to say I don't know enough about all of them. Is there a good resource for accurate information and definitions of gender and sexual identities that you would suggest?

I just want to be able to understand my friends when they want to explain to me how they identify, and maybe to be able to help understand myself a bit better too. And I know some of it is more fluid and personal than a standard definition, I'm just hoping to get a general understanding of all this, for my friends and for me.

I tend not to specifically look for amalgamations or dictionaries of queer terms, mostly because there comes a point where whomever is making it will be speaking to an identity they don't have much knowledge or expertise about, and many don't consult other communities. I've come across too many queer dictionary "sources" that almost act as though its word is law that I stopped going to those types of sources first. I'm not saying you could never go to a source that compiles queer identities into a list, like a dictionary, but often, you won't get a deeper knowledge about queerness beyond whatever that source says, which is why I don't have recommendations for you.

What I've found is that, when I have a question about a specific queer identity, I'll go directly to the community I've got questions about. I know that's not exactly what you were asking, but I've personally found that this has enriched my own understanding in ways that an often clinical definition just didn't.

I think the biggest thing to internalize first is that there's nothing wrong with not knowing it all. Even other queer people won't understand each other at first - because that is what it means to be people. The effort to understand one another must always be a collaborative effort first and foremost, which is why I so strongly emphasize learning from communities, from people, and from those who actually live as themselves.

[mars-ipan]

overcoming anxiety (through practicing the things that scare you) is so interesting. i used to be horrified of taking up space or alerting other people of my presence. now i'm compelled to tell strangers i like their outfits or hair or earrings- on bad days i tell maybe a quarter of them. do i still overthink it? absolutely. but i call attention to myself to tell someone else my opinion. and with the way they tend to smile and tell me "thank you!" i'm pretty sure it's taken to heart.

i used to be horrified of making phone calls as well. this is one i'm still getting over- i just Don't Like Doing It. i used to have a phone call routine that i still joke about- realize i need to call someone, cry, avoid it for a few days, suck it up, write a script, memorize the script, cry again, final script read, make the call with the script in front of me. and i would be Exhausted by the end of it. i don't cry when i need to call people anymore. i'm even needing scripts less and less- i've found out that people actually won't kill me if i talk a little too fast or stumble on my words. i doubt i'll ever like making phone calls- i especially hate robots (i'm afraid they'll mishear me and direct me wrong or a person will suddenly show up and i won't be prepared)- but i can make them now.

i get overwhelmed really easy. just a thing that happens to me. my brain is really really good at taking one task and breaking it up into thousands of little tasks and it feels like i'm drowning. if i try to make it fewer larger tasks then it starts to feel insurmountable. i was completely lost on how to deal with this (other than avoid until you get that panic attack and can do work in the post-catharsis calm until 6:00 AM) until one night when my dad (who i often meet late at night due to overlapping mental illness symptoms) asked me how to eat an elephant. i looked at him, confused, and he said "one bite at a time." that was way more effective than any other analogy i've seen has been. "light at the end of a tunnel"- i don't feel like i'm moving forward, i feel like i'm scaling a wall. "steps on a trail"- i can see my destination, but it feels impossible to move forward. but eating an elephant? that sums it up perfectly. this huge task which seems impossible at a glance. but it must be done. so you eat the elephant, a bite at a time. every time i'm overwhelmed i repeat that phrase to myself. it hasn't made any major changes yet, but it keeps me calm enough to start before i hit the panic attack, which i'll take.

i was such a perfectionist growing up- i actually thought it was a good thing (school always taught me to strive for perfection). but it made me scared to try new things- if i wasn't immediately good at them, then it clearly wasn't for me. i'm still not great at starting new hobbies, but i try a lot of new things within the hobbies i already have. i test out different ways of making art, i try new puzzle games i don't understand, etc. and the feeling of steady improvement reminds me that i don't need to be good right away. some of the most satisfying moments don't come from immediately being good- they come from achieving that skill over time. i'd like to try to learn to sew soon.

idk it's interesting. i rewire my own brain's fear response by doing the Horrifying Thing enough times for me to understand that no i will not die. and while i'm doing it it feels like nothing is changing. i get so stressed every time- it can actually take a lot out of me (turns out fight-or-flight burns a lot of energy). but i look back at then vs. now and i realize how far i've come, and i can't help but think "huh. neat"

[dracolizardlars]

My brain every time I meet a man about my age who has shoulder length+ hair and is moderately interesting to talk to: "Oh, our perfect mate!!!!"

[hidden-highlands]

i am home in my own bed, cleaner than i've been in over a month and also a lil bit tipsy

it's been a whirlwind of a month (for good and for bad) and it's been a super long day and i'm so happy to be home but more than that i'm so happy to have somewhere that feels like home. somewhere that feels permanent, somewhere that i miss when i'm away, somewhere i'm grateful to return to.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞

❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞

✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader ✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? ✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n. ✧ wc: 5.3K

It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter. 

But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up. 

It was him. 

You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak. 

“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him ��� and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises? 

He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers. 

“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,” 

Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment. 

He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,” 

And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile. 

Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped. 

And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,” 

And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze. 

Fuck. 

“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,” 

You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—” 

“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked. 

And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break. 

It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?” 

He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?” 

And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks. 

“I would,” 

And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile. 

Fuck. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears. 

But how can you be quiet? 

The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck. 

And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,” 

And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass. 

He’s huge. 

The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.

“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—” 

“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,” 

“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”

Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?” 

And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much. 

He was too much. 

“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,” 

“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,” 

“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—” 

And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns. 

He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart. 

That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up. 

“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—” 

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt. 

He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store. 

And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—” 

“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care. 

And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump. 

You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.

“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush. 

How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,” 

“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?” 

And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling. 

“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.” 

~~~~

The two of you had fallen into a pattern. 

And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…

You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started. 

“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin. 

“What are you—” 

“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,” 

“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type. 

“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?” 

“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“ 

“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,” 

“Mahito—“ 

“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money,  “be a doll, won’t you?” 

Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?” 

You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?” 

His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice. 

“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?

Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?” 

“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.” 

“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling. 

This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger. 

“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods. 

“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot. 

“I will,” 

“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.

“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,” 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip. 

“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,” 

And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.” 

“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze. 

No time like the present, right?

“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—” 

And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—” 

“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,” 

“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—” 

“Have another lesson?” 

And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you. 

He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue. 

And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt. 

Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was. 

And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—” 

“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,” 

“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release. 

One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure. 

“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you. 

“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks. 

His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much. 

You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light. 

And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach. 

Your mouth runs dry. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. 

Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you. 

“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it. 

And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze. 

His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch. 

His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away. 

He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—” 

And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal. 

Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod. 

He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out. 

“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.

“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!” 

And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you. 

“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out,  “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?” 

“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder. 

“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him. 

Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—” 

“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls. 

The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt. 

“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick. 

“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again. 

God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour. 

~~~

The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise. 

“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you. 

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.” 

You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?” 

You were picking up your boyfriend. 

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.” 

note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!

tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious

[sam-moss]

Just saw a mutual on Twitter selling what looks like their entire SKZ photocard collection. So many complete sets. One might think “We evolve and change, it happens” but I feel like I watched the joy they found in SKZ be ripped from them in real time, so seeing this final chapter was absolutely heartbreaking.

(warning: long half-vent half-story)

It has been WAR over there for Stayville. There was a single released that was produced by zionists (with a debatable amount of SKZ creative involvement) which caused a movement of Stays boycotting the song. This decision tore the fandom in HALF. You’d think that everyone would be on the same page, right? It’s not like this is the first time we’ve boycotted a song with zionist ties! But later it was realized that this was different for too many reasons to list here. Basically some people thought that if you promoted boycotting the song you were calling all of the members of SKZ zionists, you were virtue-signaling for attention, and you were never a fan, you’ve hated SKZ the whole time and you’ve just been waiting for the chance to jump on them and ruin their reputation. And this is all in the heat of the college campus protests were happening.

And then things got PERSONAL. An account said that boycotters should black ocean if SKZ ever performs the song (I’ll shorten to LMB). Another account saw that and said “I’m going to knock out anyone who doesn’t have their lightstick up during LMB” and a big account replied in support. Boycotters said to block and report the accounts. That big (antiboycott) account did NOT like that and said that boycotters were worse. Started getting REAL personal about those account. Flooded a ton of boycotter accounts, big and small, with hate. Every day it was getting worse, accusations and threads thrown everywhere.

One account of the accounts affected was my mutual. Their account was pretty big, big enough for me to be surprised and excited when they followed me back. But they would like my posts, and we DM’d sometimes but not enough to get really close.

This fanwar affected for her mental health in such an extreme way that it affected their real life. They were in such a low place. Then I found out they deactivated. That was devastating, but you hope it’s for the better. Then I found out that another account (much closer to them than me) received a text from a stranger that they were in the hospital.

After a few days that account said wouldn’t update further on the other’s condition.

Yesterday, my mutual reactivated their account and came back with words of hope. So many people showed love and support while they were gone and the same outpouring occurred at their return. It feels like it’s been forever since this all started but it might’ve been a just a month or two that this whole situation has gone down.

Today they posted what looks like their entire SKZ photocard collection up for sale.

The heartbreak hidden the context absolutely knocked me down. I can feel it thru the screen. I hope this decision is what is best for them. I can’t imagine what they’ve been thru since they’ve been gone, but I hope they’re able to move forward.

It’s so ridiculous that so many are willing to be so cruel over a dumb little song produced by zionists. Moral of the story, touch grass. Evil is over-represented in online spaces. Not only that, but don’t be the evil. Be kind. Not because the other person may be going thru a lot, be kind because that’s how you’re supposed treat people.

[tonycries]

Like An Animal - T.F.

Synopsis. Of course Toji doesn’t want any more kids. Of course he’s lying as he stuffs your pretty cúnt full of his cúm for the third time tonight.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, cúmplay, mating press, chóking, overstim, oral (female receiving), créampie, dirty talk, Toji really REALLY wants to get you pregnant, spitting, mentioned kids, absolutely filthy, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Need this man so bad you don’t even understand AAA.

Toji Fushiguro didn’t want any more kids. Why would he? They were messy, expensive, and it was a sheer miracle that Megumi wasn’t anything like the little demons he’s seen during drop-off at the kindergarten. He didn’t need another reason to watch Babyshark for five hours straight - and he wasn’t about to change his mind anytime soon. 

Or, so he thought.

“Hey doll, m’home- what the f-”

“Toji! Language!” you hiss, hastily covering the ears of a very oblivious Yuji, who was deeply engrossed in mixing icing. 

Oh? 

Now, there have only been three times in his life that Toji has been truly taken aback. The first being when he discovered that yes, Megumi’s hair really does stand up that way naturally. Second, when he realized that he was falling for you - and that oh shit maybe he does still have feelings somewhere in there after all. 

And finally, right now, the sight of you covered in flour and wrestling three giggly toddlers into some semblance of order in the kitchen. “Welcome home, handsome.”

Oh. 

It made something deep inside him lurch so strangely.

“Why…” Toji rasps, eyes flitting between the mixing bowls messily clinked together and the three toddlers happily stood on stools, flour in their hair and matching smiles on your faces. “Why have they multiplied?” 

“We’re baking cookies!” Yuji exclaims from the counter, swiping a thick wad of dough on Nobara’s hair. To which the latter responds with a swift smack on the head. 

You smirk at your dumbfounded boyfriend, “Well, Toji, it seems that when you leave me alone with a batch of cookies to bake, I have a tendency to summon reinforcements.” Gesturing at the chaos surrounding you, “Megs wanted to bake some cookies before his sleepover at Yuji’s so I had these three over because we have more than enough space.”

“I see…does insurance cover this kitchen?”

Rolling your eyes, “Oh c’mon, don’t be such a spoilsport.” You reach for the batch of freshly baked goods, “You’re just in time to taste-test our latest creation!”

And, well, how could he ever say no to you? Although - flour-dusted and disheveled - some strange part of himself thinks you look even more gorgeous than usual right now, as if that was even possible. His girl was so pretty, even when you’re wrangling three little gremlins. Too pretty. Toji just couldn’t get his head around that nagging little voice saying you looked so pretty especially when you’re wrangling three little gre-

“Ehh? Fushiguro is your dad blushing?”

“Gross.”

“You idiots he isn’t blushing, it’s called ‘swooning’. My mommy says it’s a grown-up thing.”

It was hard to not hear the (extremely loud) whispers from behind you, but it was even harder to ignore the slight red tinting Toji’s ears as he pointedly reached out for the tray you were holding. Fingers barely even brushing against the cookies before a tiny voice speaks up, “Mama, can I have one too?”

You freeze. Toji freezes. You think the whole world freezes except for Yuji and Nobara who stifle giggles behind their hands.

“Look Kugisaki, now he’s really swooning.”

“Yeah, my mommy says that’s also how you get babies. You swoon and pop! they appear.”

Toji raises a brow at Nobara, gritting out a strained, “Your mommy says a lot, huh?” That jolts you out of your reverie, and you flash a gentle smile at a very red-faced Megumi. Leaning down to reply, “Of course, sweetie.”

And as he mumbles a quick “Thank you”, hastily grabbing another cookie and retreating to a corner of the kitchen - hoping to disappear into the shadows - you risk a glance at Toji. Cheeks flushed hard enough to rival Megumi’s, ah, like father like son. 

“Anyway, don’t just stand there. Come help me n’ the kids, Yuji’s grandpa’s coming to pick them up soon!” you playfully swat at your boyfriend’s sculpted chest, going back to busying yourself with the icing. 

Toji, however, was having an epiphany that was altering his perception of reality, one that he’d probably been denying ever since he stepped in through that damn front door. You. The kids. You and the kids. You and his kids. 

“Mama.”

And Megumi’s little slip-up had been the final nail on his coffin to certify that oh Toji Fushiguro was utterly and irrevocably screwed. And he’d like to blame it all on you being such a goddamn wonder, but he’s got a nagging feeling that the three little gremlins currently decorating cookies share an equal part of the blame. 

What was it that girl had said? Swooning is how you get babies? Because, well, eyeing the way you scooped up a pouty Megumi in your arms, chatting animatedly with a tittering Nobara and Yuji, only one thought rings through his mind - damn right, kid.

---

“-and make sure to brush your teeth. No faking this time, okay? I’ve told Yuji’s grandpa to check. And-”

“No summoning demons, and no summoning the police. Though you’re probably too young for that.” Toji interrupts your little tirade, ruffling the hair of a very disgruntled Megumi. “Have fun, little man.”

You giggle at the usual father-son dynamic, but as you waved off Megumi and his friends, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something in the air felt a bit different. Something a bit tense. A bit exciting.

Maybe it was the heavy silence that hung in the room after that door slammed shut, leaving just you and Toji all alone in the house. Forcing you to register the heat of his large frame looming behind yours. When did he get so close? Or maybe it was the prickly of his gaze on your back, a resounding slam! echoing in your ears as he cages you against the door. 

Or maybe - just maybe - it was the way he leaned down to whisper in your ear, husky and tinged with something so utterly dangerous. 

“So…mama, huh?” 

A thrill goes down your spine at his words. “Oh, stop.” you wave off, though you feel your cheeks flaring up in response. Especially as he plows on, “Why? I think you make a great mama.”

You scoff, casting a sidelong glance at the muscular arm just inches away from your head. “Don’t joke, Megs was so embarrassed after that.”

“I’m not joking.”

Your back hits the cool door before you can react. Toji’s hands almost painful on your shoulders, muscles rippling as he turns you to face him. You raise your eyes to meet his and oh-

Oh shit. 

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies as you take in the man before you. His expression darkened, breaths slightly labored, eyes half-lidded and locked on you. You’d almost have been worried at the sudden flip of personality had it not been for the words that spill from his lips. 

“I’m not joking.” he repeats, voice strangled. 

Great, the man has finally lost it. Despite the traitorous throbbing in your cunt, you try to make sense of the situation. “Toji, this joke has-”

Your words get caught in your throat as he raises a hand to squish your cheeks together into an almost-embarrassing pout, looking down at you through dazed eyes. “Do I look like I’m joking, doll?” Leaning down to lick a stripe up a smudge of icing on your cheek. Lingering far too long, murmuring into your skin, “What do you think?” 

In the heat of it all, you manage to choke out, “W-what?”

“Don’t you think,” he mutters, as strained as if he were about to snap any second. Losing his sanity with each word that comes out of his mouth. “That you’d make the best mama?”

“I mean- yes-”

And then his lips are on yours, shutting you up - bruising. Such a sloppy mix of teeth and spit as he drinks you in with an aching desperation. Toji breathes in your gasp as you feel his cock, hard and throbbing against your front. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your mouth. “Not enough, ma. Need you s’bad.”

The buttons hit the floor before you realize what’s happening. Toji’s fisting your shirt in one hand, too impatient - too starved - he pulls down, down, down. Ripping. Urgently moving down to your shorts- “Those are expensi-” you yelp. 

But it’s useless - the tattered fabric hits the ground faster than your jaw as he groans out a quick, “I’ll buy ya a new one when we shop for baby clothes.”

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, hands trailing up your thighs. He swiftly unclasps your bra, mouth dropping into a soft little oh! at the sight, immediately groping each and every inch of skin he could reach. Tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples on his fingers in wonder. “Oh, doll. These are gonna be s’full, huh? Wan’ taste how sweet you’ll be.”

“T-Toji hah-” you whine, as he takes one nipple in his mouth. Lips wrapped so prettily around your tit as he tugs lightly, sucking harshly like he was miraculously trying to draw milk out. Looking up at you so obscenely through his thick lashes. “Ngh- wan’ more.” you buck your hips, grinding against his thick cock. 

And, well, how could Toji ever deny the mother of his children?

Because he immediately drops to his knees, biting down on the thin fabric of your soaked panties. Tugging with his teeth, “This what you want, ma?” he slurs. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he breathes in the scent of your dripping pussy, “Wan’ me to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt? Jus’ say the word.”

“Please, daddy.”

“Tha’s my girl.”

And then he’s pulling - tearing your drenched panties to shreds with his teeth. Flashing you a devilish grin at the sinful strings of slick that connect you to the flimsy fabric. Oh Toji had half the mind to tease you about how wet you were already, but no, he had no time to waste.

With a guttural, fucked-out little grunt, he’s surging forward, diving face first into your pretty pussy. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit, licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds. 

“Oh hngh- please.” you mewl, as he buries himself deeper into your dripping cunt. Tongue bullying its way past your folds to lap at your slick, not stopping till he’s had his fill of your sweet juices. “M-more.”

Two large hands dip into your waist as he wraps his glossy lips around your pulsing clit to suck harshly, both keeping you still and supporting your weight as your knees weaken. Toji can’t have his pretty girl hurt herself right before he fills her up n’ gets her pregnant, right?

“Sure ya can handle more, ma?” Electricity runs up your spine as your boyfriend rolls his tongue across your clit just the way he knew you liked. “Y’should be thanking me for not jus’ stuffing you full of my cock like I want to right now.” 

“Then hah- why don’t you?”

Toji pulls away ever-so-slightly, relishing in the delirious little whine of disappointment that leaves you. One that quickly turns into a surprised squeal as he spit a steady stream of spit into your quivering cunt, spreading it across your pussy with his thumb.

Sloppy - it was so fucking sloppy. He looked at you like you were his favorite meal and ate you out just as much. 

Your juices decorating his lips like a badge of honor. Smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw. One which moves as he utters, “Can’t break the mother of my kids, doll.” 

But oh how you’d beg to differ as he brings his face to your sloppy pussy once more, tongue darting out to catch the obscene little drip! drip! drip! of your slick. “Gon’ be the best fucking dad to all three of ‘em.”

“T-three?”

And with that, he’s squeezing his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Throwing your left leg over his sculpted shoulder to make out deeper with your cunt. You tug on his hair pathetically, impatiently. Cute little whines of his name leaving you each time he drips into your sloppy pussy, stretching you out, swiping at your clit, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over-

“Yeah, three.” he mutters into your folds, “Gon’ give me two more beautiful babies? Gon’ be so round n’ pretty with my kids?” Tongue curling deftly against that one spot he knew would have you keening and rocking your pretty cunt into his mouth. 

“Ah- fuck fuck fuck- hngh- yes!” you moan, body jerking violently at the way he hit that spot over and over.  

He huffs out a laugh, hungry gaze taking in that cute, desperate expression on your face. Toji just couldn’t help but tease you a little bit. “Use your words, ma.”

“H-huh?”

“Tell me what you want.”

You gasp out a pathetic little sob, “Want to so badly. Wan’ you to hah- fill me up hngh- W-wan’ cum-”

“So demanding.” he titters teasingly into your cunt, vibrations making you drag your pussy more erratically on his mean mouth. Now, Toji could tease you with his tongue for hours until you’re crying and begging for his cock. But right now, he doesn’t think he has any more patience nor sanity. “I love that.”

Toji knows by the way your pretty pussy clenches around his tongue that you’re close, pulse urgent on his face as he greedily laps at your cunt. So he speeds up his movements, drinking you in like a madman. 

A hand snaking up to plunge knuckle-deep into your sloppy entrance. Pussy taking him so readily after being stretched out on his tongue. Your adorable, fucked-out little whines of his name going straight to his rock-hard dick as he fucks you with his fingers the way he wants to with his cock. Two fingers thrusting in and out while his thumb draws rapid little circles on your clit. Sinking his teeth gently into your swollen folds.

Bucking into his touch, “Hah! S’too much, daddy. Hngh, g-gonna cum ah! Gonna cum-”

“Then cum, doll.”

And you are - fast and violent. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Toji’s fingers as if your fluttering cunt was trying to suck him up. Mind hazy and your only thoughts being about Toji and his tongue and Toji-

“Mmm taste s’sweet, love you on m’tongue.” he grunts, breathing you in and letting your juices slide down his throat. Lewd squelches in time with your cute lil’ whines as you ride out your orgasm on his pretty face. Tongue fucking you through your high. 

“Had fun, ma?” Toji grins once you blink back your vision, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Dangerous little smile only growing at your barely-lucid nod. 

Ah, but even the ever-confident Toji Fushiguro faltered as your shaky hands reached out to pet his achingly hard cock. Swollen and leaking a mouthwatering dark patch against his trousers. 

“Wan’ your cock now, daddy.” you murmur, watching the way his darkened eyes widen ever-so-slightly, breath hitching. “Wan’ you to fill me up over n’ over like you promised.”

Oh you little minx, with all your dirty tricks - you were going to be the death of him. 

With a dark little chuckle of disbelief, Toji rises to his full height. Lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss - tongue licking at the seam of your mouth and intertwining with yours. Forcing you to taste yourself on him. So sweet of sin and all his dreams of stuffing you till you were sure to have his kids - two of them, in fact. 

“Anything y’want, doll.” he whispers into your lips. 

And that’s all that is said before the clinking of a belt rings in the heady air. The realization that you were so naked and splayed out for him while he was still unfairly clothed finally hitting as Toji peels his shirt off. Your mouth waters at the chiseled front, hands immediately reaching to squeeze his large pecs. Running your hands along his body. 

“Ah, fuck.” he shudders, “Y’never change, huh?” 

Yet your greedy hands are momentarily stunned as he lets his pants fall to the floor with his boxers. Rock-hard cock springing up and hitting his stomach. 

He was so painfully hard that it made your cunt quiver in anticipation. Red and throbbing, soaked in precum and glistening in the dim lighting. Twitching at the sound of your voice as you say “Want you to fucking ruin me, daddy.” you blink up at Toji, all doe-eyed and teary after your last orgasm. 

And oh does that make him snap - maybe his sanity, maybe you by the end of this, because before you know it, Toji’s spreading your legs with his knee. Biting his bottom lip as your slick trails down your pretty cunt and onto your legs. 

“What m’girl wants.” he grits out, dragging his weeping tip across your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head. “My girl- gets.”

You keen as Toji bullies his massive cock into your cunt on the last word. “Ngh- T-Toji.” you whine, vision flashing at the stretch. No matter how many times Toji stuffed you full of his cock - his size never failed to disappoint.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You can take it.” Trying to steady your breathing as he fucks into you in quick, mindless little jabs to fit himself inside your snug pussy. “I’ll make sure of it, doll. How else m’gonna breed your pretty lil’ cunt?”

Your dripping cunt rubs so deliciously against his abs, slick mixing with his precum and smearing across both your bodies. Filthy, and exactly what you wanted right now. 

“Shit, love when your pussy’s so messy. Now, legs.” he rasps, with a quick smack to your thighs. And that’s all that has to be said - your queue to wrap your legs around Toji’s waist, letting his strong arms lift you with ease. Splitting you apart deeper and deeper onto his cock, veins rubbing so deliciously against all the right spots. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! matching your heartbeat. 

“Ah! Hngh- Fuck fuck fuck, m’so full.” you keen, heels digging into his hips. 

Sliding down his cock far enough that his heavy balls meet your ass, already so wet with precum and slick. Ah, you were so full of him you almost felt like he was pushing against your lungs.

“Oh, yes.” Toji hisses, throwing his head back. “Fucking finally.” Finally he gets what he’s been aching for ever since those three gremlins stepped out the door. All the blood draining to his cock at the idea of fucking his cum into you till you couldn’t walk. Till you were so full of him that he was the only one you could think of. Hey, he needed to get some attention before the baby arrives, right?

“Need this s’bad. Fuck.” he gasps. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, shallow, desperate little grinds of his hips. “Gonna fuck a baby into you, you little slut. Fill you up with my seed till you can’t take it anymore.”

Neat little crescents of his fingernails on your ass as his thrusts get longer, more purposeful. Twitching balls smacking against your skin in such a lewd rhythm, matching the cute little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time his fat head hits your cervix. So deliciously painful. 

“C’mon, ma.” Toji moans, hips out of control now. Taking in the way your head was thrown back, body bouncing each time he rammed his cock into your tight cunt. But oh how he wanted to see the fucked-out expression on your face. “Look at me.”

So cockdrunk and delirious, you barely register the way Toji cradles your head to press his sweaty forehead against yours. Only looking up at him with delirious heart-eyes as he milked himself on your sloppy pussy. 

“Shit feel s’perfect split-apart on my cock. Really made for me, huh?” he gasps into your mouth. “Need to cum in this pretty pussy. Need to fill you up- ah- need this need this- fuck.”

“Shit shit shit, Toji m’so close. I’m hngh-”

A hand hurriedly unwraps from your waist to draw rapid, desperate little patterns on your cunt. Not even circles anymore because shit Toji couldn’t think of anything aside from the way your pussy was milking him so good- And how he was gonna fuck a baby into you and Megumi was gonna be the best big brother and-

“-you’ll bake with ‘em. And I’ll tuck ‘em to bed.” the words tumble out of his lips and into your parted mouth. Pussy drunk and babbling, “N’ we’re both taking those three to the park and try not to lose ‘em.”

Dragging himself inside you till his weeping tip kisses your sloppy hole. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. Fucking you so filthy, each word punctuated by quick, harsh thrusts, “Then at night m’gonna steal you all to myself, and y’know what, ma?”

At this point you can do nothing more than just take it as Toji bounces you on his cock in midair, sobbing out a strained, “W-what, daddy?”

Toji leans impossibly closer, thumb catching on your swollen lips, breath fanning your face as he mutters, “Gonna fuck another baby into you. Fill you with my cum all over again, doll. Give it all to you.”

Now, you’ve heard of orgasms that come out of nowhere and have you seeing stars. And this was no different - yet you see the pearly gates of heaven as you cream around his cock. “Ah! Hngh m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

He lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back, hips stuttering and sloppy now. Breathing out raggedly, “Yeah fuck jus’ like that use me like’ that- hngh squeezing me s’tight gonna cum. Gonna give my pretty baby my cum, fuck a baby into ya- oh-”

Body bowing into yours, teething latching onto the crook of your neck, biting down right over your pulse. Fingers digging and bruising on your hips, holding your filthy pussy to his cock as he cums with a strangled moan. Hard. almost painfully so. 

White-hot pleasure behind his eyes, pumping thick, hot ropes to fill your snug cunt. Just animalistic movements from such a carnal part of himself as he fucked his seed deeper and deeper into you. 

Not even thinking of stopping even as you keen at your poor overfilled pussy. Toji’s cum dripping down your legs and onto his quivering balls as he fucks you like an animal. Over and over and-

“Hey, who said we’re done, doll?” Toji tuts mockingly, snapping you out of the haze. “Don’t pass out on me just yet.”

And you don’t even realize it before he’s manhandling you onto the nearby couch. Pulling out only admire his seed gushing out of you, so white and hot and his. Cock twitching to life at the pool of cum and slick slowly forming on the cushion below. Fuck that, you’ll need a bigger couch for five people anyway.  

Ramming his throbbing cock into your poor, swollen pussy. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and bending down down down till your knees were at your tits. 

Not even bothering to let you adjust this time before he’s fucking you again and again and maybe he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear - probably it was just promises of how he was gonna fill your pretty lil’ cunt till Megumi gets home. Promises he fully intended to fulfill. 

“Fuck. One more. G-gotta make sure it takes, ma.” he swears into your mouth. Voice jagged, and you almost couldn’t recognize it as your boyfriend’s. Barely even lucid, just mindless motions of his hips as he watched your slutty cunt suck him up so good. “Yeah, who’s cum is that, doll? Who’s that painting your pretty pussy white?”

Drinking in the sobbed out little, “Y-you, Toji! Ah- Hngh-” as he starts ravaging your swollen clit again. Toji’s balls squeeze so painfully as he fucked you like his personal sextoy. And your pussy was so heavenly around him that you were basically asking for him to go harder. Begging. Begging him to ruin you. 

“Ah! Fuck I’m-” throat shot, you can’t even form a proper sentence before you’re seeing stars being your eyes. Walls milking Toji’s thick cock as you cum - almost painfully. Mouth dropping into a fucked-out little oh! tears streaking down your face. 

Ones that Toji can’t help but lick off, salty on his tongue as he cums again. And again and again. Voice stuck in his throat, eyes widening, the veins popping out on his arms as he pulls your hips closer to his. 

Hips burning now as he breeds you like some animal. Like he was ready to fill you up until he was shooting blanks and couldn’t anymore. Cum squelching out of your sloppy pussy and seeping into where you were joined. Ah, well, the couch was ruined - time for Plan B. 

Which is why Toji found himself wrestling you onto the cool floor, cock still twitching inside you, spreading you for him on whatever flat surface he could find. Milking his cock so he can cum more than he has his whole life. 

Both of you barely lucid at this point. He wasn’t even sure if he could cum again - but by God if he wasn’t going to try. He was drunk off of the feeling inside you, so warm and wet with him. So perfect to carry his child.

“Hngh- yes yes yes wan’ carry your child, daddy.” you whine. Oh shit, had he said that out loud? Ah, who gives a fuck at this point. The only thing he cared about now was the feeling of your sloppy lil’ pussy wrapped around him and whether Megumi would want a brother or a sister. 

“Hm, yeah? Like the idea huh, you little slut. Fuck s’perfect f’me- ngh-”

Running on just the sting of your nails down his back and your legs pulling him impossibly closer. Barely even thrusting at this point, just frantic shallow, grinds to milk his swollen cock. Trying to fuck out something delicious. It hurt, but it hurt so good. 

So good that Toji doesn’t even realize when he’s cumming again. Just faint little tingles before his cock is shooting thin, long wisps of cum, making you squeeze around him as he fills you up again and again.Your own orgasm just a small spike of euphoria before he starts moving inside you. Again.  

Ah, he wonders, vision hazy at the edges - but still perfectly capturing the white gushing out of your ravaged cunt. Taking in the messy floor, and your even messier pussy. Where to next, huh? He hasn’t even fucked you in the kitchen yet.

“N-next?” you repeat, eyes widening as much as they possibly could through the exhaustion and the urge to pass out. And oh he said that out loud too? Whoops.

“Of course.” he pools the cum trickling out of you on two fingers, shoving them in your mouth. Making your head spine as you choke and gag around his thick fingers, pressing the back of your tongue. Only two things ringing in your mind, Toji’s unforgiving cock - raw and hot, dragging against your ravaged walls again and again - and the words that spill from his lips.

“Besides, we gotta practice for the fourth one, too, ma.”

A/N. Fully believe this man will fuck you till both of you pass out. 

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[gojoux]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 “𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓” 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌

Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta.

◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

“Say no more.” He'd grab your face in an instant and press his lips against yours. He would immediately get touchy all over your body, and for not even a few seconds, he's already slipping his tongue in, savoring your taste with hunger. He'd pull away for a moment before devouring your lips with his own, your mouth would be invaded by his tongue once more before pressing you against the nearby wall.

◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

“You want to make out? Alright, love. Let's go somewhere private, we can make out there as much as you want.” He'd place his hands on your wrist and lead you toward the bedroom. His lips would immediately find yours, soft but deep kisses at first before it gets heated. He doesn't mind if you want to be on the top or him on the top. Rest assured, he's not giving your lips a break either way. “Now I know what you need to do to convince me.”

◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

His body would shiver with excitement as he looks down at you with a hungry look. “Come here,” he reaches for you and grabs your body, “You want to make out, do you now? My, my, are you in the mood for me.” He tilts your head with his finger and starts trailing kisses on your neck, nibbling your skin with his teeth, licking and sucking, and doing whatever he wants until he makes sure it leaves a lot of his marks. His mind is filled with dirty thoughts, “I hope you know what you're getting yourself into.”

◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

“Right here? Right now?” Nanami's eyebrows would elevate at this request. “I should have expected it from you.” He sighs and loosens his tie before leaning back on his chair saying, “I can spare some time for you, love,” as he pats his lap, gesturing you to sit with him. “Let's make it a good one.” He'll place a hand on your cheek and the other on your waist as he kisses you slowly, with no rush, he likes to take his time savoring your lips.

◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

He would look at you confused, “What's that?” He had no clue what making out is and he's not familiar with the term. Once you explain it to him, he'll nod and hold your waist, initiating the kiss first. “Like this?” He'll kiss you more. “I think I can get used to this.” His kisses slowly become deeper, letting out a few hums of satisfaction here and then. His touches would become bolder as well once you give him the cue. He's never done something like this but he seems to enjoy it with you.

◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

He'd raise a brow after hearing your request out of nowhere. “So you want to make out, huh? Are you feeling needy?” He'll tease you for it. “Now come here, I'll show you just how good I can be with my lips," he'd speak to you in a seductive tone while looking at you with a sly smile on his face. He'll kiss you all over your face until it's damp from both of your wet lips after the kiss while his hands eagerly caressing and groping your body. He won't stop even until you're breathless.

◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

He'd turn a bit red at your sudden question. He is a little surprised with your forwardness but he's not against it. “What did you say? Do you want to make out with me?” He doesn't mind if you kiss him. In fact, he'd like it if you did because he's been wanting to do that with you for some time already. Megumi starts off shy with a few pecks, focusing on your lips and what gesture you like. It's surprisingly hard for him to stop kissing you once he's warmed up.

◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈

“Eh? With me?” He points at himself. You'd smack his arm which makes him let out a short playful laugh, “Okay, okay, let's do it.” He'd kiss you eagerly, he really wanted to experience kissing someone ever since he was single, and now that got the chance to make out with you is more than a dream come true. He'll circle an arm over your shoulder and the other around your waist, pressing your body closer to him as he focuses on kissing you.

◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀

His face would turn red and his cheeks would be flushed. He'd look at you with surprised eyes and then he'd nod slowly. “O-of course, let's make out.” He'd say your name in such a soft way, the most romantic tone he's ever spoken to you with. After a few seconds of looking deeply into your eyes, he would lean closer and test the water with a few soft pecks before the kiss got deeper. He doesn't really know where to place his hand so he just holds your waist as he pulls you closer.