#direction... do you see my vision do you see it

[suoshis]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. kaji ren, togame jo, umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, hayato suo, toma hiragi, kiryuu mitsuki, & kyotaro sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 2.6K. oh how i’ve been wanting to write this since i finished the manga! but individual warnings are below <3

KAJI REN.

referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ comments about your outfit

“my boyfriend’s real scary y’know,” your voice falters a bit as you take another step back, hands coming up defensively. “and he’ll be here any moment.”

it’s a lie that you hope sounds convincing— because kaji coming to save you today may be nothing more than a desperate wish of yours. how would he even find you in a place like this? you’re not sure exactly how much time has past by since you’ve started running, but you’re certain that by now, you and kaji should have already been inside the bakery, finally getting to taste test the new fruit pastries you’d been dying to get your hands on.

it started off as just a loud whistle your direction, then led to an uncomfortable conversation about how you’re not interested— and that you have a boyfriend. one thing led to another, and somehow you’ve ended up here, out of breath from speed walking and completely lost— and to top it off, the only person near you is the one you’ve been running so desperately from.

you wish kaji was here already.

"oh yeah?" the man in front of you takes a step towards you, lips contorting into a sick grin when he sees your hands trembling, "i don't see him."

your lips tremble a bit when he reaches you, towering over you with ease. “don’t you dare touch me,” you warn, “my boyfriend will beat your a—” you yelp as you’re suddenly pulled to the side, stumbling into someone’s chest as they pull you flush against their chest.

the familiar scent of candy melts away your fear in a split second.

"kaji!"

you can tell when you glance at him just once that he isn’t happy. his forehead is damp with sweat, and he looks disheveled, chest rising up and down with labored breaths— he must have been running around trying to find you this entire time.

your boyfriend clicks his tongue in annoyance, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the man in front of him. “problem?”

he rips off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck as the man feigns an apology, unapologetic eyes looming over your figure again seconds later. “but y’know man, you should be keeping a closer eye on your girl,” he points to you with a smug smile, “she was practically begging for me to say something with the way she’s dressed.”

“i wasn’t!” you protest, face burning as you tug on ren’s coat. you thought your outfit was cute— and definitely not anything crazy— you double checked. you really did. but he’s pointing at you now, rambling on about how you wanted this— and you can’t help the way tears start to blur your vision.

"huh?" kaji snarls, head tilting to leer at the man. the arm around your waist pulls you tighter against his chest, and you hear the angry thumping of his heart. "what'd you say?"

“okay, okay, i’m leaving now,” the man chuckles in defeat, “i was just joking. wasn’t gonna actually do something to your girl,” he waves him off. “you should lighten up—”

he chokes when kaji grabs a fistful of his shirt, pulling him off balance before knocking him backwards, your pursuer falling roughly onto the floor as he winces in pain. “then get outta here already,” kaji glares, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand is pressing against your lower back to guide you away.

“and don’t let me catch you looking at my girl again.”

TOGAME JO.

referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ you wear his jacket

togame gives you a sleepy smile as he watches you from miniso’s entrance, excitedly sorting through the newly restocked blind boxes. he was resting his back against the wall behind him when he caught his first glimpse of that guy.

he’s wearing a dark hoodie, head turning back to shamelessly stare your direction as he passes by slowly. it’s enough to get togame back up on his feet immediately, quickly heading your way just as the man reaches to get a feel of your thighs—

“how shameless,” togame laughs, big hand squeezing painfully into his wrist. “tryna bother my girl?”

in any other situation, togame would chuckle at your obliviousness, your headphones cancelling out any noise as your eye catches the cinnamoroll section, letting out an excited gasp as you head that way. you really had no idea.

“m-my bad man,” he stutters, ripping his arm from togame’s grasp, “just thought she was my sister— was just gonna tap on her back to grab her attention.”

togame raises an eyebrow at the lazy excuse, leaning down until the man takes a nervous step back, eyes darting to the side to avoid togame’s glare. “sister? that’s my shishitoren jacket she has on, no?”

the man feels heavy beads of sweat roll down his face when togame’s hands curl into clenched fists. “you mean to tell me your lil sis is from shishitoren?”

“i said it was my bad,” he repeats, chuckling nervously. “it won’t happen again okay? i won’t bother her again.”

togame’s hands return to his pockets. “won’t let you off so easy next time,” his voice is low as he steps aside to let him off, “so you’d better keep your distance.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

referred to as she/her, ‘your girl’

umemiya instinctively perks up when he hears two voices behind him, momentarily tuning out your gushing about how cute the little plant kits at barnes and noble are.

"….she's probably taken."

"is that her boyfriend behind her? think she's talking to him."

there's a chuckle between them. "doesn't matter. go tell her what you just said to me when she's alone."

"what," the man laughs, "ask her if i can grab a handful of that ass?"

more laughter.

umemiya’s jaw clenches, eyes darting back at you in a flash, and he’s relieved when he sees you’re still gushing about the flower kits— completely oblivious to the two men just beyond this aisle. he’s by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“oh,” you turn to press a quick kiss against his temple, smiling when he melts into your touch. “hi, ume. did you find a book?”

"nothing here," he sighs dramatically, his embrace around your middle tightening just enough for you to barely notice, “but we can grab some of those flower kits.”

"really?"

“of course—”

“hey,” a familiar voice interrupts him with a stifled laugh, followed by a tap on his shoulder. with the roughness, it’s more like a jab— but he lets that slide.

“ah— your friend, ume,” your voice comes off as a mix between a question and a statement.

“hey, my friend has something to ask your girl.”

ume’s jaw clenches again, and your eyes widen a bit at the sudden change in the atmosphere. the first friend’s hand is swat off of ume’s shoulder in a split second, ume straightening back up to look back at them.

their first thought is that he’s a lot taller than they had pictured. a lot more muscular too— and they take note of the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “what, you have business with her?”

they flinch at the tone.

“ah— sorry,” the second friend stutters, “we got the wrong person.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“ah— what happened?” your hands delicately cup sakura’s face, ignoring the way his cheeks instantly turn into a deep shade of scarlet. “n-nothing happened!” he weakly swats at your hand, a futile attempt to dissipate the heat spreading through the tips of his ears.

“i was only in the bathroom for five minutes,” you laugh, “how’d you manage to get into a fight so fast?”

he stiffens when your arms come to wrap around his bicep, resuming your ramble about some recipe you wanted to try tonight. macarons…or something. he doesn’t pay much attention, because he knows whatever you end up making will be good anyway.

“—are you listening, sakura?”

the clueless look he gives you confirms it. “so you weren’t. i had a feeling— but it’s okay,” you giggle. “but you didn’t answer my question from earlier either. how’d you get into a fight?”

his eyebrows furrow deeply as he decides whether or not he should tell you. “they were….” he clicks his tongue angrily, “they were talking about you when you walked by.”

you can feel his muscles tense as he deepens his scowl, still trying to fight off the blush plastered across his face, “i just gave ‘em what they deserved.”

HAYATO SUO.

referred to as she/her, mentions of how you’re dressed

"what a bitch. she was totally asking for it.”

"i know— dressed like a whore."

suo stands up from the bench outside your local convenience store, hands dusting off the dirt on his pants. you had asked him to wait outside earlier because 'you wanted to grab him a super yummy snack that he will definitely love!'

he had a feeling the two dirty men who entered the store minutes later were bad news, so he was already on high alert before listening in.

"that whore— you mean my girlfriend?" suo's voice comes out calm, a stark contrast to the sickening anger and pressure he feels building up inside his chest.

"huh—oh. yeah," one of them chuckles, jutting their thumb at the entrance, "that bitch inside your girl? you let her prance around with her tits hanging out for everyone to see?"

he's calm and composed as they size him up, their chins tilting up to look down at him. "she's pretty, isn't she?" and suo fails to stifle the chuckle that escapes his lips, "did she reject you too harshly for your liking?"

one of them balls his fists, muttering profanities under his breath as he leans closer to him. "now how'd you know that? you should really teach that bitch some fucking manners," he reaches forward to grab suo by the collar, eyes blinking in confusion when he finds himself spun behind suo seconds later, feet struggling to find their balance.

“—the fuck did you do?”

"it's a bad habit of hers," suo continues, "i understand it though, not wanting to be around a pathetic thing like you," the edges of his lips tug into a faint smile.

the other man's eyebrows twitch, spitting empty threats as he he throws a wide swing, only to find himself reduced to his knees seconds later. "t-the fuck..." he grumbles to himself— he could have sworn he could practically see his fist connect. what happened?

"you'd be better off looking for someone to protect yourself the way i do for her," his tone is mocking as he heads towards the store's entrance, "and— it'd be really unfortunate if i see something like this happen again."

TOMA HIRAGI.

"h-hiragi? what are you doing?"

your lips are pressed in a nervous line as your hands come to shyly rest on his chest, sucking in a breath when his arms come to roughly cage you against the train's walls, strong body towering just over yours.

“do you…need more space?” you mumble, heart racing at the proximity. you can smell his cologne so well at this distance.

hiragi simply shakes his head, distracted gaze shifting between you and something behind him every few seconds. "it’s okay."

he swears his stomach isn't churning like this without good reason. it’s not just a coincidence that the same person who he had noticed eyeing you at the boba shop had gotten onto the same train. he could let it go at that, but the same man had been slowly worming his way through the crowd to get closer to the two of you. and while he’s not certain, he thought he saw the man take out his phone and try and angle it beneath you, but not before jolting and dropping his phone onto the floor when hiragi's hands abruptly slammed against the wall beside you.

the train suddenly rocks, sliding his phone to the other side of the train, and you’re knocked off balance, face slamming against hiragi's chest. "s-sorry!"

“it’s okay,” he smiles, hand coming to cradle the back of your head and pull you closer, “you okay?”

"i'm okay..." you mumble, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "your chest is hard.”

he responds with a light chuckle. it’ll be okay like this, he thinks. he’ll protect you with his body for now, and figure out what to do with that guy later.

KIRYUU MITSUKI.

‘pretty thing’

"it's no wonder she doesn't like you," kiryuu sighs, "you're gross."

your mouth is ajar as you stare at the state of the man who was harassing you only moments ago, his unconscious body resting neatly against the wall after kiryuu had dragged him there.

"sorry you had to watch that, pretty thing," his hand comes to gently interlace with yours, "but he didn't leave me with much of a choice, did he?"

"it's okay," you whisper, "that was so cool of you."

his eyes widen a bit before his lips curl into a small smile. "you think so?"

"mhm. i don't know what would've happened to me if you were there..." your voice trails off a bit.

you really don't know what would have happened, because it's not like you know how to fight or anything. getting hit on is enough to make you nervous, so a pushy guy like that was too much— you froze up as soon as he started spitting threats after you expressed your disinterest.

there's a light squeeze around your hands, and you're reminded of this gentle warmth that kiryuu always brings with him. "don't worry about it," he says with a small smile, "i'll just need to accompany you more often when you go out. it’s no problem.”

KYOTARO SUGISHITA.

“you’re like a bodyguard, kyo.”

you giggle at the huff beside you. “how’d you even react that fast?”

it all happened within a second. you were walking beside him, stopped for a brief second to bend down and peer at the plushies lining the shop window, not noticing the man approaching you— his grimy fingers coming to take a peek under your skirt. before you had even registered the feeling of the cloth moving, there was a loud crack, and the man was on the floor, groaning with his hands covering his bloodied face and a very angry sugishita on top of him.

“he made me angry.”

of course he would be. and if you weren’t with your boyfriend, it would be a different story. you’d bring along your assortment of self defense items, ranging from pepper sprays to taser lipsticks— and you’d be a thousand times more cautious, paying extra close attention to everything around you.

with sugishita, however, it’s different. you think of it as being able to turn off your brain… or something like that. whatever lets you truly relax and enjoy your time with him, and it’s always okay because your boyfriend is there to protect you. “well, don’t be so mad, cutie,” you muse, your fingers reaching to interlace with his as he tenses at the nickname.

“everything is okay— i’m okay. i’ll get us smoothies to help lighten the mood.”

he lets you drag him to your favorite smoothie shop in silence— still fuming about the incident. he wonders why you’re not shaken up. if he had been one second later, that piece of shit would have lifted up your skirt. in public. his jaw clenches at the thought, angry eyes darting at any anyone who dares look your direction.

“why’re…” his voice trails off, remembering what ume said about toning down his choice of words around others, “…why’re you so happy?”

“hmm? i’m not too worried,” you chuckle, “you’re my bodyguard right? nothing will happen if you’re here.”

note: wanted to add endo & some others but hit the 10 photo limit, so pls let me know in a reblog / ask if you’d be interested in a pt 2 <3

[corollaservant]

Introspect // Dabi x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: The past never dies. But it can often be forgotten. (3.4k)

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, captivity, stalking, violence, noncon/at best dubcon smut, jealousy, delusion, denial, implied PTSD, deterministic and nihilistic philosophical paradigm, Dabi's POV—stream of consciousness type fic

A/N: wrote this in 3hrs. majorly inspired by (and dedicated to) my fave tumblr writer, new magic wand by tyler the creator and this dabi art 🖤

Happy. You looked happy, that’s what he thought when he saw it.

Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.  

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley. 

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said. 

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat. 

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat. 

-

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic. 

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen. 

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now, he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant. 

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human. 

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service. 

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him. 

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well, then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you. 

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo. 

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this well?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop the throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it. 

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time. 

The few days he remembers the dream, he appreciates the company. He can only hope you do, too. 

[togamest]

If you’re accepting headcanon requests, could I ask for the Bofurin boys+Togame reacting to their s/o flinching while they’re in the middle of an argument? Perhaps it’s not they think the boys would ever truly hurt them, but more from past experiences, so it’s been a habit they haven’t kicked yet. Thanks !!!

-> what they do when you flinch during an argument. | gn!reader, mentions of trauma, the boys are a bunch of sweethearts as per usual. (feat. haruka, umemiya, suou, hiragi, togame)

author’s notes: hey there! sorry for taking so long with this one…i appreciate your patience and hope you enjoy!

HARUKA SAKURA

Instantly feels bad, but doesn’t really know how to apologize. Instead, he goes bright red out of shame and runs off in the complete opposite direction, ignoring you calling him back, so you start feeling bad for reacting that way.

You find him at the park a few miles down the road, head in his hands, and when you sit next to him, he tries to move away. You don’t let him, of course, wrapping your arms around him as you can feel him shaking. “It’s okay, Haruka,” you whisper, and he shakes his head, looking up at you. “No, it’s not,” he says firmly, his voice tight, “I should never raise my hand at you even if I’m jokin’. Mom would kill me.”

That gets a laugh out of you, and you hold each other for a while on that park bench until the sun sets. He presses kisses to your face, cautiously, telling you how sorry he is. You’ve already forgiven him, but it feels good to feel him kiss you. He even cooks dinner for you when you get home; even though it’s just frozen food heated up in his air fryer, the thought is what counts as you curl up with him on the sofa later.

HAJIME UMEMIYA

He’s very perceptive, probably to his detriment; so when he notices, even though you’re praying he doesn’t, his mouth snaps shut as he looks at you deeply. His eyes are boring into the side of your skull as you pointedly ignore his gaze, continuing to chop the vegetables in front of you on the cutting board.

Your chopping gets more erratic, and eventually you see Hajime’s hand cover your own, and tears begin to blur your vision as you curl your fingers into fists. “What?” you croak out, and you hear him coo, curling behind you with his broad chest pressed against your back. “What was that, honey?” you hear him ask, and you tremble.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” you respond stiffly, and he doesn’t follow up or push. He just holds you, instead, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck and gently swaying with you, letting you cry a little and let it out. When your cries die down to sniffles, he gives you another squeeze. “Better?” “Yeah.”

HAYATO SUOU

There’s not many arguments that Suou will engage in, especially with you; you’re the boss to him, but when he does raise his voice over something silly, and he sees your body shy away from his, warning flags go off in his brain. You can see the alarm written all over his face as he regards you with a sprinkling of fear.

You feel bad, too, for reacting that way; it’s a bad habit that you can’t seem to break, and the guilt of making Suou feel responsible makes you want to curl into yourself. However, his iron grip around you forces you to look at him, your cheeks red, attempting to not make eye contact as best you can.

It fails when you feel his hand firmly move your chin so you have to look at him, and your lip wobbles as you see his face shift into something close to empathy. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “you’re okay.” He can feel the wave of guilt coming off of you, stifling, and he presses a kiss to your lips as he does so. “It’s okay, darling. You’re okay.”

HIRAGI TOMA

Toma is not easily annoyed, but he’s certainly easy to irritate. You’ve left the dishes in the sink one too many times, and his voice raises far above where it normally is. You can see the rage in his eyes, not entirely directed at you but at the annoyance of the dishes, but you can’t help but flinch when he stalks towards you.

Your face is hidden behind your hands, but you peek through your fingers to see him frozen in place, eyes wide. The rage that was boiling off of him is gone in an instant, and he sighs heavily, placing the dishes on the countertop as he drags you into a hug. “’M sorry, sweetheart,” you feel him rumble against you, his chest warm against your cheek. You take a deep breath, nodding as you look up at him. “’s okay, Toma. I’m sorry, too, I’ll be better at it.”

He chuckles as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Do I gotta give you gold stars whenever you do it right?” he jokes, and you roll your eyes, pushing him away. His laugh follows you out of the kitchen as you go back to folding the laundry you were dealing with before.

TOGAME JO

Jo is also not one to get easily pissed off, but when he’s angry, he’s really angry. He actually doesn’t notice you flinch during the argument at first, but he does stalk out of the apartment, claiming he has to clear his head as he slams the door behind you. You flinch at that loud sound, too, and as you curl up in your shower later, your chin on your knees, you cry.

There’s a faint knock at the door, and you manage to get out a small come in. Jo’s head pokes around the cracked door, smiling apologetically, but it quickly drops as he sees how red your eyes are. He’s stripping and stepping into the tub with you in no time, barring your wet pleas for him not to, that you’re fine, that everything is fine. It’s not, though, and he knows that.

He drags you into his lap, holding you so close to him that you can barely breathe. It feels good, though; being held so tightly as he whispers how sorry he is into your ear. “I saw you flinch,” he eventually says, and you stiffen at first, but relax as he continues, “and ‘m sorry I made ya feel unsafe. Promise I won’t do it again. ‘M not losin’ you to somethin’ so stupid, ‘kay?”

divider credit: @/cafekitsune networks: @interstellar-inn @themovingcastlez

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© togamest 2023-2024

[strwberri-milk]

First Aid Isn't Cheap

Rafayel x GN!Reader || Comf || 2 167 words

Rafayel can’t see again. It’d be helpful if you could stay with him for a few nights until he gets his vision back.

Thomas’s text glows at you as you pack your bag, not bothering to check twice what you’re bringing. Thankfully this time Rafayel’s self inflicted blindness falls in line with a week long break you’ve been given at work, allowing you to devote all your time to him as you see fit.

When you arrive, you find Rafayel happily working in his studio as though there’s nothing wrong. The only way you know he can’t see is when he turns in the direction of you when you open the door, brows furrowing as he tries to figure out who it is. His eyes are unfocused, looking in your direction but not at you in that intense way that he typically does.

“Oh, you made it. Didn’t Thomas just text you? That was fast,” he says as he walks over to you, pulling you and your overnight bag into a hug.

“I was worried you’d trip and break your ankle to add on to the list of things I need to take care of you for. Knowing you you’d try to milk this to keep me here as long as possible,” you scold, still hugging him back as much as you can.

“Don’t worry – I told you already this is pretty common. I’ll be fine. If you don’t want to babysit me you really don’t have to. I can take care of myself.”

You stare at him open mouthed, glad that he can’t see the expression on your face.

You know that this happens to him a lot. You know it’s a result of him overworking himself. You know that he can take care of himself, and you know that technically speaking, he doesn’t need you to watch over him. Rafayel, for all your grievances, is actually incredibly self sustainable. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself, a certain independence about him that you don’t think you’d ever be able to get rid of.

That doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him though.

You drop your bag, Rafayel turning back to discern if he can figure out what’s happening. He can make out general forms and colours, brain connecting the two to get a general idea of what he’s looking at. He’s upset by the fact that he can’t see your face but having you near him will just have to sate him for now.

“Do you need help with that?” he asks, reaching down just to brush his fingers against your hand.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just go set up in your room. Your phone is near you right? Call me if you need anything while I put my stuff away,” you say quickly, turning out of his studio to head to his bedroom.

You’re glad that he couldn’t see you. You’re glad your voice didn’t waver. You’re glad that you can cry in peace in his bedroom because is its own building. He wouldn’t be able to hear you unless he was in there with you, arms wrapped around your waist as he tries to coax you into telling him what’s wrong. The worst part is you know it’ll work, that all your anger and anxiety towards him will dissipate the second his voice hits your ears and this is the only chance you’ll have to try and stay strong against him.

You unpack your things, opening his closet and smiling at the fact that the clothes you forgot last time are still there. They’re freshly laundered as well, hanging amongst his things as though they’ve always been there. It just makes your heart hurt even more, so distracted by your own thoughts that you don’t hear him walk into his room.

Just as you thought, he wraps his arms around your waist, chin sitting your shoulder as he nuzzles against you.

“I’m gonna go take a shower. Do you wanna join me?” he asks, peppering your cheek in kisses.

On a normal day you’d jump at the opportunity, regardless of whether or not things are going to escalate but right now you don’t think you can manage it. You shake your head, Rafayel feeling the movement against his nose.

“Do you need me in there? If you do I will.”

Your eyes stay focused straight ahead, tidying up his surprisingly neat closet just to keep your hands focused. His brow furrows as he realises there’s something simmering just beneath the surface, He decides not to ask right now, hoping you’d talk to him once you’re ready.

“If I do, I’ll call for you. Promise.”

You nod and he reluctantly lets you go, a little distracted by the way you felt as he showers. He tries to figure out what could have happened – you didn’t say that there was anything strange happening at work and the last time the two of you were together you were perfectly fine. All he knows is that he thinks you need him right now, wanting to get out of the water for once to come back to your side.

Shortly after Rafayel heads into the washroom you hear the doorbell ring. You make your way over to his studio entrance, watching a delivery person drop off a giant bundle of food before driving off. You wait for them to leave before grabbing whatever it is he seems to have ordered for dinner, bringing it back to the bedroom to unpack.

You smile at the selection of food once you recognise the logo. It’s all your favourites. Of course, he was going to be sweet enough to order things you want to eat, even if he couldn’t read the menu on his phone. He hates talking to people on a good day but you know in order to get this spread he had to call the restaurant himself to place the order, probably doing it all for you. Maybe he knows you’re upset and he’s trying to butter you up and, just like every other time, you know you’re falling for it.

“Foods here?” he asks, sniffing a little as he comes beside you. You set everything up on a desk in his room, pulling a seat over and guiding him to sit down.

“I made you a plate of your favourites,” you say in response, handing him some cutlery as you take his hand to show him where everything is. He pouts a little, looking at you as he puts his free hand on yours.

“Feed me? I can’t see. I need you to pity me a little,” he teases, making you roll your eyes.

“Fine. Here.”

You bring a spoon to his mouth, gently guiding him to make sure he actually does manage to eat. You resist the urge to tease him, taking a bite yourself once he’s got his in his mouth.

“I’ve been staying up for a while to work on my next series,” he starts in way of an explanation.

“I’ve just been so excited to finish it that I haven’t really been sleeping or eating. It’s been a while since the last time I’ve been this motivated to work on something. Did you see some of them when you came in? How did you think they looked?” he asks excitedly, clearly anticipating your answer.

You think back to what you do remember, trying to see if you can conjure up anything before shaking your head in defeat.

“I didn’t notice them. I was more focused on you.”

Rafayel smirks, bringing your hand up to press a kiss against your knuckles.

“You’re quite the flatterer. Stuck in a room of beautiful art and all you can look at is the artist slaving away.”

“Course I am. You overworked yourself again.”

A sprinkle of frustration sinks into your words, Rafayel catching the tone but not wanting to push his luck by playing it off. His grip tightens on your hand, nuzzling his cheek against it.

“I’m fine. The doctor said that it looked better this time than other times. That’s a good thing.”

You don’t feel as reassured by his words as he wanted you to.

Night falls around the two of you, Rafayel’s arms around your shoulders keeping you securely against his chest. You can’t really fall asleep, mind racing with thoughts as you trace aimless shapes on the blanket. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, steady in his slumber.

Without warning, you feel tears staring to slide down your cheeks. You bring a hand up to wipe at your tears, muffling the sobs that come unprovoked. Here in silence being held by the man who means more than life to you you can’t help but cry for him. At him.

You wish he took better care of himself. You wish he paid more attention to his body. You wish that he didn’t do things that made you worry and worry, stomach tying itself in knots as your brain continuously goes to the worst-case scenario. He really could hurt himself like this but his flippant attitude towards himself just makes it worse. It’s probably going to be impossible for you to convince him to take better care of himself, an absolute slave to his own whims.

Rafayel wakes up shortly thereafter, you unaware until he somehow manages to turn you to face him. He shushes you gently, hands reaching to brush away the tears on your face. He didn’t need to see you to know you having long memorised each and every part of your body. You want to push him away, yell some sense into him but you know that it’s not really his fault.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

“No. Nothing like that. I just…Rafayel…you can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Last time this happened you said maybe it’d stick. Then today you said the doctor said that your eyes are better this time than other times but why does there need to be other times?”

“You’re worried about me,” Rafayel exhales.

“Yes!” you say a little louder than intended, sniffling as you try not to cry as much.

“I worry about you. And before, I just had to worry about smaller things. Then, I find out you love using rare and almost dangerous materials but thankfully, you can fight and thankfully, you have other ways to source your pigments. I can protect you from those things. I can fight too. But when you do things like this to yourself I can’t do anything about it. How – how can I help you if you won’t even help yourself?” you babble, hands knotting in his shirt as you cry.

“I just want you to be healthy and well. I don’t want to worry about you going blind forever. I wouldn’t love you any less, I promise, but I don’t want you to lose something so important to you.

“You always talk about the world so vividly. How things smell, how they look, how it feels against your skin. I want you to be able to tell me about how you experience the world unabashedly. I want you to be healthy and well. I don’t want to keep getting texts about how you’re feeling lightheaded from fasting for three days unintentionally or your doctor asking me to pick you up because you’ve strained another muscle from painting in the same position for hours on end.”

He listens attentively as you cry to him, brushing back your bangs and cupping your face in his hands. He nods empathetically, softly agreeing with you whenever you need a break before continuing to rant at him.

“I’m sorry my love,” he says, kissing your forehead.

“I’m not used to having someone worry about me this much. I’ve been by myself for so long. You understand, don’t you?” he asks, thumb rubbing against your cheek.

“I forget sometimes that I have someone who cares about me. That if I’m hurt, you’re hurt. I forget that as much as I love you, you love me just as much because I don’t feel worthy of your affections.”

“You are,” you say stubbornly, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you so much. That’s why I worry so much.”

“I know, I know. I promise I’ll get better for you.”

He continues to repeat his promise as many times as you need to hear it, mad at himself for upsetting you so much. You manage to exhaust yourself from crying soon enough, snoring lightly in his arms when you finally fall asleep. He buries his nose in your hair, taking in a deep breath of you as he holds you tightly.

The tension finally slips off of your shoulders as he swears that this time will be the last time. He just wants to give you everything you want, knowing that if it’d make you happy he’d do anything.

[psuedosugu]

thinking about suguru with a siren reader…

notes: this has been in my drafts for a hot hot minute and i hope yall see my vision also i made a discord server that you guys should join 😊

- the job of a siren was a simple one. sing your melody, entrance the captain just enough so that they would crash the ship, and done.

you never felt any guilt for what you did. these men were trespassers, after all, littering and casting their nets in your sea. sometimes you wonder how one could be so inconsiderate.

one particular night, the sea swirled around you, your only source of light being the stars twinkling and the fire that had started on the now crashed ship, impaled by a sharp rock. men jumped off of the slowly sinking wreck, soon drowning in the harsh, cold water. you watched from a distance, with a sense of pride in your chest—

and then you spotted something. or someone, for that matter. he was young, couldn’t be older than 20, with long dark hair. you weren’t exactly sure of what about him caught your eye so fast, but you were enthralled.

you swam closer to the burning ship, desperate to get a closer look. he had a look of terror in his eyes, debating on whether to jump or not. as the fire spread more and more, he realized he had no choice, bracing himself and leaping into the dark mass of water.

you freeze, unsure of what to do. you’re supposed to leave him alone, to let him face his watery grave. he brought it onto himself, anyways, and direct interaction with humans is forbidden in the pod, lest you be captured and their cover blown, but….

you sigh, swimming to where the nearly unconscious man bobbed above and below the water and propelling to the nearest land available, a remote island just a few miles away. once you arrive, you plop him exhaustedly onto the sand.

“hello? hellooooo? are you dead? i hope you’re not dead, that means i dragged you out here for nothing. helloooo??” suguru wakes up to the sound of your voice and the feeling of your damp hand lightly slapping him on the cheek.

he’s…..relaxed at first. your voice was like a symphony, a contrast with your harsh words. it made him feel so warm…

and then he remembered. crash. fire. sinking. and the deep, dark cold.

he sits up with such fervor that you flinch, shifting slightly away. “where…what- what happened? they’re- they’re all dead, aren’t they? oh god- oh god, oh god, oh god oh god oh god-“ he mutters under his voice, hyperventilating. you sit there, indifferent to his panic.

“um….are you…okay?” you asked. he darts his eyes towards you. you were beautiful, with looks that were almost hypnotic. hen his eyes darted down to your tail, shiny and greenish. he shifted back, not completely sure if he was hallucinating or not.

“…what- what are you?” he stammered out with wide eyes. you shrug. “you know, i was more expecting a ‘thank you for saving my life,’ but thats a fine enough reaction, i guess,” you said matter-of-factly, with a somewhat amused smirk on your face.

“no- i, i need to get back, i-“ you eye him. “well, there isn’t much land close to over here sooo…id say your chances of being rescued are pretty slim.” you shrug. his eyes are wide, not believing what was happening. this was a dream. this was a dream and he would wake up any minute now, right? but the sand underneath him, and the soft breeze hitting his face felt all too real.

“….well?” you frowned, folding your arms. “you gonna do anything other than looking shellshocked?” humans are boring, you realized. you two sat there in uncomfortable silence for a few more seconds before you turned around to leave. the pod would start looking for you soon, after all, but then—

“wait!” you paused at the mans voice. “don’t go yet.”

“….why?”

he hesitated. “how does that….thing work?” he asked, pointing to your tail. you shrugged in response, “same as a fish, id suppose.”

“what’s your name?”

“[name]. yours?”

“suguru.”

—and then marked the start of a strange routine. you’d sneak out to go visit suguru when you could. he fed on wild fruits and berries, keeping himself alive. sometimes you’d bring him some food yourself.

you liked how he reacted to things. he was unique, a new specimen for you to observe, and as the almost complete isolation started to drive him mad, you turned into the anchor he clung on.

[hellofastudysession]

fanfic idea the ddlc club goes to the beach

[lucygraythemockingjay]

“Sejanus is like Katniss!” “he’s just like peeta!”

What if I said he was like Gale?

Their blind loyalty their districts. Their rash nature, fuelled by their anger at the injustice the people of their home face. Their strong sense of morality, their eagerness to save the people of their district. Their hatred for the games, and their trust in their friend counterparts.

I’ve seen posts comparing Katniss to Snow, and Peeta to Lucy. In this case, Gale representing Sejanus makes so much sense.

Gale is Katniss’ friend from home. Katniss partakes in the games, but Gale doesn’t get the chance to- like how Sejanus’ tribute Marcus died from default. Katniss feels as though she owes Gale her love, and the way Snow treated Sejanus was all from pity. Artificial love, although Snow and Katniss are set so far apart that Katniss still loved Gale, but as a brother.

Something sets all of the characters apart from their counter character. For Katniss, she was forced to become a hunter when Snow was one at heart. For Peeta, he was forced to put his true feelings forward to perform, when it was Lucy Gray’s passion.

For Gale and Sejanus, I think it’s their sense of morality. Gale is who Sejanus would’ve been if he had no room to act out, had no trust fund to protect his outbursts. Gale is Sejanus after years of oppression, the pride and protection for his home becoming almost toxic. Sejanus is Gale with a chance to change the things around him - a boy with hope, refusing to play by the Capitols games.

If Sejanus had lived, he could’ve become a version of Gale, who in war would risk the lives of hundreds of innocent people from the Capitol. Perhaps Sejanus is the version of Gale who would’ve run away with Katniss before her reaping. Hung and punished, before their urge to help people turned fatal for others. Still morally good.

[astranauticus]

moments that made me want to scream except i was also in public

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Imagine if Jin Zixuan DID yeet his brother from another mother (🥲) down the stairs.

Meng Yao: I'm your brother. Happy birthday! 🥰

Jin Zixuan: There can only be one. YEET

I am truly sad he didn't; think of the 'No Doubles' memes that we could have had...

[edsbacktattoo]

hey remember how this image was compared to a veil being lifted

and remember how we now have this

there’s a connection here and the connection is wedding. i’m walking into my local volcano anyone need anything?

[lavenderteacat]

I don't know how it would work but there is a truly fucked up and evil (positive) crossover / AU to be made with In Stars and Time and Trigun

[blueeandyellowmakesgreen]

maybe this is just me but people who say ‘how did you guys not figure out byler was a thing in earlier seasons you guys are SOO dumb 😑 i figured it out WAY quicker’ is kinda.. :/

like sorry my media literacy was fogged with a heteronormative lense while i was in a time where i was still coming to terms with real gay rep

[myquietsafehaven]

Continuing this idea:

Taking the song Better than Before only changing it to Martin telling Jon what happened in the other reality when he forgets. Only Martin is clearly omitting particularly distressing aspects.

Such as how much Tim hated Jon at the end. How bad Jon’s paranoia got, and his stalking. His various kidnappings, making it sound kinda like everyone was worried rather than the actual reality of no one noticing. Martin isn’t exactly lying just not telling the whole truth, trying to keep it light.

Then the split to Elias telling him things. Focused on the bad instead, all the terror and fear Jon went through and implying that everything was Jon’s fault. Is Elias real or is it just the Eye whispering to him?

Jon writing everything down and comparing the two when he forgets. Him confronting Martin. The Angst ™ potential.

[musical-chick-13]

Fuck it, weird-yet-galaxy-brain take is that Love Is War is rom-com Death Note, but not in regard to the ship that everyone thinks, and what I mean by this is that Kaguya and Miyuki are NOT the lighthearted lower-stakes rom-com version of Light and L, they're the lighthearted lower-stakes rom-com version of Near and Mello.

[todayisafridaynight]

i was playing about dropping Fifty Drawings onto everyone's dashboard this week but the unfortunate reality is i am in fact being assaulted with images

[avid-adoxography]

Nobody:

Me at some point this morning: i was getting ready for work, brushing my long wavy brown hair. as i looked at my hazel orbs in the mirror, my mom came in. “i sold you to pay our debts” she said. “come meet your new master.” i went downstairs and there he was...Mattel CEO.