#everything else is like. that's not really a moral failing so much as it is really sad

[luna-azzurra]

Some Tips for writing internal conflict

Wanting Two Things at Once Imagine your character really wants to chase after something big, like a dream school, a major opportunity, or maybe even moving to a new city. But at the same time, they’re terrified of leaving behind everything they’ve ever known. Or maybe they’re in a relationship that’s holding them back, but they can’t bring themselves to let go. Show them getting pulled in two directions, torn between their ambition and their fear of losing the people or places that ground them.

Right vs. Wrong Sometimes, your character will know deep down what the right choice is, but it’s the most difficult one to make. Like, maybe they see someone getting bullied and know they should stand up, but doing so could make them a target. Or maybe they have to decide between helping a friend and doing something that could ruin their own future. These moral dilemmas create intense internal conflict because it forces them to question who they are and what they stand for.

Doubting Themselves We all have moments where we wonder if we’re enough, smart enough, strong enough, brave enough. Let your character wrestle with that same doubt. Maybe they’re the kid who has always been told they’re special, but now they’re in a place where everyone is just as good, and they start to wonder if they even belong. Or maybe they’ve been through something tough, and they’re not sure if they can bounce back. These moments of insecurity make your character feel human, like they’re trying to figure it all out, just like everyone else.

Dreams vs. Fears Show your character dreaming big but getting frozen by their own fears. It’s like wanting to ask someone out but being terrified of rejection, or wanting to move away for college but being scared to leave home. Let them imagine all the things that could go wrong , that moment when fear makes them doubt if they should even try. But also show their desire burning just as strong, making it impossible to ignore. That’s the heart of internal conflict: they’re stuck between wanting something so bad and being afraid of what it’ll cost to go after it.

Beliefs Being Challenged As your character grows, the world will start challenging their beliefs. Maybe they grew up in a family that drilled certain values into them, and now they’re meeting people who see things differently. Or maybe they’re experiencing something new, and it’s changing their perspective. It’s like when you think you have everything figured out, and then life throws something at you that makes you go, "Wait, maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time." This kind of internal conflict is powerful because it forces the character to question who they’ve always been.

Keeping Secrets If your character is hiding something, like a mistake they made, feelings they’re afraid to admit, or a truth they don’t want to face, that secret becomes a huge part of their internal conflict. The fear of being found out or of dealing with the consequences can create a constant pressure in their mind. Maybe they’re scared they’ll lose their friends if the truth comes out, or maybe they’re dealing with guilt they can’t shake. The tension comes from their battle to keep it hidden while knowing they can’t keep it locked away forever.

Pressure from Everyone Your character might feel like they’re trapped between what they want for themselves and what everyone else wants from them. It could be pressure from parents, who have their whole future planned out, or pressure from friends to fit in or follow the crowd. Maybe your character wants to be true to themselves, but they’re scared of disappointing people or standing out too much. This kind of internal conflict is super relatable because, at some point, everyone feels like they’re stuck between living for themselves and living for others.

Fear of Failing Sometimes the biggest obstacle isn’t the external challenge but the internal fear of failure. Your character might have big dreams, but they’re paralyzed by the thought of messing up. Whether it’s competing in a sport, performing on stage, or just trying something new, the fear of not being good enough can be overwhelming. Maybe they’re afraid that if they fail, everyone will see them differently, or worse, that they’ll see themselves differently. The internal conflict comes from their desire to succeed battling against their crippling fear of failure.

[sixeyesonathiel]

i’m sorry but the mischaracterization of satoru gojo sometimes makes me wanna scream into the void. people really love to take one scene, one line, and twist it into a whole narrative that doesn’t even align with his core. like… are we even watching the same man??

HE DID NOT NEED A MORAL COMPASS. satoru’s been repressing his own desires since he was a child. a literal kid born with a power that could’ve destroyed everything around him—and yet, he didn’t. he never misused it. not once. not even out of spite. not even when he had every right to feel angry and lash out.

and people still act like he was this walking weapon on the verge of snapping if someone didn’t hold his leash. no. this is someone who’s been raised with expectations no one else could ever comprehend, who’s constantly chosen restraint, duty, and control even when it’s agonizing. and he makes those choices alone. over and over again.

i think people overlook how deeply internalized satoru’s moral compass already is. his “should we kill them?” moment wasn’t a breakdown of ethics. it was frustration, grief, anger. it was a TEENAGER who just saw someone he was protecting die in front of him, asking a friend for perspective. he wasn’t lost. he wasn’t about to burn the world. he was trying to process in real time. but people latch onto that line like it’s some confirmation that he needed someone to “save” him from becoming a monster.

no, actually. he saves himself. again. and again. and again.

he chooses to teach. he chooses to protect. he chooses to carry the weight of reforming a broken system—and yeah, he does fail sometimes. but that doesn’t make him any less righteous. if anything, it shows how much he shoulders on his own.

like idk. maybe it’s just me but i’m over people reducing him to “a time bomb that only didn’t go off because someone held his hand.” no. he’s the one who defuses himself. every single time. because he wants to do better. because he knows how powerful he is. because he cares.

satoru gojo isn’t dangerous. he’s the strongest—not just in power, but in how fiercely he holds himself together. he’s been alone at the top his whole life, forced to carry the weight of a world that only ever demanded from him, never asked how he was. he didn’t need saving because he was the safety net for everyone else. and even when it broke him, even when it hurt, he never turned cruel. never lost himself.

THAT’S WHAT MAKES HIM SO SPECIAL.

not just that he could’ve gone dark—but that he chose not to. again and again. that he stayed soft, and kind, and hopeful, even when he had every reason not to.

he deserves the world. and it kills me that he never got it 😔

[anniflamma]

AnniFlamma, we all love your fanart and animatics of Epic: The Musical, please don't let a few shitty people demotivate when 100x those people love and adore the stuff you make, along with all other animators!

Stay safe and take care, we will always be here and I can't seem to repeat this enough but we love your art

Thank you and everyone for reaching out to me. I will be honest with you all that what happened did upset me a lot, but I am very lucky to have people to go to for support. I will even blame some of them for making me cry, my friends, I mean, because if I am upset and if someone asks me if I am okay, I just break down. 😅 But I used our little server as a ground to vent, and right now I feel much better now.

But I will still be honest that I meant what I said that my interest in making Epic fan content has reduced a lot. I still love Epic, and I still really want to do the whole Ithaca saga, but I have also realized that posting content about it has caused me to feel anxious.

An example is when I finished The Challenge animatic, I felt an extreme wave of anxiety when I was going to press the upload button. And the worst thing? My anxiety confirmed the fears. I have gotten tiktok comments saying that I am a freak for drawing Penelope nude despite it being in a non-sexual way. Apparently, I have to be constantly reminded that female bodies are icky and the world hates women. Aaaaaaand then to get hit by that TikTok video of thousands of people shitting on me, Duvetbox, Gigi, Mircy, Neal, and so many more…

If you have noticed, I have posted less, all types of content for Epic. I don’t do my headcanons anymore, I never wrote that full review of Epic, I feel less keen on drawing fanart, let alone joking about shipping here online. I remember when I made a joke about shipping Aphrodite and Athea because they were the only female characters interacting with each other (ignoring Hera), and then I took it as a critique that Epic failed the Bechdel test. After that, I got plenty of anonymous messages about how I am an evil person for shipping those two goddesses… Just say that you don’t know what the Bechdel test is and block me... 😑

I also hate how my first negative experience with the Epic fandom was pure homophobia toward my Bible animatics. Like, they used negative language toward gay people to tell me to make Epic content instead. There is this weird obsession where people expect me and other artists to only do one thing, which is Epic, and if we dare to do something else, we get punished or infantilized, like we didn’t have any say when Casper commissioned us for Stories of Styx. Don’t get me started on how fucking awful people were to Casper and Teagan….

I hate how people easily tell others things, only for them to unquestionably believe everything said about me. Like the amount of "Anni made Ody/Circe porn, uwaaaa!!" And then, the moment someone questions them and forces them to realize I never made such a thing, they double down and say that I shouldn't have made Circe nude in the original animatic "cuz female bodies are icky" or the classic "Well, I haven’t seen the porn video, but someone told me it existed, so I’m going to believe it exsits." Like, you could tell these people that the sky is green, and they would believe you.

Then there’s that whole "Anni supports rape" or "Anni felt bad for the suitors and wanted Penelope to get raped" insanity. Those quotes stems from ppl was crashing out when I made a post criticizing Epic’s way of addressing the topic of rape. In that post, I was suggesting that I would like the story better if Odysseus were actually morally ambiguous when killing the suitors. How could anyone even think Ody was in the wrong for killing the suitors because he wanted to protect Penelope? How can he be a monster after that? I don’t know, I support a husband protecting his wife from gang rapists, but I guess that was the worst thing for me to ever say, huh? Like, how dare I criticize their almighty Jorge…

It’s insane that I have an easier time handling hateful Christians compared to TikTok Epic fans. 😅

Oh well... I’ve had so many bad experiences with the TikTok Epic fandom over the past two years. And eventually, you just want to log off.

I’m thinking of stopping posting Epic content at all on TikTok as a first step. If TikTok Epic fans hate my fanart that much, then I’ll do them the favor of never seeing it from my account. I will, however, continue posting my Bible animatics there. And if I continue working on my Hold Them Down animatic and if I ever finish it… I will only be active here on Tumblr and on YouTube.

And so, at this moment, I will take a pause from Epic. It probably won’t be that long because, despite everything, I love that musical. But I also have to remind myself that, despite there being so many negative remarks toward not only me but the other artists, there is a lot of love from you actual fans. I have about 138K subscribers on YouTube. That’s 138K individuals who love my work so much that they want to see more of it. THAT IS TOTALY INSANE! And I will never forget that! And I am so thankful for all of you and your support. Thank you and I love you guys! 💕

I’m also planning on making a better-formulated post about this another day. All of this is just me ranting and want to take a short break, focusing on something else.... Maybe... Venice the musical? 😅

[wncestnoir]

i just read this line in a fic that said 'he doesn't think beyond sam' and bro. bro. that line—that’s literally the thesis statement of the entire damn show. like forget all the lore, forget heaven and hell and purgatory and god's weird little power trips. at the end of the day, it's just dean winchester with one (1) brain cell and it's shaped like sam.

like dean wakes up? thinks about sam. makes a decision? sam. goes to sleep? probably dreaming about sam dying and him failing to save him again. it’s always sam. his reason to fight, his reason to fall apart, his entire worldview is just sam-shaped.

he really built his whole identity around protecting sam. like you remove sam from the equation and dean is just standing there like a sims character whose last command got deleted. nothing else computes. he doesn’t know how to want things for himself, or think about the future unless it’s “me and sam in the Impala forever.”

sam is his purpose, his burden, his anchor, his cross to bear, his moral compass, his everything. it’s so much. he’s wrapped up in this constant loop of sam-worship and self-destruction and honestly? it’s tragic. and also insane. and also a little bit beautiful in a twisted soulmate-core way.

dean winchester does not have thoughts. he has sam. and that’s the show. that’s it. that’s supernatural.

[ifellintothestyx]

It will never not be funny to me that in Thousand Autumns, Shen Qiao is just the one normal, reasonable person while everyone else is living in a classic Wuxia drama

Basically every book conversation is just this:

Yu Ai: I had to poison you because you disagreed with everything I said, so I deemed you an incapable and naive sect leader! You would bring Mt. Xuandu to ruin!

Shen Qiao: I'm sorry, "had" to? We could've talked things out, y'know, like how normal people settle disagreements, but no, poison was clearly the only option left. You "had" to poison me. Right.

---

Yan Wushi: You and I are diametrically opposed. You are weak and undeserving of my attention. You fail to live up to my expectations and bring shame upon your master's legacy. Why would I need a friend like you so presume?

Shen Qiao: I didn't say you needed one, just that that's what I call you. You literally followed me around for months, ate with me, sparred with me, saved my life, and opened my eyes to the outside world... What on earth did you want me to call you that wouldn't be rude?

(Honestly knowing YWS's melodramatic ass, SQ probably just went through a mental list of statuses you could give to someone based on their proximity, realized that YWS is very much an outlier and also very much particular about his titles and general importance, picked "friend" as the safest option.)

---

Chen Gong: You look down on me because I'm from poor origins and never had the background or pedigree that you did so you disdain my methods!

Shen Qiao: ... You are holding. A child. Hostage. Literally every time I've met you you're doing something that doesn't agree with my morals and endangering human life. I genuinely do not care about your background, you just happen to be doing something I don't agree with and also tends to end up becoming my problem.

(No really, CG has like such a massive unrequited hatred for SQ while SQ is just lamenting that they somehow always end up meeting at the worst times in the worst places)

---

Half of the characters: Look how lowly you've become! From sect leader to boy toy! Everyone point and laugh!

Shen Qiao: Harsh but true, I suppose. Oh well, I should get back to what I'm doing.

[an-abysma1-0bserver]

What Is this Feeling? (Part 1)

Pairing: Bob Reynolds/Sentry x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: You and Bob have feelings for each other—that much was true. But insecurities have a funny way of ruining things.

Warnings: Idiots in love. Yearning. Some angst. A bit campy, I think. Insecurities. Anxieties. Mention of John Walker and Valentina. Mentions of human experiments. Spelling and punctuation mistakes. Whatever else I failed to mention.

Author’s Note: I just saw Thunderbolts* and I really enjoyed it! I’ll probably be bouncing back and forth between Bob and Bucky, but I’m more than open to writing other MCU characters—be sure to let me know who you want me to write about!

I don’t own the MCU or Marvel Comics in any capacity. The franchise and its characters belong to their rightful owners. Similarly, I don’t own any of the gifs or pictures I use for my fics. All I own are the fic ideas.

Word Count: 630

Masterlist

It was painfully obvious that Bob liked you. Just hearing your name was enough to turn him into a flustered mess—his words would tumble out in a rush, his weight shifting nervously from foot to foot as he fidgeted with his fingers or the hem of his sweater. The team had endured more than his fair share of his dreamy stares and awkward, lovesick behavior. They’d even witnessed him nearly faint whenever you so much as glanced his way.

But the worst part?

You were completely oblivious to it all.

You never acknowledged Bob’s doe-eyed, lovesick puppy antics. You seemed entirely unfazed, brushing it off as nothing more than Bob being Bob. And it was driving the team up the wall.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Yelena asked, a faint trace of curiosity in her voice. She was helping you prepare dinner—Alexei’s idea, of course. He was convinced that mandatory team meals would somehow boost morale.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, tossing your chopped vegetables in with the cooking meat.

“Bob,” she said plainly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

You furrowed your brows, glancing at the blonde with a puzzled look. “I don’t see…Bob?” you asked, uncertainty lacing your words.

Yelena hummed thoughtfully. “The way he is around you,” she said. “You can’t tell me you haven’t seen it.”

You hesitated. Of course you’d noticed—the shy glances, the way he stumbled over his words, the flush that colored his cheeks whenever you were near. You knew. Truth was, you felt the same. How could you not? Everything about Bob just felt right. His voice, his smile, the way his hair sometimes fell over his eyes, and that quiet, steady presence—he made you feel a kind of happiness you hadn’t known before.

But that voice in your head was hard to silence—constantly whispering that you weren’t enough. Too broken. After everything your parents did to you—all the experiments, only to discard you when you didn’t meet their expectations. And the things you’d done just to survive…everything Valentina forced you to become. You’d hurt too many people, taken too many lives. You weren’t a hero. You were a monster, a burden—unworthy of love.

Yelena turned to face you, halting her movements as she studied you closely. “You do know,” she stated, her tone firm and matter-of-fact.

You nodded. “I do,” you confirmed, feeling your face warm. “It’s hard not to notice.”

“You feel the same?” Yelena asked. You nodded. “Then what’s the problem? He likes you, and it’s obvious that you like him, too.”

You shook your head. “I can’t.”

Yelena’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“You know what I’ve done, what my parents did to me, what Valentina made me do. Bob deserves someone—”

“What—normal?” Yelena snorted, shaking her head. “There’s no such thing as normal anymore.”

“I know, I just—” You let out a heavy sigh. “He deserves someone normal. Someone who can give him a simple, peaceful life. Not—” You gestured to yourself.

“Don’t say that.” Yelena set down her spatula, a deep frown on her face and a look of disapproval in her eyes.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not true. He likes you. A lot. Stop overthinking and give him a chance.” She returned to finishing her task. “Besides, the rest of us are tired of seeing those looks he gives you.”

You offered the faintest smile. “I think those looks are cute,” you murmured.

“To you, maybe. But to the rest of us, it’s sickening. And I’m tired of hearing John complain about it later. He’s so annoying.”

A laugh escaped your lips. “He really is.” You paused for a moment. “And I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Good,” Yelena tutted. “It’s about time.”

You gave a soft chuckle.

[ponyisle]

I'm so curious, do you consider Daybreak a bad pony for all she has done? Does Daybreak consider herself a bad pony? To Wish, to Twi? How much has she been forgiven by others, how much has she forgiven herself? There's also themes of disability to all three of them. Day's stress-induced migraines from overwork. The blindness, vocal atrophy, wing atrophy, chronic illness and the mental toll that comes from a millenia of isolation. Twilight's wing deformities and migraines upon being forcibly turned. Obviously, sickness is not a moral trait (I write this as a disabled woman myself) but I can't help but untangle Day's responsibility in both of their conditions. Although she was not intentionally malicious in her actions, and although she must have grown, repeatedly she was selfish. Repeatedly, she irreparably changed the fate of someone who trusted her.

Just thoughts. I love this project!

i have SO many thoughts about Daybreak, shes one of my favorite ponies to write, and i know this is probably the most asked question about my AU. idk how to explain a lot of it without spoiling what i have planned.

from my perspective: i didn't write Daybreak to be a "bad person" or a villain(doesn't make what she's done right in any capacity mind you). She has been selfish, arrogant, and downright neglectful at times. She's a pony who, much like twilight, was given little to no choice in her life. and when she DID make her own choices with the limited knowledge she had, it always ended up hurting somepony she deeply cared for. She views herself as almost entirely irredeemable. Burdened with the responsibility of an entire species while feeling like she is doomed to fail them. She's put the ponies at the forefront of her concerns, which in earlier years meant neglecting the only other pony who could possibly understand her position(Wish). She does not think she's worthy of her sisters forgiveness despite all her attempts to make things right.

Wish ultimately forgives her sister after many years of silence and making up(this will be expanded upon in comics i don't wanna give away too much but its a lengthy process). She doesn't see Daybreak as a bad pony, and after Day actually starts listening to how Wish feels and opening up herself, they both start to actually understand each other.

While Day thought what she was giving to Twilight was a gift, after seeing her reaction to her transformation Day regresses in her progress Big Time. Daybreak cared for Twilight, but just like with Wish, she thought she knew what was best, thought she could "fix" things. Twilight and Day's relationship is never quite the same, they don't really "make up" the way she and Wish did. For the first few years Twi DESPISES Day, but she doesn't see her as a bad person per say. She definitely resents her for being just another pony that's taken away an incredibly important choice from her. Realizing she will live on as her friends pass away, outliving everyone around her, its horrifying to grapple with that newfound knowledge. Twi realizes that Day isn't the all knowing deity that everypony seemed to think she is. They have a professional relationship later on, and maybe as the story progresses I'll expand more on that, but for now they're on extremely rocky terms.

The central theme in cantergale is acceptance and forgiveness, that doesn't mean each character with receive both from everyone. The sisters are a reflection of my own relationship with my sibling(projection<3). Day has to come to terms with the fact that no amount of apologies and change can reverse what she's done. She has to learn to forgive herself and accept her actions. Everything else is out of her control.

Its hard for me to describe any character as strictly bad or good, its not smth i think about when writing, i try to leave it up for the viewer to decide for themselves. My main goal is to inspire some sort of emotion. You feel however the story makes you feel. As always i love these sort of comments, i enjoy seeing how everyone interprets the story.

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: Can I have headcanons about a reader who is much older? I mean, she is older, smarter, wiser, stronger although she looks young for her age. During her long life, she has experienced a lot of terrible things and therefore cannot tolerate injustice. She is not a hero who wants to change the world, but she will not offend the weak. She has such a specific aura of a mother that you involuntarily go to her for advice (and she gives it) When the character talks about his age, she just smiles and thinks, “he’s still just a child.” Featuring Chrollo, Shalnark, Dazai, Deidara, Kurapika, Pouf, Gojo

This is to be read in a platonic context.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, isolation

Tags: @swagenemyartisan @cachamata @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @hyakki-yosai @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @shumidehiro @izanami78

You're still just a child

Deidara

💥​Deidara truly is a walking talking contradiction. On the one hand he often complains to you that he doesn't want to be treated like a child yet as soon as he is even slightly upset or offended by something or someone he comes running to you with a big pout on his face. Despite everything at heart he remains an attention-seeker after all who would hate to witness you paying attention to someone else. He is truly a breathing manchild though as his temper really reminds you of the bratty attitude of a child. It is so easy to make him jealous to the point where he has actually threatened to bomb the people who elicited such ugly emotions out of him only to be scolded and afterwards receiving the cold shoulder from you, something that causes him to actually tear up. As much as he complains about not wanting to be treated like a child, Deidara still insists for you to brush his hair and tie it in the morning whenever he stays the night. He's always without a fail complaining to you about Sasori and their constant arguments about what the true definition of art is, wanting you to take his side of the argument. On every special celebration possible he prepares a firework for you.

Kurapika Kurta

⛓️​Kurapika is going to go into this a lot more skeptical. It's alright to have friends who are not part of his clan but going as far as to see someone as a mother is testing his loyalty to his clan as Kurapika is painfully aware that you aren't his biological parent. He often shies away from your attention and rejects your help as the feeling of betraying his own clan gnaws at his soul. Still he finds himself subconsciously seeking you out whenever he experiences an emotional tumult, already knowing deep down that you can soothe his overflowing rage. He starts getting quite selfish the more he gets attached to you as he attempts to isolate you more from others. After all it is not uncommon for people to admire you for your strength and your youthful looks despite your age and such people always put him on edge. You are by all means far from naive yet his distrust often outweights his rationality. You never fail to notice his brooding emotions and always put a calming hand on his shoulder, emotionally and literally holding him back. You have never attempted to take the morally high ground when you found out about his desire for revenge, never belittled him and it allows him to express his pain freely to you.

Chrollo Lucilfer

📖​Intrigue is always the emotion that will serve as the bait to gain Chrollo's attention and it truly is no different in this scenario. You see, Chrollo has always been rather sophisticated with a unique philosophy and he loves having long discussions with you about humanity and all their rights and wrongs. You're neither driven by revenge nor are you someone who sees herself as a hero who has to stop him. Instead you listen to him with that gentle look on your face and it only serves as fuel to Chrollo's curiosity as he rarely witnesses such composure. However, he is not quite sure how he should feel about the way you view him as still a child. Sure, you may be older than him but throughout his life Chrollo has learnt that even adults reverted back to crying babies when he confronted them and promised them death. The concept of a mother is something neither he nor any of the other members of the Phantom Troupe have experienced, the strange warmth within his heart a sensation so unfamiliar that it feels alien. Still, he supposes that it's quite nice. I feel like in this specific dynamic he would actually refrain from stealing your Nen-ability simply because he genuinely respects you.

Shalnark

📱​Usually his sweet smiles are very deceiving but they are always genuine whenever he visits you. Whilst Shalnark harbored some distrust against you during the beginning as years of being a thief and criminal have given him direct exposure to the ugliness of humans he has learnt to realise that you aren't like common people. You have had your own share of struggles and injustice and it is a topic he learns to bond over with you as well as learning to respect you for your physical and mental strength as a consequence of your past. Indeed, the two of you may appear like a mother and her sweet son spending time together yet there is always a sinister motive that lies hidden. Shalnark always pays you a visit after a successful mission the Phantom Troupe committed as it is a nice change of pacing. Initially he brings you souvenirs as a gift, most of them stolen objects from the robbery. It becomes quickly clear though that you do not appreciate such presents, especially if the blood of innocents sticks to them like invisible karma. If you should have difficulties regarding technology and electronical devices Shalnark is always there to help you and fix stuff for you.

Shaiapouf

🎻​Shaiapouf gives you intense hatred after you pick him up from the palace where he almost died, blames your kind for the death of his beloved king and heavily blames himself for not having done more. You should have saved the king and not this unworthy and incapable servant. He only complies begrudgingly because you are stronger than he is and his animal genes accept the natural order of the food chain where you stand above him. Born to serve and born to help his majesty to receive greatness, perhaps it is this desperate wish that slowly leads him to push his ideals on you. He notices the spark of potential, starts clinging to the attention and care you give him as he receives a taste of what it must feel like to have a nurturing mother. Shaiapouf hatched already as an adult who knew of his purpose and already possessed great levels of intelligence yet the more love he receives the more he starts reminding you of a child. Still dedicated to serve and protect yet also constantly seeking approval and damning everyone who may even attempt to date you. It is somewhat endearing though, especially if he splits himself and you have multiple mini hims clinging to you.

Dazai Osamu

🤎​You indeed ended up picking up a stray dog with several issues after stopping him from trying one of his many attempts to die. Dazai keeps up his initial antics as he asks you if you would like to join him, quickly shoot him down by revealing your age which elicits one of his theatrical reactions out of him. The truth is that Dazai never had loving parents and much less a mother who nurtured him and cared for him and even if he would have had one he doubts she would have been able to love him for the monster he used to be and partially still is. It is this inexperience that startles him when he receives tastes of it from you. It is a sensation akin to being submerged in scathing hot water, his mind torn apart between pain and a strange comfort that urges him to drown even deeper. What frightens him even more is your willingness to listen to him in order to understand him better, something he has never received before as most people have just learned to live with his antics and brush them off when he lets them out. Pain makes someone wiser and that applies perfectly to you and Dazai can't help himself but seek you out for advice, searches for the answer of what he was made for by seeking out you.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​You've known Gojo since he entered Jujutsu High, actually decided to tutor him despite having retired after the world failed you. Partially you see yourself in this young boy and it is this urge to teach him to not repeat mistakes of the past that leads you to take him in, officially becoming his first teacher as he was only ever taught the basics by his own family. You seek out the boy underneath those blue eyes on a personal level no one has ever bothered to get to know him on. What makes Gojo Satoru Gojo Satoru? So used to being treated like a valuable weapon than someone's son it is almost sickening for a while for Satoru and even though he attempts to hide it beneath that careless grin you sense his distress and help him to work through it. After Suguru chose a path of hatred to walk on you are the only person Satoru still has left and on that day he breaks down in tears for the first time and clings to you like a weeping child in need of his mother's love and comfort. He completely turns his back on his biological parents, even coldly states to them one time that he only has one mother which is you. The only approval that matters is yours, the only attention he needs is yours.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I think more ppl need to see this

Yeah for real lol. That's exactly what it is with him. Not to toot my own horn too much but I believe this post I made ages ago hits the nail on the head haha

"I'm bored" is... technically true. In a sense. Personally, I think it's a very simple and vague allusion to the real problem. That thin sheet of snow coating a massive, freezing cold iceberg. Just barely obscuring it from proper view.

imo it's been a bit disappointing seeing people take to extremes with Burning Spice's character. I've seen people either woobify him, downplay or excuse his actions by saying "he's not evil! He's hurting! He's depressed! He doesn't hate people, he's lashing out because he can't internalize his pain anymore!", or just demand he be put to death immediately on sight without trial. You can like a morally repulsive character and sympathize with their issues while also acknowledging that they're repulsive and need to face justice for their crimes. Burning Spice is one of my favorite characters, I love everything about him, he's sexy as fuck, I understand why he's the way he is, I'm still happy to see his ass beat because he's a piece of shit and he deserves it lol.

Not to throw shade at "simpler" villains ofc. I love me some assholes that are assholes just because they can be. Like Jack Horner in Puss in Boots 2. But Burning Spice isn't Jack Horner and he honestly shouldn't be. The deeper, sadder, more complex reasons governing his actions suit him better than just "I'm bored fuck this shit" and nothing else ykwim

and of course, he's still wrong. Burning Spice's view of the world is wrong. Does a book begin just to end? Does a song play just to finish in a few minutes' time? No. They begin so that we may read, listen, and enjoy. So that they may make us laugh, or have us shake our heads in disappointment, or tell us some hidden truth. Make our days and lives a little more interesting than they were before. Life is beautiful BECAUSE it is fleeting. Born, grow, wither, born, grow, wither. Yes, that's how it goes. But there's so much more to those things than just what we can gather from those three words. Every day is different. Though the sun rises every morning without fail, it's never quite the same color, is it? Always a bit of a different shade of yellow, orange, red, bleeding into the sky a little differently each time. There are so many things to see and do, games to play, people to meet and love and cherish. Maybe some of those things and those people won't be here someday but that doesn't mean their existence never meant anything. We are not born to die, we are born to live. We must die for those who are to live, and live for those who have died. Regardless, we must never lose sight of the intrinsic value of all that surrounds us. Burning Spice very much did. Underneath his bitterness and anger and (not unfounded, to be fair) lamentation for the unstoppable cycle of life and death is a deep-rooted selfishness and fundamental lack of understanding and appreciation for life and other people. In the face of despair, he gave in and chose evil. He was and is wrong for doing so, regardless of why he did it. He could've stepped down. He could've just admitted he didn't have what it took to be the Herald of Change. Hell, if he really hates being alive so much, he would've committed suicide a LONG time ago. But he never did any of that; instead he chose to inflict an equal or greater suffering on everything and everyone else, even the undeserving. And for that he MUST pay. And Golden Cheese, with her personality and her experiences and the wisdom she came to attain when faced with the exact same despair as Burning Spice, is exactly the right person to make him do that

[yeonmuse]

In which the white king makes her remember all the reasons she made herself hate him

Request from @yourislandgirl : Chosen Journey [ white king guide, cake tether, traveling to through wonder forest and the timekeepers palace ]

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!), fingering, unprotected sex, foul language, sunghoon is kinda a dick

Authors notes: req 5 for musies 1k req event hi my loves I’m so sorry to keep you all waiting, a lot has happened over the course of two weeks but hopefully I can get the rest of your reqs out by the end of the upcoming week

Other reqs can be found here

Park Sunghoon had been the apple of everyone’s eye long before he’d taken the throne and was crowned king of wonderland. Many girls would flock to him and many of the Wonderland inhabitants favored him far more than his brother Heeseung. And although you and Heeseung had been best friends with one another since before you could even remember, even you at one point had found yourself completely taken by his dearest brother. Though that was before you had seen his true colors, before you realized that Park sunghoon had been a master manipulator, he knew how to work his way into the minds of anyone he met, with that awkward charm and sweet smile he knew all the ways to make anyone's walls come crumbling down.

When you were younger you’d been completely blinded by those endearing yes and that breathtaking smile. You thought him to be just like everyone else did, sweet, cunning, intelligent, charming, the list drew on and on. For the longest time you’d had the biggest crush on him. You felt so much guilt over it, falling for your best friend's brother, the brother who he absolutely hated with every fiber of his being. Was it an obsession? Adoration? Or true love? You could never tell because at some point those lines had become blurred. Subtle glances and quick smiles turned into creeping around the castle following his every move. Soft spoken words turned into failed confessions and failed seductions. You knew it was wrong of you to bare feelings for the brother of someone so important to you, but for many reasons you couldn’t bring yourself to care, and eventually morality had become completely deserted you’d finally mustered up the courage to confess.

It was on that day that you’d finally come to realize that he wasn’t the man he made himself out to be. There you stood on the other side of his bedroom door after baring your heart to him and he’d carelessly cast you aside before shutting the door in your face. As if your feelings were nothing to him, as if you were nothing to him. At that point you’d started to realize that Park Sunghoon, the man you thought you knew, was very two faced. The more you stuck around, the more you observed without the blurring emotions you once carried in your heart for him the more clear it became that he only showed those outside the castle how charming and sweet and lovely he could be, while those that lived within the walls of said castle bore the worst of it from him.

So you hated him, you hated everything that he pretended to be and most of all, you hated that he’d tricked you into falling for a false idol of the man he portrayed himself as.

Sunghoon on the other hand had felt nothing towards you, he’d known of you little crush on him for the longest time even before you had confessed to him, though it weighed little to nothing on his heart. To him you were just like the many other girls in wonderland that saw nothing more than what lay on the outside, and he found it pathetic. With his charming face it was easy to lure even the smartest of man or woman, it proved just how shallow many of them were. To fall for him without even knowing what lies beneath the charming smile or giddy facade he’d presented, you were no different from them. And worst of all you had fallen for him knowing that it would absolutely crush Heeseung if he found out.

“Are you really not going to go and welcome the twins back home?” Jay questions, as the two of you had been walking through the forest collecting herbs and mushrooms to assist jake in making his tea.

“Nope. i’d rather die than step foot in the same room as that asshat.’’ you respond, not even sparing him a glance as you continue to pluck lavender and cloves from nearby shrubs.

“You still haven’t even told me why you hate him so much, even Heeseung doesn’t hate him as much as you do and he has the most valid reason to.’’ Jay sighs, taking the herbs you hand over to them and shoving them in his sack with the others.

“Doesn’t matter, I just don’t want to see him, I've gone this long without seeing his stupid face and I'm not about to end that streak now. Now can you let it go so we can finfish and get all of these back to jake? I want to get there before everyone arrives so I don’t have to see that fucker.’’Jay simply shakes his head, trailing behind you as the two of you trudged deeper into the forest.

Truth be told you hadn’t seen Sunghoon since you were eighteen, the day he’d officially been crowned king over Heeseung and Heeseung had made the executive decision to move out of the castle and be on his own. Four years, four years in which you hadn’t seen his face and the worst part about it was you didn’t know if it was hate that had driven you to avoid him for so long, or if there had still been some lingering feelings buried deep within you that you had yet to shake.

After what felt like hours of walking and plucking from shrubs, the two of you had finally returned back to jakes place where he had been frantically running around the tea table trying to get things set up

“Finally you two get hear.’’ he jumps up and hurries his way over to the two of you as he spots both of you upon return. “The twins are already here.’’

“This early? I thought the boat wouldn’t arrive until later tonight?’’ you and jay share a glance before looking at Jake.

“Well i thought so too, but then jungwon spotted them coming from the docks, they’re on their way here and everything still is not complete.’’ jake rambles, if it hadn’t been a normal occurrence for him to freak out this way you’d have though he’d gone completely bonkers.

“Jake calm down, we’ll help you.’’ Jay suddenly volunteers, making your eyes go wide, and you shoot Jay a look, a look which he completely ignores forcing you to return your attention to Jake. You wanted to object right then and there and punch Jay for suddenly volunteering your assistance, but Jake had become so giddy at the mention of your help you couldn’t bear letting him down.

“I hate you.’’ you whisper over to him, which makes him snicker before he takes the bags of herbs inside at Jake's orders, all while you remain outside now having the duty of setting the table.

With a sigh you roll up the sleeves of your shirt and get to work, it took an hour to make sure that things had been prim and proper, by the time you’d finished it had already been nearing time for everyone to arrive. With a satisfied smile you take a step back, wanting to admire your work and make sure that nothing had been off before you went on your way.

“Looks good but i’m sure you could do better than that.’’ you immediately stiffened and your blood ran cold as you heard the familiar voice speak up from beside your ear. You had yet to turn around but you could tell that he was close, far too close for comfort.

“As if i’d take advice from you.’’ you finally manage a response, rolling your eyes and taking a step forward before fixing up the flowers on the table, not even bothering to spare him a glance. He didn’t say a word, an awkward silence lingered in the air but you could tell that he was still there.

“Back then you’d go on staring for hours now you won’t even spare me a glance. Tsk all because of a simple rejection.’’ he finally spoke, his words lighting a fire in you that made you want to completely dig into him on the spot, but of course that was probably exactly what he wanted. Wanted you to play right into his hands so that he’d have control over the situation.

“That was what? Six years ago and you’re still thinking about it? Sheesh sorry you can’t get over it but…since Heesung left the castle.’’ finally you turn to face him, you want to look him directly in his eyes when you bruise his ego. “You don’t ever seem to cross my mind, and it’s so fcuking satisfying.’’

For a moment you see him crack, the expression on his face going from stoic to a momentary shock before he catches himself. Though it had already been too late, even if it was only for a second you had sensed a crack in his usual collected demeanor, and it gave you the utmost joy knowing that it was your doing.

Moments later you could hear rustling and faint voices drawing closer from the forest, each voice you recognized as one of your friends and the most familiar drawing closer and eventually stepping out into the open was Heeseung. His smile almost immediately dropped as he spotted the two of you, though Heeseung had ended his six year long feud with his brother, he’d known you still absolutely hated his guts.

Right behind him stumbling in came Niki, Jungwon and the twins, each of their voices cutting through the tension like a swift knife and drawing your attention away from the man that stood in front of you. You were thankful for their arrival, if it hadn’t been for them the ongoing banter between you and Sunghoon would have dragged on like a never ending game of chess.

Eventually hearing the voices of everyone else Jay and Jake had come rushing outside to greet them. Upon seeing Sunghoon jay shoots you a knowing glance and you practically curse him out with your eyes before turning to heeseung who had finally walked over.

That entire time, Sunghoon had stood there observing, he found you amusing, actually absolutely intriguing. He obviously knew, whether you said it or not, the true reason you were now treating him as if he didn't exist was all because he rejected you. He found amusement in knowing the reminder got under your skin and yet you still talked to him as if he were nothing to you. It made him want to play with you more, to know what it would be like to fuel that fire and completely piss you off to the point of true hatred, and he knew just the way to do it but he’d wait for the perfect opportunity to make you snap.

He started simple, with sly remarks and backhand compliments during the midst of you all having tea, though no one else seemed to catch it but you most times. Those subtle remarks eventually built up and everything he would say even if not to you would start eating away at you until you were completely annoyed with him. And then when the night had been winding down slowly coming to an end, there he found you in the kitchen. A perfect opportunity to get you completely riled.

“So you're still running around following my brother like a lost puppy. Thought it was just to get close to me back then but maybe you’re just a harlot who’d rather go for the easiest brother.’’ that comment had been like a catalyst, it made your eye twitch and your chest burn with anger. You’d let it all build and now all the things he said had completely devoured you, you could no longer hold yourself back from absolutely letting him have it.

“God you are such a fucking asshole.’’ you finally spit out, anger and annoyance laced in your tone, the words spat from your mouth as if they were venomous.

Despite your words there was a glimmer of satisfaction in his gaze, though that went unnoticed by him.

“You didn’t seem to think so when you were standing outside my door pouring your pathetic little heart out.’’ he spews, making you let out a breathy laugh in disbelief.

“What’s pathetic is you having to act like someone else just to get people to like you? Afraid they won’t like the real you Park? You’re fucking two faced, without your proper prince act you wouldn’t have even been given the crown it’d have been Heesungs. Maybe that’s the problem maybe you’re afraid everyone will like him more than you?’’ your words hit him hard, and as many things that you had said to him this night this was the first time you’d seen his eyes burn with anger, and most of all envy.

“Oh I'm sorry, are you mad? Did that actually piss you off? So maybe it’s true maybe you’ve just been acting like a little bitch because everyone liked your brother-’’ that was it, the nail in the coffin that’d completely killed any sort of amusement he’d felt in that moment. Cutting you off he cages you in against the kitchen counter. Binding your wrists to the counter with a grip that was sure to cut off your circulation if there for too long.

“Go on. Finish your sentence. I’m a bitch right?’’ he spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes boring into yours so intently that they forced you to fall silent.

“Let go.’’ you manage to breath out, your voice so soft that it almost went unnoticed by him.

“You know what I think? I think that you hate me so much because you can’t get over it. You can’t get over the fact that you got your heart broken by someone you thought you knew. You thought just because you were my brother's little friend that I'd spare your heart and tell you what you wanted to hear, even if I was lying to you. Does he even know? Does he know why you sat crying in our garden that night?’’

“I hate you. I absolutely fucking hate you Park sunghoon.’’

“No you don’t and that’s what makes this so much better.’’ he responds, pushing you up against the counter by your hips.

“No matter what I do, you can’t really hate me. That’s exactly why you’ve avoided me since that day. Not because you hate me but you were afraid that you still had feelings for me. And even worse if my brother found out all about your little crush and how i rejected you, you were afraid it would make our relationship worse.’’ you immediately stiffen at observation, and your silence was just enough to tell him that he had been absolutely correct.

Back then you sat alone in the garden for hours crying to yourself so that heeseung wouldn’t have to worry. You’d rather cry and be alone than ruin the little amount of love and respect that heeseung did have for his brother, and most of all you were scared that if heeseung found out sunghoon had taken yet another thing from him that he would hate the both of you.

“You’ve never really hated me.’’ he whispers, breath ghosting against the cold skin of your neck just below your ear.”did you?’’

“Fuck you.’’ you breathe out, and to him it’s obvious that every ounce of fight you’d had towards him had melted away, because even those words to him sounded so sweet.

“If that’s what you want.’’ And then he's kissing you—kissing you like he's starving, like he can't get enough, like you were always his, even when he’d turned you into a crying mess in the garden of his own home.

His kiss is hungry, and rough, his tongue dancing against yours, stealing the breath straight from your lungs and swallowing every sweet sound that came spilling from your lips. All while his hands slide down, groping at your ass, gripping handfuls of soft flesh like he owns it— like he was sure you wouldn’t resist, and you surely didn’t. You moan into his mouth, your fingers digging into the cold marble of the countertop, nails scraping against it barely doing any damage.

You couldn’t even catch your breath for a second, shit you’d barely had any time to register if this had actually been happening. The man you forced yourself to hate for the last six years, completely digging into you, devouring your lips. You wanted to push him away, to scream at him and curse him for ever touching you but your body went completely against it, the way he touches you was like a jolt of electricity burning through your circuits.

And then as he presses closer, you feel him.

Thick, heavy, rock fucking hard, pressing right against your thigh, the heat of him seeping through his pants, through your thin skirt, making your thighs squeeze together, and it sends your head spinning.

He groans, low and deep, like he already knows the exit was he’s making you feel, and then he yanks you closer, his grip tightening as he grinds up against you, letting you feel just how worked up he is. All the pent up anger and aggression even if not meant for you, he would release it all on you in that moment.

He tears his mouth from yours just long enough to breathe, and you barely manage to get his name out before he’s stripping your chest bare and his mouth latches into your breast.

"H-Hoon—" he ignores the soft call of his name from your lips. All sound having been drowned out from the moment he heard the first whine spill from your lips.

Before you can manage a response, He grabs you—his hands gripping your thighs, your body weight like nothing to him as he lifts you onto the kitchen counter. Your breath stutters, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders, but he doesn't give you a second to catch up.

the second your ass touches the counter, he's stripping you completely bare, tossing your clothes off somewhere behind him.

His eyes drop instantly, and fuck, the groan he lets out—deep, rough, vibrating against your skin—makes your stomach flip, makes your cunt clench around nothing, and your pulse pound between your legs.

“Fuck.” he mutters, running his hands down your side, making goosebumps crawl up your skin. Then he’s gripping your hip, fingers curling into your soft skin.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your thighs tremble as he steps between them. You want to say something, anything to break the tension better the two of you but as quick as your mouth opens, the faster it falls closed because now his hand is already wrapping around the back of your neck, his fingers sliding into your hair, tilting your face up, and then his mouth is on yours again.

The next thing you know, two of his fingers are buried inside your cunt. As painful as it is for him to wait, he needs to prep you, he wants you ready.

"Oh—fuck—" you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders, your body arching as his fingers plunge into you, stretching you open, curling just right.

“Shh you wouldn’t want my brother Hearing you out there hm?” He works them deep, fucking them into you in slow, firm strokes, the wet, obscene sounds of your pussy filling the room, and shit, you're already so sensitive for him.

You can’t ever bring yourself to let out any coherent words. His fingers plunged so deep into you that you’d forgotten the right way to speak. his other hand moves stealthily—already working his belt, working the buttons and the zipper, his knuckles bumping against your inner thigh as he frees himself from his restraints.

Finally he drags his fingers out of you in one slick pull, making you whine, your cunt clenching around nothing, and as if he can't bear to wait, as if he’s waited lifetimes for this he's already gripping his dick.

Already fisting it, dragging your wetness over the thick, flushed length, mixing it with the pearly precum beading at his tip, groaning under his breath.

", you're so messy, doesn’t look like you hate me." he mutters, his voice wrecked, his hand moving slowly, but firm as if teasing you.

His free hand grips your waist, drags you closer to the edge of the counter, And then he's back between your legs, slapping your clit with his cock.

Your whole body jerks, a high, needy whimper ripping from your throat as the heavy weight of it lands against your sensitive bundle of nerves, over and over, each hit making your thighs twitch, making your cunt pulse with need.

“Hoon-“ you whimper, squirming, gripping his arms, but he just shushes you, his hand sliding up from your hip, up your side, until it's wrapped around the back of your neck again.

He grips you there, firm, tilting your head up, forcing you to look at him, his lips barely brushing yours, his cock still slapping against your clit, making your legs twitch, your breath hitching in quick, shallow gasps.

“Do you really hate me baby?” And you don't know what has gotten into you, don't know if it's the way he's looking at you, don't know if it's the way he's got you all pinned in place, your whole body under his control, but you nod.

“Then I’ll make sure to fuck every ounce of hate out of your pretty little body.” And then he finally snaps—his thick, aching cock is pushing in and splitting you in two.

"Oh, f-fuck," you gasp, your whole body going rigid, your fingers digging into his arms as he splits you open, stretching you wide, forcing you to take every thick, pulsing inch.

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open, a helpless, needy whimper slipping past your lips, and he groans under his breath, watching the way your tight little cunt struggles to take him, the way you clamp down, so fucking hot and wet and slippery for him.

And he doesn't even bother bottoming out before he starts fucking you. Hard. Fast. Brutal.

The wet slap of skin on skin fills the kitchen, your moans breaking into helpless little gasps each time he slams forward, each thrust knocking the air from your lungs. The gun holster strapped to his thigh digs into your skin, pressing, the leather rough against your soft, sensitive flesh, a constant reminder of just how fucked you are.

“What’d I tell you sweetheart? You want everyone to hear? Want them to know how you’re getting ducked by your best friend's brother? The one man you hate so much?” He chuckles, like he’s enjoying watching you completely fall apart.

His hand moves from the back of your neck to the front, his fingers wrapping around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your breath catch, just enough to make your pussy clench around him.

"Fuck—" He swears, his grip tightening just slightly, enough to make your head feel light, enough to make every nerve in your body tingle. "Yeah you hate me hm? Hate me so much, you're drooling like a little puppy while i fuck you?"

And you can't speak, can't breathe, can't think. All you can do is nod, your moans breaking into choked little whimpers as he pounds into you, each brutal thrust driving him deeper, making your walls spasm around his thick cock.

And when your mouth falls open on another desperate moan, He leans in, his breath hot against your lips, his fingers still tight around your throat.

“Taking me so well.” he murmurs, his voice wrecked, his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you so full you can feel every vein, every pulse.

And then, his tongue slides into your mouth. Hot, wet, dominating, tasting every gasp, every moan, swallowing down every desperate little noise you make as he fucks you senseless. Your head spins, your whole body trembling, heat coiling tight in your belly, your climax building fast, dangerously close.

And he can feel it.

"Couldn’t even last that long pretty thing?" he purrs against your lips, his fingers flexing around your throat, his cock still slamming into you, pushing you closer, closer, closer. "I feel you falling apart sweetheart, go ahead. Let it all out for me, no matter how much you try to hate me your body will always forgive."

He slams into you, again and again, his cock driving so deep, so hard, it's all you can do to hold on, to breathe through it, to take every brutal, punishing thrust as he fucks you open, stretches you so wide around him you don't know how you're still coherent.

Your nails sink into his shoulders, your whole body shaking, legs trembling where they wrap around his waist, your toes curling with every sharp, unrelenting snap of his hips.

You try to say something—try to answer—but the words get lost in a broken, desperate whimper, your mouth falling open, almost drooling with how fucked out and wrecked you are.

You can feel it. The heat twisting low in your belly, coiling tight, electric and overwhelming, your orgasm rushing toward you, unstoppable, devastating, making your walls flutter and clench so tight around his cock he groans, his hand tightening around your throat.

Your orgasm crashes over you, blinding and overwhelming, your whole body tensing as wave after wave of white hot pleasure ripples through you, so fucking intense it leaves you shaking, clenching, soaking his cock with slick as you cum hard around him.

He groans, his hand dropping from your throat to your hip as he fucks you through it, fucking you harder, deeper, dragging out every sharp, shuddering pulse of your release until your cunt is twitching around him, sensitive, overstimulated, your whimpers breaking into helpless, pathetic cries.

"That's it pretty girl," he grits out, leaning in, swallowing your moans with his mouth, his tongue sliding into yours, hot and wet, claiming every sound, every sharp little gasp. He's so close, he can feel it. His whole body tense, his dick throbbing, straining inside your tight, soaking wet heat, every little clench of your overstimulated pussy making his stomach coil, making his hips stutter.

"Shit—" he grits out, his hands tightening on your body, his rhythm turning desperate, frantic, fucking you fast, hard, chasing it, so fucking worked up he can't even hold back.

With a sharp, wrecked groan, his hips snap forward one last time, his cock driving deep, pulsing as thick ropes of hot cum spill into your tight little pussy, painting your insides, filling you up until you're dripping, leaking all over the counter. But he doesn't stop.

He fucks it deeper, fucks you through it, milking every last drop, his fingers bruising against your skin as he holds you still, grinding against you until his cock is twitching, until you're both a wrecked, sweaty mess of slick and cum and breathless desperation.

And when he finally lets up, and his eyes land on you, a complete mess beneath him, glistening in sweat, he can’t help but feel satisfied.

"Shit," he rasps, his fingers sliding through the mess, making you whimper, your whole body twitching from the overstimulation. He had you exactly where he wanted you, he’d made you fold, made that excited facade you held together for so long come crumbling down.

“You can hate me, hate me all you want but no matter how hard you try your body will always remember this. You can’t hate me. You’ll never truly be able to hate me because everytime those words leave your pretty lips I’ll make sure to fuck that feeling out of you.”

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[colorlessjay]

A Little Elbow Grease

“You have a name to uphold”

That’s what Castiel’s father told him when he was old enough to understand and comprehend words. He was the third youngest of 9 kids, who were known to be on top of everything.

Doctors, Scientists, Business Owners, Lawyers. The Shurley's have a legacy of intelligence, dedication, and greatness, with the stray rebel here and there who eventually succumb to the family name and fall in line

All except little Castiel, the unplanned angel of Thursday who, despite his hard work, constant note-taking, and obsession with studying, has never gotten higher than a C- in his entire life. And that was because his teacher took pity (And maybe because they feared the Shurley name)

His family was generally understanding, if not a little condescending. His older sister Naomi had called him 'special'. Anna tries to be more encouraging about it, saying Castiel has a spirit like no other. Balthazar had tried to get Castiel to do more recreational hobbies, but none of it ever stuck. None of it he was ever good at or remotely interested in.

They never saw any evidence of Castiel straying from his studies, in fact, even his brother Gabriel voiced his (mocking) concern for Castiel's lack of social life. Michael tells him not to read so much in the dark, or else his eyes get worse. Raphael merely chastises him when he catches the young boy in the kitchen in the dead of night, nose-deep in notes and textbooks.

But no matter what Castiel does, he always ends up last in his class, just above the delinquents who barely go to class in the first place.

Ironic given how early Castiel gets to school every day

So Castiel takes drastic measures - asking for Lucifer's help. Despite being the black sheep of the family, Lucifer has achieved great things as a lawyer (Regardless of how... questionable his morals may be)

Lucifer's idea was... classist to put it lightly, but Castiel was desperate to ensure his last year of senior high saw him at the top of his class.

It took a bit of convincing (Lucifer was a very good lawyer) but by the start of spring, Castiel found himself enrolled in a no-name public school whose reputation was good enough to make sure Castiel wouldn't get kidnapped on the first day

What Castiel didn't account for, were the students that riddled the place. Demons of pure teen angst and rebellion

He definitely didn't expect to chase after the most stubborn, hard headed, but incredibly intelligent boy in the entire school, trying to convince him to be his study partner.

Castiel will not give up now. He's failed and fallen far enough.

Dean Winchester will be his wings

—--------------

“Get your GED and get out”

That’s what Dean's dad told him when he was old enough to pick up a wrench. After that? Nothing else really mattered anymore. His dad had a point, John couldn’t put both Sam and Dean through college, especially after they had lost everything to that damn fire. And Sam has so much more potential as a lawyer than Dean could as an engineer. The choice between who gets the college treatment was a no-brainer

John was too stubborn to ask for help beyond having Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen watch his kids while he ‘busted his ass for extra bucks’. Dean is beyond asking what his dad actually did when he goes off for weeks at a time to who knows where. He’s learned the hard way that you don’t ask a man where he gets his money.

The day after his 16th birthday, Dean practically begged Bobby to let him work part-time at his garage. He refused any gift, saying all he wanted for his birthday was steady pay and a warm bed for Sam. And like his dad, Dean was a stubborn bull. And besides, Bobby would rather Dean work somewhere he can keep an eye on the boy

During summers, Dean takes extra shifts at the garage and the Roadhouse Diner, often trying to charm his way for extra tips here and there. After school (the days Bobby forces him to go to ‘watch over Sam’), Dean would go straight back to work, even begging both Bobby and Ellen to give him a shift. And when that didn’t work, he would go around town offering to mow lawns, tend gardens, walk dogs, just about anything for an extra buck.

And all that money always went to Sammy’s college fund. Stanford ain’t cheap, and Dean was determined to give his baby brother the best opportunity he could

Rumors went around that he was an addict of some kind, willing to do anything for cash for some kind of fix. Someone even tried to offer him money to do their bidding, do their homework, be their boyfriend, and some more unsavory offers.

One suspension, two bloody fists, and three trips to the nurse’s office later, Dean made it very clear he wasn’t that type of gal.

Dean wasn’t desperate. He was hard-working. He had pride and dignity as much as anyone else who grew up with enough money to put food on their plate. Unlike any of them, Dean saw school as nothing more than an easy roadblock he had to get over to get a steadier job.

Like his dad said. Get his GED and get out

Too bad the new kid seemed to wanna put a wrench in his plans

With impossibly blue eyes, a gaze of steel, and a voice too deep and monotone for his age, Dean thinks the guy was a prototype for RoboCop.

Castiel Shurley just won’t leave him the fuck alone

-----------

I had this idea for a while

idk what to do about it but ya'll can have it

[nipuni]

Hello time to yap about life and media again! 🥰

It's been a month and a half since we fully moved into this new old house and it's been a steep learning curve!! so far we had to learn how to care for a garden and grow fruit, how to deal with extremely humid weather, the mold!! also learning about various repairs, electricity and plumbing, we had a leak that turned one lamp into a waterfall, the rcd keeps tripping every time it rains, had to fix a door in the dark after Nicolas got himself trapped in a room when the handle broke during a power outage, the heating system is an air to water heat pump and it took us ages to figure out how to set it up correctly so we spent weeks wearing 3 layers inside the house, I even fell down the stairs!! I'm not used to having stairs inside the house lmao It's a big adjustment when you've always lived in small apartments in big cities all your adult life, but to be honest we love it!! everything feels like a new quest for us to tackle and it is so much fun figuring it all out as we go, reading technical manuals by candle light, the teamwork of installing and assembling furniture and networks, pruning the trees, celebrating every small mundane accomplishment and new skill learned every night over dinner, I may be corny as hell but it all feels like a privilege and an adventure 😭

Media wise we watched the second season of Arcane! This series never fails to make me fall in love with art again, not that I've ever fallen out but I can't say that the whole AI debacle hasn't been ass for the morale. Aesthetically it is a masterpiece. The character design, the cinematography, the mixed media montages aaaa Seeing the work, the skill and care that was put into every frame reminded me of how important and human the storytelling aspect of art really is. I wonder if we will see a shift to the more story driven or conceptual arts when we look back on this period, but I ramble, back to Arcane. I have mostly praise for it, wonderful characters and very touching relationships. I think our only issues were with the pacing being too slow at the start, every character climbing out of a very low point, and then too fast which made the second half feel a bit rushed. This season also felt a bit more tropey than the first one but still really solid. It remains one of the best animated series ever made and I am so happy to see it succeed in this current environment 😭 It feels like teenagehood condensed into a show, we really enjoyed it. I hope we get a season 3!!

Also there was an update in our David Tennant filmography quest! we watched The Politician's Husband and unsurprisingly we loved it!! It was gripping and the acting was brilliant. It is actually what I was expecting Rivals to be like, I realize 🤔 I think it could have used a 4th episode, felt like it ended too quickly and there was room for more, as if they ran out of time to tie things up so they picked the quickest route. But it was really good!! These miniseries are always so engaging and so short, I need mooreee.

We missed our DT nights!! Nicolas spent the last week hunting for more of David's work for us to watch. We've been hosting family for a few days again last week and on top of work and everything else we had to pause them for a bit. But now we are back to our nightly routine and he's over the moon!! Instant mood boost it's embarrassing lmao both of us falling this hard for this guy is too enabling, he even made his name our guest wifi password, we are besotted 😂

Oh! I also I saw a Veilguard Q&A was happening and read a few replies I saw posted here, and it proved to be a huge mistake! It was a disappointing and truly infuriating read. What even happened during the production of this game lmao How come the average fan seems to have a much better grasp on the lore, characters and plot than the people who made it 😭 There is this gaping disconnect between intent and execution. The way that fans are trying to make sense and give meaning to the complete mess that is the writing in an attempt to salvage and preserve the aspects they loved about it is saddening. I am mentally throwing tomatoes at John Epler as we speak. His answers felt so unserious and baffling at best and offensive and petty at worst. It's been eye opening, I could go on a two hour rant but the more I learn and dwell on it the more bitter I become about it all and I'm already seeing ten year old discourse resurface and people getting weird about it so I'll just ..🚶‍♀️ In my eyes this world and it's characters now belong only to those who love it and lives in my memory 🫡

Anyway, this ended up being at least twice as long as I was planning to make it again 😭 and I still have to catch up with asks aaaa it's been a busy month sorry I'll get to them soon!! Thank you for reading and for the support and for just being here!! I hope you all have a great week 🥺❤️

[obae-me]

I have been asked to expand on the MC with trauma scenarios, and you know what, I need the comfort, so let's do it! (No these are not based on myself, I don't know what you're talking about....)

Also I've seen a ton of people's responses to the last one and just know that I am spiritually patting you all on the head and wrapping a soft blanket around your shoulders.

--

MC with ~Trauma~ PT 2!

Imagine an MC who has been mocked, berated, or criticized for their joys and hobbies. They don't do those things anymore or go to great lengths to hide them.

They never share their writing or their art with anyone. They are surrounded by demons and angels much more talented than them. The thing that they felt they were moderately talented in is below average compared to these beings... Everything they create is hidden in secret digital folders or kept in notebooks under their mattress or tucked in secret spots on their bookshelves.

They never sing or dance or play their instruments. They almost avoid the music room altogether. It's almost too painful for them to think about. If they attend a dance they just stand off to the sides... They don't participate in karaoke. They don't hum to their favorite songs.

They hardly cook, or garden, or read, or edit, or color, or knit, or crochet, or embroider, or anything else that they might enjoy.

Imagine some of the nosier brothers not realizing the pain that hides behind their passions and either playfully spying on them or digging up their secrets. Their hearts are fully destroyed when their human breaks down in tears. Now, every single day, every character encourages them to do what they love and giving them private time and space to do it in a place where they feel safe. They all hope that maybe one day MC will feel comfortable enough to share what they love with them but they will never pry it out of them, and all the while giving them the support they need behind the curtain.

Imagine Satan, Levi, and Mammon grouping together and creating a PowerPoint presentation. With Satan's organizing skills, Levi's technological know-how, and Mammon's morally grey skills of espionage, they gather all the characters together and teach a class on what to do and not to do around MC. Things like having a clear voice in text messages to keep them from having anxiety. Or not slamming doors, not entering their room without knocking, reminding them to drink water, knowing when to give them time to breathe etc. Everyone takes it seriously (some might say too seriously), including Belphie who didn't even sleep for a second during the whole thing.

What about an MC who takes on too much and never says anything about it? At first, Lucifer, Barbatos, and to a lesser degree Diavolo, are pleased that they've found a human with a strong work ethic and a love for responsibility. Little do they know that while part of that might be true, they are doing it because they are non-confrontational, a people pleaser, or try to prove their worth through success (or all of the above). They burn themselves out and forgo their other needs to conserve all their energy for the work that's been given to them, and it's not until it becomes a serious health issue that anyone really notices. They all take a blow when they come to know how much they had been pushing a human beyond their capabilities. So they tell MC to do less, not expecting the human to try and convince them that it wasn't an issue, maybe even apologizing for failing. Now they all have to keep an eye on MC and make sure they don't take things too far, and make sure that MC knows that their worth isn't tied to how much gets done in a day and they don't think of them any less for taking breaks or time for themselves. And maybe they all learn to take care of themselves a little more for it too. Especially one work-a-holic demon known as Pride.

How about an MC that hates the way they look? No matter what that might be. Body size, shape, height, skin-tone, skin-color, scars, blemishes, freckles, etc. What if it was drilled into their head since they were a child that they were not beautiful? What if they can't look into the mirror or take any photos of themselves without feeling sick? How about being around a demon like Asmo? Maybe resenting him, maybe avoiding him, maybe wishing they were like him. It probably would hurt Asmo to see someone hating themselves and their body so intently. Maybe it's because it reminds him of himself. Maybe they both have to sit down and rethink what beauty really means? It's a long process for both of them.

All of them work with the human with their image and not in a shallow way like trying to deny the things they have and who they are. They find ways around pictures, because there are more ways to keep memories rather than selfies and commemorative photos.

Or what if:

Beel: *In MC's room.* Alright, we'll just do some basic stretches.

MC: Okay, just tell me what to do.

Beel: Well, if you want, you can put on some music to make it more relaxing.

MC: Music? *Looks a little nervous.* If you want...

*MC then turns some music on their phone on the lowest setting and sets it on their bed.*

Beel: Um...you can turn it up more than that if you want.

MC: Louder? Really?

Beel: Don't you think it's a little quiet?

MC: Oh...um...okay... *turns it up by one more click.* Is- Is that okay? I can turn it down again.

Beel: *Opens his mouth, confused for a moment before shutting it again. In the quickest second, he's in his demon form.* Who do I need to find?

MC: B-Beel?!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Summary: Frankie's decision to join the Army was the catalyst in the collapse of your friendship. When he's forced to reconcile with his past, packed away in boxes in his childhood basement, he finds pieces of you in everything he's left behind.

Word Count: 5.0K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, lying, guilt, military deployment, FEELINGS, Frankie's mom not putting up with his shit

A/N: IT'S TIME TO PEEL BACK ANOTHER LAYER OF THE ONION, BABY!!! I hope you guys don't hate me that this is a slow burn- I know this is not how I normally write at all, but it's been really fun to build this story up bit by bit (if you hate it though, please tell me lmao 💀) I'm excited for this chapter and how it hints at next chapter (we're finally getting to some smut y'all, omg) Thank you as always for your kind words, it makes my day to hear what you have to say about these two 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You, Age 17, Spring of 2006

“You’re late, Morales.” 

“Can’t be late to something we don’t have a set time for, Anderson.” 

It’s true, you and Frankie have never set an official schedule for your afterschool ritual, but it never seems to fail that at 3:45, only 10 minutes after you’ve gotten home from soccer practice,  he’s at the foot of your bed with his forest green Jansport backpack, ready to complain about the homework he doesn’t want to finish and the tests he has no interest in studying for, just so he can keep you company while you stress yourself to death about the same assignments. 

And for as much as he hated school work, Frankie was never late. Never. So to watch him mope into your bedroom an hour later than his usual arrival time, it almost would have been safer to assume he was dead than anything else. 

“What took you so long? Get lost on the way here?” You joke, trying to keep it light while still prodding for an answer about his absence as you write down the answer to the math equation you’re trying to solve. 

“No. Don’t worry about it.” 

There’s been very few occasions you’ve seen Frankie so stoic. Even on his worst days, he’s at least still got a little tolerance left in him for your stupid banter. It’s enough to draw your attention completely away from your homework and onto him. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you being so weird?” 

You can tell then that something’s clearly not right, the way he’s angrily yanking loose papers and textbooks from his backpack and nearly slamming them onto the edge of your bed, making you gnaw anxiously at the end of your pencil you’d been using. 

You’re too nosy for your own good to let up until you find what you’re looking for. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Well obviously something’s wrong.” 

“What? I’m not allowed to be late, ever?” 

“No? Frankie, I just asked where you were and you’re acting like I’m asking you if you just shot the fucking president or something. What’s going on?” 

“It’s nothing, MacKenzie!”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset about it?” 

“I’m not upset!” 

“You clearly are? Frankie, what the hell are you-” 

“I’m joining the Army, okay?!”

Out of all the things you could have expected to come out of Frankie’s mouth, that would have been at the bottom of your list. In fact, it’s so out of left field, you’re not even quite sure you believe him. 

Your forehead hurts from how tightly your brows are knitted together in confusion, scowling at Frankie with a dumbfounded intensity that probably had you looking like you had just gotten an unsuspecting whiff of the world’s most sour lemon. 

There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Francisco.” You mock, frown still splayed across your face, “Now will you please tell me what’s actually going on?” 

His silence makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You can feel the way your face falls, the muscles once tensed in adamant skepticism now sinking into a quiet panic. You can hear each breath as it flows in through your nose and out through your mouth, blood pounding louder and louder in your ears with each pulse of your veins. 

“Frankie, if this is one of your stupid jokes, it’s not funny.” 

“It’s not a joke.” 

His eyes are still peeled to the floor, too afraid to bring himself to look at you. All he can do is stare at his pinky toe, poking out of the hole in his socks that he refuses to replace. You wait for what feels like hours, days, for him to say something, but his silence is deafening. And the sound of Frankie’s silence is the scariest thing you’ve heard in a very long time. 

It’s so terrifying, the only thing you can do to cope is fill the quiet void with your rambling and pray that Frankie Morales is choosing to play the world’s worst joke on you. 

“What- what do you mean? Frankie, I thought- When you and Santi talked about doing the same thing as Will- I thought you were fucking kidding? What about college? We already both got accepted to Florida State, what are you gonna do-” 

“I didn’t get in.” 

Please let him be kidding. Please, please, let this be a sick joke. 

You can feel your confusion starting to bubble into anger, jaw clenching at the way Frankie’s too coward to even look in your general direction, gaze still glued to that stupid fucking hole in his worn down sock. 

“Frankie, what the fuck? We both got accepted back in January? You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?” 

“I didn’t wanna lie, okay?!” 

He’s riddled with enough guilt to speak up, trying to keep himself from the brink of tears as he works up enough courage to finally look you in the face. You can hear how hard he gulps, like his heart is bobbing in his throat, trying to buy all the time he can to come up with a reason for his deception that won’t hurt you any more than he already has. 

“I just- fuck,” he sighs, chewing at his bottom and bouncing his leg against the bed so intensely it’ll make him sore the next day, “I didn’t know what to do, Kenz. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” 

It’s hard to stay mad at him when you know he means it. It’d be easier if it weren’t for the way his brown eyes flooded with disappointment in himself, spilling out in tears onto his cheeks. For as frustrated as you are, you have enough sympathy to ease up on him enough to at least try to understand. 

“Well, not lying to me about it for the last four months probably would have been a good start.” You huff, the air that puffs from your nostrils still tainted with the let down you’re trying so hard to not let override your conversation. 

You can’t help but let yourself find a spot next to him on the edge of your bed, a peace offering that you hope is enough to signal to him you’re willing to listen to what he has to say. 

“I- I didn’t think you were being serious when you and Santi were talking about it. I- I thought you- I thought the plan was to go to Florida State. Together. What happened, Frankie?” 

It’s quiet for a few more moments. Frankie takes a few, slow deep breaths as he runs his hands through the curls twisting at the nape of his neck. The silence isn’t as bitter as before, but it stings enough to gnaw at the edges of your nails, the anxious habit you can’t seem to break, and certainly have no intention of giving up right now.  

“Stop chewing at your nails, Kenz. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself later.” Frankie sighs, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth, trying to fulfill his duty of being the one to stop you from ripping your nail beds to shreds. 

“You’re kinda making it hard not to.” You try your best to attempt a laugh. It’s the only way to keep yourself from crying. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?” 

“Y-yeah.” Frankie re-adjusts himself on the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your comforter between his fingers, trying to ground himself in the reality of the truth he’s forced to tell you, “I- I didn’t get into Florida State. I told you I did because I didn’t know what I was gonna do. You were just so excited when you thought we both got in and I- I panicked and I lied. I didn’t even think I was gonna get in anyways. I didn’t think I was gonna get in anywhere. Even if I did, I don’t know if I even could have afforded it. It’s just me and my mom and neither of us-”

“It’s not too late. I can help you look for scholarships. To help you with tuition. I’m sure that there’s a bunch out there that you could apply for. I’ll even write your essays and stuff for you if you want me to-” 

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, Kenz. Plus, you hate cheaters.” 

Frankie tries to reciprocate the same half-assed laugh you gave him. He looks over at you, the small smile he’s forcing to keep between his lips quickly fading as he sees the way you’re pleading with him to realize that you would forge a thousand essays in his name if it meant he wasn’t going to leave you. He’d be a cheater you’d gladly forgive. 

“It’s not even just the money. I just- I- I don’t even like school, Kenzie. I suck at it. If school is already hard now, how much harder is it gonna be when I get to college? To study for a job that I’m probably not even gonna want when I graduate? At least with the Army I can have a job and benefits and hopefully make enough money to help my mom so she’s not working at the hospital 6 days a week. MacKenzie, the only reason I applied to Florida State was because of you. I thought that maybe there would be some miracle I got in and I could figure out how to pay for it and I could magically get smarter and better at school so we could spend the next four years together. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to happen so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just- fuck- I just didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Neither of you are quite sure what to say next. That quiet comes back to fill the space between you, allowing enough room for the silent sobs you’re both trying your best to hold in, small sniffles still escaping from each of you. You’re not sure if your brain has fully processed what he’s had to say. The only thing you can understand is the swirling of sadness and confusion in your gut and the pounding ache in your chest. 

You take a scooch closer to him, the outsides of your thighs barely brushing together as you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder. It’s heavy, the weight you can’t help but lean against him, but the arm he wraps behind your back and around your waist tells you that he’ll gladly take it. He’ll take it all, if he has to. 

“Did you already sign a contract to go?” The whisper of your words is so soft, like you’re hoping he can’t hear you. If he can’t hear you, then he doesn’t have to tell you the answer you don’t want to hear. 

“Yeah. Me and Santi did a few weeks ago.” His voice is almost quieter than yours, convinced he has the same idea as you. 

His truth stings worse than the lie he’s been masquerading behind the past four months. You want to scream at him- To curse him with shouts and sobs, question how he could make this choice for himself and leave you in the dark until it’s too late for you to change his mind. You know it’s selfish, the way you want him to stay, the way you would have fought with every bone in your body to keep him from leaving. You know it’s the reason Frankie couldn’t tell you. 

It’s the same reason why Frankie couldn’t bring himself to tell you that if he had given you that chance, he probably would have stayed. 

“Do um- do you know when you have to leave?” 

It hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. It’s an admittance of defeat. Because once you ask that question, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make him stay. No fighting, no begging, no pleading. You have to accept he’s leaving. 

“Not ‘til the end of the summer.” 

“Where?” 

The more you ask, the more it makes you want to keel over the edge of the bed and vomit, the reality of it all setting in at an alarming pace. 

“Missouri for basic training. I don’t know where after.” 

He doesn’t have to say where. You both know. Even if he doesn’t know the exact longitude and latitude of where the Army will deploy him, there’s nowhere else they’re sending him besides Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever godforsaken, war ridden country in the Middle East he’ll be forced to put his life on the line for. 

And for how much the reality of Frankie leaving scares you, when you’re hit with the reality that Frankie may leave and never come back, you’re absolutely terrified. 

“I don’t want you to go, Frankie.” 

You can’t beg him to stay. There’s no amount of bargaining you can do with him or the powers that be to change what’s been done. All you can do is tell him your truth as you sob into his chest while he holds you. Maybe if you’re not enough to make him stay, you’re at least enough to make him want to come home. 

You’re not sure how long he holds you while you cry. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. However long it is, all the moments you have left with Frankie feel that much more precious. You won’t let any of them slip through your fingers. 

“You promise you’ll come home, right?” 

“I promise, MacKenzie. I promise.” 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Francisco Morales, it’s that he’ll never break a promise. You just hope the universe is kind enough to let him keep this one, too. 

“I promise that we’ll have a really fun summer together before I leave too, okay? Whatever you wanna do, Kenz, I’ll do it.” 

“Anything?” 

It’s enough to peek your head out from the crook of his neck, trying your best to wipe away your tears with your sleeve, like you hadn’t just stained the better part of Frankie’s sweatshirt with the same wetness. 

“Anything.” 

“Alright, well, I guess we’re gonna go to Dairy Queen and get an extra large blizzard every day until you’re too fat for the Army to want you anymore.” 

The two of you giggle, a quiet symphony of soft snorts and sobs at the idea of rolling an ice cream filled Frankie off to boot camp. It makes him laugh even harder that he wouldn’t put it past you if you really did try. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did. 

“Whatever you want, MacKenzie. I’m all yours.” 

Frankie, Present 

Frankie’s convinced he might as well start training for a marathon at this point. 

He’s not really sure how else to spend his time. It’s hard to keep himself occupied when all he can do at home is sit around and wait for your dad to die or stare out the window like a creep to watch your comings and goings. 

At least if he’s running, he can’t think about you. 

Well, he can’t think about you as much. 

It’s been a day and a half since he decided to follow you on your run. He’s already pushed his luck enough that you didn’t damn near kill him for it, let alone that you even gave him a chance to talk to him. 

He let you take the first  shift on the morning yesterday, despite the fact he’d been awake well before the sun rose. The irony wasn’t lost on him at the way he watched you through his bedroom window the same way he did most Saturday and Sunday mornings for the first few years of your friendship. You’d be up at the same ungodly hour as him, except you’d be pacing up and down your driveway, stretching and lunging across its length as you clicked around on the iPod wrapped around your forearm, searching for whatever song would pump you up for your run. 

It wasn’t until you had finally noticed Frankie peering out his bedroom window every weekend that you began to drag him along on your runs with you. 

“If you’re awake too, you might as well come running with me, Morales. It’ll be fun!” 

“Fine. I gotta warn you though, Kenz, I am actually pretty fast.” 

“You barely run the mile in gym class.” 

“Savin’ up all my energy for when I need it most, Anderson.” 

There was once a time where you would have to beg Frankie to come with you on a run. Now, he’d give anything for you to tolerate his existence ten feet behind you. 

But he’ll sacrifice another run alone through all too familiar roads of his childhood subdivision if it helps him kill time and keeps you from hating him anymore than you rightfully deserve to. 

Yesterday, he went on two runs to pass the time. Hell, today, he’d consider adding a third run to his underwhelming schedule just to keep himself busy. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell yet) for him, Maria Morales has other plans. 

And when Maria Morales has plans, it’s in Frankie’s best interest to drop anything else he had in mind for the day. 

Even when it means he’s got a hot date with his basement and a mountain full of boxes in his basement. 

“Okay, anything in this pile to the left is for you to go through.” His mom grunts, lifting up one last box to add to the heap labeled “Francisco’s things” in her perfectly curved cursive, “If you want to take it home, find an empty box to put it in, but not my new clear, plastic bins, entiendes (understand)? Those were expensive.” 

“No clear plastic bins, got it.” Frankie chuckles, following the exaggerated step his mother takes over his scattered belongings. 

“If you see something and you don’t want it now but you want me to keep it for later, you can put it over on the shelf by the stairs. If you think it’s basura (trash), leave it over here and let me look at it first before you throw it away.” 

“Comprendido (got it).” Frankie nods, sizing up the stack his mom has set out for him, “Jesus ma, this is gonna take me all morning to go through.” 

“If you were home more, there would be less things to go through now.” 

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” Frankie grumbles under his breath, grimacing at the harsh reality of his mom’s words. He knows isn’t meant completely out of malice, but he can’t deny it’s certainly got some truth to it as well.  

“Okay, well I need to go run some errands, and I want this pile sorted by the end of the day, so standing here and moping certainly isn’t going to help that. Get to work, mijo (son).” 

His mom will never be one to throw a pity party for anyone, and most definitely won’t be throwing one for her son, based on his own, self-inflicted problem. Frankie helps her step over another makeshift pile scattered for sorting across the basement floor, giving him a quick pat on the back before disappearing upstairs, leaving him to quite literally unpack his past. 

“Fuck. Okay.” He sighs to himself, gently kicking one of the edges of flimsy cardboard at the bottom of the tower, trying to formulate his best plan of attack to make his sorting as painless as possible. 

He’s thankful that his brain has always worked in a way that allows him to analyze things so quickly, doing some quiet calculations in his head as to the most effective and efficient way to sort through god knows what may be hidden in the pile his mom has created for him. 

He runs his hand through the still messy curls of his morning bed head before selecting what feels like the lightest boxes and moving them off to the side, opening up a cardboard container from the next layer. 

Besides the trophies still in his room, every prize he’d ever won for every sport he’d ever played sits in the box below him. Frankie chuckles to himself, picking up some from the top to examine them, thumb gliding over the fake gold plating to read plaques like “Florida Junior Divisional Freestyle Swimming Finalist- 2005” or “Regional Championship Winners- Florida Firebirds 2007” glued to poorly sculpted plastic statues of swimmers. A few more medals and certificates had sunk to the bottom of the box, Frankie quickly grazing through its contents before rehoming it to the “trash” pile, unsure of when he would ever need proof he won several swimming competitions in high school. 

The next few boxes were more of the same- His varsity jacket, old t-shirts he wouldn’t stand a chance fitting into, considering the gangly figure that stretched them more than a decade ago, some old books from high school he’d only kept because of how much you loved them and he promised you that one day, he’d read them, too. 

It’s the shoe box that catches his eye next, sure that no matter how much his mom loved to hoard, whatever was in there most definitely was not a raggedy, holy pair of Converse from high school. 

It’s not until he picks up the box that he knows exactly what’s inside. It’s one of the lightest things he’s picked up in the last hour, but when he knows the weight of its contents, his arms want to tremble. 

It’s with a long deep breath that he brings the shoebox over to an open patch of floor, letting out a grunt and cursing his knees as he sits down cross legged with the box in front of him. He gently flips open the lid, hand running over his face and down the back of his neck when his suspicions are confirmed. 

Open envelopes spill out over the edges of the worn cardboard, the box stuffed to the brim with every letter you’d ever written to him while he was away.

Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure he could ever physically bring himself to throw them out. Those letters have more miles on them than most people’s cars will ever reach in a lifetime, flimsy, stamped pieces of paper following him to every corner of the globe he’s traveled to. 

Some letters he’s read so much, they’re worn on the edges where he’s held the paper, smudging the pen that’s reached the sides of the pages. Others, he’s only read once. He’s not sure he could ever bring himself to read them again. But regardless of their contents, he’d made a promise to you they’d stay with him. 

“Better not get rid of those letters, Morales. Do you know how many hand cramps I’ve given myself trying to find the words to send halfway across the world to you? You better promise me you’ll keep ‘em.”  

His commitment to the folded pieces of paper ring in his ears as his fingers drag across the tops of the open envelopes. He can’t help the way his index finger and thumb pinch the paper below his grasp, carefully tugging a random letter out of its shoebox storage. 

It’s a gut wrenching gamble, the game he’s about to play, a roulette of making his heart ache from joy or pain depending on the one he chooses to pull. He’s already placed his bet as he pulls the lined piece of paper out of the envelope- He’s not getting the money he’s already placed on the table back, so he might as well pray he makes a return on his investment. 

With one more deep breath, he unfolds the tri-fold creases, ready to watch his bet play out before him. 

August 18th, 2006

Frankie, 

I hope I sent this letter to the right place! I looked on the website and it said to send mail to new recruits (that’s you, Morales), to this address, so no one better be holding my letter to you hostage. 

Anyways, how’s training so far? Did they make you shave your head yet? I hope not. I’m not sure why the Army insists on making you all look like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. I’m sure you’ll still look cute even with short hair! I don’t think I can say the same for Santi, but you didn’t hear that from me… hehehe 

I just moved into my dorm yesterday! My roommate seems pretty nice. Her name is Jessica and she’s from Georgia. She claims that she’s neat and she better be, or I may lose my mind. I’ll send you pictures of my dorm once it’s all set up! It’s kind of a mess right now, but I made sure to put the picture of us from prom up on my desk :)

I don’t start class until next Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll meet some new people in my dorm or on the soccer team so I’m not a total loser with no friends. LOL. 

Have you met anyone new yet? I can’t wait to hear all about your new Army friends! I already started a countdown calendar until we can see each other again. Only 70 days until basic training is done and I can hear about everything in person! 

I miss you a lot. I know that’s dumb to say because it’s only been a week, but still. I wish I would have kissed you again before you got on the plane to leave. I promise I will when I see you. Nothing says perfect place to kiss like South Missouri, romance capital of the USA (haha). 

I know you’re gonna be busy, but write me back when you have time. The return address on the envelope is my dorm address, so use that, or risk Doug and Michelle reading your mail if you send it to my house!!! I can’t wait to hear from you. Miss you, weirdo. 

From, 

Kenz :) <3

His luck of the draw sends a wave of relief through him, smiling down at the curvy loops of your perfectly neat printing signed at the bottom of the page. It makes his heart skip a beat, the same kind of butterflies coming to life in his stomach as they did the first time he read it. He’s earned his money back and then some. He gets how casinos never go broke, because the high of good fortune is enough to have him reaching back into the box to put another gamble on the line. 

October 13th, 2009

Frankie, 

I always feel dumb sending multiple letters before I hear back from you, but you know me, I love to worry. I know you can’t tell me where you are right now (stupid military and their secrets for the safety of society lol) but I’ve been seeing stuff on the news and it makes me scared for you. I just hope wherever you are, you’re safe. 

My dad’s cancer is back. He’s been in the hospital for almost two weeks now. They found a new mass on his liver, but they said hopefully they can target it with radiation before it starts to spread. Cassandra at the front desk asked how you were when I was at the hospital yesterday. I said that you were good. I think she’s only asking because if you’re not there, there’s no one to keep me from burning a hole in the waiting room carpet. 

I wish you were here. I feel really lost right now. I just know if you were here, you’d find a way to make everything better. You always do. 

Sorry this letter isn’t longer. I haven’t been sleeping that great and don’t have enough brainpower to write something decent. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on.  

Counting down the days until you make good on your promise. I hope you come home soon, Frankie. 

Kenzie 

He curses himself for an unlucky draw, heart sinking at the tear stains smearing the blue ink of your trembling letters. An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over him, vivid memories of reading your notes in his bunk alone, wishing there was a way he could fly halfway around the world for a night just to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. 

It’s the addictive itch in the back of his brain that makes him decide to pull one more letter from the box, taking one last gamble to see if he can prove the nagging pit in his stomach to quit while he’s ahead, wrong. 

February 4th, 2011

Hey, 

If you don’t want to write anymore, that’s fine. I was trying to be friendly, but clearly you don’t really care. Just let me know and I’ll stop bombarding you with mail you obviously don’t want. Or I guess you not responding is letting me know. If you want to send anything back you can send it to my parents house. I’m moving into Liam’s house and it’s only 20 minutes away so I can just drive there and pick it up. No need to send you a new address you probably aren’t going to write to, anyways. 

I guess I’ll see you when I see you. 

MacKenzie 

And that’s how Vegas will always stay in business. 

Because now Frankie is forced to walk away, all his money stolen from him at the stupid risk he’s decided to take. The one letter he’d give anything not to read again is the one he had to pull. 

Heat seethes in his chest- he can’t quite explain why. Because he lost at a rigged game he’d set up for himself? That he still hasn’t quite come to terms with the ugly truth of what he put the both of you through? That he wishes with everything in him, he could go back and change what he’s done? 

Or maybe, it’s because now might be the last chance he has to fix what he’s broken, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to live with himself if he can’t.

He leaves the pile in the basement unfinished, shoes barely tied to his feet before he bursts out the door in a sprint.

He's not sure where he's going. He's not even sure how long he's run for. All he knows is the pounding of his feet against the pavement, trying to outrun the stupid decisions of his past.

He tells himself if he runs fast enough, he'll beat them.

If he goes far enough, they'll be forgotten.

If he outraces them, you'll be there waiting for him at the finish line.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

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@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[afniel]

So today I woke up and promptly remembered that hey, didn't I have jury duty at some point this month...? I went downstairs and checked the summons postcard and sure enough, I did.

Last week!

Now, this isn't me confessing a criminal misdemeanor, because I was excused, actually. Luck was on my side (and so was the Wayback Machine, which is how I had to check). No failure to appear, no foul.

The thing I'm actually proud of is that I didn't freak out about it. See, when you've got a lifetime of internalized ADHD shame, the typical reaction to realizing that You Forgot Something, Again, goes like this:

Panic so much. You're going to be In Trouble. Nothing can possibly be worse than being In Trouble. This is a category 5 emergency.

Self-flagellate as hard as humanly possible. What kind of useless sack of unreliable shit, accidentally mislabeled as a human being, could have fucked this up so badly? This is just like everything else in your life. Nothing you do is ever right no matter how hard you try. What's even the point? You're an eternal fuckup. Might as well just accept it.

Existential crisis spiral until you can't even remember what the real problem is. The problem is just you. The problem has always been you. Why are you like this?

Eat an entire thing of Oreos, or whatever your self-destructive self-soothing behavior of choice is. Do you feel better? Not really. You stopped hyperventilating at least, so it'll have to be close enough.

Actually deal with the real problem, if it's even a problem. It probably wasn't. Now you just feel stupid for getting so worked up about it.

Completely fail to realize that you punishing the hell out of yourself in steps 2-4 is just reinforcing your panic response and making you less capable of coping in the future, because you've had it beaten into your head that forgetting things, a normal and reasonable human error, is Simply Not Acceptable, even if it's ultimately pretty harmless. But hey, if you kick your own ass about it harder than anybody else would or even could, then you've personally made sure you have control over the severity of the punishment, right?

Right?

Does that sound like a trauma response? Well, it should, because it is. Many people with ADHD have this same trauma response, because having a brain that doesn't work like everyone else's in a world that is not just not built to accommodate that, but in fact is built to convince you that this is a personal, moral, and unforgivable failure is actually pretty traumatic.

That's verbatim how I've lived most of my life. Don't ask me how the hell I got this far carrying on like that, because I don't even know. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger gives you a goddamn complex. But I've been working on it over the past I don't even know how many years, and today, my response was more like this:

Oh shit jury duty was a week ago. Well, now I just feel silly.

Uhh...let's figure out the worst possible outcome. Jail time? Seems highly unlikely for a first time misdemeanor. Possibly a fine, but probably a warning.

Let's look up what actually happens to people in my county who miss their jury duty. They get sent a second summons. That's very reasonable and not at all a real problem if it happens.

Let's find out if I was even summoned to appear. If not, it isn't even a problem. Mention it to my partner at this point. They say 'yeah, I forgot I had jury duty once. I looked up whether or not I was summoned on the Wayback Machine. You told me to not worry about it either way because people honestly forget all the time, and it's a fixable problem whatever happens.'

Realize they are right (and that I forgot this happened until they mentioned it because it was such a non-issue), and I should take the advice I give and treat myself like somebody I care about. I reassure myself that it's not a big deal and people do it all the time and nobody's doing to be personally affronted, and a sincere apology goes a very long way even with a cranky judge if it comes to that. I check the Wayback Machine.

I was excused anyway, so no big deal in the end. I now have a funny story to tell, and I'll probably remember better in the future as a result. Realize that even if it had gone worse, it still would have ended up a funny story later. Yeah, even if they inexplicably threw me in jail for a night. That sure would never get old retelling.

Have a shower and get on with my day.

Gold star for me, I completely didn't even realize that I was de-catastrophizing so well until after the fact. Like I've got it down to a reflex now. I am legitimately just a much calmer person than I used to be. Feels pretty alright! I could get used to this not kicking the absolute mental health out of myself every time something goes slightly wrong. Highly recommend being nice to yourself actually, 10/10 experience.

Anyway that's me tooting my own horn. I feel very emotionally stable and pretty good about that fact. It's been a fucking journey.

[muzansfangs]

Hiii! I hope ur still accepting requests. Recently, an idea has stuck in my head. What about taking bath with Aizen and his s/o? I hope you will accept it!

Cleanse my soul.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; mention to Shinji Hirako, Kisuke Urahara, Kensei Muguruma, Rojuro Otoribashi, Lisa Yadomaru, Hiyori Sarugaki;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal fingering, cock-warming, vaginal sex, creampie, fear play, smoking, clit-edging, jealousy, nudity, Lieutenant Aizen, morally grey reader, mention to attempted murder, violence, gore, blood, talks about the future, betrayal, trust issues, turn back the pendolum arc, established relationship;

Plot: He was back, knocking on your door in the dead of the night. His Lieutenant badge had been damaged, the gleam in his chestnut eyes telling you he had succeeded in accomplishing his plan. He always seeked your company, after long days of work and unspeakable crimes committed to chase his dream of becoming a God. You were the only thing he would have never given up to on his climb to the Heaven.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Reading by the window to distract yourself, you had watched in agitation the way your Captain had left the barracks to investigate on the sudden disappearence of Kensei Muguruma and and some members of his squad. Your stomach churned, apprehension leaving space to the mournful feeling of being forced to accept a brutal reality no one else in your Division was prepared for: at the end of the night, you were either going to say goodbye to Hirako Shinji, your Captain, or to Sosuke Aizen, his Lieutenant, your boyfriend.

No one else knew what was really happening, besides you, Kaname Tosen and Gin Ichimaru, the young prodigy Sosuke seemed to be so enthusiastic about. The secrets you harbored behind your soft smile, when you conversed with your friends, as if you had not just witnessed to some poor inhabitants of the Rukongai vanishing before you wary eyes, when you lied for him, when you cradled his face in your hands and reassured him everything was going to be okay, when he silently pleaded you to cleanse his soul by fucking you up against a wall and telling you the world was soon going to acclaim you their queen, were slowly consuming you up from the inside like acid sizzling the delicate walls of your stomach.

Despite that, you had chosen him above anything and anyone else. You were the priest absolving him from the sins he kept on staining his soul with for the sake of his ideals. The real question was: who cleansed your soul?

You often queried whether his efforts to keep your hands clean were actually successful. You were not innocent. You were guilty as well. You had just betrayed the Soul Society and your friends. Your idle tongue was as sharp as Sosuke’s blade. You wondered how many of your friends had already fallen by your boyfriend’s hand. A massacre was taking place outside and there you were, safe in your dorm and hoping Kisuke Urahara was not going to disrupt your lover’s plans.

Someone knocking on your door made you flinch, back straightening as a ramrod as you settled your book down on the ebony desk, careful not to make a sound. What if Sosuke had failed? Maybe he had sold you off too, after being arrested. The mere thought of your beloved boyfriend throwing you to the wolves made chills run down your spine and your mouth turn to chalk. Would Sosuke really do such a thing to you? You wondered, once again, if he loved you as much as you did.

You mentally rebuked yourself for assuming the worst. Sosuke loved you. Why were you doubting his feelings for you? Probably, you were just projecting onto your relationship the ominous feelings, swallowing you in a whirlwind of fear and anxiety, that you experienced when you watched him work cold-heartedly, sacrificing souls, to the chilling phenomen known as Hollowfication.

Your hand reached for your zanpakuto, your bare feet sliding onto the wooden floor without making a sound, just like he had taught you throughout the years you had spent together. You took a sharp intake of breath, tightening your grip on the hilt of your katana until your knuckles turned white. The visitor was masterly suppressing their reiatsu, making it impossible to detect their presence and identify who they were. You knew what you had to do, in case Sosuke’s failed and the guards went after you. Killing comrades, however, was entirely different from massacring Hollows. You were a shinigami, not an assassin. If the person knocking on your door was not your boyfriend, your blade was going to drip viscous, crimson blood of a shinigami.

Hiding your katana behind your back, you slided the door open, ready to become a full-fledged traitress. The lean frame occupying the threshold made you discard the blade onto the floor instinctively, the sound of the weapon clattering against the parquet echoing in the silent night, as your hands clutched the fabric of Sosuke’s shihakushō and pulled him inside. He had come back safe and sound.

It only meant one thing: the Fifth Division had lost its Captain.

You relished the bittersweet taste of happiness achieved through betrayal, when you smashed your lips onto his, hand scrambling to your side to slide the door shut. Yet, you had learnt to be selfish, you had grown familiar with the sensation of enjoying moments of peace and unbridled excitement, when other people were in pain. Sosuke held you close to his chest, his hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed you back with equal fervor. His hair were disheveled, the badge indicating his status of Lieutenant was gone, the black fabric of his uniform torn in some parts, dirt dusted his clothes and visage.

“Are you hurt?” you dared murmuring against his lips, ignoring the way he was already trying to disrobe you.

“Unscathed. — he shortly informed you — But I could use a bath” he added, mouth voraciously assaulting the crook of your neck, whilst you were attempting to make a small conversation to know details about his victory.

However, right now, when you were in his arms and his teeth were nipping at your tender flesh, Sosuke did not seem to give a iota about further explanations. He had won. He had promised to come back to you and there he was, pushing you towards the bathroom, heedless of the corners biting onto your sides as he forced you to stumble backwards to reach the destination he had chosen for you two to spend the rest of the night at.

You winced pathetically against his lips, the chilly, wintry air blowing through the small, wide-open window of your bathroom leaving goosebumps on your now naked shoulderblades. The rustle of your clothes landing onto the floorboard accompanied you to the edge of the bath, as he finally let go of you and began to undress himself before your glossy, dreamy eyes.

No matter how many times you had traced the outlines of his abs with your lips, or fingertips, every single time his body was bared for you to contemplate you lost any cognitive capacity of thinking straight. Sosuke had always got you in a chokehold from the day you first met at the Academy.

He was that kind of man who outfoxed everyone around him, the sweet-natured guy with glasses no one would have ever accused of committing bloodcurdling felonies. Sosuke Aizen was far from being an ordinary man, some stranger easy to forget about. He had captivated you effortlessly in the palms of his hands, like a clueless butterfly delicately landing on the fruity, multicolored petals of a carnivorous plant only to be devoured to the bone. You had become one with him.

You realized you had been fantasizing about him again only when his hand reached for you chin, forcing you to crane up your neck and meet his gaze. His glasses were gone, his beautiful chestnut brown eyes boring into yours in anticipation as he brushed his thumb over your cheek “Focus on me” he commanded, his words no longer sugar-coated, the typical honeyed tone slipping out of his mouth when he talked to you absent.

His ravenous side strived to take over, evidently. He desired you like a helpless shipwrecked person hoped to find water in a deserted island, adrift amidst the salty water of the Ocean.

Seldomly you had recognized the diabolic gleam in his eyes outside the safe walls of your dorms. His lust, his thirst for power, his greed and ambitions were never showcased in his ever so kind eyes, the same pretty eyes bewitching you right now. Sosuke was the incarnation of the infamous wolf in sheep’s clothing. He had people bamboozled, unable to see him as nothing less than a noble, proficient and polite man minding his business and even reprimanding his Captain for the sake of his Division.

A man with leardship, but uncapable of doing any harm.

Perhaps, it was because you knew him so intimately that his demons had grown familiar with yours that you often asked yourself if you were a mere pawn in his hands, a pretty diamond pin to wear in order to fool people about his real intentions. You hesitated, a small frown creasing your forehead as you watched Sosuke impassibly stare at you in confusion.

“Tell me something, Sosuke. — you started, miraculously modulating your voice in a firm but soft tone — Are you going to abandon me, once the world will be in your hands?”.

His eyes clouded over for a moment, your stomach churning in apprehension. What if you had ruined it all? You impudent mouth, your lips quivering in fright, your heart pumping fast in your chest had revealed you were scared of losing him, or to be fair, of him.

Sosuke’s jaw clenched, his other hand gripping your hip to push you back towards the cool edge of the tub, the still warm water sparkling under the moonlight dimly enlightening the room “When the world will be nothing but a possession of mine, I will give it to you” he stated, making your stomach somersault.

Regrets for having even asked him such a silly question gnawed at your stomach, guilty conscience weighing on your shoulders like a heavy read. You blinked a few times in a row, watching as your boyfriend sidestepped you to climb into the tub. The sound of the water splashing onto the floor, overflowing from the edge, filled the air. Sosuke leaned his back against the bath, arms comfortably positioned on each side of it, penetrative gaze commanding you to join him.

Resisting was impossible. Entering the water, you snuggled into his chest, your back adhering to his firm abs as your neck reclined. Your hair tickled his chin, his jawline, his eyes closing to finally relax. He would have never admitted it, but you could tell he was exhausted. Even Kings needed to slack off, to ignore their duties and enjoy the small moments of bliss their life granted them.

“I need you to believe in me” he spoke out then, velvet voice playing the chords of your heart, as you swallowed thickly.

“I believe in you”.

“Then don’t doubt my love for you. Never” he asked of you tiredly, his arms now leisurely encircling your waist to bring your body closer to his, skin to skin, his mouth gliding down the curve of your neck.

You hummed, thighs parting, when his hand slipped further down your body, disappearing underneath the translucent water “I’m sorry. But this is all so scary, Sosuke. I was afraid—”.

“Afraid of what? That you mattered less than glory and honorifics?”.

You squeezed your eyes shut, his deft fingers parting your dewy folds as if they were a syrupy fig for him to feast on, the scene reminding you of a depraved bucolic lyric about a Greek, Attic shepherd corrupting a modest nymph by a river. A blasphemy you were condoning sheepishly.

The moans you let out were not the answers he was trying to coax you to pronounce “Answer me” he pressed.

“N-No!” you stammered, hips rocking as he plunged a finger into your tight hole, causing him to pull it out and gently pinching on your clit. While the action obviously did not hurt you, it sent waves of electricity running through your body. You jolted onto your seat, toes curling as you lolled your head back onto his shoulder.

Sosuke’s teeth nibbled onto your earlobe, before he hushed you “Hush, love. Can you just recall what I have taught you? Provide me a good argumentation and I won’t prolong this torture further” he whispered, his brown eyes shifting to a small cabinet at his right, making his blood boil in his veins.

Why did you still keep such an object in your house?

Were you maybe going behind his back? Were you actually siding with that frowsy scientist he had taken care of nearly an hour ago? Kisuke Urahara would have not been a problem anymore, whatever was the reason behind your injudicious decision of discarding that water-pipe in such a place for his eyes to see. A small test of your loyalty would have sufficed to prove how deeply you cared for him, to understand whether your devotion was pure and solely on him, or not.

Hazy, you clasped your hand over your mouth to muffle out another whimper threatening to erupt from your throat. Rationality left your body, when he touched you. How were you supposed to force your brain to properly function, when Sosuke was flicking your throbbing clitoris torturously between his thumb and index? Despite that, you knew damn well the only solution to your problem was doing exactly what he had said.

Tears prickling in your expressive eyes, you pushed your knees together, only for Sosuke to chide you and run his fingers through your drenched hair. His nails scraped your scalp ever so lightly, but it was enough to stop your futile struggle.

“You have such a pretty mouth, darling. Let me hear your voice, hm?” he mumbled, one of his arms sliding around your abdomen and pulling you flush against him while the other pinched your clitoris again.

You squealed out in overstimulation, your body too sensitive to endure more of this edging. It was his usual wicked game of power and self-control. Sosuke was in command, yet he made sure you always had your chance to make his ministrations cease. All you had to do was playing your part, like a pretty ballerina moving under his instructions. A false step and you sprained your ankle.

You huffed, cheeks heating up in embarrassment and shame for your total lack of backbone, when it came done to him “A Goddess shall never be afraid” you blurted out, sinking further into the water as a satisfied hum resonated from behind you.

True to his words, he stopped playing with your pearl, fingers merely delving into your pussy instead. Scissoring them gently into your warm cavern, Sosuke pressed his lips against your nape, eyes darkening in lust and a something shady you had failed to see due to your position.

“That’s right. You’re the future wife of a God. No matter how powerful and cruel a divinity is… — he started, one of his hand reaching out to grasp that water-pipe irking him to no end — A man is nothing without his woman” he finished, inspecting the smoking device between his fingers.

His words had left you breathless, your inner walls squeezing his fingers as you writhed in his arms. Your moans echoed in your small dorm, probably the shinigamis in the backyard had heard you too, but you did not care, nor did him. They knew better than coming after the Lieutenant’s girlfriend.

The respect he had gained through the years surpassed even the one your comrades had for the late Shinji Hirako.

Your eyelids had shut, relishing into the way he fingered you so deliciously, and your mouth was hanging open to release those shamelessly high-pitched cries of pleasure he loved so much. The hard wood of the pipe resting against your bottom lip, though, made your eyes snap open again.

Dread washed over you, as Sosuke’s fingers tangled your hair, yanking them back harshly “You still keep his gifts. Smoke for me then. Smoke to celebrate his incoming downfall, darling” he crooned, your blood running cold in your veins as he gripped your wrist and directed your hand up to make you grab the object yourself.

Yout shaky hands did wrap around it, teary eyes meeting his cold ones “S-Sosuke, I am sorry! I just forgot to throw it away, I promise” you apologized profusely, watching how he softly smiled at you and prompted you to raise your hips enough for him to impale you onto his cock.

“I know you did. — he cooed, the bulbous head of his shaft stretching your aching hole, as you languidly looked at him and whimpered as he buried himself deep into your welcoming core — I suggest you to smoke in his honor one last time, darling. Cry for his departure” he whispered, mouth leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your neck.

And you mourned Kisuke’s fate. Oh, you did it so convincingly, for after cock-warming your beloved boyfriend for a while he then began to thrust into you in hard, punishing thrusts making you sob tears of pleasure. You hiccuped, blurry vision, smoke filling your lungs, as you exaled through your nostrils.

Body sore, heat overflowing with Sosuke’s hot seed, you collapsed against chest. His arms held you close to him, as he watched the device sink into the now murky water, forgotten forever like the destiny of all those Captains and Lieutenants who had been unlucky to cross his path.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Uhm, I feel too ashamed to say anything about this. If it is not toxic, it’s not Sosuke to me. Ah, my first red flag crush… Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I adored writing it!

Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @onyxino @velaenaa @villainsrtasty @stygianoir @noirfan12 @bucciaratizippers @linkwho1 @0wh1te0 @bakugosgirl01 @persuasivus because I think you might enjoy it💫