#i lov ivory

[martrude]

fanart of @anoxthon 's oc ft. my mindflayer

[gailynovelry]

First day in a while that I’ve gotten genuine writer’s block! The brain is not focusing. Might be that I’ve got only about six chapters of Ember Warrior left, and that does kind of mean that only the chapters I was nervous about and putting off are left. Maybe I will have better luck after sleeping on it though!

[chrollogy]

18+ MDNI; smut, kiyoomi gets all worked up after you kiss him over his face mask, brief heavy make out session <3, unprotected sex, creampie, prone bone :), brief mentions of biting (reader receiving), kinda poor writing i think (wrote this while i’m sick lol). divider: cafekitsune.

── it was subtle but you noticed the slight shift in kiyoomi’s aura; the way his pale veiny hand gripped the steering wheel, the taut muscle in his jaw, the small crease between his brows—not to mention the thick atmosphere inside the vehicle, a low hum filling the void of silence.

he had just finished a rather tedious practice session with the team, and thought that your presence was heaven sent. that was until you decided to be a tease.

you recounted a few minutes ago where you had teased kiyoomi with a kiss over the ivory face mask that sat snug over his nose, and lips. normally, you would’ve gently pulled the mask down to plant a chaste kiss but you had a different idea—one that kiyoomi didn’t particularly like.

one that had him slightly parting his lips beneath the mask, and subtly leaning in to chase your own as you pulled away—an innocent gleam in your eyes.

your heart thrummed against your chest as kiyoomi wordlessly keyed the lock of your shared apartment. he stood tall against the door, shoulders rolling back as he walked in, a slight awkwardness in his step.

you weren’t stupid. you saw the way his semi hard on outlined the MSBY track-pants he wore while driving home but you didn’t dare try bring it up. it stared at you, eyes wandering over to kiyoomi’s lap countless of times within the span of the drive back.

“you okay, omi?”

he held the door for you as you stepped inside. the question lingered in the air for a while. the door closed, sound reverberating throughout the walls of your shared apartment.

then, kiyoomi turned to face you, tall form looming over yours as he looked at you with his onyx gaze—the afternoon sun casting a warm glow on the side of his handsome face.

“kiss me.” blunt as always. his voice was velvety, sending icy shivers down your spine.

you didn’t have to be told twice. pushing yourself up using the balls of your feet, your digit gently slid the ivory mask down, tucking it under his chin before sealing the distance between your lips.

kiyoomi didn’t hesitate to prod his tongue into your mouth the second both your lips made contact, a low groan rumbling from his chest as you eagerly lapped at his tongue. despite his nonchalance, kisses with kiyoomi were rarely chaste—they were passionate, full of heat, and heavily involved his sinful tongue whether you liked it or not.

it always felt like a carnal beast inside him had awoken. safe to say, kiyoomi’s kisses never failed to leave you a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen but you weren’t complaining.

before you knew it, his desperation turned into greed, and the messy trail of discarded articles of clothing leading to the shared bedroom was proof of that.

your naked body lay atop the ivory sheets, front resting against the mattress. kiyoomi positioned himself over your thighs, each leg on either side of them as he slapped the fat of your ass with his heavy cock—his free hand resting on your hip, angling it upwards.

he gave your nape an open-mouthed kiss, bed slightly creaking beneath the shift of his weight before slowly inching his raw cock into your sopping entrance. a unison of contented sighs fell from both your lips as the tip of kiyoomi’s cock parted your velvety walls, eagerly sucking him in with every inch.

“so eager for me.” a shaky whisper from the man above you, clearly hanging onto every last bit of his sanity at the feel of your tight, warm cunt.

you could only whine in response, fingers digging into the plushness below. kiyoomi interlaced his fingers with your own, his palm flush against the back of your hands as he bottomed out—onyx eyes briefly rolling to the back of his head at the blissful sensation.

the very reason why you and kiyoomi had a shared love for the position was because of how fucking deep he went that it was almost sinful.

if only you could see how pretty kiyoomi looked, face angled towards the ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing as pleasure engulfed every fibre of his being. it also didn’t help how your cunt squeezed around him ever so slightly as each second passed.

with a subtle wiggle of your hips, kiyoomi pressed his weight forward—knocking some air out of you—bare chest flush against your naked back before pulling his hips back, and hastily snapping it into your ass. this earned a muffled whine from you, face flat on the mattress as the feeling of ecstasy coursed throughout your body.

kiyoomi’s hands tightened against your own before setting a swift rhythm of his hips that had your eyes rolling back, and tears of pleasure quickly forming.

strings of heavy pants, and muffled whines slowly filled the damp atmosphere of your shared bedroom—sounds of merciless skin slapping, and sinful, wet squelches were like music to your ears.

“o-omi! s’ deep. oh my god.” you let out a stifled gasp, earning a low grunt from your boyfriend.

kiyoomi’s hot breath fanned against the sweaty skin of your nape, a gentle tickle with every pleasure driven pant that escaped his lips. god, he could be buried inside you forever and he wouldn’t even complain a single bit.

the tip of his cock repeatedly kissed your g-spot with each relentless thrust of his hips, inching you closer to your impending orgasm. kiyoomi knew this too, with the way your sentences turned incoherent, your whines becoming airy, and cunt squeezing the shit out of him but not once did his hips falter—despite the tight fit.

kiyoomi could feel your bare body turning taut under his own, stiffening as the knot in your stomach grew tighter, and tighter.

“cum with me.” he panted against your ear, teeth grazing against the skin before gently biting down on it.

that was all you needed.

with one long whine of his name, the knot deep in your stomach snapped, shocks of pleasure kissing all over your sensitive body as you creamed around kiyoomi’s cock. the colour of your knuckles mirrored the ivory sheets beneath as your fingers curled around them, gripping them for your dear life as your boyfriend rode out your orgasm.

kiyoomi let out a strangled moan of your name before biting down on your shoulder, hard. he sheathed his cock all the way inside, base flush against your ass as ropes of hot, thick cum painted your velvety walls. kiyoomi pressed his hips further into you before fucking his cum deeper, earning a gargled whine from you.

he soothed the sensitive skin he bit earlier by tonguing at it, and placing chaste kisses,

“tease me again like that, and this is what happens.” kiyoomi panted, resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder blade. you mustered a soulless chuckle,

“i don’t mind that at all.”

[luvjunie]

— headcanons. miles morales (earth1610)

MILES who somehow managed to pick you up with that corny little shoulder touch his Uncle Aaron taught him. Not because it actually worked and left you smitten and head over heels for him—but because in that moment, the dorky boy who stood in front of you had made you laugh so hard you’d nearly peed yourself. There was no way that with a sense of humor like his, he wasn’t getting your number.

MILES who has never missed a good morning or a goodnight text. While often they may not always be at the most ideal times, it’s the fact that he remembered that means the most to you. Even if he’s running late to school, shoes untied, and shirt buttoned unevenly as he bundles out the door of his dorm, he insists he can text and run to class at the same time. And at night, even if his eyelids feel as if they weigh a ton the minute his back finally hits his mattress after webbing the villain of the week to a light pole for the cops, he refuses to fall asleep without telling you he loves you first— though the message may include a few sleepy typos. “Goodnihgt aby i lov youuu” “shitno i meant baby not aby”

MILES who hand draws a card for you when the monthly anniversary of your relationship rolls by. Each one of them is different and creative in their own way and you’re always excited to see what it’ll look like this time. He’ll swiftly swing by your fire escape on his way to patrol, drop a box of chocolates, your favorite candy, or a bouquet of flowers on the steel metal along with the card, then switch arms and thwip another web to the next building in the same breath.

MILES who loves to draw you, especially when the two of you haven’t been able to hang out in a while, just so he can reminisce and pretend like you’re there, in his room with him. His sketchbook is filled with pictures of you, hearts usually adorning whatever space is left blank on the paper. He sees you in such a different light than you view yourself in, and he’s able to capture certain aspects of your features that you hadn’t even noticed before. He was so embarrassed the first time you saw his sketchbook laid open on his bed and tried to hide them from you, nervous he’d make you uncomfortable in any way. But you were nothing short of flattered, and reassured him of such by smattering kisses onto the expanse his flushed face and telling him how much of a sweetheart he was.

MILES who falls asleep in the span of two seconds. Usually when you can’t come over, you settle for long facetime calls so you can tell each other about your days, or watch a movie together. But he’s just so comfortable around you, and your voice is so calming, like a lullaby, so much so that he can’t help it when he falls asleep halfway into your rundown of events. After five minutes of silence, which is unheard of for a kid like Miles who is always filled with endless quips and jokes, you’ll scoop your phone off your bed only to see his ivory-colored ceiling instead of his face.

“Milesss!” You whine, the sudden sound of shuffling from the other end of the line erupting through your speakers as he frantically scoops his phone back up from his pillow, his sleepy face shifting back into view.

“Huh?” He mumbles, clearing his throat as he blinks the sleep from his eyes.

“You fell asleep in the middle of my story again.” You accuse.

“Nuh uh! I’ve been awake this whole time. I’m just a really, really good listener, m-hm. I am a wonderful and completely-awake, professional listener.” He nods, gifting you his signature goofy smile that‘s always a reminder that you can never be mad at him for long.

MILES who loves taking you to the new places he’s able to go around the city now that he’s Spiderman.

When you found out your boyfriend was Spiderman, you were in such disbelief that you immediately asked for proof, for him to show you anything that proved he was spiderman other than a suit and a mask. And proof you got, if the powerful gusts of wind in your face as he swung the two of you with web after web over the skyline of the city were anything to go by.

You were terrified the first time, legs glued around his waist and arms clamped so tightly around his neck that there was no way you’d fall. He would never in a million years let you slip from his grasp anyways, but if you did, you were damn sure taking him with you. He kept one arm around your waist for support and laughed at how you hollered almost the entire way to the clock tower, and whether they were screams of excitement or terror, he didn’t know.

It was beyond exhilarating, seeing the city from above with him, standing on the roofs of buildings you never imagined you’d reach. It had your heart pumping faster than you thought it ever could and your trust in him solidifying even further, and soon you found yourself asking him take you again, and again. And Miles would take you anywhere you wanted to go; open to doing anything just to see a smile on your face and to have you holding onto him like that again.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to any other platforms

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

[nosleepschedule]

MHA/LOV OC Description!

(They are a villain in the MHA universe)

Name: Tanako Mizu

Birthday: August 24th

Age: 19

Physical Appearance: Hair: short, fluffy and brown with mango-colored tips; Eyes: a deep gray; Skin: ivory colored with a scar across the mouth; Clothes: long, black boots, ripped jeans, mint-colored, short sleeved hoodie, long, black fingerless gloves, black mask that covers the mouth, and small, black earrings.

Quirk: ‘Last Breathe’

Quirk Description: The quirk, ‘Last Breathe’, is a powerful yet dangerous quirk to possess. It can give you extreme reflexes, increased strength, agility, speed, other aerobics, and the ability to do anything swiftly. But there are some major cons that go along with this quirk. If this quirk is used too much it will give you extreme drowsiness, loss of sight, extreme injuries (usually broken bones) and almost fatal occurrences in the body such as seizures, heart attacks, loss in sanity, and if worse comes to worse, even death— hence the name, ‘Last Breathe.’

Personality: Shy, keeps to himself, sarcastic, witty, seemingly sad

(When knowing Mizu on a personal level: Outgoing, hyper, funny, protective, caring)

About Mizu: Gender-fluid (any pronouns), Pansexual. Kinda crazy, traumatized, has an ego when he feels like it, mild alcoholic, mild crack-head, has a metal staff, or poll, that he uses in combat.

Likes: Sundaes, Yumiko Kasumi (an OC my friend made), sleeping, crying, watching Disney movies, the colors mint, cyan, and mango-yellow, wearing crop tops, bed rotting, and picking fights.

Dislikes: Being alone for too long, losing fights, arguments, stupid people.

Older renditions of this OC:

I can make a backstory if you guys actually like this lmao

(Day 10 of posting everyday)

[sadistpet]

"a burnt child loves the fire-" his words are spoken alongside the hesitant sigh of a man unsure if he oversteps his bounds. he keeps an eye not on the other but rather the sky and the stars beyond them - feels at home in the embrace of the night's cold. after a moment's silence, he turns attention once more, a subtle softness in the battle-worn expression of a man, tired. "must you still burn-?"

(( have some random angst, also HI ILY dont mind me just adding to your stuff once you just completed everything shuuush sorry bby lov u sdlknglksd ))

voice like interstellar noise. sandpaper rough against blast-deafened ears, aural fuzz that grates and irritates the contours of his brain. like every sound was now. every voice. the harsh rub of reality through the thick wefts of cotton-soft, dreamlike cushioning that coddles his mind, built gradually through years of handweaving spider silk in desperate self preservation ; and it frays and wilts beneath a coarse touch just the same.

" what else am i supposed to do ? "

scars mar the surface of raikov's pointed knuckles, the thin riverbeds of pink, smooth skin catching the white of the moonlight. the chill of the night doesn't spare him, despite how accustomed he is to temperatures even far below this; his body prickles with goosebumps, drawing ever more attention to the smattering of healed wounds that tarnish the beauty of his hands. he feigns ignorance ; draws the cigarette between thin digits to his lips and bores holes into the other man with his eyes.

there was something to be said about ivan and fire. be that setting himself ablaze to bring others warmth, or continuing to let the flames of rage and heartbreak and anguish burn even after flesh and bone had been licked to ash. or the searing heat that every scar that breaks the porcelain skin has left in its wake. it was violent. self-destructive. there was passion in burning. comfort. after so long being burned, wouldn't you miss it when it stopped ? smoke escapes his lips on a silent breath.

it was a desire for vengeance, more than anything. every step, every heartbeat propelled by hate and revenge. the itch in his fingers to pump those that ruined his life full of lead, the hunger in his stomach to watch their faces turn bloodless and pallid beneath his hands. death had lost its seduction long ago -- the scent of flesh rended by plasma and electricity and gunpowder and shrapnel had embedded itself in what seemed to be his very molecules, the bloodstained face of his beloved etched into his mind and memory, and whatever pleasure he had once derived from the demise of others was smothered beneath the weight of losing his colonel. now, killing remained as merely an action ; muscle memory of the only thing he knows.

" maybe burning is what keeps me going. " burning like lightning in his veins. his lower lip is bitten between ivory teeth. it'd festered and grown and boiled inside of him and tipped into consumption. and he had let it, watched it sear beneath his flesh and fry his nerves to cinders and char his heart to coal. the burning was something more than the numbness of grief, the agony of heartbreak. the flames of revenge stoked by his own hand.

he knows, however, deep in the depths of his ashen heart that cracks more with every beat, that the deaths of those that have wronged him - have ruined him - would never satiate the painful, nauseating loneliness that permeates his every waking hour. killing snake, ocelot, eva, whoever else it took, wouldn't bring the colonel back. and ultimately, that was the only thing ivan truly wanted.

but that realisation hurt more than one could fathom. and so he douses himself in gasoline and lets the flames of righteous anger lick the membrane off his bones and prays the pain is less than that of being alone.

" you wouldn't understand. " he scowls at the other man, but the weariness that haunts his body betrays the legitimacy of his expression. of course, he would prefer not to endure the incessant querying of a shakespearean-tongued stranger, however lonely he might be. at the end of the day, this man is just another maggot beneath his heel.

[lunav-nly]

hai ivory how r uu :33

can i ask for bailu (hsr) graphics pls?? tysm in advance if u do this

luv u and ur blog 🩷🩷

Cure Whip has accepted your request! Enjoy! I hope you like em :3 [I'M DOING GREAT BTW LOV U TOO BESTIE/p]

[dragon-drop1477]

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some, possibly dying/rotty, flowers that I really liked the color combinations of... Flowers are usually so bright, it’s cool to see more muted dusty tones (my favorite types of colors lol).. very nice color scheme 

[okruee]

Alright CC creator....where’s my Don and Johnny body pillows?? 🤔🤔

stay away from me and my family

[mantism0th]

New little guy :)

[morgana-ren]

👉👈 Spare thoughts on like Crystal Lake/Friday the 13thesque camp counselor au with the Lov or mainly Shigaraki. I was thinking about watching Fear street and suddenly this was all I could think about

So I wrote this bit and yes, I’m painfully aware it’s not plot-perfect or polished but I LOVE the concept and wanted to put something out for it to show my appreciation that you shared it with me. Warning: it’s very nasty and I took a lot of liberties here. I hope that’s okay. Tomura is the gross incel-y killer. It wasn’t QUITE Friday 13th style, more “creepy counselor gone mad” because when I started writing it, I was a bit out of it.

I hope it’s okay!

-

A slippery hand clutches yours- stark red and slicked with sweat and blood, trembling bones and quivering fingers- clinging to yours as if you alone could keep her anchored to her quickly fading lifeforce. She’s been stabbed repeatedly, but it’s the wound on her chest that pulses most noticeably with her breath; A font bubbling from the cleave a few inches beneath her collar bone, a scarlet brook staining down the front of her pastel camp uniform.

Her mouth open in a strangled, wordless cry: A petrified 'o' shape that seems terribly uncanny alongside her sallow cheeks, fear and pain reflected in her wide and panicked eyes as her grip on consciousness rapidly fades. Crimson stains her slippery ivory teeth, gurgling on her own bile as she struggles to make out a fragmented sentence between her presumably collapsing lungs and the blood pooling in her throat.

Her face, the perfect mask of fear covered in dirt and her own fluids, begins twitching, blinking tears through the muck that cakes her cheeks. The hand not wrapped around yours in an iron grip curls into a point -shaky and pale and borderline indiscernible- and it takes you a brief moment for you to realize she’s pointing directly behind you. It’s only then that you rip yourself from your traumatized stupor and hear the footsteps approaching from the cabin door.

You’re ready and willing to defend yourself if need be, shooting to your feet with lips pulled in a snarl, but you’re not greeted with the sight of a terrifying killer brandishing a knife: You’re met instead by the familiar face of your fellow camp counselor and long time friend.

“Tomura!”

You can’t help it. You throw your arms around his scrawny neck, almost knocking him over in your relief as you bury your head into the swell of his black hoodie. He’s a welcome sight- been close to you ever since you started attending even though he’s years older than you are, and he’s always made you feel better- safer somehow.

You’ve never been more happy to see him than you are now, thanking whatever God is looking out for you that he’s alive and that he found you. You squeeze him with every ounce of strength your little body can muster as he wraps his own gangly limbs around you and cages you to his chest in turn- almost too tightly.

“I looked for you! I couldn’t-“ Breath escapes you, tearing up in his embrace. “I couldn’t find you! I thought he’d gotten you too! I was so scared-”

He gives a firm shake of his head, shaggy silver hair ruffling over his shoulders. He reeks, as always, of slight mildew and something vaguely earthy- like ash or cinder, even as he hasn’t ever been allowed on fire duty. “No. He can’t be far behind though. We need to go.” 

“Okay!” You nod, wiggling free of his reluctant arms and dropping to your knees again by your wounded friend. “Just help me with Maureen- she’s really hurt- We need to get her to a hospital and fast-” “Leave her.” His knobby fingers encircle the rounds of your forearm, jerking you back to your feet at his side again with a bruising yank. ”We don’t have time- she’ll only slow us down.”  “How can you say that? We can’t just leave her here! She’s bleeding out- We can save her, we just have to-” 

A quick peek back at her and you realize she looks- if possible- more terrified than she did only moments ago in the face of death. She’s shaking like a leaf- Her wide, milky eyes focused in on Tomura as she attempts another gasped word.  “Look- Just look at her. She’s done for. Let’s go- I can keep you safe, I can-.”  “You don’t know that- You don’t know that- Please Tomura, we don’t have time to argue, just help me!” 

“I do know that,” He insists, trying again to tug you towards the door. “She’s in shock, and the blood loss is too much for them to be able to save her even if we could drag her out of here. It was obviously intentional. I can protect you but we need to leave now-” 

Your eyes flick back to Maureen and the pooling beneath her prone body that seems to grow larger by the second. Her mouth trembles, choking on the words that are trapped in her flooded throat. 

You shake him off once more and lean down to her as Tomura groans in what seems like, if you didn’t know better, annoyance. You ignore him, trying to coax her into your arms carefully, but she only quivers in your grasp, still trying to hiccup out something between her pained gasps and slipping mortal coil. 

“C’mon Maureen- You can make it, I know you can!” But she remains limply, dead weight on the cabin floor, more fearful of something directly in front of her than the inevitable death that awaits. You lean forward once more to try and get a grip beneath her arms to hoist her upward, but she holds firm, puffing a final wheeze in your ear that takes a moment to process.  “Him.”

Blood bubbles up through her throat following the words and she spits it up over her blouse, eyes going blank and body falling into limpness. The wounds across her body still ooze a steady stream of blood but the last of her spirit seems to still, light fading from her eyes in one final moment.

“Tomura, help-” Panic threads through your voice, still trying to drag her forward.

But he doesn’t move to help you. He only stares blank faced and cold as Maureen seizes in her death rattles; Her pallid fingers still coiled in an accusatory gesture at her side. 

“Please-”

“I told you, she’s dead.” He pulls you away by the collar like a kitten, knocking your center of balance clean from the sheer force of the grab as he coaxes you once again into his arms. “Can we go now? We need to go, need to get away from here-”

Something catches your attention, something solid in his hoodie’s kangaroo pouch that pricks you slightly as you fall into his chest. A slight sting on your arm as it collides with his torso. 

”Ow!” You pull away once again, his body stiffening as you inspect a fresh little cut on your arm where something sharp pricked at your flesh. “Tomura, what the hell is in your pocket? That hurt-”  ”Nothing! Quit wasting time- Come on! We need to leave.” 

“It cut me...” You pluck at the skin once more, hissing in slight pain as the small laceration pulls apart under your attentions. “Do you have a knife in your pocket?”  “What? No- well, yeah. I picked it up in the kitchens when I was trying to find you. I thought I could defend myself with it if he caught up to us-” 

You turn and narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head. “We don’t have knives that sharp. We have butter knives. It’s not safe for the kids, and after you got caught last time-”  “We have one, remember? The one we keep in the drawer for the barbeques.” “I looked! When the girls cabin scattered after the attack, I went and looked and it was gone!” “I must’ve grabbed it before you got there. Is this really important right now? We need to go! Stop being difficult!-”  “How is that possible? The boys cabin didn’t know anything was going on until we fled there when he attacked Stacy and Becky. You didn’t even know what was happening until- You- You weren’t even there-” 

“Well I have it, alright?” He interrupts you, face contorting into a sneer. “Shouldn’t you be happy? It means you’re not fucking defenseless if he shows up again.” “How-”

“Don’t worry about it!” He grabs your arm again, bruising grip deceptively strong for such a lithe man, crushing the bones in your wrist with his fingers. “Come on- Lets go! We can finally leave here together- You’ll be safe with me-”

Him

It could be the ferocious expression, or his demands that are cloaked in the facade of a benevolent request. Maybe his story that doesn’t add up or perhaps you’ve simply known all along somewhere deep down. Either way, It hits you in one terrible moment- one world shattering instant where everything suddenly clicks into place.

Tomura- quiet, eerie Tomura with the sharp mind and the eyes sharper still. Tomura with boundary issues who always found a reason to touch things he wasn’t supposed to. Tomura who only ever had a soft spot for you because you were kind to him when everyone else kept a mile berth. 

Tomura, who’s only friend to speak of is you.

‘He’s so obsessed with you! It’s fuckin’ creepy! You should get a restraining order before he, like, snaps and corners you and makes you suck his dick or something. He’s not even supposed to hang around with the younger group but he’s always following you around like a lovesick puppy.’

‘What? No he’s not! That’s a horrible thing to say! He’s a nice guy, you guys are just awful. You don’t even give him a chance-’

‘He’s always staring at you like he wants to eat you! I bet he’s the one stealing your stuff. I’ll bet he has one of those weirdo shrines to you in his cabin and jerks it over your picture like ‘Oh, oh yeah, ride me harder, oh fuck me faster- Oh!-’

‘You’re disgusting! He’s just nice to me because I’m nice to him! Everyone else is such an asshole to him- Including you! God, you guys are so fuckin’ mean for no reason! Just because he’s a little different-’

‘He gives me the creeps. He’s been like that since we were kids. Remember when he was a teenager but still only ever hung around you? He couldn’t even make friends his own age! Even the other councilors are wigged by him. The only one who even talks to him is you. I’m telling you, he’s a fuckin’ weirdo. There’s something totally off about him. He’s going to snap one day. We’re not the only ones that avoid him, you know-’ 

‘Fuck you guys. You guys are such fucking judgmental dicks. He’s never even done anything to you. You’re just a mean spirited bitch.’ 

Tomura who would sneak you into the woods and show you rotting animal corpses with macabre excitement in his wide red eyes. Tomura who used to sneak knives in his bag as a camper and show you how to sharpen and hold them until he got caught and the entire camp had to institute a new safety policy. Tomura who had to be scolded repeatedly for trying to sneak into the girl’s cabin as a young boy to try sleep next to you, and that it wasn’t appropriate for him to wait outside of it for you as he got older either. Tomura who has distain for everything and everyone in a world that shunned and rejected him in equal capacity. 

Everyone but you. 

Your friends are dead, slaughtered like animals and strewn across the camp in a grotesque tableau of vicious murder, the only knife in the area conveniently tucked in his pocket, his hand clasping your wrist in an iron hold that doesn’t ask, but demands you obey him. 

“Tomura- Tomura tell me you didn’t- You couldn’t-”  You’re shaking now, feeling more in danger than you did before the man in the mask who conveniently never chased you or even gave you a second glance even as he had every opportunity to do so. The murderer just as gawky and gangly as Tomura, lean, wiry muscle and imposing height almost too tall for his own body and manic, scarlet eyes. The killer who held the knife with the same practiced grip that he’d shown you so many years ago-

“What are you even talking about? Let’s go-” 

He rips you forward, taking you into his arms again and squeezing.

‘He’s going to snap one day-’

“Tomura- Tomura no! Tomura! God, please tell me you didn’t do this! Look at me and tell me!” 

He looks at you, mouth opening to form a sentence before abruptly cutting short. He studies your face, your quivering body, the blood across your cheek. You think, for a moment, he might break down. But he doesn’t.  He laughs. A nasty, cruel chuckle directed at you and only you; there’s no one else alive to hear it.

“You always were too smart for your own good.” 

The facade of panic and adrenaline falls from his pallid face, replaced with his stereotypical look of total nonchalance and almost boredom. Your stomach plummets, limbs paralyzed in abject terror as his pale hand reaches forward, thumbing at the swatch of blood across your face. 

“I had to, you know. Wanted to for years. But I had to wait until you were a counselor with me. Had to wait until I could do it before the kids arrived. Too many variables I couldn’t control. No one is coming for days, and they’re finally dead, and by the time anyone finds them, we’ll be long gone.” 

A stab of ice down your spine at his words, the uncanny horror of it all whirling your vision to a blurry abyss. “You can’t- what have you done? What have you done?”

“What I had to! They were insufferable and stupid- your harpy friends wouldn’t let us be. But now they’re dead.”

“-Have to get help- we need to call the police-“

“Stop being stupid.” He brushes the hair out of your face with a tender finger laden in blood. “We’re leaving here and never coming back.”

“You need to turn yourself in-“ you stammer. “They’ll know it was you, God, Tomura-“

“Do I look like I care?” A snarl lifts his scabby lips, bearing the sharp canines beneath. “I don’t give a fuck if they know. I hope they do. They’ll never find us. I’ve had so long to plan-“

“No! Tomura, this is insane!”

“It’s over. Come to peace with it.” He hisses, wrenching you even closer, his dry lips on the shell of your ear. “You’re coming with me, baby, and we can finally be together. You can finally show me all those dirty little things you never got the chance to because your friends made you feel ashamed.”

The edge of the blade in his hand flicks up through the thin threading that binds the top buttons of your counselor uniform, baring your cleavage and the top part of your bra to him. You scramble to try and cover yourself, but he’ll have none of it; he quickly swats your hands away and presses the tip of the knife to your sternum.

“I’ve waited so long for you-“ A ragged breath escapes him, chest shuddering with the force of the exhale. “To touch you. To take you. Do you know what it’s like? What you fucking do to me?”

“Tomura- this- this is wrong! Please! Please let me get help! We’ll get you the help you need- I will! But you can’t do this! It’s not right!”

“There’s only one way you can help me, babe.” The hand not threatening you with the knife slides down and squeezes your breast, your entire body stiffening in visceral disgust. “Something I’ve wanted as long as I can remember. If you’re eager enough for it now, we have some time-“

“No! No! Don’t- stop touching me! This is sick! They’re dead! Tomura- stop it!”

“They are. And I could never, ever hurt you, but I’m sure there’s someone still alive that I could to calm you down- to make you see sense.” He squeezes hard enough to make you cry out, nipple catching between his fingers through the thin fabrics you’re wearing.

You blink up at him, bleary eyes full of silvery tears that trail down the slopes of your cheeks. He doesn’t look like Tomura anymore- not your Tomura. He looks like something twisted and uncanny, some feral beast that’s inhabited your friend’s brain and driven him to the brink of madness. He leers down at you lasciviously, thick pink tongue swiping across his teeth and you’ve never felt more uncomfortable in your own skin under his gaze than you do right now.

“It’s not fair when you cry like that. I’m already painfully hard-“ He releases your tit in favor of clutching your wrist, bringing your trembling hand down to his crotch hidden by the length of his sweatshirt and forcefully rubs the length of his throbbing erection against your palm. “But it always did things to me when you got all weepy.”

You’ve been defending a monster.

“Remember when you would cry into my lap because that group of girls was mean to you and I had to keep adjusting you every few minutes?” He barks a laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “God, it was so hard not to sink you down on my cock right then. Fuck, I would have destroyed you if I let myself- all sniveling and delicate and weak. You always needed me to protect you, didn’t you? So trusting. Naive, really. You had no idea what I was thinking about at night. What I’ve been planning to do to you for years-“

You can only give a broken, disbelieving cry of his name- trying to bring back the boy you knew. The sweet boy. The shy one. The quiet one with morbid curiosities and wild ideas on the world.

“Your friends knew, of course. But you didn’t listen, you silly, dumb little girl. Tried to warn you, but you just wouldn’t listen. And now they’re dead.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you bastard! You’re a monster! You’re-“ You batter your fists uselessly against the steel panes of his chest and he barely even budges.

“Remember when you could come to the woods with me and I would show you all the cool stuff my dad taught me? You thought it was weird but you still came because you’ve always been so sweet to me. My dad’s dead now, but I made sure he left me his remote cabin. I’ve wanted to take you there for so long, and now I finally can.”

He advances on you and even in your rage, you instinctively backpedal. Before long, he’s got your back flush against the scratchy wood wall, toe to toe with you with his imposing frame trapping you to the surface behind you in a gangly cage of his spider-like limbs.

“Fuck- It gets me so hot when you act like a little brat. When you fight me even when you know there’s no way you can overpower me. You never could. Even when we play-wrestled. I could make you scream without even trying. So fucking precious to see you bare your teeth at me like you’re capable of lifting a finger against me.”

“I hate you- I hate you!”

“That’s okay, babe. I can learn to forgive you. Tell you what, why don’t you wrap those pretty lips around my cock and start sucking out my forgiveness with your sharp little tongue and we’ll take it from there.”

“Go to hell-“

“If I go, you’re coming with-“ He puffs into your ear, one hand swirling into the front of your shirt, the other slicing from hem to collar in one swift motion, leaving your torso bared to his greedy eyes. “I’ve earned you. You’re mine now- you belong to me and anyone who has ever tried to say otherwise is dead!”

And the worst part is he’s right. Maureen bubbles a lifeless pool of blood a few feet away. The ones who tried to fight slashed repeatedly until they were too weak to stand and died a slow, painful death into the grass. The ones that tried to run cut down from behind- a cowardly act that shows his true nature. You can scream and cry and wail your sorrows to the terrible moon that hangs through the trees, but no one will come to help you; there’s no one left. No one but him.

And no one is coming for days.

“I was going to wait until I got you home to fuck into your guts but you’re just not getting it, and I don’t think I can wait.” He thrusts the knife back into his pocket temporarily, opting instead to fumble with the front of his jeans. Dread pools in your stomach, threatening to overturn the contents into the filthy floor, but all you can do is watch in terror as he unzips the front of his jeans and fishes his pale cock from behind it.

“Go ahead and get on your knees for me and stick your tongue out. Think of it as a practice round.”

You shake your head, weakly resisting as he shoves you to the ground and taps the hot, purpling tip on your face, smearing his precum across your ruddy cheek.

“Don’t be shy. I promise once you get a taste, you’ll love it. You will learn to love it. You don’t have another choice. Just wait until I get you back home. I’ve learned so much since last summer. I can’t wait to show you.”

[uncommoncold]

The Immortal

Summary: Cursed and forgotten, Park Seonghwa walks the world alone. All he has are his memories of the one who is forever lost to him. Now he becomes the victim of a cruel game of the gods.

Word Count: 5k

Content Warning: Top Park Seonghwa, Bottom Kang Yeosang, Fluff & Angst, Nudity, 69 (Sex Position), Oral Sex

“It’s been a long time…” The young man didn’t look up from his piano at his guest. He knew he was there, it was impossible to let his presence go unnoticed. His fingers continued to dance over the keys as he plucked out a song yet unwritten. The fragile notes floated into the space between them and his guest gave exquisite voice to the same notes. The young man at the piano smiled and finally looked up. “Well don’t stand in the doorway, come in. You’re letting the cold in.”

“It has been a long time.”

“What brings you by?”

“Can’t I just miss an old friend?” The Guest took a seat on the piano bench beside its owner.

“Some people can but you usually only come by when you want or need something. So which is it?” The Pianist’s eyes fixed squarely on his guest.

“I thought we might play a game.”

“A game? You do want something, I see. What are the stakes?”

“What the stakes usually are, life and death. However, if I win then you’ll help me start another war. The world is too peaceful and they are growing too fat and happy. They need a reason to remember us again.”

The Pianist clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth with distaste. “I don’t care if they remember me or not.”

“If they don’t remember you then you lose favor and power. Doesn’t that matter to you? Never mind, it never mattered to you before, why should it matter to you now? It does, however, matter a great deal to me if I fade away.” It was unlikely that a god of his ilk would ever be forgotten, mankind needed music and love. It was core to their being. Yet he, himself, always worried that mankind might one day forsake their warlike ways.

“And what do I get if I win?” The Pianist dragged his fingers across the ivories of his piano, giving only enough pressure to allow for the faintest of sounds.

“True love.”

The Pianist lifted his head and flashed an accusatory glare at his guest. “You’ve found a couple truly in love and you would interfere?”

“Why not? It’s not like I’ve not got anything else fun to do.” The Guest smiled, his dark eyes alight with a dangerous fire.

True Love was one of the rarest and most beautiful things in the world. Two souls perfectly attuned to one another was rare but not impossibly so, however those souls actually finding one another and the threads of fate woven in such a way that they might actually be at the right place, the right time, and the right situation… It was exceptionally rare, that it would be interfered with, bothered him greatly. Which was exactly why his Guest had come. He knew that he cared enough about such things, it was his milieu after all, love and music.

“If you’re not interested, I can always go to-”

“What’s the game?” The Pianist asked carefully, from this moment on, he was in as much peril as the couple. This was a game for their lives and a game for their love. If he lost, then they died as well as a whole lot of other people. If he won, then they would live as would the other people who his Guest sought to kill.

“Sacrifice.” The Guest’s eyes sparkled in anticipation.

For a long moment The Pianist was silent, just looking back at his Guest. “Who else will be involved?”

“Death.”

“Alright, has she already agreed?”

“She has.” He didn’t add that she had made the first move for him seven hundred years ago.

The Pianist nodded, he hated this. It wasn’t fair to involve two innocent mortals in this despicable game but once his Guest had made up his mind, there was no changing it. If he didn’t agree to his terms, then his Guest would simply go to someone who was much more interested in blood, like Chaos. Then the couple would be doomed. At least this way they had a chance of happiness. “Who are the humans?”

“You’ll love them, here come see.” The Guest walked over to a table and laid out a strange board with odd geometry and multiple levels. As he waved his hand over it, a figure appeared on it's strange surface.

“This is Park Seonghwa and this …” He waved his hand again and a second young man appeared beside him, “...is Kang Yeosang.”

The Pianist leaned in close and peered at them. They were beautiful, he quickly read their souls and nodded. They were indeed intended for true love. How had his Guest gotten wind of this before he had? If he had found out sooner he could have put them under his protection. There was nothing to be done about it now, all he could do was play the game and hope beyond hope that he would win. Little did he know his Guest wasn’t entirely playing fair.

“When do we start?” The Pianist asked.

“I’ve already put the pieces in play, the game has already begun.” The Guest clapped his hands and then rubbed them together in anticipation. Mortals always reacted in the strangest ways but he was sure the terms he had set for the Sacrifice were perfect and that there was no way Park Seonghwa could break the curse.

“Let’s head down to the playing field, Seoul. Who will you be?” The Guest asked.

The Pianist was thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “Kim Hongjoong. You?”

“Hongjoong? Odd choice but you did always have unique taste. I’ll be Choi Jongho. Shall we?”

Kim Hongjoong reached out to the gaming board which immediately shrunk in size and reappeared in a snow globe he held in his hand. With that done, he ran a hand through his hair and down over his form. As he did so, his hair shortened a bit and changed color to a shade of cherry red and his clothing transformed into something far more fashionable than the old style he had been wearing. He looked over at Choi Jongho with his expensive clothes and coconut styled hair and gave a shake of his head. “There’s no changing you. Let’s go.”

"What? I like this hair!” said Jongho as they stepped through the door into the world of mortals.

***

The day was cold and crisp, with a brisk wind. It wasn’t quite snowing but there were a few flakes that danced in the air. With the sun shining brightly and the sky full blue with scarcely a cloud to mar its perfection, it hardly seemed like a good day for a funeral. Park Seonghwa stood off in the distance watching the mourners visiting the grave of Lee Byungho.

“Why do you come to these things?” said a voice from just behind Seonghwa’s shoulder. He knew who it was without looking.

“Because he was my friend. The least I can do is attend his funeral.” There were few enough people he could maintain friendships with, given his situation. He told Byungho his secret long ago and his friend seemed fascinated rather than disbelieving or frightened as some did.

The man stood behind him silently watching the proceedings for a few minutes before he said, “Have it your way. I’ll drop by your place later.”

“Don’t drop by on my account.” It wasn’t that he didn’t like Jung Wooyoung, in fact he adored him. It was just that trouble had a way of following in his wake. He was quite affable and above all loveable but he couldn’t quite manage to stay out of trouble. He also had the uncanny ability to drive him absolutely insane.

“I’ll drop by on my account then, see you later.” Seonghwa shook his head and turned to look but Wooyoung was already gone. Who would believe that impossible man was a god?

When Seonghwa turned back, a little old woman was approaching him. He should have left before he was spotted but it was too late now. Cha Sookja walked up to him, “I thought that was you.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He said softly.

"You didn’t have to stay over here by yourself, Park Seonghwa. You lost him just as much as we did.”

“You know why I stayed away.”

Sookja smiled sadly and took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. “I know. Promise me you’ll come see me sometime this week. Byungho had something he wanted me to give you and I have a few things I’d like to say to you myself. Promise me?”

Seonghwa nodded. “I will.”

The little old woman squeezed his hand again and offered him a tired smile before she turned on her heel and returned to the other mourners.

Seonghwa drew a long shuddering breath. It was only Byungho’s first life, maybe they would meet again.

Seonghwa waited a little longer before he checked the time and realized that if he didn’t hurry he was going to be late. As long as there wasn’t traffic…

*** Kang Yeosang quickly made his way across campus, reading a book as he walked. Even with his earphones on and his eyes locked on the book in his hand, he still somehow managed to dodge the majority of the people on the sidewalk. He had just come from the museum but the curator was late and he didn’t have time to wait for him. He would just have to call his secretary and make another appointment. Normally he would have simply waited but he had a class and an exam in that class.

For all of the dodging he was doing, he still managed to bounce off of someone. When he looked up, he saw a young man with a bright smile and dyed red hair. “I’m sorry.” Yeosang stopped to help him pick up the things that he had dropped with the collision.

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t watching where I was going either.”

“Sorry again,” Yeosang said as he re-shouldered his backpack and stood up.

“It’s no trouble at all, have a nice day.”

Yeosang half bowed his head and darted off at a light jog, this time keeping an eye on where he was going oblivious to the eyes that followed him. “So that’s him huh?”

Kim Hongjoong looked over at the man who stepped up beside him, “Yes, that’s him. I would have thought you would know him quite well at this point.”

“I’ve never met him face to face but at last the game is afoot.” said Choi Jongho with a mischievous glint in his eye. “This is going to be fun!”

“I don’t know how you can take such joy in this.” Hongjoong tsked and gave Jongho a look of disdain.

“You agreed to the bet.” Jongho pointed out.

“But I didn’t realize you had set it in motion so long ago. The suffering…”

“...Says the man who keeps himself mostly away from human affairs and just makes his music.”

Hongjoong wanted to argue but it was true. It didn’t mean that he wanted people to suffer though. He continued to watch Kang Yeosang until he disappeared into one of the buildings. The poor boy had absolutely no idea what was in store for him. He wanted to warn him, or better yet put an end to this whole thing but he couldn’t. There had been a bargain struck and Kang Yeosang’s soul lay in the balance. Neither of them could interfere in any way after the bargain was struck. However, Choi Jongho had begun his first move centuries ago, biding his time, waiting for the chance to implement his plan… waiting for his chance to defeat Kim Hongjoong.

Jongho nudged Hongjoong’s shoulder, “Come on let’s go get something to drink… it’s freezing out here.”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess... Americano?”

Jongho grinned broadly, “You know me well. Let’s go.”

Hongjoong took a last look at the door Yeosang had disappeared through before turning and following after Jongho.

***

The day was unmercifully hot, the summer sun unrelenting.  

Neither of them should have been there but they didn’t care. It was too hot to study, there wasn’t a whisper of wind to give respite from the heat. On days like that there was only one solution. It was their secret place, a small pond sequestered in a thick copse of trees at the bottom of a cliff with a small waterfall. It was more of fast flowing stream than a true waterfall. They had never seen another living soul there. The sound of splashing and their laughter was muted by the dense foliage.  

Despite the oppressive heat, they revelled in the lazy days they spent there. They laughed, they played, they wrestled, they just enjoyed being together. They’d been together since they were small children but they were children no longer. That didn’t matter, they would always be together, come what may. They floated on their backs and gazed up at the canopy that reached over the surface of the water, their fingers clasped to hold themselves together. Their long dark hair fanned out around them in the water.

“Do you think we should go back?” Seonghwa asked. It was several degrees cooler beneath the trees and while he was not keen to go back to the house, he didn’t want anyone to worry over them.  

“We’re supposed to be studying until sunset. You know Han Teacher, he’s probably in town drinking with some pretty girl and won’t come back until the sun goes down.” His friend commented. Their teacher was hardly the most diligent of men. He often left them to their own devices while he went into town on some errand or another.  

Seonghwa stopped floating and settled his feet onto the bottom of the pond. As he felt his arm tugged, his friend looked over and found Seonghwa watching him. He stood in the neck deep water with a small smile. His friend knew that look all too well and a playful, almost sultry smile curved his lips. As he found his feet, Seonghwa pulled him into a strong embrace, their lips coming together with a gentle sigh.  

“Mm… I like that.” Seonghwa murmured against his lover’s lips.  

His friend, his servant, his lover, pulled away just enough to grace him with his smile. His smile was radiant and bright as the sun but unlike the sun he never shied from its warmth. While Seonghwa stood on his flat feet, his friend didn’t quite reach the bottom and held himself aloft by putting his arms around Seonghwa’s shoulders. He pressed a little closer, feeling their nakedness together. He felt a little tremor traverse its way through his stomach.

Anticipation unfurled its wings and fluttered in his breast. His hands that held his lover firmly drifted, caressing his back, his hips, his thighs. He rocked his hips a little, pressing his hard length against his friend’s. He heard a breathless moan as lips found his ear, his neck, kissing, nibbling. Slowly they made their way to the shore, falling on its grassy bank together, no longer able to restrain themselves, Seonghwa pulled his lover in, desperate for his kiss. Seonghwa’s long elegant fingers found him, wrapping around his turgid length. His lover whimpered against his kiss.  

There was nothing more that he wanted at that moment than to be deep inside him but he didn’t want to go back to the house, not yet and neither of them had thought to bring oil with them. They had been more concerned with sneaking out undetected. Instead, he dragged his lips down, over his lover’s chin, his throat, over his smooth chest. His lover pushed him back onto his back as he progressed down over his trembling stomach. His lover peeked up as his tongue flicked out to drag across the glistening drop at the tip of the thick head of his cock. It jumped against his touch and he smiled before wrapping his lips around him. Seonghwa’s fingers wound in his lover’s hair, his hips raised slightly to make little thrusting motions. “Turn around, I want to taste you too.”  

His lover looked at him with desire flickering in his dark eyes, he turned as he kept up his lurid attentions. Seonghwa peppered little kisses and nips to his lover’s thighs before wrapping his lips around him. He loved this so much, completely surrounded by his lover’s scent, the taste of him, as he pumped his long, thick prick into his lover’s throat. They had always been close but since they began their physical relationship, they had only grown closer.  

He wrapped his fingers around him, stroking as moist heat and his lover’s tongue caressed him. Seonghwa played his lover’s body as if he were the finest instrument, drawing his pleasure out and making him writhe against him. He pushed his lover toward the peak, his breathing growing ragged as he tried to concentrate, but it was just so difficult as his own pleasure began to engulf him. His lover pulled his mouth away as he moaned Seonghwa’s name just as he came. As soon as the madness rolled back, his friend dropped back down, wrapping his lips around his throbbing length. He reached up and put his hand over Seonghwa’s fingers in his hair. Seonghwa’s breathing changed to shuddering gasps he thrust deep into his throat, then the first wave of his seed arched over his tongue. His lover swallowed against him, pressing him to the back of his throat as he drank down every last drop.  

Seonghwa turned and pulled the man who held his heart into an ardent embrace, his lips and face plied with little kisses. “I can’t ever get enough of you.”  

The most precious little giggle floated through the quiet of the forest, as he smiled burying his face against his Seonghwa’s neck. The sun was just starting to dip in the sky, they should really get back but he didn’t want to go yet. He never wanted to leave their sanctuary.

How could it be that not a single moment of his memory would fade? After all of this time, he remembered every single touch, every kiss, every moment they shared. Seonghwa ran his thumb over a small glass bauble that sat in the palm of his hand. He was surprised the lock of hair he had snipped so long ago still lived within. He held it countless times. When he realized that it was degrading, he had it sealed into this small piece of glass. It was one of the very few pieces that remained of that time so long ago. A single tear dropped from the tip of his nose to land on the aged glass. In all of the years he had lived, not a single day had passed that he hadn’t missed him. Not a single day had passed that he hadn’t ached for him. How could a heart keep beating when it still hurt so much? Seonghwa closed his hand around the heavy glass before he put it back around his neck. He should stop wearing it, it was too precious to risk losing.

Seonghwa closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his closed lids before reaching for the box of tissue on his desk and wiping his face. With a deep breath, he gathered his things and headed back home.

The day had gone absolutely miserably but how often did a good day start with a memorial and funeral? Not that he had been able to attend the memorial. No matter how much time passed and no matter how many friends he watched grow old and die around him, it never got any easier.

After the day he had, there was little surprise that he had ended up being late for his meeting with the board and because he was late to that, he barely made it back to the museum for the delivery of paintings they were borrowing from the National Gallery in London.

Now he came home to what seemed to be a party at his house. All of the lights were on and he felt the bass thumping before he even got out of the car. He didn’t have to open the door to hear the music blaring and the sound of laughter coming from within. He stood outside his front door and contemplated going to a hotel for the night. It was obvious who was responsible and the last thing he wanted to deal with was on the other side of his front door.

He’d just about made his mind up to leave when his front door opened and an obviously drunk young woman appeared. She looked surprised to see him there before smiling, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside.

“No! I don-” he tried to protest but she dragged him along anyway.

“Seonghwa!” Jung Wooyoung yelled out, running over to him and pushing a drink into his hand.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want you holding parties at my house?” said Seonghwa tersely.

“I didn’t think you meant it. If it wasn’t for me, you’d spend your eternity reading romantic books and poetry, watching dramas, and generally keeping to yourself.”

There were times he rued the day he met the god of wine and revelry. This was one of those days. The woman who had pulled him inside leaned against him and yelled over the din, “I’m Ahn Ji-an!”

Seonghwa looked at her briefly and nodded before turning back to Wooyoung, “I’m going to go take a shower, get these people out of my house before I’m done or I’m going to a hotel for the night.”

“You’re no fun at all, Park Seonghwa.” Wooyoung pouted at him. His pouting game was mighty but after having known him so long, he was impervious to his manipulations.

Seonghwa peeled the girl who had introduced herself as Ahn Ji-an off of his arm and instead draped her over Wooyoung's, both seemed to be pleased with the arrangement, before he marched off and disappeared upstairs.

Seonghwa was half undressed when the door to the bathroom opened. He knew he had locked it but he also knew he’d changed his door code after the last time Wooyoung had made himself at home. Locks and privacy meant very little to him. Seonghwa yanked his pants back up as the door opened. “Oh for-” he grumbled in irritation.

“Come on! When’s the last time you went to a party? When’s the last time you really relaxed and had a good time? When’s the last time you had mind blowing sex?”

The look Seonghwa gave Wooyoung was positively hostile. “Look, I’ve accepted that I can’t keep you out of my house. I accept the fact that you’ve decided that you want to be my friend whether I like it or not. There are times I even appreciate it but why can’t you accept the fact that I live the way that I live because I like it? As for the last time I went to a party, that was last week. You dragged me to it, remember?”

“And the sex?” Wooyoung asked as he knocked back the cocktail that was in his hand and looked Seonghwa up and down with a hungry gaze. It was unfair, Seonghwa was a gorgeous man, he would have happily given him a tumble if he was so inclined but he wasn’t. He never was. He had thought it was because he was straight at first but it was more complicated than that… far more complicated.

“None of your business.”

“Have you even had sex sin-”

“Stop. Just stop alright? Wooyoung, just … Look, if you want to stay, that’s fine. Just get these people out of my house. I want a nice quiet night. In case you’ve forgotten, I was at a funeral this morning. I just want a nice quiet evening and to go to bed. Is that really so bad?”

Wooyoung looked back at his friend quietly for a long moment before he nodded, “Alright but I’m not going to quit trying to get you to blow some steam off every now and then. It can’t be healthy to be wound as tight as you are.”  

It was on the tip of his tongue to argue that he wasn’t uptight but in comparison to Wooyoung, everyone was uptight. Besides, given his life, he was entitled to be a little wound up. He watched as Wooyoung started to leave the bathroom but before he managed to make it all of the way out, he stopped and eyeballed the drink he had given Seonghwa. He picked it up and drank the contents before setting it back down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “No point in letting good booze go to waste.”

And of course he didn’t close the door behind him. Seonghwa closed and locked the door again, giving it a little shake to make sure it was in fact closed and he wouldn’t be getting any extra visits from any of the other guests. As far as he knew, there weren’t any other eternals in attendance, he hadn’t seen any when he had come in anyway. Not that he had met them all, he had only met a very small number of the world’s gods and immortals and he was happy to keep it that way. They were often troublesome.

As he showered, he heard the music quiet and the sound of voices fade away. He closed his eyes against the spray and relaxed. There were days that tried his patience and today was one of those days. How long was this going to go on? How long could he tolerate it before he simply went mad? It wasn’t as if he exactly had any other choices open to him. As much as he liked to complain about him, Wooyoung was one of the few things that helped to keep him sane and grounded. No, he had made his decision a long time ago and he just had to live with it. God how he missed him…

No, if he let his thoughts drift that way he would just become maudlin and morose. The past was the past and though he couldn’t let it go, he couldn’t let himself drown in it either. He had done that and it had gotten him nowhere. While he couldn’t say he was happy exactly, he was content and that was the best he could hope for. There were plenty who were far worse off than he, cursed thing that he was.

When he got out of the shower, Wooyoung was reclined on his couch, listening to music. This was a pass time he could appreciate, especially since it didn’t involve a house full of strangers making a mess. It was a Wednesday, his cleaner would be there in the morning but he hated the idea of going to bed in a dirty house so he started cleaning up the mess the party goers had made.

“Don’t you have someone who does that for you?” Wooyoung asked as he watched Seonghwa cleaning up.

“I do but Mrs. Yang won’t be here until the morning and I hate the idea of going to sleep in a dirty house.”

Wooyoung stared at him in mild disbelief but shook his head, “I did actually have a reason for coming to see you today.”

“You didn’t come just to annoy me?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, you’re so grouchy today… and no that’s not why I came to see you. I came to warn you to be on the lookout.” Despite delivering a warning, Wooyoung didn’t look overly concerned.

“Oh?” He stopped cleaning long enough to look up. He waited for him to continue.

“Supernatural energy is on the rise, something is happening. Something about a game between the gods.” Wooyoung looked down at the wine glass in his hand and swirled the liquid within before he upended it.

That was never a good thing. When gods played games, mortals tended to suffer. It was something he knew well. Not that he was mortal any longer. “Does it involve me?”

“I don’t know honestly. Lady Cho told me but when I tried to get more information out of her, she clammed up. You know how she is. I doubt it though, you’re not one of them.”

“I’m not exactly one of you either.” Seonghwa said as he went back to cleaning.

“Well no but you’re closer to what I am than to what they are.” Wooyoung lifted his glass to his lips, realized it was empty and reached for the bottle sitting on the coffee table.

Seonghwa flinched at that. He knew what he was but he didn’t exactly like being reminded of it. He had been a normal human once. It seemed like an eternity ago but in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t so long. It certainly hadn’t been long enough for him to forget. “Alright, thank you for telling me. Are you going to sleep here tonight?”

“I think I’ll go to a club, it’s still early. I’ll come back here when I’m done, if I don’t have company. You’re just going to stay up late watching a drama and then go to bed right?”

Seonghwa didn’t answer him, just looked back at him evenly.

“Yep, that’s exactly what you’ll do. I guess I’ll leave you to it. You sure you don’t want to come to a club with me?”

He shook his head, “I’m sure. You go, have a good time.”

“One of these days Park Seonghwa, one of these days…”

“But not today.”

“Fine, fine. Goodnight.” Wooyoung finished his drink, snapped his fingers and then disappeared.

Frankly, Seonghwa had to admit to being a little jealous of that particular skill. If he could teleport, his life would have been a lot easier.

Links to my other stories can be found here: Master List

[chaoticorganizedmess]

| Masterlist | Dabi Masterlist | LoV Masterlist |

Common Ground

Ft. Dabi/Todoroki Touya; Shigaraki Tomura/Shimura Tenko

After the start of the war, Dabi and Shigaraki share a drink and finally get to know one another a little better.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption.

"I wanted to be a hero...before." His voice is low. He looks at his beer bottle as if that's who he were talking to. Dabi didn't know if that made it easier for him to say or not. Strands of Shigaraki's now ivory hair fell in front of his face, but much of it was still unobstructed compared to before. Dabi's hair, now ironically it's own white color, hung down as well. He regarded his leader through the spikes fallen along his forehead.

It had been quiet before that. Not uncomfortably so, however. So much had happened recently that it was alot to process. The two sat in a run down estate. Dabi on an old, worn couch and Shigaraki in a ratty armchair to the side of him. It was the first time the two sat together where Shigaraki wasn't giving orders or planning their next move; on the flipside Dabi wasn't being snarky or sarcastic to the younger man.

Dabi hummed in reply. He was so cut off before, never revealing anything about himself. However that was all said and done. After all, the world knew all about him and the Todoroki family now. He figured he'd give in and actually see what it would be like to be real, speak openly and unguarded with someone else for the first time in years. Someone who might know what it's been like for him. Someone who can actually relate.

When he wasn't met with a sarcastic comment to shut him down or Dabi didn't just get up and walk away he continued. "My father was an abusive fuck, too. We weren't allowed to talk about Heroes, at all. If he found out, he'd smack me around or banish me out to our garden...or both."

There's a humorless chuckle that escapes him and Dabi finds himself releasing one as well. "Yeah..I wanted to be one, too. Like the old man." Once again he thought about his painful childhood before shaking his head and allowing the memories to fall out of his consciousness for the time being. He took another sip from his bottle.

Shigaraki looked over to him. He was still getting used to Dabi's natural hair but found it ironic that now here they sat both with white adorning their heads. He didn't think they had too much in common at all before. Now, he thinks he didn't know enough to make that assumption.

"So," he started with a small smirk on his scarred lips. "You're a Todoroki, huh? Son of Endeavor." Dabi rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yeah, don't remind me." Shigaraki let out a raspy chuckle. "Now I get why you always had it in for him." The two actually found themselves sharing a small, genuine laugh before they each took a swig in unison.

Dabi thought for a moment. If he had revealed his name in person to Hawks, then maybe he should do it for Shigaraki. "Todoroki Touya.", he commented simply. Shigaraki looked to him, slightly surprised at his gesture, before nodding.

"Well, normally I wouldn't care 'bout fair but... I guess I could even things out." Dabi furrowed his brows as he looked to him, trying to decipher what it is he was saying before it came out. "Shimura Tenko." His eyes met Dabi's and he could tell he was still a bit lost. "That's my real name."

Dabi's lips parted briefly in surprise before he nodded in understanding as well. "Master gave me his name when he took me in. My grandmother was Nana Shimura. I remember my excitement when I found out, when my sister showed me her picture." Dabi was actually thrown a bit. Shigaraki was a close relation to a big name Hero the whole time as well. "She's the reason my father hated Heroes. For how they treated their own families over strangers."

Dabi was familiar with that all too well. Shigaraki shrugged his shoulders. "She was All Might's mentor. Maybe that's another reason I hate the guy. Not just 'cause 'f Master." A loud snore nearby brings their attention to the figure across the room. Spinner is sleeping among old blankets on the floor on his back, hands folded and resting on his chest as they rise and fall with his steady breathing. He hasn't strayed very far from Shigaraki ever since he came back from the doctor's "treatment".

Toga had gone to sleep in an upstairs bedroom. After stopping by her old home house, she was processing her own stuff along with recent events, as well as Twice's death. They were all still dealing with that part. It was a bit strange being just the four of them for now. What they didn't know was that the girl lay awake in her temporary bed. She could vaguely hear them speaking, though that wasn't what was keeping her awake. Toga let out a sigh as she twirled the vile of her dearly departed friend's blood in her hands.

Downstairs Dabi downed the last of the liquid in his bottle before chucking it away across the room with a resounding 'clank' noise. Spinner let out a snort as his snoring faltered a bit and he turned onto his side, but still didn't seem to wake up. "Well", he began as he brought his legs up to lay back and stretch his body out along the couch, "we've already thrown a wrench into the cogs of Hero society. Things are already startin' to get chaotic. Hopefully we keep up the momentum and win this war."

"I take down Endeavor once and for all...and you..", he glanced over to Shigaraki as he continued. "You get to destroy...whatever the hell it is you want to destroy." Tomura actually felt a real smile pull at his lips. "Yeah. Besides, whatever happens Master always finds a way to come through." He raised his glass towards Dabi in a toasting gesture. "We've been waitin' for this a long time, huh?"

Dabi turned to face the ceiling once more, running his hands through his hair and pulling at some of the strands. "Too long." Shigaraki then finished his own drink and tossed it aside as Dabi had done.

Silence overfell them once again. All that could be heard was Spinner's snoring that had softened considerably since rolling onto his side. Shigaraki relaxed back into the armchair, bringing his legs up to sit with them crossed. He really wanted to play one of his games right now.

Soon this war would come to a head. The Heroes will bend before they break and their society will fall. No one will suffer from misguided treatment from those false idols anymore.

He had found common ground with Dabi tonight, and once they win this war, there would be common ground for everyone else like them. Even if he has to destroy it first.

[tinkonka]

i drew my wh oc!!

i’ve decided on the name ivory since the previous one was a trigger name for a friend of mine, gonna talk about her under the cut :D long post !

her name is ivory, and as it says, she’s a purebred! she’s around 2000 years old but still going strong. very kind personality - picture zizel and lime combined except she’s a little more awkward - and talkative. she displays more of a kind side around humans, and is always willing to discuss things such as negative ad positive emotions, how they impact others and things like that. and no she doesn’t need glasses but she likes them

she’s a bit of a teaser sort! centuries of interacting with humans has led her to be very adapt with reading faces + recognizing insecurities in other people... so yea she do got the ability to hit it where it hurts. but she only really uses this ability for lighthearted teasing, with rouge being a primary target

(i drew zizel without a ref lol) as you can see she is very tall. 6′6. and she uses this to her advantage as well - she’ll pick up zizel and put her hand on rouges head (which rouge does not like). if you’re curious here’s a height reference:

So yeah zizel only reaches her chest. tiny.

another thing to add is that she has these spicy tentacles as you can see in this drawing:

and these can be hidden at will, though she prefers to keep them out as it’s a pain to keep them secret (similarly to how demons can show a proper form in the day but it’s a nusiance). these tentacles are as a result of working as a guarding monster for a couple hundred years, defending an artifact that the demons enjoy using. as such, she’s out of practice with her human form, and if she’s careless, she’ll begin to transform, and trying to keep the monster at bay can! really hurt! because there’s always the inner desire to have said monster get free (like how demons are naturally breeded to love negativity) and trying to fight the desire isn’t something she has practice with.

and so, she’ll have these ‘outbursts’ where she’ll leak and black wounds will appear - much like noel when he’s trying to fight his transformation as well.

i haven’t written much for this character yet, but i’m planning on inserting a hater demon into ivory’s story - i think i may have talked about her before? cerise, a 13 year old hater demon who had no happiness similar to lime. since she was still young, ivory had decided to take her under her wing - not out of compassion at the time, but because she didn’t wish for cerise to fall for other demons tricks and how to obey the rules. though advancing the relationship, cerise had admitted to ivory that she makes her feel happy. “i never had any happy memories... but you give me some, even though this place is far from good.” this REALLY threw ivory off. demons causing other demons positive emotions??? what??? this was not her intent. alas, she had grown attached to the younger hater, only for the hater to.... fall for another demons tricks. she was framed for the modification of a sacred artifact, and ivory had no choice but to banish her to the other hell.  ivory still wonders how she is. she doesn’t want to bring her out temporarily, however, because she knows things aren’t good. and in truth, a part of her is scared that cerise would’ve been desensitized and hardened by the deeper hell, and so she decided to try not to think about her. (though she still wanted to honour cerise, so she wears the flower crown that she made for her. (the heart locket was from susie)) im not quite sure how she and susie had gotten to form the pact but if i ever do figure that part out i’ll let you guys know about it :)

miscellaneous headcanons:

 she and zizel are quite close, as they worked together for a short time before ivory had to go to another station. they’re penpals tho zizel will sit in ivorys lap and drink tea and ivory will carry zizel on her shoulders it’s always a fun time

she despises the higher class demons with a PASSION because they’re known for not giving two shits about stuff and she’ll ramble about it angrily

rouge is below her in terms of hierarchy but she doesn’t really mind being berated by the red-head. if anything, it’s funny to her

she firmly believes that showing kindness shouldn’t be strange for demons. she wishes that more demons would help eachother - mainly haters - because she thinks that they can help eachother with their pain. though she doesnt have much room to talk on the matter since she’s a purebred herself

her tentacles (she has about 4) are pointy at the ends, and they’re warm and. sludgey to the touch (like mud). they move involuntarily and tend to just grab things she subconsciously likes (zizel is a victim of this) and whack people when she’s standing next to them. she’s getting better at controlling this though

thinks lime is a tad strange but absolutely adores the cute aesthetic thing she has going on. she values charlottes opinions as well, and likes to talk with her about just anything.

she thinks claire is a bit stupid sometimes but one day she and claire spent like hours talking about feminine things like cute dresses and flower crowns and ivory wished she clda given claire a chance to try on some of the dresses she had kept from her time in the mansion.

absolutely terrified of sirius thinks he’s a tiny gremlin. one time tried to give him a hug bc he was kind and he stomped on her foot not a good time

she’s eh about wilardo. doesnt think that he’s as interesting as the others, but will respect him. he’s okay

she’s not used to like socializing so she talks too much and doesnt know how to continue a conversation and always ends up embarrassing herself

if i can think of anymore then i’ll let you guys know! feel free 2 draw her (i still need to colour her in whoops), give her theme songs... im down for anything :D

if you’ve read this far tysm hi i lov u !! thank you for reading my rambles :D

[dettea]

the super sim tag by @ivory-shell


create a sim with super powers, they can be a hero, villain, or just an ordinary person with some extraordinary abilities. then show both their secret, everyday identity in contrast to their super persona (if they have one) in anyway you see fit! It could be a CAS or in-game edit.

she’s part-time professor, part-time villainess lmao //
 i just made her for this challenge and now i think i lov her so !! u might see more of her in future edits


i tag @citrusjuice @glimmery-brooks @crescendemon @kiwibli @finnchios @simblrcakes @yess1re @eqountl @chocolatewish @windenbrg @musicalplumbob @kvpcvke @iridescent-sims @bingleysims


no pressure to do this if you’re tagged! and if you would like to do it too, consider this as me tagging u !!