#it feels like im screaming in a dream where no matter how much you try to be so so fucking loud- you're quiet

[zaukiel]

feeling very Normal lately.

so normal

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.” 

[silliest-heartaches]

Ohh my god DRINKKK!! Dude I love them sooo muchhh. I just love imagining them being head over heels for each other yet constantly denying their feelings, because of how they view themselves, yet still finding comfort and solace with each other. They are so. YES. PERFECT. AUGH.

SHARE MORE ABOUT THEM PLEASE!!!

And I love how you use they/them for Ink and she/her for Dream!!

GOD YEAH I LIKE THEM SO INCREDIBLY MUCH... tbh the main reason i started liking them was bc i was thinking abt them and how doomed yuri coded they were and. The worms Wormed in from there,,,,

I actually use he/they and she/they for ink and dream respectively but!!!!!! I love all hcs and interpretations of them for REAL. nonbinary people who are gay as fuck for real,, very inherrently queer ship regardless of how u see either of them i think...heart seeing them as t4t transmasc and transfem forever personally though so thats what i see em as hehe,, also in my head theyre both aroacespec (though the specifc kind varies from au to au though i do consistently see ink as ace and dream as demiaro :>>)

Im not sure how long these will be so...hcs under the cut lol

- okay well while in my mind while error is technically the First Entity ink sees that isnt just a normal entity, dream is like their First. Friend. you know. Like when error first saw him he was screaming and crying for the hills bc it was also his first time seeing another outcode so. that reaction BUT with dream she was more filled with gentle confusion... this is a bit after she unstoned in the apple incident but still was new to au hopping and naive to most danger so they became friends!!! Questionably so.

-to elaborate, when they first meet dream is still stuck on the ideals of toxic positivity and pushing through hardship no matter what... i think this is something they eventually grow out of and dream will eventually learn to see the need for balance eventually but one of their first disputes happens when ink is running low on ink and most of whats left are the Negative Emotions within him alongside the especially strong panic that he usually feels when they get like this... dream would try to comfort him and try to say that itll work out in the end no matter what and that they just need to push through and that itll be okay like normal comforting words because dream is an empath and can sense feelings right,,i feel like its comforting in some cases but when things get Really Bad and especially when the main reserves of feelings that ink has are Negative, they heavily override his normal sense of self and i imagine they get a lot more. Snappy.... theres also the additional hc thingy of ink also really overexaggerating his feelings and overplaying them a lot for the sake of trying to feel more intensely (doesnt work, just drains him faster and will never truly feel natural to him...personally think that ink feels a lot of disconnect from his feelings) which could be considerably offputting to dream (though before adding swap to the group she thought it wass normal because she had only seen the fake pretend nice joy of the village influenced by her aura and not Genuine Feelings)

I think eventually through the years they would learn a lot from eachother...like with ink learning to be more naturally charismatic and dream learning to see past toxic positivity and have his perception on emotions change for the better (ie in learning that having different emotions are okay, so long as there is a balance)

id do alot more hcs but tbh what it boils down to is: toxic codependent yuri. intensely up and down relationship where theres an insane amount of love and attachment but also a lack of self from the both of them because they are only able to see themselves as a Thing to the other. Also exes who turned out to be besties. Thry got together and broke up wayyy before blue (they casually tell him stories about it and for the parts that he does know about he is horrified for.) Oh and they share hobbies and do parallel play alot. dream is more music oriented and can play the cello and flute. ink can play the ukelele but hes more familiar with drawing and painting duh. Also they have a garden. they love growing flowers but their favourites are sunflowers. Also have writing sessions together. Also may/may not also have beautiful princess disorder. (The both of them)

im so sorry this is so incoherrent but erm. yeah im very normal abt them (half of this stuff comes from oc projection the other half is like. Mental illness while in the shower tbh)

[lupunsus]

who’d u reckon would own a bunny hybrid? 👀

im not gonna sugarcoat it anon, but bunny hybrids are the common hybrid to get among perverted degenerates, and underneath all the complicated layers these yanderes have is just some horny perv who think they're doing a good thing by taking them in. We all know the truth, though.

im gonna ramble under the cut, but as always, be sure to check out @cinnamonest as their hybrid writings inspired this blog into existence

warning: nsfw. bottom reader. gorou forces himself on reader, but i try to avoid being specific. tighnari thinks about it but drugs you instead. overall horny canine boys who can't decide whether to eat or fuck bunny hybrid 😔

in the future, all works with nsfw will be tagged with #.luspicy

Gorou:

God, just thinking about a bunny hybrid,, i know cinnamonest wrote about gorou having a cat hybrid, but like, I can't stop remembering Beastars and (I stopped watching it but I'll get back into it again) how fitting a floppy eared little bunny would be for him. Gorou. A war general in an environment where everything is peaceful, and there isn't much to do to let out all that excess energy.

I like to think that Gorou would meet his bunny darling while out on patrol. Of course, Watatsumi Island is peaceful now, but there's still some bandits and the like lurking about. When he sees them shivering in a cage, knees tucked to their chest and crying, it does something to him that he doesn't understand himself. You just look so...delicious.

You, seeing this dog towering over you with this crazed look in his eyes, makes you thankful that there's a cage separating the two of you. Even when he "kindly" asks if you know where the key is, you adamantly shake your head no. It's obvious he wants to eat you! He's even drooling! Staying in the cage is definitely safer than trusting this deranged predator looking as if he's finally found the prey of his dreams.

Gorou is strong anyway. He doesn't need something like a key to free you. It only helps in scaring you more when he rips the cage open with a smile on his face. Having you clinging onto the bars was a bit of a problem, though. Gorou just wants to help you out! Usually, bunny hybrids are grateful creatures from what he's heard, but it seems like you're the opposite of that. And stubborn to boot. Don't worry. He offers coming with him the easy way or the hard way.

The easy way is a much better option, as the other would be leaving you out here alone, cage open, for anyone to just kidnap. Of course, he'd warn the soldiers to keep an eye out for you. "They got injured because of my carelessness, so I want to make it up to them!" People would think a bandit or a monster got to you while he was distracted. There's no way someone as nice and dependable as Gorou would harm such an innocent creature like you!

Unfortunately, people forget that Gorou is a dog hybrid. And dogs are technically domesticated wolves no matter how you see them. If another hybrid like Sucrose (whatever animal she may be) were to witness this, she'd immediately find you herself and bring you back to the safety of her hometown. Well, it probably wouldn't be safe, but it's better than the possibility of being eaten, right? Too bad Albedo only visited Inazuma with Klee, and the two of them stayed on Narukami Island.

Thinking on it more, though, he feels like a run will do him some good. "You could always head back to where you came from. There's boats on the lower part of the island, I could take you there!" No thanks. Even with your limited vocabulary, your instincts were screaming at you to get away. To Gorou, it was a relief that you took the bait. Watching your little cotton tail bob behind you as you tried to escape was adorable. You probably thought you could get away from him and go back to your homeland, but what are the chances you even knew how to use a boat?

It didn't take long for him to find you, and even less time to pin you onto the sand below. You could cry out all you want, but nobody would be able to help you. "Don't cry... I'll make sure it won't hurt too badly~" Confused and scared, the thought of another hybrid, a predator to your kind, would even attempt to mate with you was worse than being eaten by one. And escaping was impossible. He was just so big and you so little! That doesn't stop Gorou. And despite what he promised, it hurt a lot because your body wasn't built to handle someone of his nature.

He did clean you up as best as he could, but seeing his love escape you so easily almost made him rearing to go again if you hadn't passed out from exhaustion. Poor thing, you must be so tired after allowing him to pour out all of his love into you. Don't worry, he doesn't mind carrying you to his home. Ah, but he should probably lock you up so you won't escape...

Maybe he'll tire you out with a couple more rounds in the morning, too. Just to be safe.

Tighnari:

I think Tighnari wouldn't necessarily succumb to his instincts, but he's tempted to. How could he not? Seeing such a cute bunny make themselves at home in his territory, eating the vegetables and herbs that he grew,

It's like you thought that because he was chummy with the humans, he wouldn't possibly think of harming you.

And that's exactly what you thought. That fennec fox hybrid seems to eat plants just like you, so he must've been dropped as a child or raised by herbivores. If it were the latter, then that's great! Herbivores usually don't mind sharing food, so you made a nice little burrow right next to Tighnari's field. It was far away from the other humans, and there was a water source nearby, too, so it was absolutely perfect! Any hybrid would kill to be in your place. Having such a convenient food supply and water next to your den.

However, Tighnari was considering hunting you down because you were prey in his territory. Ah, he shouldn't succumb to his instincts. He should be the bigger person and try to scare you off. He grows dangerous things, too, and he would not like you eating (ruining) his research.

But the cute floppy ears... how would it feel between his teeth? How soft is your little tail? How delicious would you taste if he took a bite out of you? Just a little nibble. It won't hurt. Probably.

You, on the other hand, are starting to feel a bit nervous about your housing arrangement. Your neighbor seems to be staring at you from afar and breathing heavily. Sometimes, he looks at you with a dazed expression, and you can see the saliva creep from his mouth. It's impossible, you think. You've seen him eat mushrooms! On several occasions! It gets creepy when he looks in your den while you're out getting water. You hide from him, but he doesn't make an effort to even chase you. He smells you nearby, but he can smell something even sweeter in your home.

He knows you're going into heat soon.

It doesn't matter what you have between the legs, to Tighnari, you're something meant to be eaten. You're at the bottom of the food chain with the other small and weak animals. If he wanted to mate with you, you'd be taking his knot. Would you give birth to pups or kits? Would some be a mixture? Or maybe there's a possibility of a fennec being an herbivore or a bunny being a carnivore? The researcher part of him wants to know so bad...

But it depends if you could give birth at all. It'd be a shame if you didn't, but if you take his knot nicely, he may reconsider eating you.

Tighnari tries his best to control himself, but when he sees you obliviously eating an aphrodisiac flower, the string in him snaps. He'll chomp down on those floppy ears of yours before he starts his little "private research."

[whorekneecentral]

scenes in book where the male oc fingers the female oc in front a mirror and asks her to watch it have me screaming, could you please write one with lewis or jack?

-jg anon

I feel like I've been writing so much football so im gonna write it with lewis <3

Lewis had been away for a triple header and work was keeping you home and away from your boyfriend. You missed him more than anything but it was Sunday night, well, technically Monday morning as it was past midnight and your boyfriend wasn’t gonna be home until noon. 

The bed welcomed you, soft and warm as you dropped onto it. You snuggled into Lewis’s sweater, his cologne lingering on it and you can’t help but run a hand over it. If he was home, he would tease you about how cute you looked in his sweater, how you get turned on just by the smell of his cologne. 

Your hand wandered and ended up between your legs, the wet patch evident on your panties. You can’t the hand that slips down the front of your panties, slowly rubbing circles on your clit. 

Lewis had taken an early flight, the race didn’t end as expected and he wasn’t in a mood to stick around. The house was quiet as he ventured down the hallway towards the bedroom. 

He could see the light from the lamp next to the bed through the slightly opened door. He couldn’t miss the way his name fell past your lips. 

Maybe you were dreaming. 

Lewis peeks into the room; you were definitely awake. Head tossed back on the pillows, his sweater on you and your hand down your panties. You were clearly getting rid of today's stress. 

He steps into the bedroom quietly, leaning on the wall by the door and watches you. Your eyes closed and you’ve got two fingers in you. He smiles to himself, watching as you curl them, trying to mimic the way he does it. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arched off the bed. It can’t possibly be that good, he thinks to himself. 

“Lew please,” the words tumble past your lips and he can’t stop himself. 

“Need something ?” He asks and he's never seen you sit up so fast. Your legs closed but your hand is still down your panties. 

“When- I thought you were getting in tomorrow ?” 

“Took an early flight,” He tells you, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. You hum, unsure what was really happening. You were sleeping obviously, you’re dreaming this. 

Lewis pushes your legs apart, “keep going.” 

His eyes fixed on you, watching as your fingers moved slowly. Lewis tsks, “come on sweetheart, I know you can do better than that.” He tells you, pulling your panties to the side to get a better view.

You shake your head, “no. Can’t do it like you,” you tell him.

Lewis chuckles before he gets up and moves the mirror you had hanging off the closet door and props it to lean on the wall in front of the bed. It was tall enough that you could see yourself even though you were on the bed. Lewis pulls you down the bed by your legs, making you giggle.

“What ?” You ask him, watching as he moves to sit behind you.

He ignores your question, pulling your panties down to let it drop onto the floor. His fingers brush across your pussy, your head dropping back on his shoulder. Your boyfriend’s free hand grips your chin, pulling you to look in the mirror.

“Watch.”

“Lewis-” “No. You said no one does it like me, so watch.”

Lewis has two fingers in you, curling up and no matter how much you want to close your eyes or look away, you can’t bring yourself too. He knows your body like the back of his hand and he knows you're close. 

“Look,” he whispers to you as he lets you ride his fingers, his thumb pressed to your clit. “So pretty like this, legs spread like a little whore for me.” 

[thequietkid-moonie]

Foster Parent comforting them after a nightmare

[ SCENARIO ] [ Kotoko, Nagisa, Masuru, Jataro, Monaca ] [ Danganronpa Ultra Despair Girls ]

⚠️ This contain spoilers about their backstory

They are my babies, I would give the the sun, the moon and the stars if I can ❤️ Anyways, im FINALLY writing for them again!! IM SO HAPPY!!

I don't care what people think or say, I know Monaca suffered a lot too, the fear she felt when she sees Hanji again is REAL!!

Kotoko Utsugui

Kotoko doesn't really like to talk about what happened to her, she gets pretty mad whenever someone or something reminds her about her past, and even so she prefers to act like it she doesn't mind it anymore, what happened in the past it stays on the past, and now that she has someone who cares for her why she will like to remember so disgusting things?

But as much as she tried to forget her trauma still hunt her down from time to times, that fear that exist deep inside her of one day the horrible parents she had will come for her and make her return to her old life (if she still continue going to the drama club she feels insecure about it from time to time too)

Saddly, all the feelings and fears she tries to ignore sometimes come to her as a dream, as a terrible nightmare where no matter how much she call for your name you aren't there, instead she just see her father, who with a big smile congratulate her for her amazing performance and remember her that there is something that she still have to do

Kotoko wake up all scared before something even can happen because she just couldn't handle all of that again, tears already falling from her eyes, her whole body shaking and trying to cover her body while trying to normalize her breathing

It depends on how bad her nightmare was to what she will do next, if it wasn't that bad she will try to calm down by herself, not really wanting to bother you and being anxious about going out of her room, but is more likely that at the end she goes to your room to at least sleep by your side, in the other hand if the nightmare was really bad she won't be able to calm down so she just runs to your room crying almost imediatly, also it could be that she scream while sleeping or when she wakes up what will alert you so you will be the one going to her room

Either way, Kotoko is just crying, she isn't able to explain what happened and she doesn't want to talk about it either (she even almost scream at you if you ask her about the nightmare just because she is scare), she just want to be in your arms, she just want to know that she is with you and that you won't let those perverts touch her again, if Kotoko manage to say something will be to either ask you to please hold her or to ask you if you will let that people reach her

Kotoko doesn't want to leave your arms so you will have to hold her for a long time until she calm down, as well sweet and soft touches (such as caress her hair or back and small kisses on the forehead) and reasuring her that something like that will never happen again help her calm down faster, still it will take her some time to fall sleep again and there is no way she will do it alone

The next days Kotoko will be more quiet than usual, even a little shy with her head down, she isn't really embarrassed about waking you up is just that the nightmare really affected her, but with some time she will feel better and will go back to her normal self again

Nagisa Shingetsu

Nagisa doesn't really have problems with talking about what happened to him in the past and he even talk about like it isn't nothing or that it doesn't bother him, but in reallity all that he suffered affects him more that even he knows

Nagisa were exposed not just standards too high and a constant rejection but to the effects of drugs in order to make him work more and more, and even when he acts mature deep down he is still searching for the approval of the ones he loves and is startled by the the minimum errors

For being in a house where he is appreciated by just being himself and don't ask him to be perfect or to spend all the night studing the fear of messing things up or even disappointing you hunt him from time to time (not always but it still there), so having a nightmare related to it isn't totally strange

Dreaming about his father and all that he went through it doesn't really affect him, it bothers him and it startle him, but aside from that he doesn't have much troubles with it, is dreaming about you being disappointed of him what makes him afraid, you being mad, disappointed or even calling him a failer is what makes him afraid, is that what will make him anxious, desperate trying to explain himself and apologize for his error, even promising that it isn't going to happen again and he wil make it up for it (but if you don't seem to wanting to heard him that will lead him to a panic attack)

When Nagisa is finally able to wake up he is afraid and sweating, he may even jump a little in his bed, he is so nervous that he is even disoriented, it take him a moment to start to calm down and realice that he is in his room, that everything was just a dream, even so he isn't fully calm

The last thing he wants is to bother you (specially if the nightmare really affected him), so Nagisa tries to calm down, repeating himself that everything was just a dream and that you aren't like that, you'd told him a million of times that you don't expect perfection from him

He may be able to calm down enough to try to go back to sleep once again, but if the nightmare was specially scary or it affected him a lot he won't be able so he just goes out of bed and take a walk around the house, maybe a glass of water could help him calm down. He doesn't really want to wake you up, even if he know that you won't be mad for it the memory of your bothered expression and voice of his nightmare make him anxious, he doesn't want to see it in real life

Its okay if you find him in the middle of the night in the kitchen or you see him until the morning, Nagisa doesn't really craves for direct comfort he just need the reasurance that you aren't mad or dissapointed of him, so for him is okay just continuing with your normal routine (although he will be more talktive and clingy, like quietly asking for the parental love and comfort)

He doesn't want to talk about his nightmare, so even if you insist the most you will get from him is admitting that he had a nightmare, he not just doesn't care for it but he is a little embarrassed of needing/wanting comfort, so if you try he will complain at little at first but totally accept it (specially if is a hug)

Masuru Daimon

Masuru normally don't talk about the abuse he suffered from his father mainly because he doesn't see a point on doing so, and since now he has a home and a parent that always welcome him with open arms he doesn't see why he should remember the bad past with the demons

Also, his past doesn't affect him directly, it makes him pretty aggresive from time to time but it is something he can change, he is just bother by it when he remember it but aside from that he normally just act as the energetic child he is

For Masuru to have a nightmare about his past of abuse is more likely to have been triggered by something during the day, something that had make him nervous or remember him about it. His new house is one where he is more free and appreciated, and even if he can desesperate you from time to time you never really decided to hit him, so having a nightmare where is again with the abusive father he had is pretty shocking for him and he doesn't like it, he want to be where he isn't attacked, he want to be with you so even in his nightmare he is searching for you, but you aren't anywhere, what makes him more an more desperate

When Masuru finally manage to wake up he is shaking and sweating, still it depends in how bad his dream was to how he will react, if it wasn't too bad he just wake up scare but still he will try to calm down, while if his nightmare were really bad even after waking up (probably with a little scream) he is so afraid that even will have a panic attack. But in both cases he is pretty scare and is pretty loud while trying to calm down (specially in a panic attack because he tend to self harm), so is more likely he ends up waking you up for the noises and you go to his room

When you enter in his room/knock on his door he is immediatly startled but by recognizing you his tears start to fall from his eyes because as much as he like to act all rough and brave, deep down he knows that he doesn't have to fear when he is with you, also it depend in how scare he is to his next move, either asking you what are you doing there or running to your arms, but it doesn't matter much his reaction because he wants your comfort

Is probably that Masuru start to have a panic attack, depending in how scare he was and he will try to hit himself to make him calm down unless you guide/teach him another way to be able to calm down (a less aggresive way), as well that he is able just cry into your arms depend in your relationship and how much he trust you, otherwise he will be trying to convice you that he isn't scare at all

However, not matter how much the nightmare affected him at the next morning Masuru return to his normal self and just be cheerful since the morning (but if the nightmare was really bad he will be a little startled when he does something wrong or you seem mad for a while)

Jataro Kemuri

Jataro has been treated so poorly for all his life, not just for his mother but his friends used to treat him bad too, so it take him a long time to get used to being with someone that truly cares for him and loves him just for being him

Jataro doesn't has any problem with talking about his past of abuse, although he talk about it like if it is something normal for how used he is to it, he just repeat what his mother used to tell him (especially when he start to take a liking for you because he doesn't want to hurt you with his horrendous appearance)

As he slowly start to get more used to and comfortable with your kindness towards him it will be a while where he is more nervous about making you mad, being insecure of himself thinking that he won't be enough or that he will end up making you mad (he kinda expected it as something that will obviously happen)

For him to have a nightmare related to this is more likely to be caused because something through the day trigger him and is more common to happen when he is just getting used to his new life, it could be that he is with his mother, either that thinking that being with you was all just a dream or some kind or that you had throw him with her again because you don't want him anymore, also it could be with you the dream, making you so mad that you start treating him bad like her used to do, and probably even force him to wear the mask once again, or that he end up hurting you still somehow believing what his mother used to tell him

No matter what his nightmare was about he wakes up frighten, it take him a moment to realice where he is and still his anxiety doesn't fully goes away, the more the nightmare scare and affected him the more anxious he will be, leading him to start crying for nervousness and even to compulsive scratching his arms and head

He may not be really loud but is at least enough to alert you, and the moment you approach to him (either entering on the room or knocking on the door) he is immediatly startled and just stare a moment at you trying to decipher who it is between his anxiety, and when he reconize you he is mixed between wanting to be in your arms and feeling ashame of himself, so he just continue being troubled by his anxiety while saying little apologizes (but don't apologizing for something in concret)

In this ocations Jataro really craves for comfort but he isn't going to really ask for it because he feels ashame, just being able to be in your soft embrace will help him start to calm down and a direct reasurance that you aren't mad at him or that you don't think of him like his mother did comfort him a lot

He isn't completely sure if he will be able to fall sleep alone again but he is willing to try just because he doesn't want to bother you, but if you don't mind he will be happy for you to stay with him until he falls sleep (and will sleep with you only if you insist)

The next day he will still be a little nervous, not wanting to bother you with his presence so he will be a little quiet for a while, until he feel completely sure that he isn't bothering you

Monaca Towa

It isn't easy for Monaca to trust in someone, she could be acting all happy and charming and even calling you her parent already but deep down she isn't fully used to his new life and even a little wary of you, is just that she goes carefuly, little by little

And as just as she doesn't fully trust you she isn't going to talk about what happened to her right away, she even cover it saying that Monaca was really loved by everyone (more specifically in her school) and that everyone wanted to be her friend, and even when she feel completely comfortable with you she doesn't know if she will tell you the truth

For her to have a nightmare related to this isn't really common, or at least no to be enough to truly frighten her, so is more likely during the day something trigger her and/or she is specially anxious. Her nightmare could vary, being about her abusive family, by just being there with them again and you were nowhere to seem, or even worst that you are the one leaving her with them or even mocking her for trusting you and starting to act like how her family used to do, ignoring her and even calling her a pest

When she finally wakes up she is really nervous and even sweating a little, her past afect her more that she likes to admit so having to relive it in a nightmare isn't something good for her, she is looking everywhere a little disoriented and really startled by it, still it doesn't take her long to realice that she is safe in her room, the room you designed for her and she was free to decorate at her taste, just that is really comforting for her and since she doesn't really make much noises while calming down it isn't a reason why you will know about it

However, it actually will affect her much more the nightmare if you are the one on the nightmare, she tries to make it seem like it doesn't bother her and that is nothing but it slowly make her pretty nervous and insecure, going as far as making her almost imposible to properly calm down, so is more likely that she end up going to your room and getting into your bed quietly to at least be by your side, even snuggling to you

Monaca doesn't want to talk about her nightmare nor admit that she was scare, so if you insist enough or she already trust you the more she will do is say that she had a nightmare, not really wanting to give details about it and she doesn't like to make a big deal of it neither

Monaca doesn't exactly ask for comfort but she wouldn't mind receiving it but still she prefer just doing the common things like any other day, from the outside it seems like she isn't bothered at all but deep down she is still a little nervous and will be a little wary not just of you but of her own actions, something that she does almost unconsciously, as well as insisting a little more on helping you in whatever she can or talking with you, even small chats she just need the reasurance that you still care for her

[iceunhie]

hello!! happy 200 followers :)

could i please request a drabble with a spy au with heizou? with hero! heizou x villain! reader as romantic fluff for your event? thank you so much! and congrats on 200 once again <3

slippery as an eel in water | shikanoin heizou.

third submission !! oh my god is heizou even in character.... anyways this is kinda set in half spy and half manhwa-ish??? au idkwman i hope i satisfy u with this, nonnie 😭 anyways haha this is a weird title but it makes sense. reader is flirty so if that's what you're into then im glad if it's not then um. well.

[3/5] herospy!heizou x criminal!reader (morally grey villain) (spy/manhwa-ish au) wc 1.2k, romantic fluff. enemies to lovers. slightly chaotic format. reblogs are appreciated.

Heizou trusts his intuition.

It is his guiding hand in his journey as one of Inazuma's renowned heroes (how he was dubbed as one was beyond his interest) his ally in his quest to enact justice to those who disrupt the city's peace, his only assistant in his pursuit of criminals who have no business tainting his homeland with their irresponsible crimes. He has never ignored its judgment, nor its pull.

Now though? Seeing you, the most infamous of said criminals lounging in his office without a care in the world after a recent stealth mission of his? His intuition screams at him to arrest you and put you to prison under the Tenryou Commission's watchful eye. A good hero, a good detective, for that matter, would deem that as the primary action. But Heizou has never conformed to the standards usually met by others.

[First Name] [Last Name]. Codenamed Blank, due to the lack of information about their personal history and how his agency doesn't know a thing about them part from their full name. Which might not even be their real name at all.

One of Inazuma City's most controversial and notorious criminals — a master of elusiveness and theft, commiting immeasurable crimes right under the city's nose and remaining undeterred, boasting a bounty adding up to almost as much as the Fatui in Snezhnaya.

A criminal is sitting on his office table, waiting for his arrival. They've been Heizou's one and only focus for the past year, and the man was committed to finally catching you like he's always dreamed of. It's why he applied to be one of the Commission's intelligence agents, undertaking numerous spy missions all related to you. Still, still. When you greet him nonchalantly with a smile on your face without a care in the world, to which he definitely flinches slightly at, a little caught off guard, there's a slight challenge in your eyes, and he can't stop his mind from overruling his trusty intuition when he feels that strange, suffocating and overwhelming feeling you always seem to incite in him.

"So this is where the renowned sir Shikanoin resides when he's not off trying to catch criminals like little old me." there's a playful lilt to your tone, as if amused by the notion of him staying here.

Electro Archon help him, for all he could think about despite your obvious provocation is how your clothing matches you so well, the dark fabric clinging to your form like a shadow in the night. The faint sheen of the knife (an obvious sign of danger, but he doesn't care right now) glints when it hits the light from the window.

Thankfully, you don't seem to want to use it for now.

"Are you aware I can easily entrap you here with just a call of the doushin?" his voice, though a warning, falls flat as he takes in your position on the wide table he uses to put his case files in. In response to his poor threat, you simply release a chuckle, running your hand across your hair, and Heizou resists the urge to flush at your actions. You were a criminal, practically his arch-nemesis! Yet here you were prancing around his territory while wearing that dark camouflage clothing of yours which makes his heart stutter and break his carefully curated composure. Skimming through his casefiles from your position, you take one out from the stack of them and examine it. Of course it had to be your own. He can already see the glare of his red marker with the label 'Blank - [First Name] [Last Name].' He sees the faint scribbles of his notes and follow-ups to his investigation of you and there's a slight quirk of your lips when you read through it.

"Well, will you really do that? I doubt it." Heizou feels almost flustered when you shrug it off like it's nothing, and again, he feels that rush of something he can't name overtake his senses. This is what made you dangerous. You knew how to poke and prod and poke at blindspots and use whatever charm and wit you had at your disposal to carry out your goals, then vanish the moment he's thought he's had you in his sights. And he thought he was the unpredictable one.

For the twelve months of this little game of cat and mouse, you were the only criminal who he hasn't caught yet. The thought is infuriating and yet thrilling at the same time.

He will admit, he enjoys the chase. Even if you were dreadfully alluring and so difficult to wrangle. It was like you were an eel in water slipping his grasp the moment he puts his hand on you. A very breathtaking eel, if he had to push his eel metaphor agenda. Man alive, what was he even thinking right now?

Heizou stops his thoughts of you and focuses on the situation presented to him. You offered yourself up on a silver platter. Do you even know how easy it would be to just cuff you right now and bring you down?

Yet he doesn't, for some reason.

He needs to compose himself, he needs to focus. He can't let you get the upper hand. So he smiles pleasantly, his sage green eyes oozing with structured and amicably made facade.

"Then maybe you've come here to look for redemption? It's never too late to turn over a new leaf, you know. I'm very flattered that you came over to me despite our very… turbulent history. I didn't take you for one to be attracted to people who's here to bring you down."

A loud burst of laughter escapes you, and you wipe the tears in your eyes right afterwards. "You're still as strange as ever. I was right to find you."

"Find me?"

"Yep." you emphasize the p in your words, "And you're not wrong. I am attracted to that." God, you were shameless. He considers himself to be the smooth-talker here, but you....

"You're even more handsome up close, by the way. When you're not busy trying to trail after me like a lapdog."

"..."

Heizou can feel himself flush at the sheer audacity of your words, and what's more, he liked it.

"What do you really want?" he snaps, frowning. At his query, you get down from your position from his table, and go so close to him he could smell the faint notes of the earthy and rich scent of Cyprus wood on your person.

"It's not a want, per say, but–" you stop, before you face him and get close to his own that if he moved forward, he could kiss you. "I propose a temporary truce."

He blinks, before his eyebrows raise. You weren't the type to do this. This wasn't how your dynamic worked. He was the one who sought you out, not you.

"A truce? What for?" Though he tried to take on a questioning tone, Heizou swallows thickly from the close proximity between you two, his Adam's apple bobbing just a bit, which doesn't go unnoticed to you. And when you smile at him deviously (he can imagine the devilish horns on your head already) something tells him he was in for a very, very wild ride.

Heizou trusts his intuition.

Yet despite his intuition telling him that involving himself with you and even hearing you out was a bad idea, he puts the nagging feeling in his gut aside for now.

He's still following his intuition, of course. Totally.

His intuition may make him feel like he needs to actually think about his decision this time around, but at the genuine look on your face and that enchanting smile of yours he can't get out of his head…

Heizou slumps a little, as he sighs to himself internally. There's no harm in losing to curiosity now, anyway. Who knows? Maybe he can get more clues to who you are. Why you do things the way you do. Yeah, that's right. He's only getting information from the enemy. That's all.

"Hello? Detective Shikanoin? You there?"

He snaps his light green eyes to yours and he finally dons his signature cheeky disposition. He clears his throat, and he watches as you tilt your head in his grab for your attention.

"I still don't completely trust a criminal like you yet," you visibly roll your eyes, "But I'm willing to hear you out."

"Alright then, basically...." you begin to start, and Heizou can only hang on to every word. And no, he's definitely not admiring your side profile or how you look in the lighting of his office.

So, he'll put off trying to catch you for now, he supposes.

© 𝐦𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐞𝐞𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work. tumblr is currently my only site. dm if you see anyone impersonating me or using my work for their own content.

[f1-stuff]

omg that part two snippet of girldad! carlos had me literally screaming, the way you write is just so *chef’s kiss* i can’t wait for the to see what happens next

its gonna be so cute when charles starts speaking french with ana and they both start bonding, carlos already has it down bad for this man but he’s going to be in love love with this man when this happens

the idea of the both of them being dads is just so… compelling, we really need more fics of them being dads and being all domestic

im sorry for this ranty ask but i just got so excited when i saw u posted the snippet, i love that fic so much already

and if you don’t mind, could you post the giver au pls :))

sending you lots of love mal, thank you for everything!! <33

Hi! Do not apologize!! Every fic writer hopes and dreams that ppl will get excited about their fic 😭 and I completely agree - we need more charlos dads. They are literally so married and charles wants a kid so badly...

Anyway yes! You can have a snippet of the Giver AU - i've shared a bit of it before, but essentially, the premise is that society requires everyone to take suppressants to dull their emotions, eliminating pain/conflict/anger/fear etc., but also eliminating passion/love/joy in the process...

I'm thinking of doing a major rewrite of this actually...so honestly what you read here might look very different by the time I post it but 🤷🏻‍♀️

“Hola, teammate.” It’s accompanied by a grin and a nudge to his arm. Charles raises an eyebrow.

“Hello, again.”

They’d seen each other not forty-five minutes ago, but Carlos seems to insist on greeting everyone like it’s the first time that day no matter how long ago they parted ways. He also keeps calling Charles, ‘teammate,’ like he thinks anyone needs to be reminded of this. 

“What are we doing now?” Carlos asks, rubbing his hands together like he’s impatient to get started. 

Charles doesn’t know why he would be - they’ve been doing promotional obligations all day, and his head is starting to hurt from all the bright lights. It’s all videos and photoshoots for their sponsors and social media accounts. Tomorrow will be the more important agenda - seat and race suit fittings are the first things on the schedule.

“A video for the fans, I think,” Charles says, in answer. “Where we ask each other questions.”

“Ah, so I can discover all of your secrets.” Carlos lifts his brows up and down in a way that Charles isn’t sure he’s ever seen someone do. 

He knows it’s a joke - one of Carlos’ strange ones, where he doesn’t really mean what he says. But Charles still finds himself wanting to protest the remark.

“I don’t have secrets.” Why would he? He has nothing to hide. Carlos rolls his eyes.

“Okay,” is all he says.

Charles has the sense he’s disappointed him somehow. Not that it really matters, but he’s still trying to figure out his new teammate. He wants them to get along, since they’ll be seeing a lot of one another. So far, he feels like Carlos is perpetually amused by him for reasons that Charles can’t determine.

“The questions are prepared,” Charles adds. “They wouldn’t have us ask whatever we wanted.” This seems obvious to him, but maybe Carlos isn’t yet accustomed to how structured things are at Ferrari. 

Practically their every movement is planned by some coordinator on the team - the only time it can’t be is in the car, when the drivers themselves hold the steering wheel. And even then, the team tries to control everything with strategy and radio communications during the race.

Carlos gives him a searching look, which Charles attempts not to shy away from. He isn’t shy, anyway. Poor choice of words.

“Do you ever... Mm- how do you say it?” Carlos takes a second to himself, mulling over whatever it is that he’s trying to ask. “Do you ever go against the script?”

“The script?” Charles frowns.

“The rules. The path. The plan.” Carlos studies him, as he processes the words, like Charles is a bug in a jar. It’s not a sensation he particularly...enjoys, though he can’t pinpoint why. 

“I’m not...” He swallows, unsure of himself. “I don’t-”

“Boys!” someone is saying from across the room, gesturing them over. 

There’s a beat of silence between them, and then Carlos is saying, “Never mind, mate,” patting Charles on the shoulder. 

He walks away then, and Charles is left with a strange hollowness in his chest, like he’s failed at something - like when he’s driven badly or made a mistake on track. But he hadn’t done anything like that. He’d just been talking to his teammate...

He takes a deep breath, then moves to join Carlos across the room.

WIP Wednesday

[stevenssticks]

Walk with me yall.....

Virgin Dave Mustaine *Feral Screaming*

Baby so horny and desperate barely holding himself back from pouncing in his First lover when they decide to get sticky with It as reader thought that mutual masturbation/sucking him off for the First time and letting him put in Just the tip would be enough to help him cool down but boy oh boy, Dave couldn't wait to get to feel what's like to fuck a real pussy after beating his cock so many times with those porn magazines thinking about his sweetheart so he begs and pleads to his Darling

Him being a nasty, perverted dirty talker naturally, all eager to shove himself as deep as he Can even If It makes him feel overwhelmed and on the verge of crying because no matter How much his sensible Dick Hurts, he loves How warm and wet it feels around him, and when he notices the little bulge whenever he slid in and her juices running down her thighs, making a mess where their bodies connected, she Can almost see his eyes Rolling back as he shivers and trembles while Cumming harder than he ever had before letting out noises that she never expected to see a Man doing

Poor reader, she is in for a long First night because no matter How many times he seems to cum, he Just can't get enough of the feeling

(THE FREAKIN AUH AUH NOISES U ALWAYS TALK ABOUT KEEP HAUTING ME IN MY DREAMS GRRRR)

HOLY FUCK IM WALKING WITH YOU. I AM MOST DEFINITELY WALKING WITH YOU WHAT THE FUCK. i might have to turn this into a full one shot bc mmmghhnmmmmmmmmmmm this is making me feel so many things.

for one: giving him his first blow job would be out of this world. he loves loves loves your mouth. wants to cum in it, fuck it. and he does just that. he’d beg you for it, asking “please please please can i fuck your throat? want it so bad. mouth feels so good.!” and ofc you pull off him for a sec to hesitantly say okay, and as soon as your mouth is back on him he’s grabbing your hair and fucking deep in your throat, letting out a wail bc bby boy is so overwhelmed at the feeling of your warm mouth. he’s cumming down your throat so fast and he’s so embarrassed about it he gets all blushy and shy<<333

OH OH AND giving him a pussy job and just rubbing your cunt over his dick but not actually putting it in. him whining and begging and rutting into you like he’s in heat asking “please. just the tip. i’ll be good i swear. please??” and you ofc cannot say no to a face like that and pleads like those. he gets you on your back and as soon as he presses the tip in he’s GONE. his eyes flutter close and his mouth drops open and he can’t even get a noise out with how good it feels. he’s gotten his taste, and now he wants more. he starts begging again and oh you’re giving in too. it feels so good to have him inside you already. you breathe out a little, punched out noise of approval and he’s slamming into you.

he’s so fucking horny and has been lusting for you since the day he met you and now it’s happening and he’s so overwhelmed with the feeling of it all. he literally would wrap his arms around you in a bear hug and start humping into you bc he doesn’t even wanna pull out at all. he’d be whining and moaning in ur ear telling you “feel so good. your pussy feels so good. fuck, i’m gonna cum inside you. needa cum in you. fuck fuck fuck” and you’re just holding him trying to ground yourself as he ruts into you.

the poor boy damn near howls when he cums, and even after that he can’t stop. he looks between your legs to where you’re connected to see a ring of his and your cum at the base of his dick and he’s already hard again. he’s so fucked out and overstimulated and it fucking hurts, but he’s still flipping you into every position he can and he doesn’t. stop. cumming. at one point he even crawls up the bed to lean over your face and have your throat again and you can taste his cum and yours on your lips and it’s so heady. he’d be so obsessed with getting you all messy and seeing spit run down your chin and hearing you choke on him. him letting out little “thank you”’s in between moans<3333

—

yeah… i’m gonna need to make this into a full story. keep an eye out for that and anon whoever you are BLESS YOUR SOUL.

[beepsalotl]

crying ugh i love these characters so much and i hate the world so much except i dont and i just wish i could have what these characters had and be in a place that isnt like this one

im gonna cry ugh i dont know why i care so much, theyre not even real. but, like, in my head, they are, yknow? as in, they exist in the space i built for rhem as i read the series and learned about them and their world

fun fact, they were the first two characters whose books (each is the continuation of the story from a different third-person-limited perspective) had their names in the title. black hardcover w green embellishments for moonwatcher, a nightwing. white hardcover w blue for winter, an icewing. books six and seven, respectively. all the symbolism was there before you even open the goddamn books. yin and yang. AND YET.

and also they had two different histories and their tribes had a stale feud for thousands of years bc of some asshole jerkface. moon knew nothing about it bc she was raised in the rainforest practically by herself bc her mom had to sneak away from the shitty volcanic island the nightwings lived on to hide from the historic nightmare jerkface. winter knew all about it (or he THOUGHT he did bc he only knew the icewing side) bc he grew up surrounded by heirarchy and laws and rules and structure. moon didn’t grow up with the resentment at all, which allowed her a chance to see the truth.

she had to be self-sufficient. he had structure to lean on, even if it made him narrow-minded and nearly hard-hearted. he had to break through that, and she learned how to have patience. i feel like moon herself is sorely underdeveloped but i take the hints i can get and i feel that she learned how to forgive him by understanding who he was through his thoughts and, after skyfire, remembering that he was different inside than out and was still struggling.

when they were together, he was trying to be better and learn and he was kinder and softer even though he struggled to always be like that, and she was so patient with him.

heartbroken enraged screaming ensues, really.

like the rey and ben situation at the end of tros.

having him die in the end undermines everything the skywalker legacy stood for and all the development he had and it still breaks my heart bc he proved people can make bad, horrible choices and can survive abuse and break through it and change and be better and be loved. and then he DIED instead of getting his happy ending, which practically is what happened to winter bc the author basically said fuck you go live in the mountains doing work for peace and studying scavengers (which i know is his passion, but….) and your friends will hardly visit or write and they wont tell you the truth about how they defeated the bad guy WITHOUT ANY OF YOUR HELP EVEN THOUGH YOURE MORE THAN CAPABLE and they wont trust you and youll be alone forever.

my list of pairings and characters that i’m unreasonably heartbroken over:

ben and rey, winter and moon, catra and adora, draco and harry, zuko and katara.

catradora got together, ik, but their story still breaks my heart no matter how much hope it also gives me.

anyway, there’s no way for me to end this bc i dont even know what im feeling. it’s been years but winterwatcher’s fate still tears me up inside with the way it dashed my dreams of seeing a character like winter learn to let himself be loved.

i want to learn to let myself be loved, but i dont know how.

these characters are my attempts at finding myself out in the world and seeing if it’s possible. i dont attach my self-worth to them, but it hurts to see them fail to find romantic love where i saw it. idk

— a quick journal entry i wrote in my notes app years ago, as an emotional 16 year old with identity issues and way too much alone time on my hands

[angelic-vibez]

Jungkook x f!readers | Bully

Genre; Hella angsty but with fluff ending.

Warning; bullying, violence, Kisses....? I guess ..

Summary; Jeon Jungkook is your bully. But doesn't like the thought of someone else bothering you let alone hit you.

Jeon Jungkook. The man that feels like he's destined to make your life miserable and is actually successfuly doing so. You always thought he must be a psycho, out of his damn mind to bully people in college.

The man never cuts you some slacks. The classic smacking your books out of your hand and sending your papers flying around in the hall ways was his daily religious ritual. His assignments were yours to complete, no matter how exhausting. Whatever he orders, you're obligated to do.

You sometimes would wish you'd go back in time to change what you did even though it was the right thing to do. You stood up to Jungkook when he was bullying an innocent boy along with his stupid friends. Ever since then, it was never the same. And as much as you wanted helping that poor boy and you tried, you wished you had stayed hidden to avoid the never ending trouble you are still in to this day.

Libraries. The quiet place you get some peaceful reading aren't so peaceful anymore. He had dropped a damn living spider in your hair causing you to shoot up from your seat abruptly and tried to shaking it off your hair as you screamed on top of your lungs. Turns out, it was fake. He held his stomach, trying hard not to fall off his chair as he laughed so hard while you got kicked out.

Cafeterias aren't a safe place too. Like when he flipped the tray of food all over you as he walked by chuckling as if it was nothing was his normal routine.

Waking up everyday to go to class has been a dreadful experience so far. Or at least until you make it into one. The only time you feel like you could breath a little is when your in class. You were a freshman and he's a third year student so you never had the same class. That's why you started to spend a little more time in class just to catch a break and it was also the reason why Jungkook spread rumors about you sleeping with your professor to get the grades that you got for studying your ass off day and night. It was just traumatizing.

You had thought you'd live the aesthetic college life you dreamed of since highschool ended. But no. Not when Jeon freaking Jungkook was alive.

Gums he'd stick in your hair, trip you over so you'd fall face first, the lies he tells to get you in trouble. It was getting way out of hand but whose gonna tell on Jeon Jungkook? Unless they desperately have a death wish.

Half of freshman year has passed with you leading a horrible life so far. You've definitely decided to transfer to anywhere after the year ends at this point.

_

An ordinary day for you as you let you dark long hair cover you, books clutched in your arms tight, back pack slung over your shoulders as you walked down the hall head held down with your friend beside you continously ranting about something you quiet didn't hear.

*bump*

You crash into a big figure. You sighed thinking it's Jungkook. But you were terribly wrong. You looked up only to find another face. Infuriated one. You looked down to see he was holding an open soda. Which has also spilled all over his white shirt.

"What the fuck?" He spits at you.

"Im- I'm so sorry- I didn't- I wasn't looking"

He takes step towards you giving you a dirty look. "Hey, she apologized. Move along retard" your friend defends you.

"T'fuck did you just call me?" He turns to her and grabs her by the collar of her shirt.

"Hey! Stop it!" You tried defending but-

*SMACK!!*

One back handed slap right across your cheek sent you flying straight to the floor. You felt dizzy from the harsh blow you received. The hall way went silent after gasps where heard here and there. Your vision begin to blurr. Hot tears streamed down your cheek as the man finally let's go your friend and walks over you.

"What the fuck? What was his problem anyway? He got some anger issues or something? Who hits a girl?" Your friend says as you were both sat down in lecture hall waiting to begin the class. Your metal bottle of water on your cheek to ease the stinging pain and burning sensation.

"It's my fate" you chuckled.

"*tsk* girl shut up! We are definitely reporting that psycho. This stupid bullying needs to stop" she shakes her head and scoffs making a mental note for later.

Everyone stole glances at you at school that day as they whispered to eachother. They were surprised that you actually made it alive. You were at the cafeteria to eat lunch. You expected the same bullying there as you held your tray to make it to your table. You peacefully did and it was a miracle.

You did not glance at Jungkook to notice the unusual concerned look he was giving you. But then he was red. In boliong rage as he sat among he's group of friends who were unusually quiet. His eyes followed you as you sat with your friend, long black hair covering your small face and the trauma it has received earlier.

In the midst of your conversation you looked up when you felt a preense and you saw Jungkook towering over you. To say he was infuriated would be a completle and utter understatement. You looked at him back at your friend and back at him as you swallowed.

You were scared. You tried to think what went wrong. What you had done.

"Oh" you say as it clicked and fish through your bag to find the papers "I-Ive done the assignment" you say innocently handing him the papers. Just like always the paper went flying from your hands but this time it was technically his not yours. Frowning a little you got up to collect them but he sat you right back down as he also sits down facing you before pulling you closer to him. You thought you were going to recive another blow today and shilded yourself holding your hands up while squeezing you eyes shut.

"Let me see!" He growls grabbing your face and pushing you hair behind your ear to observe the giant red mark evidence of what he had been hearing the whole morning. His jaw clenched as your tears threaten to spill. His chest heaved with each breath he took and you were finally out of his grasp. Through your blurred vision you could see his figure storming toward the group of guys and picked the one that looked quiet familiar to you. And before you knew it, he was throwing his fists like there was no damn tmorrow.

Few seconds into the fight and a crowd formed around, some students jumped in to separate the two before they killed eachother. Or rather before Jungkook killed him because even though he did take some blows, it was nothing compared to the damage he had done.

You suddenly feel light headed, witnessing the incident that unfolded before you. "Oh my god" was the last thing you whispered before the darkness consumed you completlety and you fell to the floor.

It took your friend a couple of seconds to pull her eyes off the men. She looks to the side and you weren't there where you stood seconds ago. She looks down to see you laying lifeless on the floor.

"Oh my God! Y/n!"

_

You woke up feeling your head aching. You shifted a little before your eyes open to stare at the white ceiling above you. You blink a few times before you pull yourself up and observed your surrounding. Your eyes widen as you found yourself in a completley unfamiliar room, laying on a bed.

You looked around completley baffled by your current situation. You scan around the room. The walls were painted black and the room had a quiet dark aesthetic. But the question was, why were you here?

After ganing full conciouness, you pull yourself off the bed and got up to investigate.

"Careful" you hear a strangely familiar voice. Head snapping towards its direction. And..Jungkook? "You should seat down"

"Wait-What? Who- Why am I- Why are you-? " You couldn't form a proper sentence.

"You passed out, princess" he plainly says and walks toward you where you took a step back as you felt him get closer.

"Here's an idea, how about you spare my life?" You say with a nervous smile. But he only sighs and grabs your wrist. He pulls you towards the bed before he sits you down on the edge. "Do not... move" he says before he leaves the room once again.

So many questions left unanswerd as you sat there afraid and awaited for something to happen. Jungkook was back with an ice pack in his hand. He pulled his chair so he was sat right infront of you. He gently placed the cold pack on your head. The spot you hit as you fell to the floor.

You were utterly confused by Jungkook's sudden behavior. He was acting kind? Towards you?

"What happened?" You ask.

"I told you. You passed out" he says retrieving his hands away "I guess you couldn't handle watching me beat him to death huh" he smirked before placing the ice pack on your head again.

Your eyes widen as you begin to recall the whole situation. He actually did beat a man almost to death and you wonder why he sat here as if nothing happened and why he wasn't in any trouble at school.

"I- I need to leave" you say as he thought he might actually be a psycho.

"You're not leaving, baby. Not unless I make sure you're alright and that dumb fuck is taken care of" he says.

"And since when do you care? Last time I checked, you're not any different than he is" you finally muster up the courage to say which caused him to shot up from his seat and run his fingers through his hair, rage slowly building up.

"That's different, princess, I never lay a finger on you" He explains. As if that makes it okay for him to do what he had done to you all along. And you could've told him that but you were still scared of him so you didn't want to poke the bear.

"Have you eaten anything lately? You look so weak" he squats down infront you and places hand on your for head to check on your temperature then down to your cheek as his thumb rubs circles soothingly.

From some reason your heart skips a beat and your stomach forming knots "Come here" he says not waiting for your answer as he takes your hand in his and pull you out of the room.

He told you to sit on the couch while he brings you food. Minutes pass by and he was seated infront of you with ramen in his hands. "Open up" he orderd. He was actually going to feed you.

"How can I be sure you did not posion that?" You say squinting your eyes at him. Jugkook sighs and rolls his eyes before shoving the noodles on the chopsticks into his mouth. He then begins to feed you. He'd whipe your lips with his thumb whenever you got something on it. He'd push you hair behind your ear and observe you preety face.

Who is he and what has he done with Jungkook? You think to yourself as you were seated there feeling like you're looking at a whole new person. He was taking care of you. And he is your bully, who finds pleasure in making you suffer.

"What's wrong?" He searches for your eyes as you zone out into space "Y/n!"

You suddenly feel a wave of overwhelming emotions hitting you all at once and the urge to leave. "I need to l-leave" you get out of your seat and decide to find your way out of wherever the hell you were.

"Y/n , wait!" He chases behind you.

"Where's my shoes?" You asked but didn't waste another second to wait for his reply determined to leave bare foot if you had to.

"Y/n" he calls once again, softly as his hand grab onto your wrist and pull you back to him. You slammed into his chest.

"Kiss me" he says breathlessly.

"W-What?" You stutter.

"Please?" He pleads with doe eyes as his hand wrap around your waist to pull you more closer if that was even possible.

Before you know it, Jungkook leans down to capture your lips in his. And now he was kissing you? His lips were so soft as he desperately continues to glide them against yours. The lack of oxygen reaching your brain made you feel light headed and your knees weaken. If it wasn't for his strong arms keeping you in place, you would've fallen.

You pushed his chest a little, finally separating your lips and gasping for air. "I'm so sorry Y/n. I'm sorry for everything I put you through" he whispers eyes closed against your lips. Your small hands made their way to cup his face, thumbs dragging down his redden bottom lip.

"Jungkook...." You whisper and he almost let out a whimper at how right it sounded to hear his name coming from your mouth. "I- I can't do this"

He weaknes at your words. He was hurt but tries his best to keep himself collected. "Okay" he says and moves out of your hold before walking away hand gripping into his hair.

You stood there for a second, processing what had just happened and you turned to leave but you stopped at your tracks when you hear drawers being open and slammed shut. You wanted to leave again but you were concerned so you just wanted to check on him.

Walking back, you find him in the kitchen as he gulps down a glass full of alcohol like it was water.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy?" You question feeling a bit concerned at his behavior.

"The fucking door is that way Y/n, leave!" He demands.

"What did you excpect? For me to forgive you so easily? Incase you haven't noticed you've made my life a living hell for half a year" You point out.

"Your absolutely right! I'm the monster here. Nobody argued so please just leave and I won't bother you again-" The man was boiling with utter rage. He did take hits for you, fought for you and took care of you even though It was for one day. But maybe that wasn't enough for your forgiveness. "-ow! fuck" he curses as the glass completley shatters to pieces in his hand from the way he had a grip on it. A piece cut his palm a little. That's how mad the man was.

"Jungkook!" You rush over to see his injured hand.

_

You were almost done cleaning up his wound. It wasn't that bad but it scared you. It also took you a few to drag his ass to the couch because he was so damn stubborn.

"Stop acting like you care Y/n" he says earning a deep chuckle from you.

"I didn't say that and you're my bully" you comment.

"Whatever" he rolls his eyes, head leaned back on the couch.

"There you go. All done. Make sure you don't hold glasses too hard next time" you say with a chuckle and placed a peck on the band aid. He cups your face and pulls you close.

"God you're so beautiful" he breaths.

"And you, my friend, are very complicated" you smile trying to maintain concerned look.

You felt the soft bed against you back as he slowly lays you down, hovering on top and not breaking the kiss. He was gentle and passionate with his kiss and was hard for him to separate from your lips for the past ten minutes.

He kept peppering your whole face with kisses whilst you giggled. You both spent the rest of the night talking while laying in bed. Just you and Jungkook and things you never knew about eachother. Every now and then he'd get close and peck your lips before he continues to talk. His heart would flutter whenever your eyes shined as you talked about things that you loved. You had never thought you'd connect deep to this level with whom you thought was your worst enemy.

"You're not a monster, Kookie" you whisper in a sleepy voice, your eyes closed and you laid there on your chest.

Jungkook beams with smile and turns to look at you, carefully studying your beautiful features and the way you look cute laying on the side of your face.

"What did just call me?" He asks but you were already going into a deep slumber. He leaned in to kiss you once more. "What are you doing to me Y/n-ah"

°

°

© angelic-vibez 2022. Do not edit, repost, translate or copy.

[effervescentdragon]

i saw ur tags about the concert and piarles so i thought to prompt you officially? coldplay concert + piarles

this was a long time ago, anon, i hope you're still around and you like this. @sebsrainbowbicycle this one is for you actually, because this one caught my eye now when we were talking and all i could think was fix you and then yellow <3 this is a mess bcs im tired, imma fix it up sometime.

Pierre doesn't remember how old he was when he first heard the song, or what he wore, or where exactly he was. All he knows is that it made him think of Charles.

That shouldn't have been significant, because even then he knew he thought of Charles a lot more than was probably normal, or expected, or okay. Even then he knew that the way he felt about Charles wasn't how he felt about any of his other friends, or his brothers or cousins. So it shouldn't have been significant, really; except that it was, because the whole song was Charles.

When you try your best, but you don't succeed; that was Charles on the racetrack, winning the race but losing the championship, coming out of his kart and trying not to cry, making Pierre wish he was closer so he could hug him.

When you get what you want, but not what you need; that was Charles getting his wins and his podiums, getting to race as much as possible, and being late or being absent from Pierre's or Arthur's or his maman's birthdays because he was off somewhere in Europe in his kart, flying.

Tears come streaming down your face when you lose something you can't replace; that was Charles with all the unfairness of the world thrown into his face, losing everything except races; Charles with his red-rimmed eyes and sincere smiles, tearing his chest open to the world, because if he showed his bleeding heart first, it wouldn't be a mystery, and they may leave him alone; Charles with his hands shaking reaching for Pierre and asking for something Pierre was always more than happy to give, until the world shook as much as they did.

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep, stuck in reverse; that was Charles sneaking into Pierre's room in France over the summer, elbows and knees sharp as he burrowed into Pierre's bed, eyes huge and shiny in the night, his breathing uneven as he tried to let go of the adrenaline and the fear and the thoughts in his head and finally fall asleep, holding Pierre's hand in his and gone by next morning like an apparition.

When you love someone, but it goes to waste, could it be worse?; that was Charles in his red team, in his red racesuit and his red car, Charles with his red lips and red dreams and red legacy, Charles with his red trophies and red blisters on his palms, rough against the skin of Pierre's neck and so gentle that it made Pierre want to cry sometimes, but he never did, only brought those hands to his lips and kissed them.

Except the song wasn't only Charles; it was Pierre too.

When you're too in love to let it go; that was Pierre, screaming at Charles to go and reaching for him when he finally did, begging him not to leave, not to go, because Pierre never wanted him to go, no matter how many times Charles crashed into him or said stupid things or didn't understand why Pierre still went down to his knees to pray; Pierre never wanted him to leave because Pierre would always love Charles more than he would hate losing, and that is something that won't ever change.

Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, the whole crowd sings, and the lights shine bright in the night, and Pierre only has eyes for Charles. Charles, who is standing right next to him, and who has tears in his eyes, even though they aren't falling; Charles who is singing along, his lips quirked in a small smile; Charles whose hand is so close to Pierre's, he feels it burn; Charles, who is so beautiful, Pierre still can't believe it sometimes, and who wears his victories and defeats with a dignity that Pierre admires, especially since he is the only one who sees him when he is stripped of all of it and finally sincere and true, and loves him either way.

But if you never try, you'll never know just what you're worth; that was Pierre, looking at the phone in their bed, his hands shaking, his lip trembling as Charles lay with his head on Pierre's thigh and said nothing when Alpine called, only smiling softly, shyly, proudly and kissing Pierre's thigh before he left the room to give Pierre some privacy; that was Pierre, all those years ago, reaching for Charles when Charles snuck into his bed once again, not a kid anymore, and finally asking for what he barely allowed himself to think about, and having Charles climb into his lap immediately and finally kiss him like the world didn't exist outside his room in France, and it didn't in that moment, nor in any following moment when it was only two of them alone together.

Charles moves his hand closer to Pierre's as the applause roars, and his pinky finger hooks into Pierre's. Pierre feels the ring on Charles' finger hit his own ring, and imagines hearing the sound which he's heard a million times before, every time he intwined Charles' fingers with his, on planes under the blankets, on the couch as they watched a movie, in bed as he was leaning over Charles, holding his hands above his head.

"And I will try to fix you," Pierre mouths, and Charles' smile widens, because they both know some things aren't meant to be fixed; some things are as they are, not good and not bad, just are, and those things they both choose to accept over and over, and it's never a hardship that isn't worth it in the end.

Another song starts, and they stare at each other for a moment, before Pierre grins, and Charles blushes, because this one; this song is all Pierre, and still all about Charles.

'Look at the stars, look how they shine for you,' everyone sings, and Charles' eyes shine as brightly as the sun, and Pierre mouths "You know I love you so," and Charles nods, and doesn't look away, only squeezes Pierre's finger tighter, their rings aligned, as close as possible.

[itneverendshere]

"this love came back to me." - iv

Pairing: Sunghoon!AU x Reader

Summary: sunghoon never stopped loving his best friend's older sister. even when you broke his heart. even when you left. will he finally let you go or will you finally open up your heart to him?

Chapter word count: 1.649k

CHAPTER WARNIGS: more Angst!! surprise surprise; lots of it; heartbreak; unrequited love; childhood friends; friends to strangers; alcohol; heartache; slowburn!!; angsty af again im sorry lmao.

iv. flashback to eighteen and hurting.

Sunghoon was officially eighteen and he hated it.

They’d thrown him a birthday party. He hated them, but still appreciated the effort put in by his friends. He’d been attending a lot more parties since you left, desperately trying to become something he was not, faking it until he made it. That was the plan anyway.

It wasn’t a healthy mechanism to get over the girl of his dreams, but it was something. Enough to numb the pain away, even if it was for a few hours. He wasn’t getting drunk for the hell of it, especially not tonight.

Sunghoon was getting drunk to numb the hell of it. You were right there, an arm’s reach, home for the holidays before you were swept off again to university and then…to the other side of the world.

Up until a month ago, he was stupid enough to believe he was over you. Well, not over you per se. You were still everything he wanted, he swore he couldn’t love you more than he did back then, but not seeing you as often as before, did help. There wasn’t this constant reminder that he wasn’t yours, he was able to put some effort and attention into other people. But then, Jake opened his big mouth and told him the news.

“She’s leaving for two years; can you believe it?”

No. He couldn’t. One thing was studying three hours away from home, from him…another thing was transferring to a university across the globe. His soul felt thin, and his body trembled and chilled. Because no matter how much he tried to let go, he’d always hoped that you’d come back to him. That you’d finally choose him.

Even in his inebriated state, the news still made him want to cry. He knew he deserved to be chosen, undoubtedly, repeatedly. Was that selfish of him? To want to drag you away from the made-up dance floor in his living room and ask you why.

Why were you still hurting him? He’d tried so hard to let you go. He’d even gotten with other girls. Why were you still everything to him?

He looked at you then, as you grinned widely, jumping up and down to the beat of the song playing, screaming out the lyrics of a song he couldn’t remember the name of. You weren’t drunk, really, slightly tipsy at most. Your arms were wrapped around your best friend's midsection, who jumped up and down with you, hair spinning every way, eyes more dilated with being intoxicated, shining brightly under the colored LED lights that lit up the house. He hadn’t seen you in three months.

Sunghoon felt a crashing wave of feelings erupt everywhere. All at once. 

“You good man?” 

He gulped nervously, plastering a convincing grin on his face, hoping Jay, of all people, wouldn’t notice the slight waver in his voice, “Yeah, a hell of a party, right?”

“Where’s that girl you’ve been seeing?”

“Didn’t invite her.”

Jay shoved his shoulder, “What the fuck? Why would you do that?”

Sunghoon shrugged, “Told her I wasn’t interested.”

“I don’t get it―“, Jay stopped his rant before it even started, eyes flitting between Sunghoon and your figure on the dance floor, “For her?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s not heathy―“

“Shut up,” Sunghoon warned, bringing his cup to his plump lips, an impatient scowl on his face, “It’s got nothing to do with her,”

“Right.”

He couldn’t help but watch you when you were so close, joking with people around you, passing through the crowd with effortless motion, and smiling like there was nothing burdening you. It made him lose his breath. Sunghoon excused himself from Jay, needing to remove himself from where he could see you so clearly. He placed his drink on a table and tried to steady his breathing, head hanging low.

When he did pull his head up, his eyes instinctively lead him in your direction, meeting yours across the room. He held your gaze long enough, eyes softening the slightest as a grin formed on your lips. 

“I’m so fucked” he breathed, eyes traveling down as his heart leapt at the sight of your legs carrying you towards him. God, why did you have to be so beautiful?

“Didn’t think I’d have to compete with an entire crowd to wish you a happy birthday,” You grinned, hands firmly planted on your hips as you came to a stop in front of him.

Your voice. Your softness. He missed you so much.

“I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Sunghoon felt himself blush from your words, a gentle smile plastered on his lips. You leaned back to gaze up at him and wrapped your arms around his much taller frame. 

When did he grow up?

Your hug was stronger than anything he’d ever known or felt, as if holding him wasn’t quite enough, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other around his waist, gripping the material of his shirt on his side, “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

After a few seconds, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze, offering him a tipsy smile, showing slight embarrassment for your inebriated state.

Sunghoon couldn’t help himself. He missed you so much. He took your face in both of his hands, a nostalgic feeling taking over, as he looked closer at your flushed cheeks and puffy eyes with a worried frown, “Didn’t drink too much, did you now?”

You chuckled, “You know I can hold my liquor, I’m just happy to be home.”

Sunghoon kept one hand cupping your cheek and holding the back of your neck, “I’m happy you’re here too.”

You turned your head to break his stare, “How have you been? I feel like it’s been ages since I last saw you. I’m sorry we haven’t texted as much; college has been kicking my ass.”

He said nothing first, just looked at you. You could see the thoughts swirling around, see him decide what he was going to say. His entire demeanor changed, and your heart shattered seeing the tremble on his lips.

And that’s when you realized, he knew. He knew you were leaving, and you didn’t tell him.

“England, uh?”

His stare hit you and you let out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eye, “I was going to tell you.“

“Two years abroad and you forgot to tell me?” His tone was accusing.

You gripped your cup until your knuckles went white, “I didn’t forget.”

Sunghoon abruptly took a step back, making sure there was enough distance between you two. He hated being an asshole to you, but he was on a roll, too far gone to come back down.

“Funny,” he let out, jaw clenched, “You didn’t forget.”

“I wanted to tell you,” You tried again, but he put his hand up immediately.

“No, you didn’t. Because you still see me as the same little kid, who’s too in love with you to see reason.”

You took a step forward suddenly, shock on your face, “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Sunghoon composed himself, lowering his voice, avoiding preying eyes, “You’re lying to yourself.”

You scoffed, giving up entirely, "We're not fighting right now, it's your birthday. You're drunk."

"Still sober enough to understand I’m clearly not a friend anymore,” He tried his best to cut off any feelings from his voice, but he still felt stupid. He was hurting.

"What are you talking about?" Your voice sounded as desperate as you were feeling, "You're the reason I came here in the first place!"

It felt like concrete drying in his chest, "For my birthday, not me. Not because you wanted to, because it was the right thing to do."

“Sunghoon, I care for you,” You let out, tired, “I always have, always will.”

“But you don’t love me.”

You looked guilty, like you felt sick, “Of course I love you. I’m…just not in love with you Sunghoon.”

Why did it hurt so much? He knew. You told him before you left for college. You weren't in love with him. Why did he have to bring it up, again? 

His voice almost failed him when he spoke again, “Is it because I’m younger than you?”

“No,” you blurted out, “I just, don’t Hoon. It’s not your fault.”

The look of realization on his face was enough to crush you. You tried so hard and yet you always ended up hurting him. Sunghoon was drained, it hurt when he realized he wasn’t as important to someone as he thought he was.

“And I’m only here for another week…”

“I get it.”

“Sunghoon.”

Everything about him made you want to burst into tears right there and then. He wasn’t just someone, some random guy…it was Sunghoon. You were torn between walking away or wrapping or arms around him.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to understand.”

The party around you two had long faded. You were surprised no one interrupted your conversation in the small kitchen.

“I think…I think I should stay away from you,” your face dropped even more, if possible, “Whatever this is…this friendship, one-sided love, it ends here.”

A bucket of ice water down your back would have hurt less than hearing his voice in that moment. 

“What?”

“This was what you wanted, right?” his voice raised slightly, his hurt displaying itself as anger. You felt your heart drop, as you caught tears in his waterline, and then he was ready to walk away. 

You grabbed his wrist immediately, “I can’t lose you.”

He tugged his hand away, staring back at you with glassy eyes. You felt your bottom lip tremble, you knew this was going to happen, 

“I’ve stopped being selfish, now it’s your turn,” he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks silently. And he walked away, hand wiping his teary eyes as a group of friends approached him with more drinks.

It was time to play the birthday boy part. 

And as much it hurt, as much it ached, you didn’t run after him. He was right. If letting him go entirely was the only way to save your friendship, you’d do it in heartbeat. Because walking away was the best thing you could do for him.

______________________________________________________________

two updates in less than 48h...who am I? lmao. im sorry it took me so long to write more chapters but my mind was blank, really, nothing seemed good enough to write.

anyways, I hope you enjoy!! can't promise I'll keep posting as fast, bc I probably won't, but fingers crossed.

[starssabove]

Merciful Gods are Dead

[content warning for wounds/wound care, infection, Caretaker Whumper/ something like stockholm Whumpee and Whumper, [breief mentions of/implied] torture.]

How long had it been? It must have been at least 3 days?

Whumpee sat in the suffocating silence of the basement, every second hoping to hear anything that indicated that they werent entirely alone. They had been left a small food supply and things to tend to the wounds that had covered their body when they had been put into this room.

The first night all they could feel was a burning anger and resentment towards Whumper. They were sadistic and lived only to creat pain and torment. They had left Whumpee to tend to their own gaping wounds- wounds they had created with pleasure- in this cold, damp cell where the only light was filtered in the through the crack under the creaky door. They had screamed and yelled- taunting their abuser- calling them a coward and wishing, perhaps not as sarcastic as they had made it sound, that Whumper would finish the job. All Whumpee felt was an enveloping and inescapable searing pain.

By the second night, infection had already found Whumpees wounds. They werent used to having to deal with their own wounds. Whumper would always clean them and sew them and bandage them with no mercy. That process was almost as bad as the torture that had inflicted them. Something about the way they pretended to care- that they were only helping Whumpee; At least when Whumper tortured Whumpee, they did it with confidence and Whumpee knew it was all because they enjoyed it. The way they laughed when Whumpee would cry was enough to know. Pretending to care didnt suit them one bit.

The infection brought a new kind of pain. It wasnt white hot and searing, it was warm and sticky and it brought a dull ache into all of their muscles and bones. They couldnt stand it. They knew they needed help, needed to treat the wounds before the infection spread to every inch of their skin, but they knew they werent capable of it in their state. Desperation was starting to fill their chest, and warm tears found their way out of Whumpees eyes. They were so lonely. It was so silent.

Day three they jolted awake from yet another dream replaying Whumpers torture sessions. Whumpee quickly became aware of the sweat that drenched their few pieces of clothing, and the fever that swept through their body. Shit. All they could do was sit on the floor in the silence and cold. They could try to sleep thought they knew their dreams would be ravaged by Whumper.

Whumpee couldnt do this anymore. They were shaking and their skin felt tight and sticky and everything hurt. The pain was no longer tied to their cuts and bruises, it spread to every inch of them no matter how much they tried to clean the wounds or rebandage them. They couldnt do this anymore. They were so lonely. They no longer felt the anger towars Whumper that had consumed them on the first night.

At least Whumper was kind enough to bandage their wounds for them- to spare them from this unprecedented pain. Yes, they were rough and yes, their comforting whispers felt stale and wrong escaping from grossly smiling lips, but they were merciful.

Whumpee opened their mouth and tried to support their voice the best they could with their skin feeling tight around their bones,

“Hey, Whumper? Ill be good now, I promise.” They manage. Nothing happened.

“Thank you for helping me with my wounds normally. You're kind to me, sir.”

They hear footsteps.

The first sound in 3 days makes their heart practically stop. They had done it. They were going to be okay. Whumper was going to help them. Whumpee lets the tension that has kept their muscles tight for the last few days go.

The door opens with the sound of keys and loud creak. Whumpers footsteps echo as they move to the center of the room where Whumpee lays, sweating.

“Now theres a good boy. Im glad youve learned to be grateful towards me.” Their sickening smile already creeps across their lips.

“Please help me, sir” Whumpee chokes out. “It all hurts. Please.”

Whumper takes a moment to consider, and then moves Whumpee into a sitting position, supporting their weight. They lift up Whumpees shirt to examine the wounds on their stomach and back- only half of what was on their body. Whumpee shivered as the cold of the cell hit their burning skin and they felt vioilated by how casually Whumper had stripped them. They felt some anger reignite in their stomach. They remembered just how much of a sick bastard Whumper was. They werent the god that was here to help them. Whumper wasnt assessing the damage, they were admiring their own handiwork.

When Whumper swooped Whumpee into their arms, walking towards the exit of their prison, that fire died once again. They were being helped. And they would have to take what they could get. They let out a few whimpers and Whumpers arms pushed against their now throbbing wounds.

“Shh darling, its gonna be okay now. Im gonna patch you up.” They planted a small kiss on Whumpees forehead.

The whisper was stale and wrong coming from Whumpers smiling mouth, but Whumpee was starting to learn they were going to have to take what they could get. They said a small thank you.

-----

Thanks so much for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated! -Ant :)

[dreamwritesimagines]

It’s CMA-

I’m already planning to yell at you and I haven’t even started the chapter yet. in preparation: DREAM WHAT THE FUCK. Okay now that that’s out of the way, im going to go read it.

Ugh I hate her dad so much.

Aw sister bonding! And their aunt and uncle being protective; you love to see it.

I don’t love the idea that Josie thinks that part of the reason clover got married is to protect herself from their parents because I’m worried she’ll say that to Benedict and crush him. I mean he already thinks that she’s only with him to avoid angering the ton but still.

FUCK CLOVER DONT LIE TO HIM. YOU NEED TO TALK TO HIM!!!!!!!!!! DONT TRY TO PROTECT HIS FEELINGS PROTECT YOURSELF. Ugh Ben is going to be so upset when he finds out.

Going from holding her own wrist out of fear to squeezing his for reassurance (for his or hers, I couldn’t really say). I love the thought that instead of squeezing hands or whatever they squeeze each other’s wrists. The entire concept is so poetic I just-

SCREAMING FUCK CLOVER NO FUCK NO FUCK NO FUCK NO FUCK NO FUCK NO NO NO NO DONT SELF DESTRUCT FUCK FUCK FUCK

(I am hoping and praying that she has more of the seeds somewhere but I am so scared. This is going to crush Ben and her when she realizes what she’s done)

I wonder if instead of a party, it was a nice dinner for the two of them because he noticed she was sad….

Fuckkkk Ben didn’t come home?????? This is so devastating dream fuck no. I’m not even done reading and I’m already screaming for the next chapter

Shit she’s tearing him apart. Holy fuck clover I get that you’re stressed but for the love of god shut the fuck up.

Look I love to commend you for your ability to write drama and emotional scenes without making it a soap opera which is still definitely the case, but this is so much worse than a soap opera. This feels like being personally stabbed in the gut over and over and over again.

This is painful and raw and personal and emotional and tragic. My heart is absolutely aching for them right now. And the absolute whiplash that Ben went through………. He’s going to be a wreck

I actually think that contrary to what clover thinks that he will actually stop creating art because he’ll be too upset, which I think would be a really interesting twist. Instead of the pain she causes being the reason for her art, she’ll have to realize that it’s because of the joy she brings to his life.

And it’s true that by any measure he’s had an easier life than her, but to say that his pain and suffering isn’t just as valid is so cruel and invalidating; suffering is not a competition.

Also Ben has been through a lot. Besides the obvious part of his dad dying, he’s constantly being told how he’s the spare, how he’s second string and not as important.

He’s being told that how he loves his life doesn’t really matter compared to Anthony. He’s like the personification of the ‘nothing matters (/pos) vs nothing matters (/neg)’. I’m sure he’s struggled with the latter at some points as well. Even when he’s come to terms with it, there are still moments like when Anthony went to the duel where he has a crisis of faith.

Ugh idk why you said we might be mad at Ben…. Maybe in future chapters but def not this one. I can exactly blame clover but I’m kind of going to blame clover….

CMA hi darliiiing! ❤️

Lolll oh I knew you would be yelling at me for sure 😂

Josie and Clover will always be there for each other❤️ So will their aunt and uncle ❤️

Oh I don't think Josie thinks that or will tell Benedict that, no worries🥰 She thinks Clover married for love, but still thinks it's also an advantage that she married especially now that her parents can't drag her back to their home 😏

Squeezing wrist thing yeeees! ❤️ It's their way of holding hands and it'll be adorable 🥰

I think she planted all the seeds in the vase actually 😏 Buuut will the gardener throw the vase away? 😏 Or will he keep it?😁

Nopeeee, he was too busy partying so he didn't come home 😈

Clover did NOT hold back 💔

Omg darliiiing this is so sweet of you! ❤️ I really enjoy angst and it's wonderful to hear that I could reflect those emotions ❤️😍

That would definitely be an interesting twist and it would shock Clover! 😱

And it’s true that by any measure he’s had an easier life than her, but to say that his pain and suffering isn’t just as valid is so cruel and invalidating; suffering is not a competition. This is so true!

But Clover thinks it is 😏 That's what she told Benedict about her and Josie's childhood, how Josie had it worse than her 💔 So I think she made herself believe it, and now that she snapped, she ended up saying all that to Benedict 💔

And that's another thing Clover needs to realize, that Benedict's life wasn't "perfect" even if it looked like it was ❤️

They will both be so so heartbroken in the next chapter 😏😈

Thank you so so much for this! ❤️❤️❤️

[creationsofimaginationsblr]

You called it a station.

I've heard that somewhere before, haven't I?

I'm sure I have.

But a station.

We see different stations,I think.

But the station changes so much,

So perhaps I've been at your station.

Maybe we all have different stations,

And there are those of us like living trains.

The ones who wake 

Breathing the same are we do,

Living similar mundane

Or extraordinary lives, perhaps,

But when we let out eyes close 

We are here.

Another station,

Or perhaps just a different stop.

We lie in what until we wake again,

Somehow lost on all these wrong platforms, where we certainly shouldn't be alone, but here we are.

Or maybe it's not like that at all.

It would be a little foolish to think that way.

A little self centered to think I could ever share a stage with you. 

Or perhaps wishful thinking?

It doesn't matter.

Maybe the station changes a lot.

You knew that trains ran down your worn track ,

Dull amber lights buzzing in a station that seemed to stretch into an endless void in each direction that seemed to randomly produce an old rumbling train.

I never knew trains that ran down these tracks,

No matter how it looks.

The wear and new scratches on these tracks suggest history,

But they merely feel like an aesthetic choice. 

I can taste the metal as I run my fingers over it,

Taking time to memorize the feeling of each million scratches.

I usually see plants when I draw it. 

But most of the time I see an empty platform, bathed in inky darkness.

There should probably be a light source here,

Some sort of lamps or moonlight, or something,

The dull amber and blue white hues suggest lamps and low hung light fixtures, both new and old, but I can't see them.

I see no other faces here,

No trains,

There is noise occasionally,

I know there must be trains that pass through,

Perhaps when i wake,

Because I feel the gust of winds that mark their wake,

And I can see the fragments of light dancing over my glasses and I know across my face, suggesting the idea of zooming windows, 

I know what it must look like,

But I'm not sure if that's just my overactive mind or the actual truth of the situation.

It's cold on my platform, 

The ideas of winter driving through the air,

Forcing each breath to burn through your lungs, like a glass of water after chewing mint gum and brushing your teeth.

I think I have a coat,

But that can only help so much.

I can see my breath,

A low cloud that must blur my face to any passerbys,

If there were any.

But in my art, when I recall outside of dreams,

I find a broken down station,

Sunlight streaming from the broken roof,

Vines climbing across each surface they can,

I am in a train car when im there, 

Sat in a ripped leather seat,

Its not as quiet there,

I can imagine the far off birds,

But it is actually still silent,

But instead of a fear of the loneliness, and darkness,

I see the sun and hop from my little car, set on adventure.

I humm and sing,

I kick stones.

But it's still lonely,

And so so still.

It's always still.

I'm always still.

I am stuck on a platform,

I am stuck in an empty station.

What if you're more right than you know?

Maybe this will be our limbo?

Maybe our hell?

Or maybe I mean it'll just be mine.

A breathing ghost wandering grand halls, with no company other than itself.

It'll humm

And sing

And maybe scream 

And cry a little.

Maybe that's okay.

Maybe I'm already a living ghost,

A tired heart that lies weak in my chest.

I wonder how I got here,

But the question still makes my head hurt.

I'll sit near the edge of these tracks,

And try to catch my breath.

I don't know if i'll keep walking tonight,

Or if i'll just try to get some rest,

Or if i'll ever be on my own platform tonight,

But maybe I'll remember that,

Despite it hurting,

I can still breathe.

Maybe that's enough to continue distinguishing me from a ghost.

Whether that's a good thing,

Or maybe a bad thing,

I don't know.

But maybe that's enough.