#( man up for anything except therapy )

[novadreii]

hold up. pause.

i couldn't get 15 minutes into the finale without crying. had to stop and write this. my heart SO goes out to marissa! i relate to her so hard, having been in a weirdly similar situation to her. was also with a two-faced performative leftist Nice Guy who looooooved that i'm a Strong Woman with intense energy in the beginning, and once we moved in together decided actually, i was too much. EERILY similar to ramses.

"that's what every guy feels. they love the first few months of dating me, cause the energy is so fucking great. like i get it, i've heard that before." i wanted to hug her so badly!!!! it's the most vile feeling on earth for someone to use the reasons they used to love you as the reasons they don't anymore.

meanwhile, marissa sees their difference in vibe/energy (ramses being the "calmer" one and marissa being the more intense one) as something to be celebrated and just worked around where consideration is needed. her love supersedes and she doesn't have a need to be in a relationship with someone who is exactly fucking like her.

the poor girl was so shooketh. she couldn't believe how suddenly he changed his mind, from one minute loving everything about her and wanting to get married to wanting to break up the next. god, i understand the whiplash from that shit. she is going to need therapppyyyyyyyy.

we as women need to stop thinking that men are just having a great time in a relationship with us if they haven't brought anything up!! they do not communicate the way we do. women being quiet = everything is fine. men being quiet = everything MIGHT be fine, but he could just as equally be deeply unhappy and plotting his escape/affair. they actually are sociopathic in that they can act like they love us to placate us while they find a way to fade out of the relationship. us women know that if we're done we can't even touch him anymore!

i'm so tired of seeing the pure love of women be fucking corrupted by user men. please understand that a man's emotional landscape may as well be an alien planet, they do not experience love the way we do at ALL. women love unconditionally, faithfully, like mothers. a man's love is conditional to the dopamine he gets from your presence. that's it. and because dopamine and therefore feelings fade in and out, you point blank cannot trust a man to stay by your side throughout all of your seasons of life.

maybe he's good for right now, sure, but don't depend on him being in the picture long term. imagine when you give birth and experience physical and emotional changes, or if you go through an illness, experience a personal loss, etc. most men will not hesitate to cut you loose the moment you don't make him feel good 24/7 anymore and need to lean on HIM. they don't want to be depended on, because dependence = expectations, and expectations = control = loss of freedom to a man. there is nothing more important to a man than the freedom to do whatever the fuck he pleases at all times.

please watch this show as a way to better understand how duplicitous men operate. i don't care if you don't watch reality tv bc you're better than that, neither do i, but this show is the exception.

every SINGLE man on the cast this season has displayed GIANT red flags from day 1 IF you know how to look. there isn't a single man on S7 who i would say is real husband material. whether it's being a liar, unfaithful, hiding things about their pasts, and being actual man children who have never had to lift a finger in their entire lives, it's clear this season that the casting of the men was meant to be a cautionary tale.

[chicago-geniza]

Shoutout to my mother for taping HOW TO UNLOAD THE DISHWASHER instructions to the front of the dishwasher, it has taken many years but at long last she has gotten the general gist of my brain problems (she was married to my dad and shared a room with my aunt growing up, after all) and is being genuinely helpful in material and meaningful ways. Thenk u momther 4 my ADL assistance

[starbberryblue]

collection of my absolute favorite tags from this incredible post:

Candace and doofenshmirtz would be tumblr mutuals i think

[gentlethorns]

sigh. i love being chronically ill and not really knowing the root cause. like yeah i have pcos, inflammatory arthritis, degenerative disc disease, but i personally have an opinion that these things are all linked by something that is not diagnosed yet. there are other symptoms and shit i experience that don't have diagnoses yet that i also feel are connected. but even if i had a diagnosis it wouldn't change that i always feel like shit anyway. literally it's always something whether it's that i feel nauseous or have a debilitating headache or my neck is so tense i can't turn my head or my back is stiff and painful or the nerves in my spine are compressed and causing pain or my hormones are fucked up and making me miserable or etc etc etc. i think back to three or four years ago when i was able to be active and social and engage in hobbies bc i was healthy and not in constant moderate to severe pain and that person from back then is someone i don't even recognize anymore. i don't know if she's who i am and current me is the stranger or if the person i am now is who i'll be for the rest of my life.

[inkskinned]

the thing about some men is that they want you to remember, at all times, that you are underneath them. that with one word or look or "joke", you will stay beneath them. that even "exceptions" to the rule are not true exceptions - the commonly cited statistic that one in eight men believe they could win against serena williams.

women's gymnastics is often not seen as real gymnastics. whatever the fuck non-euclidian horrors rhythmic gymnasts are capable of, it's often tamped down as being not a sport. some of the most dominant athletes in the world are women. nobody watches women's soccer. despite years of dancing and being built like a fucking brick, men always assume they're faster and stronger than i am. you wouldn't like what happens when they are incorrect. once while drunk at a guy's house i won a held-plank challenge by a solid minute. the party was over after that - he became exceedingly violent.

what i mean is that you can be perfect, and they still think you're ... lacking, somehow. i hope you understand i'm trying to express a neutral statement when i say: taylor swift was the possibly the most patriarchy-palatable, straight-down-the-line woman we could churn out. she is white, conventionally attractive, usually pretty mild in personality. say what you will about her (and you should, she's a billionaire, she can handle it), but a few things seem to be true about her: 1. she can write a damn catchy song, and 2. the eras tour truly was a massive commercial success and was also genuinely an impressive feat of human athleticism and performance.

i don't know if she deserves the title of "woman of the year," i'm not debating that in this post. what i am saying is that she was named Woman of The Year, and then an untalented man got onstage at the golden globes and made fun of her for attending her boyfriend's football games. what i am saying is that this woman altered local economies - and her dating life is still being made into a "harmless" punchline. the camera panned, greedy, over to her downing a full glass of champagne. congratulations taylor! you are woman of the year! but you are a woman. even her.

fuck, man. write better material.

a guy gets onstage at a college graduation and despite the fact like half the crowd is made up of women, he spends a significant proportion of it warning these people - who spent possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on their education - that they were lied to. that the "real" meaning of femininity is motherhood. that they shouldn't rest on the laurels of that education-they-paid-for but instead throw it away to kneel at a man's heel. imagine that. sweating in your godawful polyester gown (that you also had to pay for!), fresh out of 4 years of pushing yourself ever-harder: and some guy you've never met - who knows nothing about you - he reminds you this "win" is a pyrrhic one at best. you really shouldn't consider yourself that extraordinary. you're still a woman, even after years of study.

god forbid you are not a pretty woman, but if you are pretty, you must be dumb. god forbid you are not ablebodied or white or cis or straight or good at swallowing. you must be beneath a man, or else they are not a man. the equation for masculinity seems to just be: that which is not a woman or womanly (god forbid). anything "feminine" is thereby anathema. to engage in "feminine" things such as therapy, getting a hug from a friend, or crying - it is giving up ones manhood. therefore women need to be put in their place to ensure that masculinity is protected.

this is something i have struggled to explain to terfs - they are not doing the work of feminism, but rather the patriarchy. by asserting that women and men must be (on some secret level) oppositional and in conflict, they also assume that being a woman is akin to being another species. but bigotry does not stem from observational truths or clarity - that is what makes it bigotry. there was nothing in my childhood that made me fundamentally different from my brother. we are treated differently nonetheless. to assert there is some biological drive that enforces my gender role is to assert that women have a gendered role. men do not see women as equal to them not because of biological reality - but instead because the core tenant of the patriarchy is that women aren't full, realized people.

we are told from a very young age to excuse misbehavior as a single man's choice - not all men. it is not all men, just that one guy. all women are gold-digging bitches who belong in the kitchen - but if a man is mean, bigoted, or violent to you, it's just that particular guy, and that means nothing about men-as-a-whole. it is only one guy who got mad when you gently rejected him. it is only one guy who warns her this trophy is heavy, are you sure you can hold it? it is only one guy who smashes her face into the cake. it is only one guy talking into a mic about hating our bodily autonomy.

i have just found that they often wait until the moment we actually seem to be upstaging them. you sit in a meeting where you're presenting your own findings and he says get me a coffee? or you run to the end of the marathon and are about to finish first and he pushes your kids out in front of you. you win the chess game and they make some comment akin to well, you're ugly away. we can be the billionaire and get the dream life and finally fucking do it and yet! still! they have this strange, visceral urge to say well actually, if you think you're so great -

it's not one just one guy. it's one in eight.

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

"I'm angry at you" Tim forces out.

It's been a long time coming, the words that have been circling his mind for years. Rotting the back of his throat.

Jason is Bruce's son in a way that he will never be. It's just a simple fact.

Maybe he could have picked a different time maybe a family dinner wasn't the place, but he was the one that spent year's of his life having to dodge bullets and murder attempts. He had to spend month's in physical therapy after the tower.

The place he felt safe was ripped away because Jason who is traumatized he hasn't forgot that fact, decided to hunt him down and hurt him.

Maybe Robin isn't a child, but Tim Drake was.

He turns to Bruce who's face is of course blank he's the one who wants Jason here yet not an emotion in sight.

Turns back to look Jason in the eye the man who's sitting next to Damian sometimes he wonders if Alfred does it on purpose a way to remind Tim that his murderers will always have something he doesn't.

He will look him in the eye he will not falter today.

"I was a child, I should have never been the exception to your rule. Say what you will about Robin being something else but you didn't care about Robin you cared it was me"

Silence it's funny how comforting it can be.

"I should not have to sit at the same table as two of my attempted murderers and pretend that it's ok. You are both traumatized I understand that but it will never be an excuse for traumatizing me. I see the Red hood and Robin in my nightmares."

He turns to look at Dick who as always is to the right of him once again pointing to Alfred doing this seating on purpose.

"You are a hypocrite who has never shut up about drying but goes out his way to kill another Robin."

He sees Alfred step forward closer to Bruce he wonders what the point is will he say anything, not likely but why move he almost asks yet if he doesn't finish he never will.

"This was your home first it still is, but I have bled and given more than you will ever know to secure my place here. So Bruce I do not ever want to partnered with either one of them in the field. You or Dick are the only options. You will not argue with me this is me laying my boundaries which I am entitled to."

He stares at Alfred loosing the blank look to let some of the anger out. He wants him to know.

"You will also never again force me to sit at a dinner table across from them again. Whatever British Passive-Aggressive gesture this is. You have no right to do. I will never forgive you for my birthday."

Dick goes to interrupt he doesn't let him.

"Bruce and Alfred have my full permission to discuss the psychological torture they put me through as my birthday present. But from now on none of you get to treat me as if I am some replacement or placeholder. I am a person with feelings, I will not be treated like a doormat."

He makes eye contact with each of them Alfred, Bruce, Jason and Damian.

Before turning to Dick for the last part.

"You are the only person here who has never deliberately hurt me, your my brother and I love you. I want to spend more time with you and I am specifically requesting that you come with me when I leave this table. We can get dinner or hang out but I need you to leave with me."

----------

Bruce is speechless.

How did he do this, his child is sitting at his table trembling and he can't move.

His child who just spent ten minutes defending himself and he is doing nothing.

Dick interrupts what he can admit is a pity party.

"Your my brother, I will happily follow you to the ends of the earth and if we leave now we can go to the Thai place that you like."

He can't let them leave he has to say something.

Tell Tim that he loves him, that he can fix this that this isn't the end. That it matters but before he can there gone.

His boys leave.

His precious sons, one loyal to a fault and one hurt beyond measure and what did he do nothing.

What he always does nothing.

[redflowersociety]

Saying “I Love You” for the first time. - Mouthwashing HC

These are written with the pretense that… THEY LIKE U BACK!! (Except for Swansea cause he’s married…sorri) THIS WAS SO PAINFUL CAUSE I WAS WRITING THEM IN PARAGRAPHS AND THEN… boom. 1000+ words lost. Never writing on tumblr again, rookie mistake. Anyways, enjoy!! Promise next post will be higher effort

Curly (Pre-Crash)

He’s quick to make a teasing comment on your unprofessionalism, confessing to your captain and all. But he’s honestly super flustered and trying not to grin like a kid on Christmas Day.

He takes a moment to sit with it. It’s likely that you two would have made advances toward each other for a while, as Curly is the type to take things slow if he’s serious. After a year of pining, you two were finally dating! But hearing those words from your lips brought him to such happiness because he knew you meant it unconditionally, without expecting anything from him.

After this instance, it became common practice for both of you to remind the other of your love. Curly had never been a “words-of-affirmation” kind of guy, but this was an exception. “I love you” turned into his favorite phrase, as it was the perfect way to release the tension building in his heart from just how badly he had fallen for you.

Curly (Post-Crash)

He honestly couldn’t believe that you could stomach looking at him, let alone still sit with romantic feelings for him. It brought him to tears when he heard it, unable to comprehend how somebody could show him such boundless affection and care. He wasn’t used to unconditional love.

He forced himself through the immense pain to slur the words back, and that’s when you began to cry. He forced it out again and again, until you convinced him through pleading not to speak. You knew how much it hurt him, so you assured him that knowing was enough. You didn’t need the reassurance.

Upon your return to Earth, Curly not only had surgeries to make his face a little more structurally sound, but he had attended speech therapy to make up for the years he spent in near silence. One of the first things he learned was your name, and then “I love you.” It brought you to tears hearing it again for the first time in so long. It was okay though, as he could hold you in his scarred arms as long as you needed to cry it all out.

Daisuke

At first, he thought you were being silly. “Aww, I love you too,” he giggled. It wasn’t until you spoke up again with a more serious tone that he realized, and you swear you’d never seen a man turn red so fast. He was so taken aback, asking you at least five times if you were serious and if you were sure. Once his nerves were satisfied, he returned the gesture.

“I love you too. Like a lot, a lot. Soooo much. Like, I really thought I was tweaking out or something from like, the way my whole body would go numb around you and my brain would get fuzzy-“ his drawn out explanation on how his romantic feelings for you overwhelmed him made you laugh. Within the next day, you two were dating.

Even before you two got together, Daisuke ranted to anybody who would listen about just how perfect you were. Now? Oh, man. Swansea has been really considering throwing him out into space after hearing about your confession for the twentieth time from his loud-ass mouth.

Anya

It was honestly a relief to her that you had said something first. She had been trying her best to stay professional, but seeing you all the time, your smile and laugh, the way you spoke passionately about what you loved; it made it harder every day as she fell further for you. You were one of the first people she grew close to on the Tulpar, and the first she went to when Jimmy… did what he did. The trust between you both was ample and strong.

She was quick to say it back, like it was a breath of air she’d been holding in way too long and needed out. You two laughed from the sheer relief on her face, teasing her thoroughly about it. She didn’t hesitate to grill you right back for being the one who confessed first. It shut you up pretty fast. You both agreed within the hour to start dating!

There were mixed reactions among the crew. Some extremely supportive, and then some straight up bitter and resentful (Jimbo). Jimmy began to treat you especially cruelly, and you refused to stand by and let it happen. Curly also helped to defend you when he could, seemingly coming to his senses about Jimmy’s behavior. You could tell that Anya felt intense guilt for your pain, but you assured her that it wasn’t her fault. It was your decision to date her knowing everything you did. You were happy by her side. She certainly cried over that privately, completely enamored.

Swansea

Swansea is married, so he knew to take your words in a familial sense. He didn’t return it, saying something like, “You’d better kid. With all I do for you.” But when you him on his lonesome in the utility room? Yeah, he smiled about it.

f you had a bad childhood due to your parents, Swansea could tell pretty quick. He never considered it his problem, but even still, he took you under his wing with Daisuke. He wanted to give you guidance in the ways he knew how. You deserved that, at least. He would go out of his way to help you when you needed, mostly with solving practical problems. He had never been the most emotionally aware, but he tried with you. He figured even if he couldn’t assist you much, it’d be good practice for his daughter on the way.

That’s not to say he never had any advice. He struggled to comfort, but he was quick to pick up on your mistakes and told you the blatant truth. You appreciated that, even if he was harsh at times, cause it helped you become a better person.

Jimmy

Your confession was certainly an ego boost, but nothing past that. He couldn’t believe that you could say something like “I love you” to someone like him without there being pity behind it. Even still, he returned the gesture because he knew that getting with you would make you so much easier to use. He took the opportunity.

The entire crew, aside from you two, were completely flabbergasted when they found out you two were together. Swansea was quick to ask “Why,” hoping to understand the reason behind such a horrible decision on your part. He didn’t get a good answer from you. Anya felt such pity for you, sure that a good person like you had been manipulated into that position. Even still, she couldn’t help you without putting herself in danger, so she kept her distance.

After the crash, Jimmy took out all his frustrations on you in private through abuse: sexual, physical, verbal, and however else he felt in the moment. Nobody was confused when you started wearing more covering clothes beneath your uniform. Swansea was the only one to really step up against Jimmy when he found that he was hurting you. You had to beg Swansea not to kill Jimmy for that alone, and even still, jimmy got a beating. Daisuke checked on you as much as possible, worrying constantly for your well being. Curly found your relationship to be one more thing to feel guilt over, as he once again couldn’t do a single thing to protect somebody from him.

[icarusredwings]

The thing about Thoschei that's so funny is that these are literally all the same people, meaning technically these are all the same ship.

We have these two. Yes? We know twissy. We love twissy.

We have spy doc, yeah? We love spydoc.

We have our beloved/beloathed Simmten. Everyone loves simmten.

We even have whatever these two weirdos had going on.

BUT - Have you ever ever thought about what would happen if you mixed them up? It feels illegal (as in, 'These two specifically are a bonded pair, do not separate' joking matter), but think about the chaos implications.

Can you fucking imagine if you shoved THIS man (6) with Simm! Master? Someone's gonna regenerate. Im not sure who yet. Mel's definitely gonna scream at him, though.

"Ello dear friend do you mind coming along and-"

"Why the fuck do you look like that?"

"Like what??"

"Like a unicorn stomped on you, ate you and puked you back up!"

"You don't like it? What's wrong with it? Is it the hair?"

"Is it the?- NO YOU MORON!"

Or Missy with 9? The amount of arguments and pouting- A lot of sarcastic banter. Maybe a hissy fit. A sissy slap fight if you will because deep down he would care if she got hurt so wouldn't actually ever hit her but would say some pretty mean things.

"Fine! Then go to your room!"

"I'll do no such thing! And you can't make me!"

"Then die! See if I care!"

"Only if you let me kill you first!!"

"Try! See what happens!"

"You dare hit a lady??"

"Pft- I'd hardly call you a lady..."

Yana! Master and 13? Tinker buddies! (They're basically in a love triangle with Chantho)

Roberts! Master with 15? I have a feeling this would kinda slap. Idk why, but I just do.

"So. What so you think?"

"Oh! Sister yes!!"

"... I am neither your sibiling.. nor a woman..?"

"Its an expression babes."

"Why are you calling me such affections??"

I feel in my gut that these two would get along decently well, except this time 12 is the bad influence, not him. If anything, it would consist of 12 showing him earthling things.

"...So.. Uno.."

"Yes."

"I have to have one card left..?"

"Yes."

"...why don't I just throw away my other cards?"

"That's against the rules I think."

"Says who?"

"Says... well... says.. the rules." 💁

Dhawan! Master and 10? 10 could fix him within an episode. I'm sure of it. Hell 14 could fix him. Might take a little longer, though. Dhawan would make tea for him after they go to therapy together. Their therapist says they should work on their co-dependency, but they think she just "doesn't get their dynamic"

I think it would be really funny if we shoved 4 with missy too. Sarah Jane and her would have so much beef. It would be unreal. I do think that Dhawan would be fond of K9 the most though, and Simm would probably be the type to get jealous of a robotic dog...

[creepsterdreams]

heyyy, is it okay to ask for touchstarved li's with a reader who's a hugger? Just something fluffy for the soul. Thankss :D

Fluff is always a win in my book✨plus I have a feeling some of them absolutely LOVE hugs even if they don’t admit it themselves

I hope you enjoy anon! Your very welcomeee ^_^

TOUCHSTARVED headcanons: MC who’s a hugger

Cw: tooth aching fluff, Vere and Mhin being meanies at first, some mentions of violence, some suggestiveness from Vere

LEANDER

You picked just the right man for this

He could be having an entire conversation with someone and if he sees you rushing towards him he opens his warms with a huge smile on his face and waits for you to jump on him

And he will excuse himself and casually walk away with you in his arms

“Excuse me please, it seems someone needs my attention.😁”

The fact that you are a hugger only makes him fall even MORE in love with you

BEAR HUGS

Uses any and every possible excuse to have his arms on or around you

Sitting at the bar of the Wet Wick? He’s draped himself over your body and is cuddling into your nape

Just succeeded at the smallest thing? He’s lifting you up and twirling you around

Just seeing you for the first or last time that day? Your both huddled up and swaying back and forth for at least 5 whole minutes

He’s blackout drunk? Will literally drag you around wherever with an arm around you

It irritates almost everyone around you but they don’t have the heart to say anything about it

You know except Vere, Mhin, and Ais probably-

The amount of times they’ve walked in on you two damn near molded into one, they lost count

“Should we let you two be so you can keep humping each other?” - Vere

Cue Leander’s embarrassed laughing

That still doesn’t stop him though

But in all honesty he loves the fact that you love hugs

Because that means he can be as affectionate as he wants with you :>

But it also means that whenever he’s sad mode he can just…flop into your arms and lay his head on your chest

Trust him when he says that no therapy can top the feeling of your arms wrapped around him while you gently rub his back

Will totally NOT use physical affection as a way to get what he wants

Please hug this man I can tell that he needs it

AIS

Whew boy…this one’s a doozy

He has the option to just hug you back and go about his day, but then again this is Ais we're talking about he refuses to NOT tease you

He see’s you running up to him, opened arms preparing to jump on him and he stands there, not doing a damn thing

He fully allows you to just tackle him and stand there with your arms around him

He stares down at you with that same smug grin

“Feeling touchy today, sparrow?”

Now just because he’s teasing you doesn’t mean he doesn’t like the hugs

In fact he l o v e s them

The rare days he actually does decide to reciprocate the affection he doesn’t let you go for as long as he can

He’s walking into the wet wick with your legs wrapped around his waist and arms on his shoulders, his hands sitting right underneath your butt securing you in his embrace

All everyone can do is just stare at him like “this fucking guy”

CUDDLE PILES WITH THE SOULLESS

Especially princess

The days where it’s extremely cold or he’s just feeling lovey dovey you’ll spend hours huddled up at the seaspring with princess laying across both of your laps and the rest of the soulless surrounding you

Like Leander, uses any possible reason to hug you like it’s the last time he’ll see you

Will walk up to you and lift you up with one arm to spin you around

Do not say your too heavy. He will challenge you on that

The last thing you hear before being lifted up is a raspy “come ‘er you”

The worse days where the voices of the hive mind are clouding any of his own thoughts and making him more loopy than usual, your arms is usually the first thing he seeks

Standing there for long periods of time, his body simply draping itself onto you, his head buried deep into your neck, all he needed was the feeling of your own arms around him, your face pressed against his chest

And just maybe if you listened close enough, you could hear what sounded like purring

KURAS

Hmm

Hmmmmm

I get the feeling that at first he would be caught off guard, not used to the feeling of someone clinging onto him so often

For some time he simply chuckles whenever you hug him and gives you a slightly awkward pat on the back before you pull away

But once he actually starts getting used to your affection, he’s more than happy to give it right back :>

Unlike the others who are fully prepared and have arms waiting for you, this tall man instead stands there with absolutely no intention of moving

He lets you run to him and pull him into a tight hold, paying no attention to what’s happening around him as he rests his hand on the small of your back, gently rubbing it

He never explicitly states that he loves or hates the hugs, but he does never pull away whenever you do it

If you happen to be at the clinic whenever he’s dealing with a patient and you wanted a hug he would tell you as gently as possible to wait a moment

“Give a minute would you my dear, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Very soft but very firm <3

Does not give a fuck if other people say something about your excessive hugging

He’ll give them a harsh side eye but otherwise say nothing about it 

If there is any chance he wants a hug back, he won’t directly say it, but he will make it known he wants one

Walks up to you and simply says “my love” before grabbing you by the hand to pull you close

It’s sudden, but that doesn’t make it any less wholesome

The kind of man to let you run up and hug him with all of your strength and simply continue the conversation he was having

Imagine one rare night he decides to bring out his wings and wraps them around you to add to the hug

Probably one of the few cases where he’s brought out his wings that wasn’t for “other” reasons

VERE

Wheeewwww all I have to say is, good luck

If you thought Ais was bad with the teasing, Vere will do you one better

The second you wrap your arms around him it’s like he’s programmed to bully you

“Aw well isn’t someone feeling needy.”

He’s not pulling away, but that doesn’t mean he’s shutting up lmao

The first time you did it, he simply stood there. Ears pressed down as his tail was fluffed up

He didn’t know what to do. I don’t think this guy has gotten a genuine hug before

His first instinct was to push you away, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do that. You weren’t attacking him or anything, you were just, embracing him?

Once you did pull away he replaced his initial shock with a smirk, using his pointer finger to lift your chin and ask if you wanted to touch him that badly

It takes him longer than Kuras to get used to your affection, he’s probably only used to being touched if it’s sex related unfortunately

Prefers if you gently wrap your arms around him instead of running up and practically jumping on him

He’ll be damned before he looks like a fool in public

Pray for whoever decides to be brave enough to comment on your hugging because it can go two ways

Vere says fuck it and kills them right there

Or he sends them so many passive aggressive comments they just walk away reevaluating their life

Only HE can bully you

Takes him forever to start coming to you for comfort hugs

It would have been at least some time after you’ve known each other

One day he just straight up drags you away from what your doing, making sure it was just you and him

He then proceeds to damn near suffocate you with his hold, but after a few seconds you hug him back, both of you locked in place, his tail wagging in pure glee

He tells you to pretend it never happened but you can see the way his tail sways whenever you hug him again

MHIN

In all honesty, they are probably the first one to actually push you away the first time you hug them

Not used to physical affection at ALL but also does not desire it

They didn’t mean to be so forceful when they pushed you, they just genuinely weren’t expecting you to be so…so

Affectionate?

So when you run up and jump on them one day after they just finished hunting soulless their all like “⁉️⁉️”

When you look at them with concern they just tsk and look away

“At least ask first.”

Is fully aware of your hugger tendencies they just…don’t know what to do with that

For some time you do ask first if it’s okay to hug them, and they say yes, but then they proceed to just stand there stiff as a board as you love on them

But if anyone dares to bring up your clinginess their quick to snap back at them

ESPECIALLY if it’s anyone besides Kuras

Even if they don’t show it, they do appreciate you being willing to be physically affectionate in anyway

Especially after so many years of them being convinced that no one could love a monster

Also prefers if you would gently hug them than run up, but also wouldn’t mind the second thing

If you do then they just blush and flick you on the head

Because I have a feeling that they are someone that you cannot sneak up on so there’s a good chance they heard you coming💔

After a while (like a few months) they eventually get used to your constant hugging, so if there’s ever a day where you aren’t wrapped around them then they are quick to wonder if your okay

We love soft Mhin

On the very rare days that Mhin ever seeks out your hugs for comfort, they make sure that they make it count

Like Vere, pulls you aside so it’s just the two of you and simply gives you a tight squeeze, with their hand resting on the back of your head

After that pull away and then pretend nothing just happened but you can see the blush on their face <3

[mrs-kodzuken]

empty promise ⟢ kenma k.

synopsis: you notice that your boyfriend, kuroo, of almost three years has been acting strange lately. you confront him on it and then suddenly you’ve made the decision to leave him. luckily, your best friend is always there for you.

other: cheater!kuroo x fem!reader, best friend!kenma x fem!reader, angst, break up, little mention of ED, comfort, manipulation, gas-lighting, asshole!kuroo, best friend!kenma helping rebuild reader, therapy, best friend!kenma has loved reader since 4eva eventual fluff

"Kuroo, I know it’s happening again.” You sighed, knowing this wouldn't end well, just like last time didn't end well per say either. You stared at the man across from you in the kitchen decorated with picture frames of the both of you as he hovered in front of the fridge, probably wondering why you didn't cook tonight.

“What are you talking about?” He sounded snippy; his demeanor changed as he peered his sharp gaze back at you, immediately becoming defensive. His slick, black suit that he wore leaving for work this morning was hardly as neat as it was, adding on to your suspicion. 

“You’re hiding something from me, I know it.” You finally got out, your heartbeat quickening as it usually did when you would have to confront your boyfriend of three years. It was upsetting that you would have this anxious-riddening feeling that made you sick everytime you defied him. 

“Seriously? This again? You’re fucking kidding me,” He snapped, slamming the refrigerator door shut, into which you jumped at the loud, sudden noise—eyes widening. 

“Yes, Kuroo, this again. I can't set it aside any longer; the feelings are tearing me apart.” You attempted to say, “I just want trust, and—and I feel like I’m not getting it from you,” You stammered, trying to reason with the man; his expression held anger as if he couldn't believe you felt this way, especially about him.

“There you go with your crazy talk; are you sure you’ve been talking with the therapist Y/n?” He accused you, the scoff apparent in his voice as he rolled his eyes. 

Furrowing your brows, you couldn’t believe that he would ask something like that. “Yes, at every appointment, and sometimes I text—“ You were abruptly cut off, the anxiety ate away at you, making you chip your nail polish. 

"I just think you’re being dramatic. Honestly, I think you’re the one who's making this relationship go without trust,” He hammered in on his accusations. The kitchen light flickered as a few beats of silence passed between you two. 

The absolute quietude in the house was almost deafening. The living room TV wasn't on; no soft music, nothing. No noise except the small buzzing from the refrigerator that you have always, always hated.

You took a deep breath and tried to collect your thoughts, you followed the steps your therapist gave you for moments like this. 

“Kuroo, where were you tonight? You’re home extremely later than you said.” You purse your lips, wanting to know, but the ache in your stomach was becoming too much. At this point, it hurt to love him, to question him. You knew what he would say, you could probably even guess the exact words that would come out of his mouth.

His taller frame stood across the kitchen; the usual loving eyes now turned cold and hard and it was all directed at you.

“At the office, I was working.” He snarled, “Oh, you think I’m fucking someone at my job now, huh?” He raised his voice, your eyes widening at the thoughts your mind crept to, but you wanted to discuss it first. Wanted to calmly talk about it, this is what your therapist told you to do. 

“No, Kuroo, I don’t think anything; I didn’t say anything like that. "All I said was that I had a feeling and I wanted to talk with you about it.” This is what your therapist had specifically told you to do; you could feel the crease between your eyebrows becoming more apparent with every sharp word Kuroo said. 

“Oh yeah, because I’m totally cheating on you. I told you that last time would never happen again; why are you having these ‘feelings’?” He rudely said, as if you didn't notice the signs.

The late nights, the alcohol on his breath, the lack of physical intimacy with you, the ruffled, messy state of his clothes and hair. It was painfully obvious at this point. You felt ashamed for not saying something sooner. 

“..There was just one night where you came home smelling like another woman and I—I just don’t know Kuroo. I wanted to make sure that last time wasn’t happening again.” You averted your gaze, not being able to stand the hatred in your boyfriend's eyes. You felt small against his larger frame and even larger, hurtful words. 

“Ha! Isn’t that something? You’re probably cheating on me with how much you work from home.” He dryly chuckled, throwing accusations as if they were sharpened knives now. 

“Kuroo, why aren’t you listening? You saying things like that hurt me, you know? I've been faithful since we agreed to be in this relationship. I'm just worried that history is repeating itself.” You try to get his attention back on the topic; he just wasn't listening to you.

You could feel your eyes starting to water, the buildup of arguing, the ache in your stomach, and the painful incriminations he was throwing. It was beyond hurtful, it ached.

“You’re delusional if you think you smelled another woman on me. There was no one at the office; nothing has happened since last April; nothing.” The bellowing of his voice was meant to try and beckon you to listen to him. And you were finally silent; you knew your pathetic voice would waver if you said something, anything right now. 

You watched Tetsuro open a bottle of alcohol, not caring that he just openly hurt your feelings without any regard to how you might actually feel and didn’t try to console you either. 

Opening your mouth to try and say something to reason with him, you couldn’t even say a singular syllable. 

“Just fucking drop it,” He muttered before trying to slide past you into the cupboard to find something to eat. 

"I’m leaving you.” Your voice harrowingly got out, and you glared at the floor, hating that you got dealt these shitty cards. You carefully took off the promise ring that you now realize was nothing more than just an empty promise and set it on the cold counter. 

"Fine, you'll realize that you're the problem. The toxic, insecure, crazy one and then come crawling back to me,” He said without a hint of remorse; you knew though. You knew that he wasn't your caring, sweet, helpful boyfriend anymore; he was someone's. And you damn sure were not going to fight for him. 

You watched as he left the house through the back door; you didn’t bother to check Life360 as you probably knew where he was going. You were right, unfortunately yet again. 

Not being able to take the heartbreak, you decided to pack. You wanted to leave this home; you wished Kuroo made you happy like he did in the beginning of the relationship, but instead all he does is make you stressed and upset. 

You gather your at-home work supplies, main toiletries, important documents, sentimentals, and clothes to last you three whole weeks. You could replace everything else; hell, you were a working woman, not some rando he could kick to the street to make you fend for yourself.

You figured he’d clear out the rest of your things before he invited his new girl here. 

You carefully put your personal belongings in your car before leaving the key to the house under the front door mat. You decided to take a few minutes to give yourself a cry; you needed it. Your entire life of what you thought you knew was completely destroyed within thirty minutes; you had to cry or else you wouldn't be okay. 

When you pulled out of the driveway, you called Kenma from your car. Kenma has been your best friend since college; he actually introduced you and Kuroo to each other.

And look how that turned out. Although, you had hardly spoken to him in a few because Kuroo cut off your contact with anyone that wasn’t him—mostly any male. 

Once the dialing ended, Kenma picked up. You tried to gather what to say in a few short moments, watching the streetlamps pass you by as you drove.

“Can I stay at your place for a few days?” You asked before he could ever say 'hello'. You cringed at your voice, which was raspy from the argument and the tears you shed. 

“Oh, yeah, sure. What happened?" Concern laced Kenma's voice for you; he was always so observant of your emotional state. But then again, you did sound horrible right now. 

“Kuroo cheated on me again; I left him this time; I should've—I just should’ve left the first instead.” You tried to keep it together and not have to pull over and cry about the situation. 

There was silence over the phone for a few minutes except the small sniffles and clearing of your throat. "I’m sorry, Y/n. You deserve better than someone who easily breaks your heart like this.” You could tell that Kenma felt guilty because he was the one who set the both of you up on a date.

"I’m sorry that I’m going to crash at your place to get my life together; I know I’m a lot.” You sighed, parking in his driveway. His house was as huge as ever; living the rich life did suit him though. 

“No, you’re not a lot. Things happen, and I’m glad I’m someone you can lean on.” He genuinely reassured you, peeking out of the living room curtains and seeing your headlights, then ending the phone call.

You gathered your things and headed inside to Kenma's house, not having been here in a couple. It was just as admirable as the first time you were here.

“Were you just streaming right now?" You called in the house curiously; you could hear gaming sounds in the background of the phone call, they were much too familiar to listen to. 

Kenma came from around the corner of the kitchen; he was in his typical comfortable merch that he made. His hair was pulled back, and he had a bowl of curry in his hand. 

He paused, taking your form just like you did to him, except he was wary of your blotchy face and red eyes. 

"..Yeah—yeah, I was. But don’t feel bad; I was supposed to get something to eat anyway.” He half smiled at you, a small crinkle in his eyes. 

“You can make yourself comfortable in any room in the house; I'm going to finish my stream. If you need me, you know where to find me.” He turned away from you with a glance that you didn't see as you got familiar with his home again. 

“Thanks, Ken,” You mumbled as he was already gone. You were going straight for the room that has always brought you comfort—Kenma's bedroom.

Collapsing on his fluffy bed was the highlight of your night, letting the feelings of the breakup wash over you. You knew that it would be something you'd bring up with your therapist this week; she would help you and talk you through your mind process like she always did. 

Your eyes wandered as you controlled your breathing, grounding yourself with the distant memory that you last had about Kenma's room. It was always your safe space back then. You sighed and rolled over onto your back.

After lounging around and letting your emotions process thoroughly, you finally got up, the heartache from the past few hours still fresh. 

"I didn’t expect you would pick my room, but that’s okay. It brings back memories of our sleepovers.” Kenma's voice rang out, opening his black-painted bedroom door, effectively startling you, which made you jump. 

You regained your posture and gave a small, worried smile. “Are you sure? I can leave. Sorry, this just, just brings me comfort, you know?” You softly smiled, gazing around the room that you both would always share. 

Back then, if Kenma hadn't introduced you to Kuroo, you would have probably confessed to him. The thought made your eyes widen a bit, and you blinked it to the back of your mind because anything else could come of it. 

He leaned on the door frame and said, "No, it’s okay for you to stay. Were you about to sleep or something?” He raised a brow, not knowing that you planned to sleep with him. Nevertheless, he didn't care because, after all, he's missed you. 

You winced, not fond of the idea of sleep right now. “Not really. I know I shouldn’t mess up my sleep schedule like this, but life kind of got in the way." You dryly chuckled, gathering your comfortable clothes that you would usually sleep in at your now-old home. 

You sighed with despair, not being able to keep it in. The silence only egged you on as Kenma waited, his gaze only on you.

"I just keep feeling sorry for myself. How I should’ve been stronger to leave instead of being so lenient with him cheating on me so easily.” You were getting teary-eyed again, hating the situation you could've left from but didn't.

A soothing voice and an even more soothing hand surrounded your senses, trying to calm you. “That's normal. You thought you could trust again, so you tried it, and he proved you wrong. It just shows that you both weren’t compatible, a shitty thing for me to say, but I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you; you know me.” You could even hear the smile in his voice at that last part.

However, you were oblivious to the painstakingly ache in his posture due to the guilt of him putting you through that. 

“Yeah, I do. Thank you for always being honest with me. I really appreciate it, Kenma. It means a lot. You’re practically the only person I trust—to always give me the truth.” You paused at that bit, realizing how awfully true it was. 

“Always. I don't think I’d lie about anything; I don’t really see a point in it.” Kenma pondered out loud before going to light a few candles and turn on a warm-colored lamp for you since you’d be in here.

“Don’t worry about finding someplace to go yet. It’s okay for you to recuperate from life for a few days first.” He finished, his kindness for you glaringly obvious, but that's all you took it for, was kindness. You nodded, physically there but mentally not. 

“What are you doing?” Broke you out of your trance-like state; staring at a computer screen for hours on end didn't do your eyesight any good.

“Working..” You mumbled out, knowing he was able to scold you about this. You never stayed up late to do work, to party, to drink, anything. You felt like you were boring and this was a way to combat it, especially with you feeling guilty for yourself.

“Why? You’ve had like three hours of sleep; I thought you were going to recuperate from life.” Kenma asked, he had noticed that you were knocked out earlier. He came into his room to check up on you, but you were sound asleep, peacefully. Knowing you were finally safe from harm in any way made him feel good inside. 

"I tried; it didn’t work.” You turned back to your screen, wheeling around in Kenma’s office chair. You didn’t bother pretending like you didn’t know what you could and could not touch or act new with him. 

“Have you thought about trying harder?” He snorted, but he genuinely cared about your wellbeing right now. He flicked on the above light, it was better than nothing right now, he also cared about your eyes. 

"I’m only joking Y/n. want me to stay here with you or at least bring you something?” You saw his reflection on the screen, being able to notice his change of clothes now that you were sitting in complete darkness with the only light from your computer shining. 

“No, I’m fine.” You said, earning yourself a squint from Kenma, not that you could see it as you were still typing away.

“You’ve been here at my house for almost eight hours and have yet to eat or drink something. Restricting your body from things like that as a poor coping mechanism isn’t healthy.” He scolded, being actually serious. Ironic how he learned that from his best friend in high school, however, Kenma wasn’t even sure he wanted to call Kuroo his best friend after what happened tonight.

"I—I know that, I wasn’t going to.” You stammered, trying to think of an excuse with him standing right there, taking a few small steps to further his point. “Okay, maybe I was going to, but now I obviously won’t.” You rolled your eyes, not bothering to lie to him. 

"I’ll bring you something, and then we’ll see if you change your mind about working.” He patted your head like he used to, it brought you back to an easier life, a simpler life where you were actually happy and didn’t live your life anxiously. 

Being with Kenma was like breathing, it was simple. 

You didn’t feel insecure because you didn’t have make up on, or that you cried, or probably didn't look the best right now. Kenma wasn’t Kuroo, Kenma cared. 

You knew he always had and probably always would. It was beyond palliating to know that Kenma cared about the important things like whether you were okay, if you had eaten or drank anything, if you needed someone to support you emotionally or help you vent.

He didn’t care about the other things like pressuring you to always look perfect or to stray out of your comfort zone for business parties with people who made you uncomfortable. 

That brought you back to the present. “This, my god, this is so good Kenma. I'm stuffed.” You groaned at the last bite of the delicious meal Kenma made you. The pristine glass plates that Kenma knew you loved, he plated your food on that like he always used to do when you stayed over.

"I’m glad you like it. You can have the recipe if you want it.” He offered, sitting comfortably on the extra chair he pulled up so he could make sure you ate and finished the meal. 

“That’d be perfect, thank you.” You smiled an actual happy smile, you loved when Kenma did things for you without you having to ask. 

“How do you feel now?” He took your plate in his hands, standing up and wiping off the desk with your unused napkin. You watched him and yawned before responding. 

“Kind of sleepy; I just want to lay down or something.” You mumbled, rubbing your sleepy eyes, your body finally going into relaxation after he had pulled you out of the state you were in. 

“Told you.” Kenma pointedly said, “Go on, I’ll shut this stuff down for you.” He resisted the urge to kiss on your temple, watching your figure sleepy shuffle into the hallway. 

“Thank you, Kennie.” You sleepily said before leaving, hoping he would come sleep with you too, you missed those nights. The gloamings you spent with him was comforting, you wished you didn’t trade that up for someone like Kuroo who hardly ever wanted to be away from work for you. 

That night, you went to bed sound asleep. Unfortunately, Kenma couldn’t bring himself to 

“You make me feel like my breakup wasn’t the end of the world.”

“That’s because it wasn’t the end of the world. How long have you gone without basic human decency?” Kenma asked you, already knowing the answer to that.

Between the last few days, Kenma’s been your listener, besides your therapist, to help you overcome your breakup. The way he has cared for you without expecting anything else in return was endearing, almost too endearing that it hurt your heart.

You knew your feelings by the end of the few days of staying at Kenma’s, the feelings that came back from when you both used to be close. However, even if he was ready for you, you weren’t for him. You had to go. 

Moving the conversation along away from the awkwardness that surrounded you both, "I’m glad I got a therapist a while back because between you and her, I think I’ve helped myself a good amount from the breakup, and it’s only been almost two weeks.” You surprisingly said, grateful for the fact that you mentally checked out of the relationship a while ago but still needed to process it. 

You continued, not watching Kenma but your phone to show him. “That reminds me; I’m going to start looking for apartments so I can be out of your hair soon. You’re amazing for letting me stay so long, Ken.” Smiling, you pushed the lit up screen towards his view, showing the apartments that were way nicer than you expected. It even had an elevator! You were fondly surprised at that. 

As you kept raving about all these fancy apartments you found, occasionally scrolling through the apartment list to remember the details, you were interrupted abruptly by Kenma. 

"You can stay." Was all he said, that’s when you finally looked at him. The room seemed to still as you met eye contact with him too, in his eyes…you could tell he didn’t want you to go.

He wasn’t ready for you to leave after he finally just got you back. Unable to eventually stop you from going, he had to tell you how he felt about you leaving. 

You were speechless when it came to responding to him. Of course, you wanted to stay but it would go against what you planned, however you knew what you would say. Besides, you haven’t even put a payment in for the apartment number yet. 

Kenma scratched the back of his neck, a random habit he never got rid of when you were around. "If you'd like, it's nice to have you around more often." The tenderness in his eyes was just so familiar now to you that you just had to accept his offer.

Living with your best friend who you may have a slight simmering crush for, knowing that it was requited too wasn’t the worst idea. Quite frankly, it seemed like one of the better options at this point. 

And so, you happily agreed, you finally got the taste of comfort again and you desperately wanted to keep it. Your mind felt at peace, not racing with horrid thoughts all the time about whether or not Kenma had ill will towards you. You loved, and needed, your best friend because the nights he brought you were everything you lacked without him. 

The warmth from the lamps that he turned on every evening as soon as the sun went down because he knew you loved them. Kenma would always light a small candle or two before you both got comfortable on the bed that you now sleep in with him. He even kept your Nintendo switch that he bought for you because you expressed interest in it once.

You always wondered where it went too, however, nights with Kenma dwelled on animal crossing and your favorite sweet treat. You didn’t have to worry about restricting yourself to no end because you were told to keep your shape up.

Looking up from your switch, you watched Kenma’s concentrated face, loving the little details you could see up close, especially his blue light glasses. You also adored how he kept his hair long, sporadically putting it in a pony.

The face framing pieces of hair, that you now play with every so often, were your favorite.

“Ken…thank you, for letting me come back into your life. I wish I never left.” You paused, letting him hold eye contact with you.

“It was worth it though, because now I know.” You hinted, but didn’t say anything else. Relishing in the fact that Kenma’s response was purely just to pull you closer to him. 

a/n: requests are open! hope you like & this is all my work <3

[kjack89]

New year, same bullshit. I’m sorry I’ve been so MIA, friends, but I hope you accept this drabble as an explanation of sorts. Love you all ❤️

“Should I be worried?”

Grantaire’s eyes flicker up to Enjolras’s, his cereal spoon halfway to his mouth. “Do you mean, like, in general?” he asks. “Because I mean, like, it’s 2025. And we’re all fucked. So.”

He sticks his spoon in his mouth and shrugs. Enjolras doesn’t smile. “That’s on me for not being more specific, I guess,” he says, scrubbing a hand across his mouth before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not painting.”

Grantaire swallows. “Well, no,” he allows, “mainly because I’m eating breakfast at the moment.”

“Be serious.”

Grantaire’s lips twitch. “It’s somewhat less funny when you know it’s coming.”

Enjolras arches an eyebrow. “And yet that’s never stopped you before.”

“Fair.” Grantaire twirls his spoon between his fingers before pronouncing, like the well-worn, inside joke it had become, “I am wild.”

Almost certainly despite himself, Enjolras smiles, just slightly. “Yeah, you are,” he agrees. “But you’re also not painting.”

Grantaire’s answering smile fades. “Could be,” he says, a little sullenly. “It’s not like you’re around enough to know.”

It’s a low blow and he knows it, but Enjolras doesn’t flinch. “Maybe not but we live in a late capitalist surveillance state so I have my ways of finding out.”

“Well, well, well, typical white man, complaining about the system except for when it directly benefits you.”

“Yep,” Enjolras says. “Are you going to keep deflecting? Because I can do this all day.”

For a moment, Grantaire’s tempted to take him up on it, to see just how long he’ll actually allow this to drag on. It’d almost certainly be good fun, and it isn’t like Grantaire’s got anything better to do.

But he can also see that Enjolras is genuinely worried, can see it in the tightness of his shoulders and the lines at the corners of his eyes that he tries to claim aren’t crow’s feet because he’s not old enough to have crow’s feet. And considering Grantaire’s previous point about all of the other things that are almost certainly more worth Enjolras’s worry, he supposes he owes him at least a semblance of the truth.

“Yes, I haven’t been painting,” he says, dipping his spoon in his bowl of cereal and stirring it, mostly to give himself something to do with his hands. “No, you shouldn’t be worried.”

Enjolras nods like he didn’t really expect a different answer. “Are you depressed again?”

Enjolras’s bluntness, characteristic though it may be, still startles a laugh from Grantaire. He sighs and looks down at his cereal bowl. “There’s not really a way to say this that won’t worry you.”

When he sneaks a glance at him, Enjolras meets his eyes evenly. “Try me.”

Grantaire jerks a shrug. “I’ve never really not been depressed,” he admits, which isn’t really a dirty secret so he’s not entirely sure why he’s saying it like it is.

Maybe because he really doesn’t want Enjolras to worry. They don’t talk about this, really, other than for Enjolras to reiterate more times than Grantaire can count that he’s always there to listen if ever Grantaire wants or needs to talk.

He knows that Grantaire’s in therapy, and takes meds, and had some very low lows previously, but Grantaire’s never felt the need to fill him in on the specifics.

It was depressing enough living it the first time.

He made that joke, such as it was, to his therapist, who didn’t laugh. “Do you frequently feel like you’re a burden to your loved ones?” she asked in response.

Of course Grantaire does, but again, he won’t tell Enjolras that.

Enjolras taps his fingers on the table, the way he does when he’s deciding on the best plan of attack or how to most effectively dismantle whatever asinine argument Grantaire’s brought up. “I thought you were doing better,” he says hesitantly after a moment.

He doesn’t pitch it as a question but Grantaire still nods. “I was.”

“What happened?” Enjolras asks, before pausing and asking, “Did something happen?”

Grantaire sighs and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “It doesn’t always work that way,” he says. “It’s not always triggered by something happening.”

Enjolras’s brow furrows. “Right,” he says shortly, something like disappointment flitting across his expression.

It took Grantaire a very long time when they got together to realize that this kind of disappointment isn’t aimed at him, but at a problem Enjolras can’t fix, an enemy he can’t fight.

At least, not directly.

He clears his throat. “But in this case, I think probably everything over the past few months played at least a contributory role, shall we say.”

True though it is, he mostly says it for Enjolras’s sake. Enjolras just nods slowly. “Are you not painting because your depression is bad again?”

Grantaire exhales sharply. “I’ve painted a lot while depressed.”

Enjolras’s expression doesn’t shift. “Another excellent deflection.”

Grantaire barks a laugh and scrubs both hands across his face. “You know me too fucking well.”

“Or just well enough.”

Grantaire lowers his hands and sighs again. He doesn’t quite meet Enjolras’s eyes as he says, “Every time I go try to paint…it’s like I can’t see it anymore, you know?” Enjolras almost certainly doesn’t know, but he’s struggling to put it into words in a way he can understand. “Like I can’t picture it in my mind, how I want it to look, or how to get there. It’s– it’s like trying to paint in fog.”

It’s not an exact metaphor, but it’ll do.

Enjolras nods slowly. “But I don’t need to be worried.”

“No,” Grantaire says, before wrinkling his nose. “Yes? I never know what the correct response is.” Enjolras just gives him a look, and Grantaire tells him, “No, you don’t need to be worried.” He pauses, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before telling Enjolras with an almost tired conviction, “It’ll come back. It always has.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire cracks a smile. “Then you can worry.”

Enjolras takes a deep breath. “Ok,” he says simply.

Grantaire eyes him resignedly. “You’re going to worry anyway, aren’t you?”

A smile twitches at the corners of Enjolras’s mouth. “Newsflash, asshole, I’ve been worried this whole time,” he says dryly, and Grantaire’s smile widens at the quote.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Enjolras’s smile disappears.

“What? Why?”

Grantaire shakes his head, mostly because he knows Enjolras won’t like his explanation. “Because you shouldn’t have to—”

Sure enough, Enjolras cuts him off with a scowl, though his voice is gentle as he tells him, “That ship I’m pretty sure sailed when I fell in love with you. Or, frankly, probably a good deal sooner than that.”

There are so many things that Grantaire wants to say that, but he can’t bring himself to. Instead, he stretches his hand across the table and tells Enjolras, sincerely, “I love you.”

Enjolras takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I know,” he says softly. “I love you, too.” He squeezes Grantaire’s hand before adding, “I hope it comes back soon.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire agrees. “So do I.”

[eddiegettingshot]

no because like his parents assigned him sonhusbandfather when he was just a little boy. growing up was out of his hands. he liked a girl and then she got teenage pregnant and what the fuck do you do about that really. he made his choices as a husband and they were wrong. he decided to go to war because what the fuck else is there except war and ended up shot and broken and with a medal for pulling people out of a helicopter who all died anyway. he asked for time and his wife abandoned him and his child for three years. he worked himself to the bone and his parents thought he was a failure regardless. his wife came back and then he made a choice that didn't matter because she wanted a divorce and then she died in a freak accident. he tried helping his best friend only for him to face a literal tsunami with his child who ended up deeply traumatized in a way he could do nothing about. his best friend filed a lawsuit so they couldn't even talk about it or anything else. he chose to fight and almost killed a man. he went down into that well to save a child and lightning struck at exactly the wrong moment. he chose to try to date again and couldn't love her. he got shot in broad daylight because he happened to be there in uniform. his child ended up even more traumatized so he chose to leave his purpose and his calling behind but that wasn't right either. his best friend got struck by lightning and literally died. he chose to be friends with some guy and his best friend went bonkers. he chose to go to therapy but ended up in a situation the dsm could not have possibly accounted for when he saw his dead wife's lookalike. he chose to end the affair with her but she got fucking bangs and his son walked in even after he did the right thing. his son is rightfully angry at him so he chose to let him go except he can't stop his own parents from keeping the wound open instead of letting it heal. his beloved captain and mentor had a parallel breakdown and now he and his friends are stuck with some other guy who sucks and he can't do anything about it. and there was a fucking beenado as well. Seriously who is getting through all of this except for eddie diaz, who smiles and claps and cheers when he is forced to bear the cross eternally

[olderthannetfic]

I was reading a fic and genuinely enjoying myself up until the author decided to make a huge deal, in their AN, about how their protagonist is bi. As in ACTUALLY bi, not that stupid "straight with one exception" trash homophobic fujoshits write. I'm a cis man. I am heterosexual with exactly one exception. I don't know why. I went through years telling myself I was just confused. I heard from my queer friends at the time that only being interested in one other man wasn't a thing, that it was actually me being confused in the other direction, hiding all my crushes and desires from myself.

My family was convinced I was straight. My friends were convinced I was bi for a lot of men, I just wasn't admitting it. My now husband was the only one who told me it was fine. He's gay and he had a crush on one woman, once. Exceptions happen.

So at the risk of siding with the dreaded (presumed cis, presumed het, presumed white) enemy known as women, I... actually like the whole "if it's you, it's okay" thing. I don't assume an evil fetishizer who hates queers is writing it. It never reads that way. It reads as a story, just like any other story. A way to be queer just like any other valid option. Queerness is a spectrum. Not everyone is bi in the same way or gay or lesbian or anything else. The Kinsey Scale exists for a reason.

I spent five years in and out of therapy and church trying to fix myself. Being bi in any way was too much for my family. It was "get rid of the gay or get out" territory of panic. I could have a family or I could have my feelings for him. Choosing him involved giving up everyone I had grown up with. It involved years further of "so you can admit now that you had other male crushes, right?" no matter how many times I said no until I had to cut some queer friends out of my life, too.

And I'm not "ACTUALLY bi", apparently. I'm a trashy homophobic stereotype fujoshi came up with. I'm not actually bi. Real bi men have an equal number of women and men they're into. Bi is code for 50/50 or else you're, you know. Basically fictional. Definitely doing it wrong.

Upon some digging, I found out the writer is a lesbian woman. You would think with all the shit lesbians get she'd know better. I've seen people try to tell lesbians they aren't lesbians because "oh you dated a guy once" or "uh, you had sex with a man, you can't be" and all kind of shit that makes no sense whatsoever. So for her to turn around and go, "there is a single correct way to be a bi man" is just insane. Ma'am. Ma'am. You should know that's not how queerness works! You're queer!

This has annoyed me so much that for the first time in nine years I have pulled up a Microsoft Word document and I am writing fanfic. I am going to write so much It's Okay If It's You, one-exception-only queer fanfic.

Because it's fine to be queer even if it's this way, actually. It's fine to be queer, period! There are not rigid rules to it, that's one of the biggest joys of it!

I feel so old and tired and I'm only 40. Jesus Christ. "ACTUALLY bi". Fuck. The world is broken.

--

[lay-z]

I'm sad for some reason I think I'm getting close to getting my period, so... I'm yearning for a fictional man and I'm hurting, because I can't have him 🥺❤️‍🩹 Also, I'd like to explore some slow burn type of romance and keep Simon's past traumas in mind! Pairing: civvie!F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Reader is demisexual; cussing; tw: mental issues; insecurities; slow burn; awkwardness; humor Word count: 3.5k The one where two broken people connect.

You've already decided that you've given up on finding, not love, but companionship.

You've given up on love a long time ago, long before you'd reached your late 20s.

An old, creative and gentle soul, weighted down and scarred by childhood bullying, constant criticism by your family, societies bloody beauty standards and things you suffer from which you didn't even know how to describe let alone name in your youth.

Demisexuality? Body dysmorphia? Eating disorders? Anxiety? Insecurities, so deeply rooted, that they border on self-hatred?

And no, you never went to therapy – no. Gods, no, because if you go to therapy, you're mental, right? And how can your poor mother tell the rest of the family that you're mentally unstable? That something is wrong with her little, darling daughter? Hm?

So, no therapy, because your hyper-independence got your back. You're used to that, learned it in your younger years; always there for others, but no one ever stepped up for you, except yourself. Yet you're cursed to be an empath, so you never stopped caring for others, even if it killed you inside.

Giving. Giving. Giving. Tearing yourself apart to please and give up the love that brimmed in your kind heart. Never receiving anything good and soft, like some cheap whore, until there was little left of love to give.

Now you've turned cynical, cold, and lonely – or that's what you keep telling yourself to keep the façade up. Hiding behind humour and feigned nonchalance, because you're an entertainer. Always have been. You would've been an amazing actress, but when you were younger, your mother told you that you could never be the love interest, so why bother go to acting school and actually do something you enjoy?

You rarely wallow in self-pity anymore; only occasionally, right before you get your period and your hormones make you feel sad and depressed, make you break and hate yourself. Quiet and in secrecy, in the safety of your dark bedroom, or in front of the bathroom mirror – just to play out a sad scene in your delusional mind. Probably with a fictional man, someone who'd never hurt you – in your alternate universe.

Accept. Adapt. Overcome. Repeat.

It isn't ideal, but you've found coping mechanisms that work for you, albeit some unhealthy ones and you've survived so far. Emphasis on survived, not lived.

You're so deep in your thoughts, on the brink of dissociation, that you don't even realize you've been staring – again.

Your eyes flutter briefly, focusing back on the here and now until you realize what or, rather, who you have been staring at like some creep.

Fuck.

It's that man with the skull mask, not a ski mask, but a balaclava – you've googled it the first time you'd seen him around the café. You'd even researched if face coverings like that are illegal in the UK – turns out they're not, unless you refuse to take it off when a police officer orders you to.

He's staring right back at you; dark brown eyes unblinking, skin around the eye holes covered up by some black smudge – combat or war paint, probably. Sitting at the table right across from you by the cafés large windows; incredibly out of place for such a soft and quaint establishment. Nursing a tea, looking menacing and intimidating with his massive physique and black clothing, yet his eyes hold something more than stoicism in them. You know, because you see it yourself when you look into any mirror.

Bottled up emotions, a myriad of them, simmering just below the surface like a dormant volcano, ready to erupt someday.

You narrow your eyes then, force yourself not to tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy would do, because you don't want him to know that you're actually perceiving him this time – and not merely daydreaming and brooding like you usually do. Cursing internally, when you eventually lose this staring competition that you've completely just made up in your mind, because his eyes are too intense and he's obviously immune to social awkwardness, you reach for your lukewarm  matcha latte, taking a small sip as you turn your head away to stare out of the large shop windows, pretending to watch passers-by.

You force yourself to focus on the shitty UK weather outside, resting your chin on the back of your hand, elbow propped up on the cheap table. Rain and wind and colourful leaves grazing the wet pavement as the seasons start changing and autumn begins creeping in. You like autumn, prefer it over summer every year – and your mind begins to drift again, distracted by random strangers outside, grey clouds in the sky and fat raindrops pitter-pattering against the windows.

Meanwhile, his eyes never waver from you, and Simon catches himself wondering, what you might be thinking about now.

Time passes, and you try to keep your routine up – going out for a coffee once or twice every week, so you won't die of loneliness or isolation. At least, the café is nice, the baristas as well, it's not far from your flat and it's usually not that crowded nor busy.

Or so it was during summer.

Now, all people want to do is drink their coffees and teas inside, apparently, since the temperatures have dropped, along with the leaves.

After ordering your matcha latte, you turn around to see that your favourite spot by the window has been occupied in the past six minutes of standing by the counter. If only the lady in front of you had ordered her bloody tea and biscuits a smidge faster, but nah, you're not that lucky.

Groaning internally, you move to the table across from your fave, pulling one of the two plastic chairs out with more force than necessary because you're petty and annoyed. It's loud – not too loud, actually, but louder than it usually is – and you curse yourself for going out. You should've just stayed in this afternoon, curled up on your couch, playing some Baldur's Gate or so.

Some minutes pass after receiving your hot beverage and you've managed to drown out the noises and successfully ignore the sudden hubbub around the café.

That is until you notice a looming presence next to you; aura thick like molasses and prominent like the smell of gasoline, you don't know if you like it or not. It does catch your attention, though, and you turn your head to the left, eye-level with his denim-clad crotch, perhaps a little too close for the acceptable social standards.

Furrowing your brows in both confusion and offense, you have to tilt your head back and lean back in your chair to meet his eyes. How can those eyes be soft and aloof at the same time?

"Uh, hi?" You say then, brows still furrowed; not a greeting but an out for him to excuse himself for getting too close and fuck off again.

"Yer in me seat." He counters bluntly, voice incredibly rough and accented and muffled by the fabric of his mask as he gestures at the table with his gloved hand and holding a small coaster with a steaming cup of tea on top of it in the other one delicately. It looks comical and stupid, yet somehow endearing.

You're dumbfounded for a moment, blinking up at him in disbelief before finding your wit again, nodding your chin at the two chatting women sitting at your favourite table.

"And they're in mine," you say matter of factly, "If we go by that logic." You add dryly, picking up your latte, because the conversation is surely over.

He stays by your side, unmoving like a marble statue, dark eyes flickering somewhat nervously between you and the empty chair across from yours. Simon doesn't know how to properly interact with a civilian anymore; let alone a female civvie, and he ponders for a moment if he should just leave again, have a cuppa at his own flat.

But Simon's therapist had advised him, pleaded with him, to at least try and make a friendly connection with someone outside of his military comfort zone and well, here you are. At least your face is familiar already and you look harmless...safe.

"May I...sit with ye, lass?" He almost grits through his teeth, doing his best to ignore the way his heart beats hard against his ribcage as he waits for your rejection.

You pick up on the vulnerability in his voice, his demeanour, as if asking costs him some courage; truth be told, it would cost you some, too. Perhaps it's the fact that you've become silent acquaintances over the past few weeks; meeting up at this place without even meaning to. Each of you alone, always.

You stop in your movements, lifting the rim of your mug just to your lips before lowering it again, holding his gaze without taking a sip.

Sit with me? You muse to yourself, surveying him up close briefly and for the first time, at least consciously. He shifts on his feet some, heavy black boots – always boots, always layers of dark clothing, always the skull balaclava, no matter the temperature.

However, despite his looks, despite his authoritative and all-consuming aura and your better judgement, you nod once, cursing your intuition and empathy, nudging the empty chair away from the table from beneath it with your foot – a wordless permission, or perhaps an invitation?

And Simon exhales a long breath through his nose, jaw unclenching slightly as he gives a curt nod, sets his tea on the table and takes a seat on the offered chair. Easy.

And that is that.

The next time you're at the café, you breathe a sigh of relief to find it relatively empty for the time, except for some elderly customers and students working in silence on their laptops.

You're delighted to find your favourite table empty again and you order your usual matcha latte with coconut milk before eagerly sinking into the chair at 'your' table with a contented sigh and a good view on the people and life outside the cosy café.

Then your peace is once again disturbed by the soft clink of a tea cup being placed on the table, followed by the empty chair across from you scraping over the old hardwood floor, before he slips into the seat with a quiet huff.

"Your table is free," you tell him immediately, leaning to the side to look past his massive frame at the unoccupied table behind him.

"Aye, I know," he responds gruffly, folding his forearms on the table while he looks outside the window, "Figured we can ah safe space by sitting together." He suggests with a nonchalant shrug, though internally, Simon's stomach is clenching with nerves and anxiety. He despises feeling awkward and being in situations he cannot control.

Yes, it does feel incredibly awkward, but deep down you're too nice to tell him to fuck off, because he hasn't given you a reason to do so. When you were forced to share a table last time, you sat in somewhat comfortable silence, though you'd definitely finished your drink faster than usual back then before uttering a polite goodbye and slipping away.

"I guess so," you mutter in return because he's already sat down anyway.

Silence ensues, but you can't ignore the sudden tension of unasked questions and the pressure of social interactions. Then, it's too quiet in the establishment, and you both suddenly and silently hate it.

"Ye enjoy observin' people?"

His question catches you off guard because he sounds genuinely interested in you answer, and it's unnerving.

"Yeah, you could say that," you answer curtly, crossing your legs at your ankles under the table and leaning back into the cheap chair to feign nonchalance, even though you're currently anything but, "I find it relaxing."

"That's...strange," Simon retorts, quirking an eyebrow behind the safety of his balaclava, because he does that, too, and he never thought you'd blatantly admit that. Is people watching a thing among civvies? Then you shoot him an offended look and he can't help but cringe internally.

"Didn't mean it like that, lass." He assures you in a mumble, eyes flickering down to his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea.

Your first instinct is to mock him for his silly mask, ask him if he's a thug or cosplaying as one or some hooligan, but you bite your tongue, because you know better, and you feel like he could make you regret your sass. Especially if one of those assumptions proofs true.

"And what do you always do around here, hm? Never see you read a book or newspaper, let alone play with your phone," you ask instead, not even hiding the accusatory undertone as you turn your upper body towards the window. You're involuntarily dismissive, because it's been a while since you talked to a stranger like that, let alone a man.

"Same as ye, lass," he grumbles, "Thinkin', observin'...enjoyin' the peace." As if internal peace could ever be achieved in his case.

There's another moment of awkward silence and your mind is racing, riddled with anxiety, though unbeknownst to you, so is his. Simon is so out of his element and yet he forces himself to stay, unless you blatantly tell him to fuck off – which, deep down, he hopes you will.

"You're not some creep are you? 'Cause I swear, I'll clock you if you try anything or follow me home after this," you tell him with an edge to your voice, like you mean it. You're not opposed or afraid of violence. You grew up with older brothers and cousins.

Simon snorts at your threat, genuinely. He's taken off guard by your fierceness and he's absolutely sure you're serious about this, and he hates to know that he's capable of taking you down if he wanted to, even if you'd fight tooth and nail. It makes him feel guilty, makes his gut twist and churn because of those dark thoughts coming up in his brain like some black pest, even though he'd never ever do anything to hurt you.

"'m not," he assures you, eyes flickering over to study your face, your expression. You look tense and standoffish, and he can't help but admire that; to know that you're not afraid, that you can take care of yourself if push comes to shove.

"Name's Simon." He offers it like an oblation, a small yet important piece of himself, putting his given name and some trust into the hands of a stranger, and asking nothing in return.

You're once again dumbfounded and yet your mistrust and suspicious nature get triggered; squinting your eyes as him, your heart and brain are in utter turmoil.

"Didn't ask," you eventually retort coolly, like a proper arsehole, even though, deep down, it hurts yourself, hurts you to be rude like that, especially as you see something flicker in his dark eyes. Surprise? Hurt? Anger? You can't tell, but he leans back in his seat, gives a curt nod, accepting your snappish response just like that, and you think he'll leave, but he stays seated.

"I'm...sorry," you utter suddenly, fidgeting with the hem of your grey oversized hoodie, "That was...unnecessarily rude." You admit with a deep sigh. But was it, though? He's a stranger, some bloke with a mask, who just randomly decided to sit with you and introduce himself–

"It's fine, lass," he says, pulling you from your spiralling thoughts with his deep gravelly voice, "A reasonable reaction, really."

It is, Simon thinks. He might have questioned you about your thoughts on self-preservation and your survival instinct, if you wouldn't have reacted the way you just did.

He contemplates lifting his mask to finally take as sip of his tea, but like always, it costs him every ounce of courage to do so while you're looking at him so shamelessly with your alert eyes and that slight frown on your face, and Simon rubs his gloved palms over his thighs below the table to soothe himself as you keep scrutinizing him.

But then you utter your name in return, albeit hesitantly, and his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, noticing the hint of curiosity in your eyes.

You don't see him, Simon, for several weeks after that and after some contemplation, you decide that he must've found a new café to hang out at or perhaps he got arrested eventually. You don't care either way.

But then, why do your eyes keep flickering around the shop whenever you drink your matcha latte? Why do you stare at the empty chair at his 'favourite table'? Why do you keep wondering what happened to him?

You don't want to accept it, don't want to acknowledge it, but deep down, you actually enjoyed having a proper chat with him the last time you saw him. When he so randomly decide to sit with you and introduce himself. You swiftly fix the slight purse of your lips as your mind keeps pondering about this stranger and you force yourself to enjoy your hot beverage until you can get back home and feel accomplished for actually having spent time outside your comfort zones, namely your flat and workspace.

But it's lonely. Always lonely.

In those few moments you'd shared with Simon, despite the awkwardness and that uncomfortable feeling of being perceived by someone, you'd realized that something has been missing in your life. Perhaps you should give your parents and siblings a call back; perhaps you should answer all those ignored messages in your phone; messages that have become less and less, because the people closest to you will eventually stop reaching out. You know that spiel already, yet you're having so much trouble actually pulling yourself out of this hole of self-isolation, a hole that's become suffocating, draining the colour from your life while you keep telling yourself that you're fine, that you want it this way.

"Lass?"

His voice cuts through your overthinking mind like a hot knife through butter and your eyes immediately find his gaze, that unwavering, piercing stare of his.

"Simon," you say in return, more like a greeting if it wouldn't be for the shocked pitch lacing your voice. You can faintly see his tired eyes crinkle slightly as he rests one gloved hand on the backrest of the empty chair across from you and you wonder if he's smiling behind his mask.

"Remember me name, aye?" He asks gruffly, almost playfully, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his chapped lips beneath his mask as he pulls out the chair, waiting for your permission.

"Tsk. Obviously," you answer with a scoff and an eye roll before giving him a short nod. "No tea?" You remark as he sits down without it, raising an eyebrow as you sip on your own drink.

"Err, no. Not stayin' for one," he answers, shaking his head, "Was jus' in the area," he lies, "Figured I could drop by and say 'ello." He adds with a shrug, feeling utterly stupid now, because Simon definitely was not in the area.

He came home from a deployment last night and wanted to check on you for some reason, see if you're still coming here, see if you’re doing alright – but of course, you are.

"Mhm," you hum affirmingly, though more suspicious than ever as you survey him. You want to spit out Why?,  the question burning on the tip of your tongue, but you’re somehow too distracted by his overall appearance.

The paint around his eyes has faded, as if rubbed and smudged too many times. He smells an awful lot of tobacco and something else you can't quite pinpoint. Even in his usual attire of some type of black jacket or hoodie, jeans, boots and his balaclava, he looks terribly dishevelled and messy.

"Where have you been?" You find yourself asking before you can stop your mouth from moving. "If you don't mind me asking." You add casually, for good measure.

“Deployed.” Simon answers offhandedly, sounding colder than he intended to, and you do pick up on the shift in attitude; he doesn’t want to elaborate.

“Okay,” you retort with a nod, though your curiosity is sparked, and you click your tongue, pondering, before you confuse him as you let out a little snort.

Of course, he's a fucking soldier, you muse to yourself, should've figured that out myself.

You can practically see him raise his eyebrows in confusion, noticing how the fabric of his bloody mask shifts slightly.

“Ye laughin’ at me for servin’ me country?” He asks and desperately hopes that you pick up on the teasing tone in his voice, though it’s still hoarse from barking orders at his men for days on end.

“No,” you answer uncharacteristically soft, flashing him a rare genuine and sheepish smile, “I always wanted to join the military myself.”

Simon doesn’t know if it’s the smile you shoot him, catching him off guard, because he’s never seen that expression on your face before, let alone that sudden twinkle in your eyes as you admit that you’ve thought about enlisting in your past, but he suddenly feels even more intrigued by you; this secluded, lovely civilian in front of him, and he finds himself asking then,

“Why didn’t ye enlist?”

Perhaps he should get that tea after all.

Part 2 ?

[r0-boat]

MC naked & afraid featuring 7 idiots Headcannons

(What in hell is bad! survival Island headcannons)

Based off of my whb survival Island poll

Author's notes: I'm watching a documentary right now This shit made me laugh so hard imagining these demons becoming feral

It was supposed to be a cruise Mammon was testing out his new cruise ship but something horribly wrong happened where you and the seven kings were stranded on an island in the human world. Their powers unable to work for plot reasons.

They're not stuck forever They can go back home but a rescue team will take a month to arrive.

Satan

Satan somehow got a campfire running. He got so angry he lit the fire based off of pure anger. Because Leviathan was bullying him that he didn't know how to start a simple fire and asked him to hand over the sticks. Satan said "NO! FUCK YOU PUSSY BITCH I GOT IT!"

Satan is a really good hunter, like an exceptional hunter. And he quickly goes into his role. It's been 2 days and now He wears the pelt of his latest kill. Hey sharpens his own tools and he looks like a savage according to Leviathan.

Satan has gotten a thrill for the hunt and for some reason he keeps staring at you....

Mammon

For an hour he's been looking around this deserted island it is populated with native animals and foliage as well as fresh water. You know what he's thinking about... Turning this island into another one of his villas.

When he is not checking out this island as if he's trying to purchase real estate He's actually helping you with building a shelter. Tino's absolutely nothing about building shelters but he's glad to be your heavy muscles and tools for whenever you can't do something.

Following Satan His deconstruction of a civil man has begun but the only thing that really changed is his shirt came off that's it... Only because It got ripped when Satan and him had a fight.

Leviathan

He hates this he fucking hates this. Everyone's running around like headless chickens and he's the only competent devil (except for Lucifer)

He's been better... He was actually a lot worse when you first crashed on the island You had to actually calm him down from his panic attack and when he did finally calm down He has been clinging to you like his life depended on it. Using you as some kind of strange therapy. Becoming more possessive over you.

Anything you're doing he is doing with you no questions ask if anyone were to question it he will take a sharp rock and stab them right in the eye.

Beelzebub

As soon as you woke up in the sand Beelzebub. You wanted to search for him But the other kings we're not worried for him at all.

Before the sun goes down he does turn up with a stick sharpened into a spear and food. Beel is an exceptional hunter. He is the reason why All of you aren't starving. Beel can literally eat anything But that doesn't mean you and other devils can't. So if he tells you not to eat something don't need it.

Beel and Satan have some kind of dick measuring competition with killing and hunting prey. Satan comes back with a rabbit, Beel catches a wild boar, Satan comes back with a big fish, Beel comes back with a crocodile.

Lucifer

Oh my god finally a competent devil. Lucifer is the most important devil since he can heal injuries as well as sicknesses. Even though his magic isn't in effect he still knows a lot of natural plant remedies. He knows every plant species that God has made.

He looks at you with an odd look, while you follow his instructions closely on how to build a proper shelter.

He takes this chance to study you as if you were his science project every time you get a bump I scrape or scratch He studies you meticulously how your human body heals naturally slowly. His fingers delicately tracing each scar you've ever had.

Belphegor

Motherfucker is either asleep or jacking off while you guys do the work. He's so lucky to have all these hard workers working for him and with the shelter built he could finally... It's not comfortable...

He knows that you guys are doing your best and what not but damn sleeping on the ground sucks ass wipe. He wants to find natural soft moss or bedding just for a better sleep.

Because of Belphegor The shelter in looks more and more comfortable with his additions which he always adamantly reminds you. Every time you go in there's new shit added and it looks more like a nest then a shelter.

Asmodeus

Oh yeah the clothes are gone... Are you surprised? This demon has become full feral and he loves it. An island paradise for you and him and of the other 6 would like to join they're more than welcome to.

This uncivilized natural land spark something inside him that you don't want anything to do with.

After you literally threatened not to have sex with him for 2 months until he puts his clothes back on He decides to use leaves or vines instead now he just looks like PornHub Tarzan...

Bonus:

This devil is the king of lust, He has been eyeing this human potential mate for a while now...

The human bathing in the crystal pool catch a sight of him, They seem weary but content with his presence.

This is his chance The devil puffs out his chest showing off his horn it is a devil's way of showing strength and virility.

In his usual habitat He would be the undisputed king. But now his territory is shared. And another eyes his prey.

The human looks into the foliage before jumping back a splash of water fills his vision he hears warning hiss as his opponent comes in view a devil of envy, He has already laid claim to them and he will not back down.

Unlike his one horn this male has two, two against one is hardly fair but that doesn't mean he'll stand down without a fight.

Before these two demons can fight for this potential mate, the human screams "STOP FUCKING AROUND!! I'M TRYING TO BATHE GET OUT!!"

[zevrra]

in the dead of night—

synopsis: you’ve been losing sleep recently; all thanks to a certain incubus slipping into your room every night. do you give in to temptation once again?

wc: 5.6k

includes: f!reader, aphrodisiac, handjob, 69, dirty talk, edging, vaginal penetration, creampie, mating press, breeding, && incubus!toji

You’ve been struggling to sleep recently. Day in, day out, you’ve had the worst nightmares. As you and your damn luck would have it you only ever remember some small moments from these dreams. A flash of a dark haired man, if you could even call him that, with a wicked smirk; along with a set of fangs sharper than any knife you’ve ever held. You can’t remember exactly what he looks like but every time your eyes close you can see his blurry silhouette. You don’t know him and with your lack of sleeping because of him; you’re not sure if you ever want to know.

You sigh, followed by an exhausted yawn, as you sit in your living room. You’ve tried everything to cure you of your nightmares. From tea to therapy, taking a relaxing bath before bed, nothing helped. You knew praying would do nothing to help you, not this far along in this mess, but you would try it anyway. You take your herbal infused bath, drink your tea, stay away from sweets, before finally crawling into bed. New pajamas, fresh sheets, anything and everything to make you comfortable enough to sleep all night long.

Eyes heavy you lay back onto you awaiting bed. And as your head hits the pillow you slip into unconsciousness.

The dream begins in your room. It’s dark, pitch black, but you can hear a storm beginning just outside your window. You lay on your back and everything is fine until you feel strong hands run along your body. You can’t move, you can only see the blur of a shadow creeping across your bedroom as the storm rolls in outside. You don’t have to clearly see his face to know exactly who it is sneaking into your room.

“Oh good,” You mutter in a sarcastic tone as you manage to sit up, just to look at the edge of your bed where the man from your said nightmares sits. “Thought maybe I was finally going to be able to sleep all night long tonight.”

The blur of the man chuckles at your sarcasm as he creeps closer to where you sit. A strong hand moves to brush against your shin as equally strong fingers pull your covers away from your body. “Oh shut up. You know you love it brat.” The man fires back at you as one of his hands now grabs hold of your ankle, yanking you closer to where he sits. “I come in every night and you always end up begging me for more.” He adds with a wicked smirk as he flashes the tip of his demon tongue.

You blush under his accusation. Of course you never really remember anything from these little encounters except for two things; this demon with his bad attitude and that the sex within these dreams was always really, really fucking good. Still wasn’t a great excuse for your recent exhaustion as no matter how good it was you needed some damn sleep.

Nails run up into your inner thigh as a distraction from your thoughts of sleep. Who would want to sleep right now when the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes upon is inching closer and closer. You’ll forget his face by the time you wake up in the morning but for now you’d stare as much as you’d like. From his dark blue eyes, sharp even in the dead of night, along with his ridiculously handsome face, and the mysterious scar slanted across his pretty lips that were pouting your way.

His chin rests against your propped up knee as his hands inch closer to the hem of your pajama shorts, brushing along just underneath it. “Ya ready to kiss and makeout yet?” The demon asks in a sly tone as if he already knows what your answer is going to be.

One more sleepless night wouldn’t hurt…right?

“Fuck you.” You mutter back in a weak attempt to make it seem like you had any kind of upper hand. You lift a hand out towards him in annoyance but fuck if you didn’t want him just as bad as he wanted you. It had something to do with the amount of times he had snuck into your room, just like he had done tonight, and fucked you senseless. Even his own desire was clear behind that cocky facade of his.

The demon chuckles in amusement, wings flexing behind his rather broad back, tucking away, tail flicking out of your line of sight as well, just as his hands grab hold of your waist and with ease he hauls you up and into his lap. “Always so bratty,” The incubus teases with a flash of sharp teeth while his hands push up beneath your pj top, removing it from your person. He then tosses it over his shoulder and discards it to your bedroom floor where he thinks it rightfully belongs. Now his strong hands return to your warming skin, presses calloused palms over your waist and moves them upwards until he’s groping your breast. He rolls your nipples between his fingers before giving one a firm tug, making you shudder followed by a soft gasp. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck the brat right outta ya.”

You can’t help but glare down at the creature before you. In all his wicked glory as he grins up at you. “Go ahead and try.” You tease right back. Your words must have struck a nerve. His eyes light up ever so slightly at the thought of this now becoming something like that of a game.

And he was not a loser.

His fingers pinch your nipples again, a little harder than last time, and you stubbornly hold your voice back. You would do your best to seal your lips so you don’t give him the pleasure of knowing he won. Even if you knew it would not last long, from countless nights of passion you spent with this demon and knew how good things were, you were going to make him work a little harder for it this time.

He moves in to kiss you then. If you weren’t going to speak up he was going to keep your mouth busy with something else. His long demon tongue flicks out to lick across your chin before he presses it against your lips. “Open.” He hums, knowing damn good and well you weren’t going to comply with anything he asked for right now. And you keep your lips closed just like he knew you would. One hand moves away from your breast to grab hold of your jaw, forcing you to look down at him entirely, as his tongue flicks across your lips again. “Brat.” He warns with a soft squeeze to your jaw.

You roll your eyes as you finally settle into his lap. Knees on either side of his waist while your hands run up his broad chest, over the tight fit black of his shirt before your fingers move around his neck and pull against black strands of his hair. “Just fucking kiss me.”

The demon laughs but meets you halfway in your first of many tonight. His lips are pressed directly against yours as he finally kisses you. Giving you no time to adjust as his long demon tongue slips inside your mouth. You gasp at the intrusion but he presses on, continues to explore your mouth as your lips clash together. You stifle a moan against his lips and instead grind yourself down against him, making sure to press into his gray sweatpants with a good amount of your weight. You weren’t going to be the only needy bitch in this situation.

You can feel the demon smirk against your lips as his hands return to your tits. He grips your flesh, pressing up into your body as much as he could while his lips continue to mesh with your own. You can feel his tongue wrap around yours just before he unexpectedly tilts his head back to break the kiss.

His tongue uncurls from the inside of your mouth, leaving only the several strings of saliva connected from his lips to your own. The feeling and sensation of it all makes you shudder. Causing you to clench your thighs around him as a tingle of pleasure shoots down your spine.

He grabs ahold of your wrist then, pressing your palm right up against his half hardening cock beneath his sweatpants. A flash of sharp teeth and lust filled eyes tells you all you need to know about what he wants you to do; doesn’t stop him from saying it though. “Come on baby…I’m not gonna be doin’ all the work tonight.”

You want to mock him in return but you bite your tongue. You settle with a strong heave of your chance before leaning forward to kiss him once again. Your hand he had previously placed on himself begins to stroke him above his sweatpants. You feel the girth of his semi-hard cock and you’re almost shocked at his size. Maybe you just don’t remember from your previous dreams but this demon was…huge; larger than anyone you had previously slept with. Even half hard you can feel the girth and how your hand barely manages to wrap around the fullness of his cock. You can’t even imagine how big he’ll be once he’s fully aroused and somehow the thought terrifies you a little. You knew the sex was good but not at the cost of your entire womb being fucked. You swear when he ends up finally, fully hard, he’d be damn near the size of your forearm.

Somehow the demon can sense your hesitation as his hand moves to grab your own, wrapping his fingers around your wrist just to get your hand moving. “Don’t worry, it’ll work soon.” The man mumbles against your lips. His tongue slithers across his own wet lips as his hand continues to guide your fingers. From the base to the tip of his slowly stiffening cock. You tremble ever so slightly as you now feel him fully hardening beneath your touch and he groans against your lips in return for making him feel good. Gives you just a little bit of a taste for what’s to come.

“W-wait? What’s working?” You ask in a pant as you slowly jerk him off. Pushing your hand eagerly beneath his waistband, with his help of course, as you grab his full stiff cock now. Moving your wrist up and down the best you could in your position beneath his waistband. You didn’t think much of what his words meant, would find out sooner or later, especially when everything was becoming a little too foggy. The only goal in your mind was to jerk him off. To make him come into your hand with only your hand so you could tease him about it.

But he doesn’t answer you. Just flashes that devilish grin of his at you and your cluelessness.

You continue on, doing your best to ignore the demon and his words. What you were doing now didn’t require any words and you made it a point by pressing your thumb into the head of his cock. The feeling of precum against your skin and drawing a nice sigh out of the demon leaves you quite satisfied with your handiwork. So you keep your rhythm going. Needed more and more of his undoing just as much as you needed yours. And as you stroke him nice and slow, pulling every grunt you can from the other, his lips find your jaw. His single hand stays on your own, following every single one of your tedious strokes, while his other hand gropes at your ass. And he rubs your ass all nice and slow, matching your pace, as his lips move further down to your exposed throat. He runs his tongue along a path of one of your more prominent veins before his teeth scrape across your skin. The feeling of his fangs moving along your throat forces you to shudder. A dangerous chill runs down your body, setting off a numbing sensation beneath your skin. And it leaves you shocked at your body's strange reaction. It was just a simple touch yet it felt like your entire body was beginning to tremble with lust— like a strange fire burning within. You were kissing and stroking him off. There was nothing to warrant why your body was so…reactive right now.

The man chuckles against your skin, sending another shiver down your spine, as he removes your and his hand equally from beneath his sweatpants; where he places a kiss against the back of your slick hand. “Feelin’ it yet?” He asks in a hushed tone, making a point to his own words by sliding his hand from your ass around your hip and in a straight line down between your thighs, making sure to press his knuckles against the front of your pj shorts; right up against your slowly aching pussy.

Lightning shoots across your body at the simple touch. Even your fingertips tingle from the press of his knuckles against your lower half. A rough shiver has you visibly shuddering in his lap as a moan rips from between your lips against your will.

You’re far more sensitive than you had ever been before. This was all just a dream there was no way you’d be feeling it…this much. Especially not from a simple makeout and some teasing. You lean back to stare down where his hand rubs against your pj shorts. Fingers pressing and sliding along the length of your pussy in the same slow motion you had previously been doing to him. Causing you to cry out in alarm. But he doesn’t stop, continues to rub between your trembling, aching thighs; turning you into a muttering mess.

“What! What did you do?” You sob just as he presses the flat of his demonic palm against your ever growing sensitive core. The heat of his hand sends a fiery jolt through your entire body but just as quickly as he places it, he removes it, definitely to tease you even more.

“Don’t worry. Just a little aphrodisiac to help loosen you up,” The demon replies truthfully. He doesn’t give you the chance to process anything as he’s changing positions before you can complain.

The lust, heat, and passion of it all was turning your mind into one giant goopy mess and it didn’t help in the slightest that the aphrodisiac he had somehow managed to slip you was turning all these emotions up to an 11.

“A demon’s tongue is very tricky, ya know.” He says from beneath you, forcing you to turn and look at him. By some dream magic he’s discarded his black shirt and sweatpants, and of course not wearing anything else underneath those sweatpants, as you hover above him on your hands and knees.

You look over your shoulder in a red hot flush of embarrassment at the new position but he simply continues to smirk that shit eating grin of his. Nails run up the back of your thighs before sinking into your pj shorts where all the fabric is quickly ripped off your body and gone without a second thought. Except you would’ve gladly just taken off the pj’s if he had asked.

“Fuck—“ You start to say but he cuts you off as his demon tongue is working its way across your inner thigh. He leans casually against your pillows, ‘asshole’, as your pussy sits dangerously close to his face, while on the flip side your mouth is damn near inches from his awaiting, massive self. He stands tall and proud and even bigger than you had imagined. You whine at the sight but you can’t even bring yourself to remove your gaze from the wet tip.

He continues to dance around the edges of your core, teasing you in the worst way possible. Licking ever so close to your drooling center but never quite touching it where you want—no where you fucking needed it.

Damn him and his twisted, sick ways.

“Hey,” The demon mumbles, making sure to rip your attention away from your desires. “You gonna keep bein’ a brat?” He hums in a sickly sweet tone. Licking a rather long path along your sensitive inner thigh and just stopping before your pussy. The edging leaves you gasping for air. While your lower half at this point is begging for the attention that he was refusing to give you.

You grunt in frustration and decide to ignore him. Moving your hands to grasp at the base of his cock before your mouth is wrapping around his slick head. Can’t talk if your mouth is full and it definitely was full. You begin to suck him off to avoid accidentally begging him to eat you out, you wouldn’t resort to begging just yet, so you keep your mouth busy.

It doesn’t faze him in the slightest. Even if you aren’t looking at him you already know he’s smiling away as his fingers massage around your thighs and the end of your ass. He retracts his tongue just to replace the slow motion of its flicking with his thumb. He draws circles along your drenched, sensitive core; his thumb just barely scratches the itch you so desperately crave but still not enough. It wasn’t enough. You could feel your own slick dripping from your aching pussy and with the burn in your womb it was making it all too hard to focus on your task at hand.

But you force yourself to continue. Your mouth works on his twitching cock to the best of your ability. Sucking him off like your life depended on it and while he fills your mouth, his scent settles in your nose. The mix of his scent and the aphrodisiac in your veins is a very dangerous combo against your resolve. His taste, smell, the lingering of his touch on your body was easily chipping away your attitude. Slowly deforming you into the whiney bitch in heat he so desperately wanted to see.

God his scent is strong. Overpowering your sense of reason as your mind becomes all too foggy and hazy in every which way while his cock remains in your mouth. You slide down onto his shaft, forcing your gag reflex to turn non-existent for the moment.

Your tongue lays flat against the underside of his cock as you take more of him into your mouth. Head bobbing up and down with every suck while your hands only manage to grip his thighs for any some support.

“My, my, look at you,” The demon laughs in a proud tone as he watches and feels your eagerness in blowing him. You barely hear him but manage to suck at his head, the obvious weak-spot. The feeling has him grunting beneath you. A win. “So eager now…” He coos. But like the demon he is, he wants nothing more than to throw you off. Even if he was feeling good, annoying you was probably more fun.

He lets you continue your little defiance blowjob for just a moment longer until he’s had enough of just watching. His thumb sinks inside of your pussy in one quick motion.

Lightning shoots across your entire body at the sudden intrusion. Randomly getting the satisfaction of what you had craved for far too long is overwhelming to your body and it almost makes you cum. You take your mouth off of his hardening cock. Sobbing, pathetically, into the air with your head rolling to the side limp. Your hips buckle just as your hands also can no longer support your top half fully and you fall onto your elbows.

You would blame the damn drug for your weakness.

“Fuck! Fuck,” You curse, fingers tangling into the sheets of your bed. Your eyes fall shut tightly as you focus on not letting this demon bring you to your orgasm yet. Even if the tension in your lower half was hotter than molten lava right now and begging to be released. “You!”

The demon snickers as he removes his thumb from inside of your core. Watching your body tremble and shake, pussy throb and drip with slick for more. “What? Got somethin’ to say now?” He whispers as his long tongue licks across his soaked thumb.

“I-” You start, speaking through clenched teeth. You couldn’t deny it anymore. The simple touch of his has your entire body going crazy. You can’t focus on being a brat anymore. The dominating feeling of your need for him outweighs your pride in proving a point anymore and you were bound to snap. “Dammit, you’ve had your fun! Now, fuck, just…please!” You beg as sweet as you possibly can. Finding enough strength to turn ever so slightly to look back at the demon. “Please.”

He bites his bottom lip at your sudden eye contact and your, very successful, begging. And he doesn’t say anything to settle your feverish desire, instead you watch as he leans forward. You feel his long tongue press against your aching pussy, finally, finally, giving you some form of relief. His tongue is quick to sink into your core as he eats you out like you’re a meal to a starving man. His nose is flush against your skin as he presses his entire mouth over your soaking wet center.

Now that you are getting the much needed attention between your thighs, moans fall far easier from your lips. Your hand weakly moves back to his cock as you attempt to keep him hard while his tongue thrusts inside of you and his fingers brush up against your clit. You sob into his skin as you barely manage to move your hand under his work. Your body tingles at every flick, curl, press, and lick of his tongue. The tight twist of your orgasm is setting in far too fast and yet you somehow still don’t want to give into it. Not yet, you wanted more.

“I can’t…no more!” You cry in a broken, shrill voice. You manage to shake your head as quickly as you can, removing your hand away from his weeping cock as you try your best to get him to stop. “Please! Just…want you!”

The demon hums in amusement but doesn’t stop even with your pleas ringing in the open air. He continues his rhythm and even adds to it, pressing a lone finger inside along with his tongue; and your pussy begs for release. You can hear how lewd your pussy sounds with the addition of his finger. The sloppy wet noises would haunt you the next time you woke up and you were sure to remember the betrayal of your own body he fooled around with.

But you can’t take him fingering you and that devilish long tongue of his that managed to reach even deeper than his finger. “Please…” You beg one last time as your impending orgasm is coming in hot. Can feel the coil of your lust beginning to wind up deep inside your lower half. He pulls you closer and closer to shoving you over that edge with every curl of his finger but at the last second, when he knows you’re going to come, he pulls entirely away. His finger and tongue slip out of your pussy before giving you the chance to come.

You never would’ve guessed you would be thankful for the relief of not reaching an orgasm but god tonight, was the first of many. You go limp against his legs and pant like you’ve just ran a race. An uncontrollable shudder racks through your body at the loss of your approaching orgasm but you’d have time to find it again later. Somehow, you manage to laugh. For the big bad demon listened to you and your little pleas. You weakly switch your position to turn and face him, a smile on your face now to rival his own. His eyes are deep and dark with lust as he stares at you. A smile to mimic your own but god his lips and jaw are soaking wet from the slick of his previous meal— the sight makes your pussy throb.

“Aw, what a good boy. You listen so well.” You hum as your hands spread out across his broad chest. His hands settle on your thighs, rubbing gently into the thick of them, as he waits for you to speak while also giving you the time to come down from your previous high. “Now…you gonna fuck ‘the brat out of me’, or what?”

The demon laughs at your statement, nodding ever so slightly. His hands move to your waist and he squeezes your body ever so gently. “Lift your hips then, brat.” He hums in response. Using the term brat now as if it’s some sort of sweet sentimental nickname. It was nothing but a tease.

You do as you’re told though, with the help of his guiding hands, you manage to lift yourself to line up with the head of his cock. You roll your hips in his grasp ever so slightly to brush against the head of his waiting cock; and the small touch sends a wave of ecstasy through your chest. And what you hope is going to be a slow start for you and him, solely so you may get adjusted to how big he is, well you were wrong. For in one swift motion, his hands guide you down while his hips rise to meet you and before you can blink you’re fully sitting on his cock as it buries deep into your center.

Your body spasms as the sudden electricity of your orgasm rips right through you. And you can’t help it as your mouth falls open in a mix of a moan and a cry as your unexpected climax sets your whole body ablaze. You mutter incoherently as your body falls limp against his chest, hips rocking to get any sort of friction to ride out the pleasure plummeting through your veins.

Your orgasm lasts a few fiery seconds while he stays put inside of you. The quick high to the beginning of a hard crash has your grip on his shoulders weakening while sleep threatens to pull you under.

But the demon wasn’t finished with you just yet.

“Not this time. You’re not gonna get the chance to fall back asleep.” The demon mumbles into the crown of your head as his grip on your waist tightens. You feel your body shift higher up on his chest as his knees prop up, giving him almost entirely every bit of control he could ask for. Which meant trouble for you. “Don’t pass out on me now.” He whispers before his hips are snapping forward.

Your pussy burns with the stretch of his cock but you take all of him as he fucks into your already overstimulated core. He uses the grip on your waist to pull you down every time his hips rise to meet you. Each thrust sends a wave of mind numbing pleasure everywhere, even to the very tips of your toes. He fucks your pussy like his life depends on it. Grunts into your hair at the connection of your bodies. Meanwhile you do nothing but cry like a blubbering fool as he uses your body for his own pleasure.

And the most annoying part of it all?

You fucking loved every bit of it.

Turned you on to the point it started to wake you up again. Knowing he was using you to seek his own pleasure. He could’ve just as easily left you in this dream to move onto wherever else he goes but he chose to stay there with you. Because he wanted you; and he wanted you to make him feel good just as much as you wanted him. Made you feel a little better about yourself.

The demon must’ve noticed your mind wandering off somewhere else for his speed picks up tremendously. His thrusts are far more shallow but quicker now, as if he was getting desperate. You can’t help but laugh, or what you assume is a laugh, at the thought.

“Yeah? What’s so funny?” He asks with a more rougher thrust into your already overstimulated pussy.

You whine at the change up of his thrusts, panting against his chest as your grip slightly returns on his shoulders. “Y-you fucking love this!” You moan against his skin. Slightly propping yourself up to get a good look at the demon lying beneath you. Needed him to look into your eyes so he knew that you knew he enjoyed your shared night. “Just as much as I do.”

Maybe you should’ve been the demon instead.

The dark haired man laughs before in one swift motion, you find yourself on your back. You lay against your cool bed sheets, thunder, accompanied by the soft sound of rain, echoes somewhere off in the sky, while your ‘nightmare’ hangs above you. His stiff cock stays buried inside of you as his hands move from your hips to your ankles.

You had been getting fucked so well you didn’t even notice the demon’s crest appearing at your womb. It was your first time seeing it but you really couldn’t even bring yourself to care. Fuck it, so what if a demon had control over you? The worst thing in the world couldn’t be having sex with a demon, especially not a demon like the one deep inside of you and staring so lovingly down at you.

“Yeah. I fucking love it.” The dark haired man admits, blue eyes scanning quickly across your face. But you don’t get the chance to figure out what look he’s giving you when he’s back to thrusting inside of your pussy. His thick, strong arms wrap around your legs as he begins to move.

A moan is ripped from your lips as you grab the sheets beneath you. The same winding feeling of your orgasm is subtly making itself known once again. But something felt more intimate in his thrusts now. They were no longer shallow or a means to an end, every thrust was well placed. A little slower but far more drawn out and somehow more powerful. You’re just glad his dark blue eyes watch his cock disappearing inside of you rather than stare at your face. You’re not sure if you could handle it at the moment.

“What’s your—ah—name?” You gasp between pathetic whines as your hands move to grip the sheets beside your head. You can feel his gaze shift to look at you and in your vulnerable state you glance away. Embarrassed was an understatement seeing as you were just now asking for his name.

“Why ya wanna know? Wanna scream it or somethin’?” The man teases, pressing himself tighter against you. His hips never slow even as he speaks. And you know that same smirk he’s been wearing all damn night stays plastered on his stupidly handsome face.

“Y-yes.” You admit in your aphrodisiac state. Panting, moaning, whining at every thrust of his hips. Could feel your womb burning hot with his crest, begging for his seed.

The man laughs at you. Not even surprised at your honesty. It was his doing of course, why you couldn’t lie and had to give in to every bit of pleasure you desired. His hands sculpt along your thighs before your feet are meeting entirely too close to your head. A dangerous press, surely allowing him the room to finally kiss your womb.

“Toji.” He groans into the shell of your ear while he shifts your bent knees to settle on either side of his shoulders as he piledrives into your pussy. “Say it.”

His hips never stop moving and you can feel his black tail from before whip around and slither up against your thigh. The appendage is warm to the touch and gently burns against your skin, causing you to gasp; giving you the chance to finally speak the name of the demon who’s tormented your sleep for weeks.

“Toji!” You cry. Can feel the head of his cock kiss your cervix. The crest Toji had placed earlier on your womb glows a bright pink as he presses further inside of you; rushes you closer to your second orgasm. Overstimulated wasn’t even the right word for how you felt anymore. How he was making you feel with every long draw of his cock. You managed to be hot and cold all at the same time. The pleasure from his cock spearing you in half and the slight pain of his tail warming against your thigh; not to mention the crest pulsating along your lower half, sending waves of ecstasy scorching through your body.

It was all too much. Turning you back into nothing but a mumbling fool, screaming out a man’s name you barely knew. “Toji!” You sob in pleasure again and again. His name echoes in every corner of your room as you whimper for him. More and more, you wanted everything he could give you. And you never wanted to wake from this dream.

“Careful now,” Toji says, laughing softly into your ear as he pounds into your soaking pussy. “Keep sayin’ my name like that and I might just make you mine forever.” He hums with a wicked grin, moves to run his sharp fangs across your neck. “You wanna be mine?”

You can barely make out what he’s saying or really understand what he’s asking for. You don’t know, you don’t care, you just nod pathetically to his demands. “Yes, yes, whatever. Toji—please! Please!” You manage to respond. You resort to begging him to let you come. To finally give you the sweet release of the burning, pulsing lust pounding in your veins.

“Yeah, yeah. Come for me, baby.” Toji laughs once more against your skin before his teeth sink into your throat. His hand smooths over the crest on your stomach as he instructs you to give him all of you. And you do as you're told.

The teeth sinking into your flesh, the hot passion of the crest, Toji’s never ending thrusts, his sweet words, it all was too much now. Your mouth falls open in a mix of Toji’s name and a barely audible sob as your orgasm hits you like a truck. Your body tightens up, squeezing around Toji, who groans as your pussy convulses around him, as you are finally allowed to come for the second time. You whimper as Toji never stops thrusting through your orgasm, keeps going and builds it up, until your entire body returns to full on trembling. He doesn’t stop until he reaches his own orgasm. Presses his hand on your stomach, on the crest, directly above where his cock fucks into you. Where he then buries his entire self inside of you as he cums. A deep groan rolls off the demon’s tongue just as he removes his teeth from your throat. Allowing him to grunt through each rope of cum that he pushes inside of you.

You continue to moan even as his thrusts turn into a slow, rocking speed. Somehow you knew he was making sure your womb accepted his seed. Thrusting every bit of himself inside of you with that stupid smirk on his face. You watch, in your blurry state of post-orgasm, as Toji leans back to view his handiwork; staring directly at the crest he had placed against your womb. Watching as it glows one final time before dimming and turning into something that just looks like a pretty tattoo.

“Oh yeah,” He chuckles. The noise barely gets your attention as you’re slowly fading, losing consciousness as what you assume is your dream coming to an end. “You’re mine forever sweetheart.”

It’s the last thing you hear before succumbing back into the depths of sleep. Tomorrow you will wake once again exhausted from your dreams because of the one called Toji. Yet a small voice inside of your head whispered and hoped to wake up next to him tomorrow morning instead.