#I LOVE MELANIE MARTINEZ SO MUCH FUCKING FIGHT ME

[winterwrxter]

A snake walks into a bar. The bartender says, "How did you do that?" I walk into the bar. I say, "Guess who's fucking back," and breakdance while dropping some art based off of some of Melanie Martinez's songs in preparation for a fic I may or may not write :]

Art is based off Nuse's Office and Lunchbox Friends both by Melanie Martinez because if you can't tell I'm obsessed with her music <3

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

Violent Love

-M.S

Synopsis: Matt and you have been friends since kindergarten, but when his youtube career flew off, so did he. He moved to LA with his brothers, and when he came back to Boston for a visit, it doesn’t end in the most pleasant way.

Warnings: Foul language, Stalking, Murder, Phsyco!Matt

This story is NOT for the faint of heart. Its also really fucking long. like REALLY long.

“Teddy bear, you were my teddy bear

You were comforting and quiet

How did love become so violent?

Oh, teddy bear, you were my teddy bear

Everything was so sweet until you tried to kill me”

As you laid down alone in bed, you heard a faint knock on your door. You automatically assumed it was Matt, your childhood best friend.

Best friend. He was like a very overprotective big brother to you. When you had issues with people, Matt had no issue starting a physical fight. Unlike how most people would just say, ‘talk it out’ or even have a talk with them, Matt would immediately start a fight. He’d beat the shit out of them, until they were sobbing and rapidly apologizing.

You hated that Matt did this, but it also gave you a sense of security. Protection.

He always held you close to him as you two cuddled in his bed, watching whatever movie you wanted, while scarfing down popcorn. Matt was everything you needed.

He was there for you, and he always had been. Until he wasn’t.

He had a youtube career, with his brothers, Chris and Nick. You loved them, too, but not nearly as much as Matt. You were more than overjoyed when the boys’ youtube career took off, but the three decided it would be best to move to L.A. Simply because there were ‘more influencers’ there, making ‘easier content’.

Matt tried to get you to come with, even offering you a room in their house, but you declined. You were of course sad to see him leave, but you always felt you were holding him back. You would miss him, but you felt it was best. Besides, he said he’d take trips back to Boston often to visit you.

The longer you two stayed apart, the more you slightly drifted apart. You still talked, but you didn’t feel as close as you used to. So, when Matt told you he’d be coming back to Boston, you immediately invited him over.

And now he was here.

You threw yourself out of bed, quickly making your way to the door of your empty home, opening it quickly to see Matt standing there alone, a bouquet of roses in hand.

“Matt! I missed you so much! I haven’t seen you in forever!” You gasped, throwing yourself into his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him to catch you and hold you.

“I missed you too, Y/N,” He shook his head and chuckled, before slowly setting you down. “Here.. I got you these,” He says slowly, handing you the roses that were held tightly in his hand.

“Awe, Matt, you didn’t have to,” You gushed.

“I know, I just missed you so much.” He shook his head, and you backed up, allowing him a clear entrance to your house. You nodded, and he let himself inside.

“Nice house,” He smiled, as you followed him inside.

“Yeah.. It’s okay. Kinda out in the middle of nowhere though.” You shrugged, and he nodded. “Come to my room! We can watch a movie and talk. Like old times!” You suggested, and he nodded.

He followed you closely as you zoomed down the halls, eventually making it to your room.

“Sorry its messy,” You apologized, and Matt scoffed.

“Y/N, we literally made messes in each others rooms when we were younger what are you on?” He gently shoved you out of the way, throwing himself on your bed.

“C’mere,” He waved you over, holding his arms open for you, and you quickly threw yourself into him.

Just like old times.

You wrapped tightly around him, as his arms snaked around your waist.

“If you squeeze any tighter my eyes might pop out of my head,” Matt laughed, and you loosened your grip.

“Sorry, I just missed you soooo much!” You giggled, and Matt placed a kiss on your forehead, causing you to shoot up.

“I totally forgot to tell you, but I got a boyfriend!” You smiled brightly.

You got a boyfriend about two months after Matt left. Your boyfriend cared for you, of course, but not as much as Matt did.

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed, and he slowly sat up, and you tilted your head.

“I.. Um… I gotta go- I told my mom i’d be home for dinner,” He abruptly stood up, and you felt slightly hurt. Why was he being so… rude?

Yeah, sure, Matt was usually like this, but not to you or your family. Ever. He loves all of his family very dearly, and wouldn’t do anything they don’t want. Or deserve. Or need.

“Oh.. Okay. Text me later tonight, so we can make plans. Okay?” You asked, and Matt just nodded, before slipping into the hallway.

Later comes, and yet no text from Matt. You decided it was best to call him, and he quickly answered, but before you could speak, he did.

“What’s your boyfriends name?” He asked through the phone speaker.

“Um.. Kyle..? Kyle Spencer, why?” You reply, and you hear him sigh.

“I know him, Y/N. He was on my highschool hockey team. He’s bad news,” Matt was disappointed. You could tell.

“Matt.. You don’t know him like I do.. Trust me on this one. Please?” You pleaded, but Matt just hung up.

He never hangs up on you? Nevertheless when you were in the midst of a conversation. You stared at the phone with his contact showing, confused as you read the big bold letters saying ‘Call Ended.’

You debated on calling him again, and decided too. He was acting weird. You laid silently, awaiting to hear his sweet voice, but to no avail, you hear a loud beep, and his voicemail.

You let out a frustrated groan, before sitting up and calling one of his brothers. Due to alphabetical order, Chris’ contact was the first one you saw. The phone rang, but unlike his brother, Chris answered.

“Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” Chris chimes through the phone, his voice loud and cheerful.

“Hey, Chris! Is Matt around you?” You asked curiously, but the boy hummed.

“Umm, no.. He just left, actually. Sorry. Did you have plans with him?” Chris replied, and you let out an annoyed sigh. Who was Matt so adamant about meeting up with?

“No, not really. I’m just bored, I was gonna ask him to come over but he wont answer his damn phone.” You growl, causing Chris to chuckle.

“Me and Nick can come over if ya want, we don’t have any plans,” Chris offered, and you smiled at the thought of seeing them again.

“Yeah! I’d love that. I’ll send you my address.” You beamed with joy, and Chris hummed again.

“Cya soon!” He spoke before hanging up.

At least you wouldn’t have to be alone tonight.

Around twenty minutes later, you hear a knock on your door, and since it must be Nick and Chris, you practically throw yourself out of bed.

You rush down the hall, and throw the front door of the house open, and saw two of the same faced people standing aimlessly at your door.

“Y/N!” They both exclaimed, as you quickly pulled both of them into a hug. The three of you greeted each other, before you pulled them into your house, leading them to your living room.

They both plopped down on your couch, and you tossed the remote in-between them.

“Put on something to watch, I’m gonna go make some popcorn,” You told them and they both nodded. You heard them quietly speaking to each other as you rummaged through your cabinets, searching for some popcorn.

You finally found a bag, and tossed it in the microwave. As you waited for the popcorn to be done, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, and saw many messages and missed calls from Matt.

Odd. He just hung up on you a while ago, and left your house on a excuse, but now he wants to talk? You decided to open the messages anyways, if he wanted to be a dick you could just simply leave him on read, and thats exactly what you were going to do.

The messages read, ‘sorry i was really busy with something my dad needed help after dinner, can i come over?’ five minutes after that one, he sent another one. ‘hey? y/n im sorry i didnt mean to leave like that.’ Another five minutes passed. ‘Y/n. i know youre getting my messages please at least reply with a no or smt.’ You sighed, and slid your phone back into your pocket, not bothering to reply.

You carefully grabbed the hot bag of popcorn out of the microwave, and headed back to Nick and Chris. The two had turned on Edward Scissorhands, your favorite movie to watch together. You gasped, as you rushed over to the boys sitting comfortably on your couch.

You threw yourself against Chris, as you had done to Matt earlier, and Chris had quickly pulled you into him and adjusted himself, just as Matt had done hours before.

You couldn’t deny, you terribly missed Matt and did want him to come back, but you didn’t want any trouble. He was already acting off today, maybe he just needed rest. If you ignored him, maybe he’d give up and sleep.

You cuddled into Chris, as all three of you shoved popcorn down your throats and payed close attention to the movie. You missed doing this when you were younger.

You missed Matt.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket again, and saw more messages from Matt.

‘Y/n. Is he over? is that why youre ignoring me? i told you hes an asshole. he doesnt deserve you. hes just a whore that wants in your pants. youre better than that.’ You scoffed as you read the message. Who does Matt think he is? Sure, he may be your best friend, but he’s in no place to call your boyfriend a whore? ‘im sorry i took it too far. can i come over please. ill make it up to you, ill cuddle with you and rub your back, we can go sit on the roof and watch the stars like we used to. please.’

That one hit hard. You missed stargazing with Matt so bad. Neither of you knew anything about stars, but thats what made it ten times better. Using your imagination as you laid your head on his warm chest. One of his arms draped around your waist, his other arm holding your hand. You missed it so much.

‘Im busy’ you typed out, and quickly sent, pushing your phone back into your pocket, not wanting to be tempted by his reply.

You felt bad for being so petty to your best friend, but you didn’t want to ‘interrupt’ him. You felt your phone buzz a few times in your pocket, and you felt Chris’ eyes on you.

“Y/N, just answer your phone.” He chuckled, and you sighed. If only it was that easy.

“Has Matt been acting odd, recently?” You questioned, as you slipped your phone out of your pocket.

“Hm.. No. Why?” Chris replied, and you sighed.

“After I told him I.. have a boyfriend, today, he just got up and left. I called him later, he asked for his name and then he just hung up. He didn’t answer any of my other calls, but now he’s spamming me and apologizing.” You grumbled, as you read the messages.

‘Y/N, ill come over regardless i have ur address’ Now this was just getting weird. He was always sweet and caring, not forceful. ‘Y/N, cmon. im sorry. please let me come over. ill make it up to you.’ You contemplated on how to reply, before you just held your phone up to Chris.

“See? How am I supposed to reply to this?” You ask annoyed, and Chris just snatched the phone from your hands.

You didn’t reach to take it back, you trusted him. He lifted the phone at an odd angle, before snapping a picture.

His fingers tapped gently on the screen, before he handed the phone back to you, giving his full attention to the movie.

As you examine the screen, you saw the picture he took, with you wrapped around Chris, had a caption, ‘She said shes busy.’ Chris could be petty too, sometimes. Not that you minded, of course.

Matt quickly began typing, before his message popped up on the screen, below ‘yours’. ‘What the fuck, chris?? fuck this, fuck you guys.’ You read. You didn’t mind. You felt bad, but he just needed time to debrief, you thought. This will all blow over tomorrow, and you guys can hangout and stargaze, like Matt had offered earlier.

You slid your phone back in your pocket, pulling your attention to the movie, that was now almost over. Nick and Chris now started brainstorming the second movie to watch tonight, and you giggled at the two’s bickering.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, before you pulled it out. You saw your boyfriends contact flash across the screen, and your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t mind that he was calling you, but he said he wouldn’t bother you much, knowing you’ll have people over. He usually sticks to this.

You slowly stood up, and held up your index finger at the two boys as you accepted the call, indicating you’d be back in a moment. You walked off down the hall, as you pulled your phone up to your ear.

“Hey, baby!” You spoke loudly; making sure he could hear.

No reply. Nothing at all. No background noise, no voices, no reply. Maybe something had gone wrong with one of their phones?

“Baby?” You called again, and this time you heard something. Something unusual. As you turned your volume up, and held the phone speaker closer to your ear, you heard a ragged breathing.

Nothing you’d say was.. bad, more like someone just took a mile run and was trying to catch their breath. But no words.

“Um.. Hello?” You paused, but the breathing didn’t stop. “Kyle? Are you there?” No reply. You now began to worry. Kyle hadn’t done anything like this before. He was a very respectful guy. He knew something like this would scare you and push your boundaries.

You crept back into the living room, with Nick and Chris. You put the phone on speaker, and grabbed your remote, muting the T.V. Both boys understood, as they intently listened to the phone. The breathing only continued for about fifteen more seconds, before you heard the loud sound of the dial tone, making you slightly jump.

“Did you guys hear that?” You ask, and they both nod.

“Yeah, the weird ass fuckin’ breathing? Yeah I heard it. Whoever the fuck breathing that loud might need an inhaler,” Nick joked, but your facial expression stayed the same. Worried. Scared, even.

“Nick, this isn’t funny..” You sigh worriedly, before tossing your phone onto the couch.

“Sorry, sorry.. What even was that about?” Nick asked, and you shook your head.

“I.. I don’t even know. It was Kyle, my boyfriend. He told me he wouldn’t call, since he knew I had friends over, unless it was urgent. He called, I answered, but he didn’t say anything.. All I could hear was that breathing..” You groan as you sit back down on the couch, next to Chris. “He’s probably fine.. I’m just overreacting. Did you guys pick a movie?” You asked, trying to advert your mind from the topic.

“Yeah, if Spongebob is okay,” Chris giggled, and you nodded. As Nick looked for the movie, you so badly wanted to pull out your phone, make sure your boyfriend was okay, and tell Matt to come over, but you knew you should refrain.

You didn’t want to be too pushy. You had already been told by people that you worry too much, and you figured they were right. Plus, it’s not like Matt would do anything.

The further you got into the movie, you felt more and more unease, which is the complete opposite of what you wanted to happen. The compete opposite of what was supposed to happen.

You began to feel paranoid, feeling like someone was watching you. You kept pushing it off as Chris or Nick, but maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to who was watching you.

You finally finished the movie, your mind still racing with nerve-racking thoughts. What if your boyfriend was hurt? What if Matt was hurt? What if Matt wasn’t going to forgive you? What if.. No. Enough with the what if’s.

“I think i’m gonna go to sleep, now. You guys should stay. I don’t want you going home this late.. You recently got your license and its pitch black outside. You’d probably hit a deer.” You joked, but both boys agreed. Nick called the couch, and Chris called the spare bedroom, knowing Nick would end up sleeping in the spare room anyways.

You headed to your room, and started feeling slightly better. Slightly less like someone was watching your every move. Maybe it was just Nick or Chris, and since they weren’t around now, the feeling wasn’t either.

You quickly changed into your pajamas, just a black cropped top, and red and black plaid pj pants. You threw your hair into a messy bun, before flopping down on your comfortable bed.

You picked up your phone, and saw there were no missed calls or texts. Maybe everything was fine. Maybe you were just overreacting. Or possibly, you weren’t.

You pulled up your texts with Matt, and typed out a smaller message to send him.

‘hey. im sorry if i was being petty earlier, you were just kinda making me upset, yk? id love to hangout sometime tmrw if your not busy? i do miss you matt.’ You meant it all, so you sent it. You’d hope he’d forgive you and move on, even if there wasn’t much to forgive.

You laid in your bed, complete silence filling the air around you, allowing you to fall deep into thought. Perhaps too deep.

You awoke to a loud ringing from your phone, which was laying next to your head. You yawned, before reaching over to grab it and read it, only to find out it was Kyle, who was once again calling you.

It was three in the morning. Kyle had a very strict sleep schedule, he was asleep by now. You quickly answered, no doubt in your mind now that something was wrong.

The same thing that happened the first time happened. Just the same heavy breathing, but no speaking. No speaking at all.

You hung up this time, and you remembered you have Kyle’s location on your phone. You didn’t have it because you ‘didn’t trust him’, it was just a fun Life 360 group of him, you, and some of your other friends.

When the screen finally loaded, you squinted at the sight. Why was he here? At your house? At three in the fucking morning.

Your heart began to beat faster, and you wanted to cry. What was going on? Matt acting weird, Kyle.. heavy breathing, harsh paranoia, and now your boyfriend in your house, and three fucking A.M, with no explanation?

You wanted to go look for him, or at least warn Chris and Nick. Well, not warn. Warn was a stretch, there was nothing to be afraid of. So, why were you so scared? As much as you wanted to get up, your body wouldn’t let yourself.

You felt trapped to your bed, as if it was a pit of quicksand. You realized that you have your phone on you. You could call 911, but whats the use? They’re going to show up, check the house, find nothing, and everyone thinks you’re crazy.

You could at least text Chris and Nick, though, and just prey they have their phones on silent. Why were you so scared of your own boyfriend? He’s never done anything to frighten you or harm you, so you weren’t sure why you were this on edge.

You reached for your phone, before you heard a small shuffle by your door, and your heart dropped. Someone was inside. Someone was inside your home.

You froze, you couldn’t move. You began to shake slightly, your throat going dry immediately. Another decision hit you.

Do you stay quiet, or do you call out? Regardless; whoever it was had Kyle’s phone, and they were in your house. This was targeted, and they knew you were there. This was all planned out.

“Kyle?” You called out, your voice just slightly above a mere whisper. Your doorknob turned; and your heartbeat went from extremely slow, to one-hundred miles per hour. You felt your throat tighten, and your eyes begin to fill with water. Fuck, you can’t break down now. Not now, out of all times.

“My love, there’s no need to be scared. I’m here. I’ll protect you.” Matt.

You could tell from his fucking voice. It was Matthew.

“Matt, oh my fucking god. That wasn’t funny. I almost fucking cried..” You began to trail off at the end of your sentence, as Matt came into view. His blood stained shirt and bloody hands, the rips in his shirt and pants.

Your thoughts immediately went to Kyle. Where the fuck was Kyle, and what the fuck happened with Matt.

“M-Matt, this isn’t funny. This isn’t fucking funny.. Jokes over. Matt, stop. You’re scaring me,” You stutter, as the boy began to inch closer to you, now leaning over you.

“Mh.. Well, I love you. You know that. But you loved him.. There was no other way I could win you, was there? No.. I don’t think so, either. I did the only option. Get rid of all of my opponents. And now look at me. Look at us. Alone, together. No more Kyle, just us. Yeah?” He asked sultry; pulling a bloody knife out of his waistband, dragging it softly against your neck.

Your breath was lodged in your throat, and you couldn’t breathe. What do you do in a moment like this? You can’t run, hide, call the cops, you can’t do anything. You’re helpless, and Matt knows this.

“M-Matt- please, please don’t- don’t hurt me,” You plea, tears begin streaming down your face, as you fight back your sobs.

“Well, You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I would’ve liked the same fucking respect I gave you, goddamnit. I gave you all my fucking love. All my time, care, everything. I gave you fucking everything. And all I get in return? Nothing. Fucking nothing. You had so much to offer.. Such a shame it has to go to waste like this, isn’t it?” He pressed harder, the knife threatening to cut through skin.

Just the smallest movement, and you’d be gone.

“Tell me how the stars are up there.” Matt speaks, a single tear rolls down his cheek, as he quickly rips his arm sideways, slicing the knife.

And just like that, love can turn to violence.

“I threw you out, I didn't outgrow you

I just didn't know you

But now you're back

And it's so terrifying how you paralyze me

Now you're showing up inside my home

Breathing deep into the phone

I'm so unprepared, I'm fucking scared.”

@bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso

[thecoolest69]

♡︎❀About me❀♡︎

Erm my name is Brooklyn I'm 14 and I'm bi (feminine) idfk I'm autistic and just a silly little goofy goober😖

I'm a ambivert so silly ik 😖

I really like music usually am wearing my headphones all the time (not at school or with friends)

Sadly I'm a lonely child and have no siblings well that I have met 🤠

My father left with the milk uwu so preppy 😖 so if I make jokes and you get offended I don't care you can leave I'm not forcing you to read this shit and like fucked up family ig if you dont like it deal with it scroll away♡︎

What I post silly thoughts and fandom shit and just music stuff idfk yet maybe just my thoughts

I like the case study of vanitas it's so silly and sigma I ❤️ vanitas lil bro is so silly

My pronouns are she/her, but i dont mind they/them

Dni if you are queerphobic, racist, abelist, support Israel, Zoophile, misogynist,pedophile,just a bitch if you are kys🥰

I sometimes vent cause I can so yeah I'd you don't like too fucking bad 😜

If you don't like me just don't interact with me I don't need your negativity even if I'm negative (such a hypocrite, ik)💀

Don't try anything with me I'm underage and im 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚 and will fight you😠

I like reading depression like idk if it has angst then it's a good book my opinion (no longer human is good)

I also like reading anything that has like an adventure like that's interesting cause my adhd is bad and I can't focus on boring shit

Oooh I like demon slayer I'm still sad douma had to die he was pookie

I also love Angels of death cause eeeeee it's so sigma

My silly silly friend is @homoashell she is so 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚❀

Another silly friend is @thecoolest68 she is also pookie

@littleratboy is my pookie I love them so much <3

AUGHHDUJSUUS my pookie is

My fav color is 💜 and ❤️

My fav words are ooooh or sigma or homosexual and pookie😩😖

I'm in the Helluva boss fandom same with hazbin hotel (they are pretty good)

Also, I'm obsessed with Bungo stray dogs, my fav fandom (Dazai and chuuya and nikolai are the biggest hotties dazai specifically 😖 Mori from bsd should kill himself💀)

Youtube=Johnnie Gilbert, Jake Webber, Flamingo, BENOFTHEWEEK, Danny Motta, Billyhan_ ,Nick Wilkins, Tarayummy, and Clawed_Beauty101

My fav animal is cats I have one her name is ginger and she's do cute I will post about her a lot cause she's sigma I also have a dog he looks goofy he's a Yorkie/Silky and he's goofy looking I don't like him that much my cats better

Also magic and mystery or Coil (ao3 dont fucking judge its really well written ok)

I also like the class of 09 (Jecka and Emily and Nicole are 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚)

I like the Heathers the musical it's a pretty good musical and honestly was pretty fun to watch (dont say you haven't watched the movie your nit a true fan BITCH you dont know my situation leave me alone)

Erm I like music like MARINA (Marina and the diamonds), Melanie Martinez, GRLwood, Asesha Erotica, TV girl, 6arelyhuman, mother mother, radiohead, Rio Romeo, alex g, insane clown posse, Benson Boone, Ashnikko,Mindless Self Indulgences, Olivia Rodrigo ,Mitski(dont judge thats just me ok you can like what you like my Genre of music is very random also i like more just like too lazy to write all of them😜😜😜)

I like art but I'm not very good at it but I try and that's all that matters ♡︎

I like ice skating it's very fun, and I'm pretty good at it ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

I really like harry potter and the books and movies I hate J.K Rowling she is a terrible person and I don't support her or what she dose

Black butler is also a great fandom I like the angst I know that's bad but OMFG ITS SO GOOD

I like the Heather's it's a good play I watched it on YouTube and it's really sigma

I like the hunger games I haven't read the books but I'm going to ♡︎

A great fandom is the metal family it's on YouTube and glams past and chives past god damnnnnn 😖

Ooooh a great fandom is the case study of vanitas (totally not cause they all fucking hotties)

Probably have more fandoms but I'm not writing them all down will write them down when i remember since i have the memory of an a great grandpa with severe dementia👴🏻💀😜

My anxiety and depression is bad so sometimes I might not post since I physically can do shit or don't know what to write also I do sh but like whatever guys I'm just silly like that I might vent sometimes cause I'm just that silly

I'm very blunt so if you don't like that then whatever your problem but ur missing out 😩💅✨️

That's pretty much it feel free to ask any questions I might answer them ❀

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[fbfh]

light up the dark [XI] - Leo Valdez x reader

wc: 5.7k

genre: smut, angst, pining, reality tv level drama

pairing: Leo Valdez x goth gf!child of eros!reader

warnings: calypso being an absolute gank, penetrative sex, teasing (reader recieving), mean!leo (just a little), bent over a running washing machine sex, clit rubbing, squirting, praise, pining (mutual?? yes), leo being himself, self doubt/insecurity spiraling, c*lypso is WAY off base, hazel and frank being the absolute cutest, hazel is bad at keeping secrets, seriously frazel being so motherfucking cute, things are said that cannot be unsaid, everyone is in denial about their feelings, arguing/calypso being terrible, Nico reader friendship, reader is starting to like... realize things

summary: Calypso is on to you and Leo, but not enough to figure out he's fucking you in the laundry room as she speaks. Secrets make Hazel nauseous, and everyone reacts very on brand to some information.

song recs: crush - tessa violet, half asleep - amelie london cast, hold on till the night - greyson chance, drama - ajr, pacify her - melanie martinez, a tight knit family/love is blind - falsettos cast (2016), I won't say I'm in love - disney hercules

a/n: I LOVE THIS CHAPTER. it took me forever to finish but I think it's worth it (good drama always takes a little while to write yk) Anyway Leo.... he's.... hnnng

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280 @avashaye @perseajohnson @afidiofobia @yelenabel0vaswife @almostjollypizza @fictionalcomforts  @lizziebitch33  @girlfriendwhoseawitch @dustyinkpages @cowboylikekelsey @legramilis @youkissedareaderinthedark @mrscarolscaramoucheplease @cosmiq-cloud @anything-forourmoony @perseajohnson @chasingpj @mystic-writings   @fictionalcomforts  @lizziebitch33 @dreamerball @if-only-i-was-fictional @youkissedareaderinthedark @girlfriendwhoseawitch @mrscarolscaramoucheplease @anything-forourmoony @afidiofobia@chasingpj @girlfriendwhoseawitch @dustyinkpages @cowboylikekelsey @youkissedareaderinthedark @magcon7280

Calypso hates you. She hates everything about you. She hates the way you’re always looking at Leo, the way he looks back at you, the way he’s always staring at you and saying things to make you laugh. She could go on, but he’s doing it right now, leaning closer to you and muttering something under his breath with a repressed smirk. You don’t react, not visibly, but a few minutes later you’ve both slipped away.

She rolls her eyes with a huff, leaving the mundane conversation she’d been ignoring. It makes her sick to see you that close to him, wrapping him around your finger, getting him totally whipped for you. He should be doing that with her. Not that she exactly wants to be sneaking off with him right now, but the principle still stands. He doesn’t just get to jump ship to some whore because Calypso dumped him, not after everything they’ve been through. 

She wanders through the stupid rented house while everyone else is off in pairs or doing their own thing. She scoffs at this place, hating everything about it. She had a nicer room in Ogygia than she does here. She’s pissed off, hating everything around her, and really wouldn’t turn down a fight at this point. You’re just a phase, she tells herself. You’re taking him away from her when he’s weak, and sooner or later he’s going to wake up and realize that. He’d better realize it soon, because Calypso can’t promise that she’ll be waiting around when he does. He needs to wake up and realize how you really feel about him, that you don’t really like him, that you see him as nothing more than a means to an end. 

Leo dragged you into the laundry room, claiming he needed your help with something. Minutes later, you’re bent over the running dryer while he pushes his cock into you. The warmth and vibrations from the machine make everything feel so much more intense, and it already has you dizzy from being stretched out on his cock pounding into you. His arms are wrapped around you, squeezing you nice and tight. He's leaning on top of you, pinning you in place against the dryer as he bullies his cock all the way in. 

You wiggle your hips back toward him, needing as much of him as you can possibly get. Everything he does feels so good that he's got your pussy drooling all over his cock, throbbing as he perfectly rubs and bumps every spot inside you. You're so caught up in his panting breaths in your ear, the warmth of being sandwiched between his body and the rumbling dryer that neither of you are aware of Calypso hovering outside the doorway, the only cover you have being the white noise of the laundry being run. 

"You know," Leo says into your neck, voice much too casual for the situation. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you like me or something.” He punctuates with a nip to your ear, and he can feel you squeeze around him. You’re really glad you’re in this position. Even with his face as close to yours as it is, at least he can’t see how flustered he’s making you. It’s almost embarrassing how hard you have to fight the urge to agree with him, to tell him he’s right, you do like him. Your breathing grows heavier as you squirm in his grip. 

“Absolutely not.” You choke out. Your tone is sharp, but you hide your face when he brings his closer. He can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks, and it speaks volumes. 

“Hmm…” He hums in your ear, biting you again. ”I think you might.” 

You squeeze around him even tighter, more turned on than you can remember being, all from how sweet and attentive and playful he’s being with you. It’s not something he misses, he feels every breath and twitch and squeeze he draws out of you. He internalizes this, thinking about how much he loves seeing this side of you. 

“Nope.” You insist, feeling pressure build up as his hand comes down to play idly with your clit, “Not at all, not in the slightest.” You ramble, pulsing around his cock, sucking him even deeper and deeper inside you. You’re hit with a sudden rush of fullness as his fingers play with your clit, knowing exactly what to do as they nudge and rub against your sensitive bundle of nerves just right, sending heat through your whole body. His fingers feel better than yours ever could; they’re long and slender and seem to know your body better than you do. From the way you’re pulsing and tightening up around him and squirming under his grip, you both know you’re seconds away from squirting all over him. You let out a strangled breath so quiet only Leo can hear it. He leans in close and speaks in a low, intimate, knowing voice.

“Yeah? I think you have a little crush on me…”

He’s squeezing you in his arms so tight, hitting every spot inside you just right, and you feel yourself filling up, teetering on the precipice, masked only by the rumbling of the machines. You’re about to squirt all over him. From outside the doorway, Calypso scoffs at your insistence that you don’t like Leo, storming off right before Leo pushes you over the edge. Your legs shake as you cum hard, feeling yourself gush like Niagara falls as you squirt against him and his hand, still rubbing your throbbing clit. 

The feeling of you squirting like a fucking porn star all over him is more than enough to break him. He ruts his hips into you wildly, like an animal in heat, riding out both your highs. He pumps you full of cum, collecting in the thin layer of ballooning latex between you. You feel so good, everything about you makes him feel so amazing - and not just physically. He likes you so much, likes being around you, it makes all of this feel so much better than he knew it could. It’s a new kind of euphoria, everything with you is so new and refreshing and he loves every moment of it. He buries his face in your neck, moaning and breathing heavy right next to your ear, so you hear every pant and grunt and shuddering moan perfectly. 

“Oh, fuck!” He chokes out, moaning, “Shit, you’re so perfect…” 

He continues to roll his hips into you as he rides out both your highs, feeling you throb around him. Each pulse of your sensitive cunt squeezes him even tighter, and his eyes roll back at the sensation, nerves electric. 

“Fuck, I love you…” he groans out, kissing your cheek right by your ear in that sweet way of his. It’s only then that the hollow, fidgety feeling starts to fade, it’s only then that the cravings for him subside, leaving you feeling satisfied. You feel peace, your atoms are all polarized. 

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs between sweet kisses against your skin, “Gods, I love you…” Each word he speaks drives the feeling away, making you feel at peace, and all warm inside. This is what makes you keep wanting to come back to him. You feel good around him. 

You manage to look at him over your shoulder between kisses. You should say something. You should say it back, or say something to him. You want to. You have no idea what you’d say or where to start, but you wish you could. But before you can even try to think of what through your foggy, fucked out brain, the icy fear of rejection paralyzes you, grabbing you by the neck in a debilitating choke hold. Next time, you think. 

Next time you’ll say it back. Or say something back, do something to imply that you might like him as more than just a hookup. Maybe. There’s something… special you feel around him. Something different. You’ve spent so long analyzing other people, what they like and what they want from you, you’ve never considered how you felt about them. You feel wide awake with Leo, not like you’re stumbling around, or stuck in some magic coma. You woke up when he came around, and not just physically. He woke up a part of your heart that’s been half asleep for… as long as you can remember. He’s ignited a fire, and you don’t want it to go out. Maybe you can drop some hints. Something obvious. That way, whatever you do say won’t come as a shock to him when you finally work up the nerve to say it. 

The dryer buzzes, snapping both of you back to reality. You try to catch your breath, really wishing you could stay with him like that a little longer. But after a moment, he finally does pull out of you, and you attempt to get cleaned up. 

“Shit…” He mutters with a laugh. You finally notice how soaked both of you are from all the cum, and how much he had you squirting for him. You find yourself laughing with him at the situation you always seem to find yourselves in. 

“We sure made a mess, huh?” He muses rhetorically. 

“Yeah,” you scoff in agreement, looking around at the tiled floor and other water resistant surfaces in the laundry room, “It’s a good thing everything is waterproof…” 

You mutter the last part, not expecting him to hear it, but he does. And he laughs loudly. You look at him, surprised at his reaction. 

“I was about to say the exact same thing,” he muses, opening up the dryer and grabbing something. He tosses you a pair of leggings, grabbing some sweatpants for himself. You watch him closely as he tugs off his pants and boxers the rest of the way off, throwing them into the washing machine and putting on the gray sweatpants in his hands. You follow suit, tearing your eyes away from his exposed hips. You’ve both seen each other bottomless more times than you can count, but he still watches, admiring your beauty as you pull the leggings he gave you up your statuesque legs. He has no idea you’re doing the exact same thing. 

As he gets the washing machine set up and throws in your clothes, he watches you closely. He takes note of how much more relaxed your body language is with him. You hop up, sitting on top of the dryer. In spite of your best efforts, your eyes keep flicking over to him. Leo watches you, the way you swing your feet a little, the pattern of your gaze floating around the room, and thinks it’s obvious that you like him. It’s obvious that you like him. It is obvious that you like him, right? His brow furrows in that way that it does whenever he starts to overthink something. You like him. Of course you like him. 

He finds himself speed running through the mental list of evidence for and against the fact that you don’t hate him and actually secretly enjoy being around him. Just from the way you look at him, all starry eyed and bashful - like how Nico looks at Will - you have to like him at least a little, right? You can’t possibly be faking stuff like that. The chances that you look at everyone like that are really low, but probably not zero. Which means logically, there’s a much greater probability that you really do like him. Because you must like him to let you do that stuff to you, to touch you like that, right? He’s not deluding himself, he can’t be. 

Before stating the obvious can deteriorate into debilitating self doubt in a matter of moments, before he can even try to justify it to absolutely no one, concocting up bizarre scenarios that could never happen just to prove a point, before he can really start spiraling, you scooch closer to him from your seat on the dryer. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough to pull him back out of his head. It only takes a few seconds for his mind to race and spiral like that, but it takes even less time for you to stay next to him, steadying him, bringing him back down. 

Maybe he’s blind. Maybe he’s totally delusional when it comes to you, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if he can’t see you clearly, if his perception of you is warped and distorted with what he sees in you, how he feels for you. He doesn’t care if he can’t be objective when it comes to you, because he likes you. He loves you. He wants more than anything to believe that something is there between you, so he’s going to. The ground feels steady with you, he doesn’t feel like he’s always about to trip over something like he does with Calypso. He’s been dreaming of falling in love for his whole life, of what it would be like, how it would feel. When he’s with you, he feels like he should be dreaming. But it’s real, and he’s awake. 

“Oh shit…” He looks up at you as you speak, snapping him out of his train of thought. He follows your gaze over to the floor by the washing machine. A small puddle of water is forming, leaking out of the bottom of the machine. Leo’s brow furrows, and his focus shifts onto the leak. It’s probably something simple; the drain hose got loose - or maybe punctured. There might be something wrong with the drain pump too. 

“Huh.” He muses, as his mind reels, running over what else could be causing the leak. He grabs his tool belt that always seems to be nearby, and turns off the machine. Your eyes follow his gaze and his hands as he works. He pulls out a few tools, and removes the back panel of the machine to get a better look at the guts. You watch him closely as he starts inspecting the inside, holding a flashlight in his mouth. A strange, intimate feeling builds as you listen to him talk to himself to figure out what’s wrong. You feel like you’re really getting an inside look into his world, getting to see inside his head. 

After a few minutes of him working and you dwelling on that feeling as you watch, he stands up and stretches before turning the machine back on. It starts rumbling, and you watch closely, looking for any more leaks. It runs for a minute or two with no more water going anywhere it shouldn’t, and Leo takes a step back, looking at you triumphantly. You raise your eyebrows, impressed. 

“Just needed a new tub to pump hose.” He states with a chuckle. Shrugging as you applaud lightly, congratulating him on fixing the problem so fast. You’ve never seen him really geek out like that over machinery like that before. You listen as he rambles a little bit about the make and model, the repair he did. You realize with surprise how turned on all of this is making you. Even though you just got your brains fucked out, got your guts rearranged by him, you can feel that desire building up again. You feel it beginning, heating up between your legs as he explains how tub to pump hoses work. You already need him again. 

It’s movie night again. Laughter and conversation mingle through the room as the end credits for the movie you just watched - this time for an action filled heist - fills the room. You made a point not to sit too close to Leo, but you still found yourself glancing at him throughout the entire time the different scenes flashed across the screens. You kept checking for his reactions, where he laughed, what he made commentary and jokes about. You couldn’t help yourself, you really were unaware of just how much you kept looking over at him. 

Once the movie’s over, everyone starts cleaning up and getting ready to go to bed. Leo folds up a bag of chips, clipping them closed, before reaching for the next one. 

“She’s leading you on, you know.” 

He sighs, recognizing the voice instantly as Calypso’s. He doesn’t look up at her, he really doesn’t have the strength to fight with her right now. He can’t talk to her when she’s like this. 

“She’s not leading me anywhere,” he retorts “we just-” 

“Are you really so naive that you can’t see what she’s doing?” She demands, and Leo waits for her to continue. “She’s trying to seduce you.” 

Leo turns away, biting back a laugh. Calypso thinks you’re trying to seduce him. She suspects that you’re interested in him, and has no idea that that’s barely the tip of the iceberg - among other tips. It’s reassuring, in a way, that she doesn’t know what’s been going on behind closed doors. At least you’ve been somewhat successful in keeping a low profile. 

“I can see the way she looks at you, she’s always watching you like some emo vulture, with that god awful eyeliner…” She huffs, gagging at the thought of you. She rolls her eyes in disgust before continuing. “Just don’t say I didn’t tell you so when she does swoop in and tries to make a move on you.”

She walks away from him, finally leaving him alone again. Leo bites his lip, really glad she’s gone, and even more glad she can’t see the look on his face. Or the laughter he’s fighting at how off base she is. When you eventually try to make a move on him, like he didn’t have you bent over and squirting for him a few hours ago. Leo chuckles as her footsteps recede down the hall. He has to admit, it’s a little funny how confidently off base she is about this, how much she’s underestimating you. 

You, leading him on… you’re not leading him on. You’re not leading him on, right? He bites his lip as those thoughts begin to spiral, trying his best to ignore them, to think about something else. He’s not going there, he can’t fall down an overthinking rabbit hole right now. Obviously you like him, he justifies. You seem… comfortable around him. At ease. You get each other, you have an understanding. He knows you can’t really hate everyone and everything, he’s seen it. He’s seen your gaze soften when things are nice and you think no one’s looking. He knows this. Despite his dogmatic belief that there’s more to you than what you want people to believe, Calypso’s words still fester somewhere dark and quiet in the back of his mind. 

“Hazel… c’mon.” Frank says softly, caressing her cheek with his big hand. “I know something’s been bothering you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, turning away from him and straightening up the pictures and art prints hanging on the wall. 

“Nope.” She states, voice just a little too high pitched to be true. “Nothing’s bothering me.” 

She moves around the room, pushing in the dining room chairs and rearranging nicknacks, doing anything she can to stay busy and avoid looking at him. Frank knows her so well, he’s always so sweet to her and listens when she has problems, and she knows the second she looks in his eyes the jig is up. She can’t lie to anyone, but especially not to him. 

“Everything is just dandy.” She insists. “Everyone’s getting along fine, and no one asked anyone to keep any secrets for anyone, and even if they did, it’s fine, because everyone is getting along great with that person. So even if there were a secret - which there’s not - there’s not anything to worry about, because it’s all just… fine and dandy.” 

Through her rambling, Frank’s brow furrows, piecing together an idea of what’s got her so stressed. He turns his head, watching you through the doorway, wondering what secret you would need Hazel of all people to keep for you. If it’s something that’s got her this worked up, it can’t be anything good. He glares at you for a moment, feeling almost betrayed by the sense of comradery he’d felt towards you earlier. He turns back to Hazel, and walks up behind her. He wraps his arms around, holding her tight. She relaxes into his touch a little, but there’s still a sense of hesitation. He bends down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He murmurs, in a low, intimate voice that reminds her of just why she loves and trusts him so much. “Telling me doesn’t count.” 

She seriously considers spilling the beans, then finds herself thinking back to the conversation she’d had with Leo at the grocery store. He’s going to tell everyone tonight at dinner. If she can just hold on for that long, she’ll have kept her word and everything actually will be fine. She nods, resting her head on Frank’s chest. She just has to try to keep quiet until tonight. She continues repeating that to herself for the rest of the day. Leo’s going to tell everyone in just a few hours, and she won’t need to worry about keeping it a secret, and everything will be fine. They’ll all laugh at this years down the line when they’ve all gotten hitched and have big couples dinner parties together. She just has to hold out until tonight. 

You expect dinner to be painfully awkward like it was the first few nights, but to your surprise, it's actually kind of nice. Everyone is piled in the living room, laughing and talking, making easy conversation. It's the kind of chatter that makes you feel included, like you're a part of it, even when you're not saying much. Even Calypso, when she finds herself wandering in and out, has been on reasonably okay behavior so far. The food is delicious - of course it is, Leo made it - and you take another bite as Percy and Annabeth finish recounting a story from when Percy first came to camp. 

Everyone chuckles at how on brand that is for him, and there’s a comfortable lull in the conversation. For a moment, it’s quiet. During that quiet moment, Hazel sends Leo a look. She nods her head over at you, silently asking if he’s going to say something about what’s going on between you now. It seems like the perfect opportunity to her, and she can’t imagine having to hold onto this secret much longer. Leo’s eyes widen, flicking over to you, then where Calypso stands across the room by the doorway. He shakes his head. Absolutely not, not right now. 

Hazel sends him an inquisitive look; what do you mean no? I thought you were going to say something tonight? Leo shakes his head back subtly but definitively. No, not here, not now.

Distress is written all over Hazel’s face as she sets down her food, now too worried to eat anymore. She promised not to say anything because she thought she’d only have to keep it a secret until tonight. She can’t keep this quiet, she’s not good with secrets to begin with, especially one this huge. The conversation has picked back up by now - for the moment, at least - but she can’t bring herself to pay attention. She’s too worried about all this to think about anything else. 

“You okay?” Frank asks softly, following her gaze to Leo’s panicked one. She lets out a very small, nervous whine, and Frank knows the answer; she is not, in fact, okay. Not at all. Leo shakes his head at her, eyes widening in a silent plea not to say anything. She’s desperate not to, not to be the reason anyone knows something’s happening between you before you’re both ready to tell. But gods, the weight of this is crushing her. 

She feels horrible, filthy and disgusting for lying to her friends that are basically her family, and she knows she’s a ticking time bomb. She looks over at you as the conversation picks back up again, and sees the way you glance over at Leo. You look at him more softly than she’s seen you look at anyone or anything, and the dam breaks. 

“SHE AND LEO ARE MAKING WHOOPEE!” She blurts out, standing up suddenly and pointing over to you. 

A stunned silence falls over the room before it erupts into chaos. 

“I’m sorry,” Percy starts with a laugh, looking between you and Leo. You stare at Leo with wide eyes, and Leo pinches the bridge of his nose.  “They’re making what?” 

Jason immediately looks over at Piper, who’s calmly sipping her drink, and avoiding eye contact. He knows exactly what that means. 

“Wait- you knew?!” He demands in shock, and Piper lets out a breathy laugh. Of course she knew. It was completely obvious to her - granted, some of that might be because of the whole Aphrodite love thing, she’s always been able to tell who’s into who - but besides that, you weren’t always as subtle as you thought you were. 

“You didn’t?” Piper asks back. 

“NO!” Jason replies. Piper laughs, figuring it might not have been as obvious as she’d thought. Annabeth sets down her drink looking between you and Leo. Your stomach twists and you realize your sex life has now become dinner conversation. It’s something that’s never bothered you before now, you didn’t care what people said about you, but this time you’re nervous. You’re not sure why, but you find yourself jealous of Nico and his ability to disappear into the shadows.  

“I… I guess that makes sense.” Annabeth muses. 

“It does?” Percy demands as shocked chatter continues overlapping. It’s only been a few seconds since the bomb was dropped, and the room has been filled with nonstop reactions all happening at the same time. Leo stares at you, trying to get a read on how you’re feeling, if you’re okay, but you won’t meet his eye. 

“Wait,” Frank turns to Hazel, “is this what you were so worried about?” 

Hazel turns back to him, tears brimming in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I promised him I wouldn’t say anything, because he said he was going to say something,” she babbles, so relieved to finally get this off her chest, “but he didn’t, and I didn’t want to-” 

Hazel continues spilling her guts to Frank, who places a hand on her shoulder reassuringly while he listens, trying to follow what she’s saying. Nico doesn’t say anything. He just gives you a look, holding back a laugh, and you know he’s remembering when he caught you leaving Leo’s room covered in hickeys and barely able to walk. It’s no shock that he’s not surprised by the news. 

“You’re what?”

Leo’s head whips around as the volume in the room drops. Calypso stands in the doorway, looking shocked and disgusted. Those few seconds of silence seem to stretch on forever. Eventually, she sends you one of the nastiest glares you’ve ever received, and grabs Leo to drag him into the next room. Nico looks between the three of you as Calypso leaves with Leo. The room stays quiet. You can hear her yelling at him, and it’s absolutely brutal. The only time she stops is for periodic - much quieter - replies from Leo. 

You sit in silence as everybody listens to her blow up at Leo. You let out a slow breath, unable to believe this is happening, that everybody knows and is staring at you. This is exactly what you didn’t want, for everything to get messy. Nico looks around the room, watching everyone stare at you and send each other looks, trying to process the drama bomb that was just dropped. Nico looks at you a little closer. You look nervous. 

You might not have talked to each other that much, you’ve only properly interacted maybe twice, but you’re similar enough that he feels like he gets you to an extent. If he was in your position, he wouldn’t give a fuck if everyone found out he was hooking up with some random guy. What he would care about is everyone finding out he’s hooking up with someone he has feelings for. He’d care if he wanted to impress their friends, if he wanted it to last longer than just hooking up for a few nights at an Airbnb. He would get nervous. Really nervous. 

He stands up suddenly, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the room. You need to talk, he needs to confirm that he’s reading the situation right. Normally you’d protest - you wouldn’t want to leave Leo alone with that heinous shitlord screaming at him - but you know his friends are just in the next room. You know they’re close enough to listen to the very loud conversation, and you trust them to intervene if she gets out of line. You manage to send Jason and Piper a look to confirm this, and she gives you a reassuring look back. Jason probably would too, if he wasn’t still trying to wrap his mind around everything. You let out a small breath, knowing she won’t let anything happen to Leo. 

Nico drags you through the dining room, past Leo and Calypso, and you can hear what they’re talking about better now that you’re briefly in ear shot. 

“It’s not like that!” Leo insists, trying his best to pacify her. “We’re just… friends with benefits.” 

“I’m not your friend.” You state sharply on instinct, immediately reprimanding yourself for pushing him away at a time like this. Leo’s stomach drops, realizing that you heard him. The last thing he wants is for you to think he doesn’t care about you, that he only views you as a fling or a hookup, or that he doesn’t have any real feelings for you. He hates more than anything that everything he’s put into showing you he cares about you has been jeopardized because of none other than Calypso. 

Nico ushers you into the kitchen while Leo watches you disappear, your heavy boots clunking as Nico moves you quickly out of Leo’s sight. Leo’s gaze lingers on the door a moment too long before he turns back to Calypso. He just needs to do some more damage control so all this can blow over. 

“SHE’S TAKING ADVANTAGE OF YOU!” Calypso yells, trying to get it into Leo’s head. “She’s manipulating you into thinking you have a chance with her, which… that’s fucking disgusting, first of all.” She continues on her tirade, berating Leo for being so naive that he can’t see through your bullshit. “I mean, are you really that stupid?! Are you so deluded that you can’t see what she’s doing, how she’s using you?!” 

Leo holds his breath for a second, desperately trying to collect himself. He tries to let it roll off his back, but he can’t deny that everything she’s saying is cutting him to the quick. He takes a measured breath before trying to explain that you’re just having some fun, that’s all. It’s almost impossible for him to get a word in as she continues raving about what an evil little snake you are. Part of him is glad for that, because he knows if he could really say what's on his mind, he’d have a lot to say about how she lost the right to act like this when she dumped him over iris message. He knows it would only add more fuel to the fire, so he shoves the thought away. He just needs to get her to calm the hell down. 

As soon as the kitchen door closes, Nico barely has to give you a look before you’re about to spill your guts to him. You’re fidgety and tense, not nearly as put together as you’d like to seem right now. 

“Tell me what the fuck is going on with you two.” He demands. He’s quiet until you finally respond. 

“I mean, you heard Hazel,” you sputter, “we’ve been hooking up.” 

He stays quiet. You keep talking. 

“I’ve hooked up with a lot of people, okay? This isn’t anything special.” You insist, “He’s… this is no different from anything else, or any other situation I’ve been in before.” 

Your mind starts replaying everyone who came before right here and right now, every time you walked away, every spectacular crash and burn. 

“Love isn’t sex.” You state, “I learned that the hard way. And I’m a child of Eros, which means obviously, I know about sex.” You let out a humorless laugh, “I’m only good at sex! I’m not the falling in love type! I don’t fall in love with anyone.” 

Nico doesn’t react. He waits for you to continue, and you do. You feel like you’re coming unraveled in front of him, and it’s a completely foreign feeling. 

“We’re just hooking up because I’m hot, and he’s hung like a goddamn horse, and he fucks me so good that I actually feel fulfilled for the first time in my fucking life! Okay?! Maybe I just like the way he kisses me, or when he looks me in the eyes like he believes I’m a good person, even though I push everyone away.” 

You pace around the kitchen, more emotionally raw than you can ever remember being. 

“But it doesn’t work on him!” You let out a weepy laugh, still wondering why he hasn’t left you yet, especially with all the trouble you’re causing him now. “Why doesn’t it work on him?! Why can’t I push him away…?” 

Your voice tapers off as you take a few ragged breaths, trying to collect yourself. Nico’s quiet again. After a few moments, he breaks the silence. 

“That doesn’t sound like just sex to me.” 

[coleszzzworld]

Title~mad hatter.

yandere!Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu x reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary-this takes place before the remnants of despair was put in the simulation , basically before the simulation you and fuyuhiko was much closer . You guys had history that goes far back . (U/t- your ultimate talent )

TW!⚠️⚠️(this is before junko dies . This was when the remnants were causing chaos. Cussing , death , reader being so uninterested in all of these 😭. Just kinda of sum fuck up stuff use of weapons like guns n swords 🧍🏽‍♀️ reader and fuyuhiko being consumed by despair. )

A/N- before I get into this , I want too say I literally tried too write something that’s not as bad as what the remnants of despair did in the show/what I read , like they was literally on sum crazy shit y’all 😭 I’m just trying too make this as water down as possible but still trying too keep that topic their yk?😭

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“You hear that y/n?” I snap out my thoughts. I eventually look where fuyuhiko is looking. I look out a big window looking down on the streets with people running away from despair , “ah, the screams of despair. That feeling. They know their going too die yet they fight back so hard . Too bad their last moments is filled with that feeling.” I say resting my head on my hand looking at the sight unfold before me . “Well. That’s what they get for thinking they can survive despair. “ Fuyuhiko laughs . “Fucking dumb asses “ he looks away in disgust. “ they should just give in . Instead of having hope . “ he finishes his sentence then rolling his eyes in disgust. “Well what do you say y/n , why don’t we go encourage their despair a little “ Fuyuhiko looks at me and chuckles . I eventually look away from the window and look at him , “I guess. “ I say giving little interest in this feeling of despair, “oh cmon , you the U/t doesn’t want too go inflect some despair on people. You don’t wanna crush their hope with despair?” He says looking at me then back at peko who was ready for what ever . “I guess your right . Let’s go crush some hope. “ I say getting up and eventually all of us grabbing our weapons,making our way too the streets.

As we make it on the street , people are trying too fight back the other people with monokuma masks killing them one by one . “These losers are so boring. They are just killing them in a lame way . “ I say uninterested in their killing styles . “Well let’s spice it up . “ fuyuhiko says as he cocking his gun eventually I follow suit cocking my uzi (y’all Ik know nothing about guns😭) eventually peko follows suit and pulls out her sword and we run into battle.

“Please i have a wife! " the man says laying in the street begging for his life , what a lame reason. “Well . Soon all she will feel is despair. And soon you will too . “ I say shooting him . Eventually we regroup. “This is boring .let’s just leave the rest of these lames too the others. “ I say still uninterested, “yeah this got boring fast . These people just kept begging for their lives . I know they felt so much despair in their last moments. “ Fuyuhiko chuckles . Peko walks ahead of us into the tall buliding . As me and fuyuhiko hold hands following behind her. Even tho we were both filed with despair . We still loved each other .

———————————————————————

A/N - yall I hope this wasn’t too dark ! But in the game / show and from what I read the remnants of despair was literally on sum wild shit😭 so I tried too water down some of the stuff they did as much as possible .

[scvrmqueen]

Tag, You’re It - Danny Johnson

┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — one-shot.

┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — Danny Johnson x afab!reader.

┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — SMUT! dubious consent, descriptions of gore, vaginal sex, use of knife handle for penetration, dirty talk, unprotected sex, no aftercare, Danny is literally his own warning. 

┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 2,982.

┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ I got this idea after listening to Tag, You’re It by Melanie Martinez. Takes place during Dead by Daylight. I don’t own the rights to Danny or DBD. You’re just trying to survive another trial when Danny proposes a little game. 

“Oh, you were so close, kitten!” A mirthless chuckle slipped from the macabre figure perched above you, his hips pinning you to the frigid earth. Your struggles had promptly ceased once his steel blade found purchase against your throat. 

“And to think, one more step and you would have been home free,” he tsked, blade digging further into your sensitive flesh to reveal a crimson stream. “Didn’t know you could be so cruel, kitten, trying to leave me on my lonesome without so much as a goodbye kiss.” 

“Fuck you, Danny,” you spat, glaring into the shadowy abyss of black fabric that concealed his eyes. “Kill me and be done with it, I’m sick of playing your fucked up games.” 

An audible gasp sounded beneath the foreboding mask, a gloved hand - the one not preoccupied with mutilating you - covering his heart in feigned shock. “Y/n you wound me! Where’s your fighting spirit, huh? C’mon, I know you have that ‘I’ll go out kicking and screaming’ final girl mentality.” 

You were mere feet from a successful trial, sparing a glance toward the cement hatch. What anger bubbled in your chest was steadily replaced with fatigue, an overwhelming sense of feebleness rendering your fight or flight instinct futile. You pressed your scorched fingertips into the dirt beneath you. A shaky breath pierced through pursed lips, frustrated tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you realized just how close you had been to besting the Ghost Face. 

“Aw, doll. You’re so pretty when you cry for me,” Danny cooed, his blade smearing blood on your cheek as it moved to collect the pearly drops. “Tell you what, I’m feeling generous. Play one last little game with yours truly, and I’ll let you have the hatch.” 

Mouth agape, you waited for the inevitable ‘ha, gotcha’ moment. When Danny remained silent - a phenomena in itself, you finally responded, “what game?”

“Atta girl.” He lowered his head until cheap plastic scraped your cheek, his faux mouth resting by your ear. Leather and copper flooded your senses, head reeling at the intimacy of his proximity. “You’re familiar with tag, aren’t you, doll?” 

You scoffed, “tag?” 

“That’s what I said, Y/n.” You could feel the deep chuckle rumble through his chest. “Try to keep up, sweet thing, you’re smarter than that. Now, if I catch you - and we both know I will - I get to do whatever I want with you.” 

“But you won’t kill me?” The question was more breathless than you intended. Whatever he wanted? Your cooperation was founded on the promise of making it out alive. Still, you couldn’t help but hesitate. If Danny’s intention wasn’t to give you to the entity, what did he want? 

“Cross my heart hope to die, kitten.” His words dripped with deranged glee, the rough edge to his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll even give you a ten second head start, being the generous fella I am.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Get the hell off me so we can get this over with.” 

“There’s the Y/n I know and love.” A leather clad hand wrapped around your throat, using the leverage to drag you to your feet. You reluctantly complied, attempting to ignore the traitorous heat that pooled in your abdomen. 

You sprinted in the opposite direction the moment he released you. 

Aside from a guaranteed win, this game hardly differed from the demented reality of every trial. You were perpetually haunted by that damned mask - led to slaughter each time the sanctity of the campfire was torn away. Unlike your counterparts, your penchant for fighting back had earned Danny’s favor from day one. His insatiable obsession blossomed during your first trial, when you drove a jagged plank through his abdomen. 

Had you predicted he would save you for last each trial, you wouldn’t have been so damn heroic. 

Your lungs burned, legs aching as your pace gradually relented. You spared a glance over your shoulder to determine Danny’s proximity. Though momentarily relieved to be greeted by empty darkness, his absence ultimately proved equally troubling. Ghost Face was synonymous with stealth, often remaining undetected until his signature hunting blade was buried deep in your gut. It was impossible to determine where he prowled now. 

Haddonfield offered little room to be chased. Eventually, you would have to loop back to the hatch in order to escape, a feat which would require you to pass through the decrepit homes. Though entering structures always proved to be a precarious gamble, remaining on the street much longer practically ensured your capture. 

You bypassed the first few houses you passed with the intention of throwing Danny off your trail. Zig-zagging through abandoned vehicles, you staggered toward the Myers residence in hopes of a momentary reprieve. Hiding in the abandoned building was futile - Danny had prompted a game of tag after-all. The moment you ceased moving he would be there, his merciless shadows ensnaring you. You prayed slipping through the rooms undetected would buy you some time. 

Pausing briefly upon entering, you attempted to regulate your rapid breathing in order to detect his presence. Satisfied, you darted into the kitchen to grab a butcher’s knife from the familiar wooden block. Danny hadn’t specified rules regarding self defense - his mistake. Should the occasion arise, you fully intended on making grabbing you a hellish feat. 

No sooner had you grabbed the knife did a familiar dark chuckle sound from the doorway to the porch. You turned slowly towards the culprit, as if minor movements would shroud you from his gaze. 

“Really, bunny? The Myer’s house? Tsk, never knew you were so cliché.” Well, at least you knew where he was now. Spinning on your feet, you sprinted back toward the main entrance. Knowing Danny, the moment you stepped out onto the porch he would be there to grab you, blade against your throat and arms encircling your waist. Hesitation would cost you precious seconds, leaving you to scamper up the stairway on shaky legs. 

“Annndd going up the stairs?” His distant voice only caused you to increase your pace. “Y/n, haven’t I taught you to be better than those horror movie bimbos?”

 As you reached the room with a large opening to the roof, you couldn’t resist screaming a hearse, “Fuck you, asshole!” Once on the roof, you would slip into the backyard and make a swift exit back to the hatch. You could taste victory on your tongue, beyond pleased to have outwitted Ghost Face. 

Or at least that was the plan. 

You hadn’t planned on Danny tackling you mere feet from the roof, his imposing figure weighing heavy on your back. Thrashing beneath him proved futile. He grabbed your wrists with little resistance, pinning your arms by your head. The cold hardwood was pressed roughly against your cheek, and from the awkward angle you watched as his mask lowered to your ear. 

“Tag, you’re it.” His deep chuckle reverberated through your spine. 

“Let me up, Danny, and I’ll gladly come get you.” Clutching the butcher knife tighter, you wriggled your ass slightly in hopes of providing a momentary distraction. A throaty groan sounded above you, his hips digging further into your own. His grasp loosened, and you used your remaining strength to twist on your back. You were quick to extend the blade toward him in a punishing stab. But Danny was always quicker. 

“Feisty,” he growled, his hand encircling your wrist and slamming it to the ground with excessive force. A small yelp escaped you as the knife flew from your grasp. 

“But I think you’re forgetting the rules, kitten. Naughty girl.” You were pinned beneath him once more, glare burning through his black mesh. “Let me remind you what happens when you don’t. fucking. listen.” 

Danny shifted, capturing both your wrists in one hand, his knife skimming your waist. The cool steel scraped against your stomach as it lifted your shirt. Before you could even comprehend struggling, your hip burned with a familiar intensity. Searing pain crept up your side as Danny sliced into your sensitive flesh - a hiss escaping through clenched teeth in a poor attempt not to scream. The blade curved against you, shallow in its path but agonizing enough to demonstrate his wrath. 

“Ah, perfect!” Danny leaned back on his heels to observe his work. Your eyes drifted down to observe a jagged “D” carved into the left side of your hip. 

“You sick fuck!” You shouted, all thoughts of self preservation having dissipated. The wound would heal upon returning to the campfire, but it didn’t stop the blinding rage that permeated your senses. 

“Oh, Y/n,” he snarled, using the blade to slice through the middle of your tank-top. “You have no idea just how sick I really am.” He traced the steel around the top of your exposed breasts, humming his approval as your breath hitched. The knife slipped beneath the thin fabric in the middle of your bra, exposing your chest to his ravenous gaze. A traitorous moan slipped from your lips - a wanton sound that you attempted to disguise as disgust by struggling beneath him. 

“Danny-” his name tumbled from your throat with unintended reverence. Your voice trembled with thinly veiled desire, leaving you to pinch your lips together. You desperately hoped Danny hadn’t recognized your slip. 

“Fuck, kitten, I love it when you say my name.” His hips bore into your own with bruising pressure, forcing a haphazard squeal from you in response. Admittedly, this wasn’t the first time that you had been in a compromising position beneath the killer. While the previous instances had ended in your untimely demise, this moment whispered promises of something more - something deep-seated that you could never come back from. 

“You know, I can’t count how many times I’ve heard your screams of pain,” he muttered, the deep, guttural sound going straight to your core. “I can’t wait to hear what you sound like screaming for more.” Without further warning, his chilled, leather fingertips pushed past your denim shorts, briefly grazing the hem of your panties. 

You didn’t recognize the sound that emitted from the depths of your chest as he slid into you - facing little resistance much to your dismay. His finger curled, stimulating a part of you that hadn’t been unearthed for far too long. Dragging in and out, hitting a spot that made your vision dance with speckles of white, you couldn’t find the strength to resist his ministrations. 

“You like this, don’t you? What a dirty little girl you are, bunny.” His voice fractured your lust-fueled haze, attempting to slip your hands from his grasp as you bucked beneath him. Your resistance hardly fazed Danny, earning no more than an amused tsk as he tightened his hold. 

“Now, now, bunny. If you’re going to be naughty and not play by the rules, I’m going to have to punish you.” A wisp of fear at the promise of discipline caused your core to clench. Danny groaned as he removed his fingers completely, the sudden emptiness sobering your senses. The reprieve was short-lived, the leather previously working you replaced with the blunt handle of a familiar knife. 

“What the fuck -” Your words slipped into an unexpected cry of pleasure as the handle brushed your center with expert precision. Discomfort melded into bliss, your will to fight a distant echo in the recesses of your mind. His concept of ‘punishment’ seemed skewed, particularly as a skilled finger danced along your clit in tandem with the blade’s thrusts. Your eyes fluttered close, walls clenching with bruising force as you reached the precipice - nearly pushed over that delicious edge - 

And just as soon as sweet release had been promised, it was stolen. 

A pitiful whine escaped you as his attention ceased, robbing you of the peak you so desperately craved. Ah, punishment, indeed. 

“Ah, ah, Y/n. Only good girls get to cum.” Danny adjusted his position so his hips were once again pressed firmly between your legs. Much to your dismay, the coarse fabric of his pants caused you to grind against him - desperately searching for friction.

“I might consider being merciful and letting you cum on my cock if you beg me for it.” His deep rasp trailed into a lilting tone, teasing you - humiliating you. Even in all your torturous deaths dealt by Danny’s blade, you had never begged him to spare you. Though your hips chased his, desperate to ease the ache between your legs, you would sooner die than plead for him to fuck you. 

“You call that merciful?” You scoffed, attempting to ease the tremble in your voice. “You’re even more fucked up than I thought if you think I want you.” 

“Oh, I think you’re pretty fucked in the head yourself, kitten.” Those fingers slid between your thighs once more, gliding up your center to collect evidence of your arousal. “You can lie to yourself all you want. But see this?” He pressed the glistening leather to your lips, forcing your mouth open to taste your body’s betrayal. “This doesn’t lie.”

“So, you’re going to be a good girl, and you’re going to take everything I have to offer. Every. Last. Goddamn. Inch,” he growled, each word only fueling your thinly veiled desire. You wanted to protest - wanted to kick and scream like a good little survivor. But something within you, some deep, animalistic urge only satiated by the thrill of danger, wouldn’t permit it. Maybe Danny was right. Maybe the endless torment of fighting to survive fueled something savage - a ruinous need to be ravaged by the enemy. 

Saving you from the false pretenses of your moral obligation to resist, Danny flipped you onto your stomach in a swift motion. One firm arm wrapped around your waist, using the leverage to lift your hips up. With your face and arms planted to the floor, the harsh arch of your figure placed your bare ass on display for Danny. 

Without warning, two fingers were buried deep within you, setting a brutal pace that set your body ablaze with burning embers. Just as your walls began to flutter, Danny removed his fingers before delivering a sharp slap to your sensitive flesh. He waited a moment, allowing you to drift further from the promise of release, before claiming you once more. You lost track of time as he continued to edge you - cooing dirty words in your ear and chuckling at your growing frustration. 

“You know how to make this stop, kitten.” Your body ached, core pulsing as his touch parted once more. Danny trailed his blade down your thighs, collecting the slick of your arousal. You had been so determined not to beg. But now as you burned with stifled desire, begging for release seemed preferable to continuing this torture. 

“Danny,” you whined, aghast at how difficult stringing together a sentence had become. “Please, please, just fuck me already you fucking psychotic -” 

You were cut off by your own hoarse scream as Danny pushed into you, forcing you to take his entire length in one fatal thrust. You arched further into the ground, allowing him to reach impossibly deeper as he brushed your cervix. He was so big, feeling as though he would split you apart as he snapped his hips against yours. 

“That’s it, Y/n - fuck, you’re so tight. Bet you haven’t had anybody fuck this sweet cunt like this, have you?” You could only moan in response, clenching around him. 

A gloved hand fisted your hair, pulling your head back roughly so his mask rested by your ear. “I asked you a fucking question, bunny. Nobody fucks you like this, do they?” 

“No!” You squealed. “Only you, Danny - Danny.” His pace increased as you whimpered his name, thrusts intensifying until your looming orgasm was forced upon you. Your body trembled as your release washed over you, waves of fierce pleasure threatening to consume your very existence. 

“Yes - yes, that’s my girl.” He didn’t slow down, allowing you no reprieve from the overstimulation that wracked your core. You attempted to pull away, to form a coherent thought that would save you from the onslaught of fervent sensations. 

“Danny s’too much,” you slurred. A venomous laugh sounded in turn as he flipped you over again, hands gripping the undersides of your thighs to press your knees to your chest. He resumed his brutal pace, brushing the pad of his thumb against your clit as you writhed helplessly beneath him. 

“C’mon, Y/n, you can take one more can’t you?” That familiar pressure was already building. You forced your fluttering eyes to gaze upon his mask, the mere sight of his looming presence causing you to tumble over the edge once more. You screamed his name, overwhelmed by the earth-shattering intensity of  your climax. 

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” he groaned. Danny’s pace became frenzied, each thrust forcing brutally past your fluttering walls. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you? You want to be dripping with my cum when you sit around that campfire with your pathetic little friends.” 

“Fuck. You,” You managed, the breathy words lacking their usual bite. Your fire only spurred him on as he buried himself to the hilt within you, hot ropes of his cum coating your insides. 

As he slipped from you, allowing you to come down from your orgasmic high, the weight of your actions settled in your chest with crushing realization. Danny placed a finger under your chin to return your gaze to him - an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. 

Whatever insults you prepared to spew were quickly lost as he moved his mask - revealing a finely sculpted jaw covered in dark stubble. He leaned in close, pouty lips hovering above your own and stealing the breath from your lungs. 

“Until next time, kitten. And there will be a next time.” 

[oncasette]

hi roma !! congrats on 500 <33! could i ask for a [THE DANCE STUDIO—send me two numbers (1-100) and a character and i’ll write you a song blurb based off my spotify ] for andrew neiman - numbers 16 and 24 pls! tysm:))

TRAINING WHEELS melanie martinez

nsfw!

you knew fucking your best friend was a mistake. probably the biggest one you could’ve made with the feelings you’d been harboring for him since you were seven.

knew it was an even bigger mistake when you kept letting it happen.

you could blame it on the heat of the moment the first time. blame it on the shots you’d taken and the history you’d had together. but by the seventh, you couldn’t blame it on your sobriety. no, you were in too deep, at this point. his fuck buddy that was disastrously and hopelessly in love with him.

“you’re fucking stupid, you know that,” he chuckles softly against the skin of your knee, pressing a barely there kiss against the freshly applied bandaid. “who falls up the stairs? concrete ones, too.”

“a lot of people, actually- oh-“ your tirade is cut short as his kisses trail higher beneath the skirt of your dress, as his tongue licks a stripe up the inside of your thigh.

“you gonna let me take care of you?” he asks, hot breath fanning across your cloth panties.

“thought you were done playing doctor, neiman. told me so yourself when we were five,” you said, though you didn’t fight him when his palms nudged your knees further apart.

“always gotta carry bandaids with me, anyway. might as well be your doctor.” his nose nudges your clit through the fabric.

god your brain is so empty, so fuzzy with need and want and how much you like him. and how much it’s killing you to only have him like this.

“want you, drew,” you gasp as he licks a stripe up your still clothed cunt.

“i know, baby,” he hums.

it’s better to have him like this than not have him at all.

[emisirrelevant]

THOUGHTS ON THE FINALE OF PRETTY LITTLE LIARS ORIGINAL SIN!!!!

*SPOILERS* if you haven't watched the last few episodes yet you've been warned

*TW/CW- mature/sensitive content in this post

I am literally still processing everything but:

Was I the only one who thought the Liars' plan with the blood drive was actually kind of creative?

Ohhh the principal rejecting Tabby's film had me SEETHING. I should have known from that scene he'd be the one behind it all/pulling the strings.

Going back and rewatching the scene where Chip tries to ask Imogen if she wants to go to his place for Thanksgiving is now very uncomfortable. Thank god she had Tabby and her mom!! And that's on the tabogen agenda.

I honestly thought Shawn was going to be a part of the A stuff or the guy who assaulted Tabby and Imogen but he was not. If we get a season 2 though, I'm keeping an eye on him. No offense Noa- but he lied about the pills/drugs. Like I wonder if he really was telling the truth when he said later that he threw them out.

The club scene!! Iconic, but the rational part of my brain also was like "Yes Faran good suggestion- WAIT THEY'RE MINORS THEY SHOULD NOT BE OUT CLUBBING"

When Kelly(?) "said call me Karen" to Greg- HUHHH?

I knew Crazy Joe wasn't A

It felt too much like a red herring to me- too obvious

The Waters' house did give me AHS Murder House vibes- they really nailed the creepy vibe with the set

Yess finally I’m so glad they got the moms to talk about Angela- also the fact that each mom's situation with Angela paralleled the daughters in the present

Noa saying "I can't handle juggling two addicts in my life" SWEETIE no :(((((

FARAN LETTING HER HAIR DOWN!!

I'm glad Henry told Faran about Kelly kissing him and didn't keep it a secret. Maybe there is one decent man on this show??

Also Ben Cook heyyy good for him getting those roles!

Ash just eating the pizza instead of directly answering Mouse's mom HAHA

Tabby's mom going OFF on Wes like that!!!

Faran going off on Sheriff Beasley!! QUEEN!

We got to see Imogen’s dad, interesting.

**The fact that he mentioned that Imogen’s mom stated in her will for Imogen to live with the Haworthes if anything bad happened though- TABOGEN WAS FATED! 

Honestly the whole Beasley family situation was really sad- and like the fact that there are some families like this in real life- it was really giving me Melanie Martinez Dollhouse vibes for sure.

Oh I see Kelly x Faran as a potential headcanon.

Oh damn. It was Chip. 

The whole scene when Imogen and Tabby confronted Chip though?Wow. Top tier acting from Bailee and Chandler. Powerful.

"This year has made us very, very good liars" ICONIC!

OMG THE FINAL EPISODE THOUGH HHHHHH

So much went DOWN!!

I'm still in shock with A doing that to Davie's body though- Tabby asking if Imogen was okay "Nope. Definitely not"

IMOGEN ADAMS DESERVES THE ENTIRE WORLD!! Fuck A for giving her life long trauma!

Not Angela's brother being named Archie- STOP WITH THE R*VERD*LE REFERENCES

IT WAS THE PRINCIPAL!!!! That was a good twist, I appreciate it.

Omg Kelly's mom stabbing Sheriff Beasley though was another twist I did not see coming.

1000000000+ points for adding a Motley Crue song in there!!

I absolutely LOVED the moment when the rest of the girls immediately stood up when the principal threatened to shoot Imogen and her baby- RIDE OR DIES FOR EACH OTHER YES

**THE FIGHT SCENE WITH IMOGEN AND A!!

MAKING CINEMATIC HISTORY

The camera angles in this show- absolutely DELICIOUS

Tabby being there when Imogen woke up in the hospital GO TABOGEN GO

The scene where everyone was celebrating Christmas together 🥺🥺 (every other ship kissing and then TABOGEN pls SEASON 2 SO WE CAN MAKE IT HAPPEN!!!)

Also why did I know someone was going to say Die Hard when Tabby asked about favorite Christmas movies and why did it fit Shawn perfectly-

Aww Elodie and Shirley saying they're going to couples therapy GOOD FOR THEM!! (technically they ALL need it lol)

Interesting way to bring back some original PLL with that Aria and Ezra mention.. but when that baby finds out that her parents were in a student teacher relationship-

Overall glad that all those nasty men were EXPOSED. Especially the principal and Sheriff Beasley. Still wondering about Wes though. If there's a season 2 I'm keeping an eye on him too.

So Kelly was Kelly the whole time- I like that there’s a possibility that she stays friends with the Liars in the future- but like what if it’s still Karen? I wanna believe it’s Kelly and that Kelly is good but still.

And finally, Imogen saying she thinks it’s over

But A killed Sheriff Beasley AND came back for Chip-

When I first heard about this show, I was skeptical at first and didn't have many expectations going into it. I never watched the very first Pretty Little Liars series in its entirety, but this spinoff somehow managed to pull me in. Thank you PLLOS Original Sin for everything! What an amazing cast and show. I would definitely recommend this show to others.

SEASON 2, SEASON 2, SEASON 2

[inkykeiji]

little bit of poison in me

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut and angst

notes: okay FINALLY!! very loosely inspired by tag you’re it by melanie martinez!! uhh dabi’s a drug dealer, keigo’s in his third year of university and a track star, reader’s in her first year of university. please, please pay attention to the warnings below! if keigo’s your comfort character and you cannot handle him being physically abusive and a drug addict, then you might wanna sit this one out! promise he’ll be painted in a more sympathetic light in part two. | aaah dedicating this to @rat-suki​, because ur the only one who’s actually known the details of this fic since november, and because i put a lil something inspired by new moon in there for u ehehe <333 | title credit: tag you’re it by melanie martinez

warnings: 18+, noncon/dubcon, physical abuse, drug use & abuse + graphic depictions of addiction, mindbreak, overstimulation, manipulation, lowkey yandere vibes (which will get worse), daddy kink, a brother a lil too obsessed with his sister + questionably close sibling relationship, generally toxic relationships (possessiveness, jealousy), rough sex, semi-public sex, cumplay/cum feeding, minimal prep, degradation/dumbification, choking, kinda brat taming???

words: 14.8k

synopsis: 

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to. But you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, and allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

It’s well past midnight, but the moon is still hanging high in the sky, illuminating the dingy shopping mall parking lot, its reflection gleaming on the wet, cracked concrete. Breathless little laughs and squeals of surprise and pleasure ring out among the vast empty space, your own voice echoing around you.

“Gonna get ya, baby,”

He’s chasing after you, legs longer than yours, faster than yours, mischievous little growls getting caught in his chest as you daintily leap away from him, just out his grasp again, the tips of his fingers grazing the soft linin of your dress.

“No!” you giggle, pushing your burning thighs to keep running just a bit longer, propelling you forward.

But he’s getting closer and closer with each pound of his boots against the pavement, encroaching on you more and more with each tiny gasp exhaled through your parted lips.

Eventually, he catches you, like he always does, large hands wrapping around your hips as strong arms pull you backwards against a solid chest. You’re both panting, chests heaving with exertion, bubbles of laughter escaping your throats.

“Tag,” he breathes, hot breath curling around the shell of your ear. “You’re it,”

His arms encircle you, holding you tightly, your own arms covering his, little fingers digging into the skin of his forearms almost possessively as he uses his strength and bodyweight to guide you towards the car—a 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz that runs like shit and guzzles gas like no tomorrow. But it’s pretty, and he loves it, with all its chrome and argyle blue, glittering in the moonlight.

“You’re being bad, princess,” the words are mumbled against the skin behind your ear, and you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Good girls don’t run away from their Daddies like that,”

And he says the word with so much disdain, cruel and mocking, making you feel sick for liking it.

“Baaad girl,” he whispers, dragging the word out.

A tiny pout settles on your face, eyebrows knitting. “Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not,”

“You are,” he chuckles, pressing you against the damp metal of his car as you finally reach it, his body still draped over yours. “What? You gonna fight me on it?”

Squirming a little in his grasp, you turn to face him, a playful glint shining in your glassy eyes as you nudge your nose against his. “I just might!”

“Hah,” the breath of air washes over your face, scorching and sweet, a stark contrast to the humid, cool air surrounding you, causing your exposed flesh to break out into chills. “I’d like to see you try, dollface,”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” you murmur, yelping when his fingers dig into the supple flesh of your ass through your dress, grabbing a healthy handful and squeezing in retaliation.

“Mmm,” he hums nonchalantly, pushing his forehead against yours, eyes nothing but gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of sapphire. “You gonna show me?” his rough voice fades into a whisper, unblinking eyes holding yours steadily. Calloused hands are sliding up your thighs now, slipping underneath the thin material of your dress and taking the hem with them.

“N-Not here,” you breathe, trying and failing to pull back from him, eyes widening in alarm as you feel his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties.

“Yes, here,” he responds, voice smooth as velvet as soft lips drag along your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh like a hot knife slicing through butter.

Panic is beginning to rise in your chest, your throat closing up, and you choke a little on your words, shaking your head frantically. “Please, Dabi, no, we could just—”

“Wow, you really want me to bruise that pretty ass of yours,” he smirks, cutting you off and pulling back to gaze at you lazily, lips glimmering with saliva.

“No, I—”

“Especially with how much you’re saying no today,” he tuts his tongue in disapproval. “Such a bad girl; a silly, little, stupid, bad girl,”

Each word is punctuated with a sharp slap to your scantily clad ass, each bringing with them a sharp sting that you can hear, echoing out among the parking lot.

“Not bad,” you whimper, eyes shutting tightly against the familiar burn of tears. “Not bad, j-just wanna—”  

“Wanna what?” he teases, voice mocking yours as his palm collides with your ass again. “Huh?”

“W-Wanna—Want you to fuck me right,” you rush to say, the words exhaled as a singular huff of breath.

“Oh?” he pulls back slightly, eyes searching your face, his own features contorted with false concern. “Is that so?”

You nod quickly, eagerly, and he can see it in your eyes, how desperately you want him to buy your lie.

But you know he hasn’t the moment that trademark smirk returns to his face, mouth curling up at the edges as he leans forward, lips moving against your ear. “I think that’s a boldfaced lie, babygirl,” his voice is low, sinister, dangerous, traces of amusement sown into his tone. “I think it’s because you don’t want anyone to see how much of a little whore you truly are,”

“D-Dabi, please,” you whimper, vision blurry with tears as you paw at his jacket, pleading with him.

He thinks it’s so cute when you beg, his silence imploring you to continue, urgently rambling on in your quest to convince him.

“I-I want you to really fuck me; I want you to leave b-bruises all over my body, I want to feel you in my tummy, I want you t-to stuff me so full of cum that it goes to my brain and makes me stupid, please Daddy, I want—”  

Slim fingers wrap around your neck and squeeze, forcing a cry of surprise from your lips and effectively cutting you off. “I’m gonna make sure you remember those words, sweetheart,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

The thump of your own heart echoes in your ears as the Cadillac Eldorado thrums under your body, the leather sticking to the bare skin of your thighs.

“Open,” he demands, delivering a harsh slap to the thigh nearest to him, eyes never leaving the road as his foot presses down, car accelerating. Your thighs obey immediately, spreading as far as they possibly can in the cramped space, knees knocking against the door and center console box.

A rough hand, decorated with callouses and scabs, kneads the flesh once before sliding up, up, up, and then hooking in the elastic of your panties, Dabi spitting out a curse as he lets it snap back against your skin.

“Take those off,” he seethes, aggressively ripping his hand away from you as if he’s aggravated that you’re even wearing them at all. Your dress hitches up around your waist in your haste to obey, little fingers catching in the lacy material as your hips squirm, seatbelt cutting into your flesh, wiggling a little as you pull the dainty material down your legs.

He’s already holding his hand out expectantly and you press them into it, waiting for his fingers to close around the garment before taking your hand back. He feels them, rolling the fabric around in his palm, between his fingers, chuckling darkly as he chucks them over his shoulder a moment later, onto the dirty ground of the backseat.

Those were your favourite, but you know better than to say anything, forcing your expression to stay neutral, to keep your nose from wrinkling up in distaste.

“They’re wet, but not nearly wet enough,” he tsks as if he’s disappointed, hand finding your thigh again. This time, they part instantly, without any verbal prompting, hips pushing towards his palm as it skims the skin of your inner thigh.

“Now, I’m gonna play with this cute lil clit of yours,” he begins, fingers brushing the sensitive nub, words tumbling from his lips slowly, lazily, unhurried, as if you’re stupid, as if you need an ample amount of time for each word to sink in.

It makes your pussy throb, and the borderline malicious smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he felt it, too.

Speaking through his smirk, he continues in the same patronizing voice. “And you—you’re going to be Daddy’s good little girl and get nice and wet for him, so he doesn’t hurt his cock when he fucks you. Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Yes Daddy, of course Daddy, anything for you, Daddy.

It’s torture in the most delightful way, coarse pads of his fingers just barely grazing your clit, just enough for you to feel it, just enough for you to want—no, need—more. Heat, thick and sticky, pools in the pit of your stomach, thighs straining to open impossibly wider, edges of the car’s interior digging into your knees as you desperately try to shift your hips, to press further into his touch, to evoke anything harder than these teasing, feathery touches.

Blunt nails sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, hard enough to make you yelp, entire body flinching from the sudden pain. “Big girls use their words,” he chastises, voice fading from a growl into a pleasant, light tone.

“Please, Daddy, I-I want more,” you whimper, hips still trying to catch your clit on his fingers, on his palm. “Touch me more,”

The hum that vibrates in his throat has your heart sinking, corners of your mouth tugging down as you blink against the sting of disappointment—you know that hum, know it all too well, know all of Dabi’s bizarre mannerisms at this point and what they mean for you. And that hum, the one that only lasts for a moment, the one that’s barely a noise at all, the one that doesn’t even sound like he’s considering anything, means no.

His eyes don’t leave the road in front of him, despite the fact that his car is going faster, and faster, and faster, whipping through the empty city streets, neon buildings and harsh florescent lights becoming nothing but a blur. And if it weren’t for the hard lump straining against the black denim of his jeans, you’d figure him disinterested; facial features relaxed, breathing normal, entirely unresponsive to the pathetic little noises he’s so effortlessly pulling from you.

It ignites a fire in your chest, blazing with the need to make him react, to make him pay attention to you.

Wearing your best pout, you arch your back a little, the action shoving your hips towards his hand again. “Daddy, Daddy,” you whine, low and needy in the back of your throat, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, touch me more? Please, Daddy, I want it so bad, want your cock so bad, please, help me get wetter? Wanna be dripping for you, Daddy, I wanna be soaking for you,”

“Fuck,” he breathes, smirk growing into a full grin as he glances at you from the side of his eye. “Such a brat,” he shakes his head, through the grin is still present on his face as he finally presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow, hard circles into it. “You better be drenched for me by the time we get home, you little bitch,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Large hands are on your body as the two of you stumble up the stairs, nimble fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, obscene sucking and slurping amplified by the stairwell, bouncing back to your own ears, saliva slicked lips slipping and sliding together messily as teeth clack together, practically tripping over each other’s feet and fucking Christ he needs you, he needs you now, his cock hurts, goddamn it.

And you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, all clingy and needy and desperate, hushed little whines catching in the back of his throat, fading from deep, rumbling growls as rough hands paw at you.

A sharp gasp is knocked from your chest as he slams you against the wall on the landing of floor three with such force that your head ricochets off the concrete, your resounding cry silenced by Dabi’s lips, tongue invading your mouth as he swallows your beautiful little noises of pain.

You can feel his cock pressed up against your hip, hot and hard and throbbing through the denim that conceals it as he grinds against you, fervent, eager, impatient.

That panic is bubbling up in your throat again, bitter and acidic and eroding, rendering your voice weak and frail as scabbed knuckles drag across your bare thighs, inching higher and higher.

“Da-Daddy, wait,”

“No,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to break the skin. “I’m done waiting,” hands are rucking up your dress. “You made me wait that whole fucking car ride,” sharp hipbones keep your thighs spread. “I can’t wait any longer,” the clinking of his heavy belt buckle echoes throughout the stairwell, sending chills pebbling across your skin.

And then he’s forcing himself into you, shoving his cock into your tight little hole, a choked cry bouncing off the dirty white walls as your eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking from the edges.

The stretch is magnificent, little cunt aching as it sucks in his thick cock, and you swear you can feel the burning in your belly, little pinpricks of pain shooting through your gut.

“G-Gonna tear me in half,” you wail, head falling forward, forehead bumping against his.

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” a callous laugh leaves his lips after he spits out the nickname, the singular word filled with such derision it must sting his tongue. Large hands hoist you up, and your legs immediately latch around his waist, seeking comfort in the monster that hurt you.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Tears drip down your cheeks as you bury your face in his shoulder, the word escaping your lips in tiny half-sobs catching in your throat, little fingers curling against the worn leather of his jacket.

And he can’t help but soften a little as you weep into his neck, thinks it’s so cute that you need him so bad, your little stuttered breaths hot against his neck as you cling to him, reminding him that he is the only man that can make you feel like this; he is the only man that can make you cry while simultaneously finding solace in his embrace. It makes his blood surge, sends cinders searing up his spine, gives him a high better than any other drug every could, and he finds himself hushing you gently, twitching cock buried in your cute lil cunt, snugly pressed against your cervix.

“Okay, okay,” he’s saying as his hips begin to pump, slow and languid. “Quiet, Daddy’s gonna make it feel good, alright? Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it go away,”

The sweetest, airiest little mewls of Daddy, yes, Daddy, soak into the inky skin of his neck, sandwiched between uneven hitched breaths. He’s gaining speed with each thrust, though, working up a steady rhythm that has you practically bouncing on his cock, little wails of pain fading into whimpers of pleasure. The combination is dizzying, infecting your mind with a haze that is only Dabi, surrounded by him, immersed in him—glowing sapphire and burning hickory and spicy nicotine—unable to quell the little noises spilling from your throat, each one louder than the next with each bump against your cervix and drag against that spot.  

“That feel better, princess?” he breathes out, pausing just to readjust his grip on your ass—to angle your hips just right, chuckling at your selfish, needy whine—and then he’s drilling his cock into you, head pounding against the spot that has his name escaping your lips in high pitched squeals that break in your throat, heavy belt buckle clanking against the wall with each of his thrusts.

It sends sparks of mind-numbing pleasure burning through your abdomen, your chest, straight to your very core and collecting there, each spark adding to the growing fire that’s beginning to blaze, followed by intense spears of pain, slicing through your gut and down the muscles of your thighs, legs beginning to quiver as ankles hook tighter, tighter, tighter, the heels of your sneakers digging into his back dimples, trying to get him closer, closer, closer, desperately begging for more, more, more.

Yet it’s all so much, too much, please, Daddy—the harsh sound of metal colliding with concrete mingling with your pathetic whines and his panted breaths, rough whimpers catching deep in his chest, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound.

“C’mon, babygirl,” he gasps, pace never slowing, never faltering once, even though there’s glistening dewdrops of sweat decorating his hairline, inky strands beginning to stick to the skin of his forehead. “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy, cum before someone catches you being such a sweet little—God, Christ—a sweet little slut for me,”

And your cunt submits, would never dare to disobey a direct command from its master, from its owner, clenching around him as you cream all over his cock, a sharp cry ripping up your throat as your nails scrabble against leather clad shoulders.

A growl rumbles, deep and dark and dangerous in his chest, as his hips piston a few more times before they still, tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, branding his name in tiny blotches of navy and violet as his cock throbs, coating your insides with spurts of thick cum.

Head falling forward, his forehead collides with yours, chests heaving and breathing laboured. And he can’t help the little chuckle he huffs out as you wiggle your hips a little, eyes still closed as you rock in little motions against him, clit catching on his pubic bone.

Needy little bitch.

But he isn’t nearly done with you yet, because that desire, thick and sticky in the very pit of his stomach, only wants more, insatiable and voracious, desperate for more of your whines, more of your tears, more of your cunt.

You’re gonna make good on all those words you spewed in the parking lot, baby, he’s nearly snarling at you, cutting off your whiny complaints as he drags you up the final flight of stairs, stopping halfway to haul you over his shoulder with a huff and a deft slap to your ass, carrying you the rest of the way to his apartment.

“Dress, off. Now.” He orders as he throws you onto his mattress, pulling his shirt over his head, belt buckle jingling as he walks, still hanging undone.

And then he’s crawling over your naked body, lips attacking yours, smashing and smacking and slurping, a large hand wrapping around your wrists as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, laving over yours in slow, deliberate drags, pinning your wrists against the cold cracked drywall behind his nearly bare, minimalistic bed, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones together between a singular rough palm—a silent warning—and forcing a yelp from your throat into his.

“Don’t move them,” his lips mumble the command against yours before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, between sharp gleaming teeth that bite down hard, sinking into the soft flesh and refusing to release until he tastes copper, the tip of his tongue tracing the harsh indents left behind, licking at your lip once more before pulling away completely.

“I want you to leave bruises all over my body!” he mimics, voice absurdly high as lips skim the curve of your neck, tongue darting out to trace along your collarbones. “Isn’t that what you said, baby?”

But you can’t answer, too busy sucking on your now swollen lip, trying to soothe the incessant throbbing as metal stains your tongue. That’s disrespectful, you think you hear him growl into your unmarred skin before something sharp pierces your nipple, clamping down around it and tugging. A resounding cry tears through your throat as your body instinctually bows off the bed, pressing further into him, a muffled snicker vibrating against your chest before his tongue flicks, licks, slobbers, thick strings of saliva glimmering in the dim light as he pulls away, breaking and slapping against his chin.

“Answer me next time I ask you a fucking question,” The words are spit so harshly they slice into your skin, head nodding fervently before he’s even finished speaking, blinking the bleariness from your eyes. Smoldering sapphire holds your gaze for a moment, burning into your very soul—digging, prying, searching, scrutinizing, his breathing slow, calm, controlled with each deep rise and fall of his bare chest.

You aren’t sure what it is he’s looking for as he peers into the depths of your eyes, but you don’t dare let your gaze stray from his, don’t dare blink, don’t dare breathe until he breaks the spell, blinking once as his lips curl up into a wicked smirk.

“I’m gonna turn your body into a work of art,” he promises you, voice low and guttural, forcing thorns of ice up your spine as lips drag across your jaw.

And he does, paints little galaxies across your skin with his tongue and his lips, asymmetrical blotches of blues and greys and purples, ivory bones scraping against your flesh, signing his name into his masterpiece in deep, dark indents of crimson and violet.

It aches and it pulses and it stings, glittery trails of salt water staining your cheeks, tiny shimmering droplets clinging to your clumped, spiky lashes, adding the finishing touches on the greatest piece he’s ever created.

And it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty when you’re like this, baby, covered in navy and plum and carmine, and, fuck, it’s a shame you won’t stay like this.  

It seems he’s in a trance for a moment, in awe of his craftsmanship, of what he’s produced, breathing laboured as shining azure eyes drift over your body, slowly, purposefully, as if he’s memorizing every single nick, bite, scrape, bruise, burning the image into his brain forever.

His gaze floats back up to yours, holding it for a moment, pupils big and gaping and swallowing you whole—before something snaps, breaks, and he comes back to himself, remembers why he did it.

Narrowing slightly, his eyes darken, that sadistic smirk returning to his lips. And then he’s shoving his cock into you again, hard and leaking and the prettiest red you’ve ever seen, cute little cunt stretching around him for the second time tonight.

But little girls who act like brats deserve to get fucked like brats, he tells you in a snarl, slender fingers collaring your neck and squeezing slowly, slowly, slowly, crushing the column of your throat.

Everything’s beginning to grow hazy, vision sliding in and out of focus as those calloused hands continue to tighten, and tighten, and tighten. He looks like some sort of sick angel as he looms above you, nothing more than a shadow of sharp edges and smooth curves, inky spikes and glowing sapphire, haloed by the weak neon light that spills in through grimy windows. Jutting bones prod the soft flesh of your inner thighs, carving out a space just for them as his hips snap viciously, relentlessly, obstinately.

And it’s all overwhelming, overstimulating on every front, uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes as you choke roughly on your own sobs, each one being forced from your chest by your Daddy’s harsh thrusts, only to get caught on the palm pressed to your airway, ears ringing from the slap of skin against skin overlapping those harsh words spit at you in his falsely saccharine voice.  

Aw, no, baby, wispy words caressing your cheek as they float by, eyes starting to roll back in your head. Don’t pass out on me, dollface. I want you awake when I fill your cunt with cum.

The pressure around your throat lets up just a hint, and you wheeze in air, a rush of cold flooding your body. You can feel it, that contrasting, familiar heat scorching the pit of your stomach, beginning to curl in on itself more, and more, and more with each pump of his hips, until it explodes, your body arching off the mattress, unintentionally pressing into the hand adorning your neck, restricting your air entirely.

The chuckle that leaves his lips as you choke yourself is dark, would send spears of ice slicing through your veins if you weren’t otherwise focused on trying to fill your lungs with air. Nothing leaves your mouth other than a few choked whines, barely more than a huff of light breath.

But his hips don’t slow, and he’s glaring down at you with parted lips and lidded eyes, pupils gaping, so large you’re unable to detect even the slightest hint of blue outlining them—nothing but big black orbs, absorbing everything in their vision, sucking everything from you, every hitched sob and soft whine and gorgeous wince, each time he pounds against your cervix.

And it’s how your looking up at him—with those gleaming, adoring eyes and that blissful, fucked out grin—that has him cumming with a shuddered f-fuck, forcing his eyes to stay open as he pumps you full of thick cum, desperate to catalogue every little expression that crosses your face, the way your eyes flutter slightly, the way your neck arches, the tiniest little moan slipping through chapped lips as his cock pulses inside of you.

You must pass out for a second, Dabi’s calloused palm lightly tapping against your cheek as he murmurs to you in that sinful, silky voice, sugared sentiments twining around your exhausted body.

Wake up, princess. Daddy isn’t done playing with you yet.

Words tumble past your lips in a mumble, though you aren’t quite sure what you’re saying—everything feels hazy, like you’re gazing through a thin cloud of smoke, and despite the fact that you can barely move, your body feels light, almost floaty in a way, entirely numb to the immense pain it has endured thus far.

Two fingers, coated in thick, gleaming cream, are thrust into your gasping mouth, tongue met with the salty, bitter taste of his cum. You cough around the sudden intrusion, immediately obey when he orders you to clean, sluggish tongue sliding up and lapping at and slipping between them, sucking the digits free of cum.

Good girl, he leans away and your heart flutters weakly at the praise, saliva slicked fingers dipping into your hole again to gather more.

“C’mon,” he breathes as he brings his fingers to your mouth again, sticky viscous glops collected on his fingers. They catch in the dim light streaming through the window, a unique mixture of pale moonbeams and hazy neon, cum almost glittering, almost pretty. “You wanted me so bad, didn’t you?” your head’s moving—nodding, you think, you can’t really tell, breathing shallow as your eyes belatedly follow his glistening fingers—and he smirks down at you. “Then eat my fucking cum,”

Lips part instantly, mouth falling open as your tongue lolls out, eyes drifting up to his and pleading mutely, begging for the substance—the very essence of him—and nearly moaning when he drags his fingers across the saliva coated muscle, curling and sucking his digits back into the heat of your mouth.

And he’s fucking high off of it all, pupils blown to hell, outlined by the thinnest ring of cobalt, barely detectable, visible only when it catches in the moonlight.

A lumpy pile of denim sits abandoned and bunched up near the end of the bed—he must’ve kicked his pants off at some point, though you don’t remember when—and his cock’s hard again, head brushing your inner thigh. It’s hard for you to tear your gaze from it, fleeting thoughts of stamina and impressive grazing through your mind, turning to smoke the moment you try to latch onto them.

He notices, of course—you’ve been staring at it for nearly a minute now, glazed eyes unblinking, soft little pants passing through barely parted lips. But it’s the way you’re staring at it—in the purest, unadulterated form of desire—that makes it jump, twitching a little against your thigh. You think you hear your Daddy breathe out a curse, think his rough fingers brush some hair back from your drenched forehead, think he says something along the lines of how much he fucking loves you, but in your dreamlike state, you can’t be sure.

Because then rough hands are on you, manhandling you as whatever trance he had fallen into yet again snaps once more.

“We’re gonna put that pretty, empty head of yours to good use!” he’s saying almost enthusiastically as he hoists your boneless body up, propping you up against his chest and securing you with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. “Whaddya think about that, hmm, princess? Want Daddy to use your little skull as his own personal cumdump? Huh?” lithe fingers squeeze your cheeks so hard your lips pucker up, a high-pitched whine getting caught in your throat. “That’s all it’s good for anyway, isn’t it?”

You try to nod, but all your head wants to do is flop back against his shoulder.

“Oh baby,” he cooks mockingly, jutting his inky bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

“T’is!” you mumble through his grip, drool beginning to collect in the corners of your scrunched mouth, dribbling down your chin. Gazing at him through the corner of your watery eyes, your resolve hardens, doing your best to hold your exhausted body up on your own, expression steeling as you force your woozy head to nod as best you can in his bruising grasp.

“Yeah?” he breathes, mouth curving into a dangerous smirk before his lips are at your ear, voice dropping an octave lower. “You’re fucking stubborn, y’know that? Stubborn little brat, just like your bullheaded brute of a brother,”

And then he’s pushing you down, shoving your head into the mattress and pulling your hips up, a hiss spit through your teeth as he purposefully presses into the fresh bruises.

Your poor little pussy aches, fucked open and raw by his cock, but you are stubborn—you can’t help it, it runs in your blood—exhilarated by the challenge and pushing your hips back weakly towards him.

Your Daddy chuckles behind you, but it’s one of those annoyed chuckles, one of those disbelieving chuckles, one of those chuckles that consists of an audacious smirk, quick short nodding that’s more to himself than anyone else, and a tongue running along his top teeth, sucking on the bones, before it fades from his face completely, replaced with scorn in an instant, eyes cold and jaw clenched as he delivers a harsh backhand to your ass.

Then his body’s blanketing yours, chest hot and heavy against your back, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Oh, you really want me to break you, don’t you?”

No, truly, you don’t, but you grit your teeth, eyes shut tightly against the sting of a fresh wave of tears, trying to stop your head from involuntarily shaking no.

He laughs again, this time mean and sharp and full of malice, as he straightens up, lining his cock up with your hole.

“Nah, nah,” he’s saying as he pushes in, and God, it still hurts, it still stretches you, reopening little sutures created in the stairwell. “I think you do—Actually, I know you do. And Daddy knows best, right?”

Yes, of course, Daddy knows best, Daddy always knows best.

And it burns, that relentless snap of his hips, driving his cock into you with deep growls and grunts, with such force that it’s jostling you up the mattress, little hands planting themselves in a pitiful attempt to press back against him, to keep yourself in one place. Every muscle in your arms screams at the effort, stiff and rigid from being held, kept, still and obedient against the wall for an extended period of time.

The dreaminess has faded again, leaving behind a dull haze, and it all just hurts. It seems to come in bouts, inexplicable waves of numbness and pain, alternating sporadically and sprinkled with spikes of intense pleasure, a potent mix of chemicals swirling in your brain, lust and desire and terror and anguish burning through your veins.

You’re sobbing into the mattress now, fingers curling tightly in his soft black sheets as your bleary vision begins to darken at the edges, mumbling out something almost in a chant—his name, you think, though you’re not sure, it all sounds muffled to your ringing ears—vibrations of your voice getting caught in your throat, hitching with your sobs and the rough piston of his hips.

It’s building again, licks of fire scalding hot against the walls of your stomach, the temperature rising with each drag of his cock against that spot, until you’re sure the flames are going to engulf you from the inside out.

Little squeaks, poor imitations of moans, escape your lips, interspersed with your pathetic wails. He’s speaking once more—you can feel it, his chest reverberating against yours, lips moving against your ear again. Something rumbles, rattles, deep and dark and dangerous at the very core of his body, and then he’s tangling a hand in your hair and tugging, hauling you up, a choked cry slipping from your lips.

It pulls you from unconsciousness’s grasp, just for a moment, clears the mist from your mind as he snarls against your ear, taking the cartilage between his teeth and biting down, hard.

“Thought I told you to answer me the next time I ask you a fucking question,” he breathes, and he almost sounds gleeful, contradicting his voice, so rough, so hoarse, so hot.

You did, Daddy, you did, you’re trying to say, trying to nod in the vice grip he has on your strands, the words jumbled and muddled and near incomprehensible, wet and messy and coated in spit.

“But I guess my—Christ—my cock makes you too stupid to do that, huh?” he’s panting now, in time with his thrusts, huffs of breath sweltering against your already sticky skin. “What would your goody-two-shoes brother say if he could see you, hmm? If he could see how fucking dumb his little slut of a baby sister goes from my cum,”

It’s too much, too much, Daddy, too much, the brutal pounding of his cockhead against your swollen cervix and the continuous stream of strained, husky, filthy words he’s spewing in your ear and the sting in your scalp and that spot, that spot, that spot—

It hits you so hard it’s painful, knocks what little breath you had right out of you as your entire body convulses on his cock, little cunt clenching and gushing as you weep Da-Daddy! over and over and over, the only word your soupy brain is capable of conceiving, body going pliant in his arms as your head lolls back against his shoulder, struggling to keep your eyes open while he continues to drive his cock into you, hard and fast and messy.

He cums with the prettiest broken whine you’ve ever heard—or at least, you think he does, entire body gone numb once again, think you feel his hips juddering and his cock pulsing, think you feel that familiar, thick substance filling you to the brim. Everything is still for a moment, his chest heaving against your arched back, and then he laughs malevolently, though it sounds far away, even though you can feel the sound vibrating against you.

“That ought’a teach you to say no to me again,” he spits harshly in your ear, giving one more hard yank on your hair before letting go completely, your abused body collapsing in a heap on his mattress.

It feels like you’re more Dabi than yourself now, with his name written all over your body, signed by his mouth, his teeth, his fingers, and his cum leaking out of you, drying hard and sticky on your thighs, his scent being all you can smell, all you can taste, heady and fiery. And as you crawl into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness—finally, finally—you think about just how much can change, and how fast it does, in a mere 92 days.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Three months earlier

The air is hazy with thick smoke, heavy enough to dilute the already dim yellow light shining from the bare lightbulbs overhead. The stench of cheap beer, weed and sweat stings your nose, and it wrinkles reflexively.

You aren’t supposed to be here.

Throbbing music radiates through the house, causing the structure to tremble in time with the beat, the dirty drywall you’re currently pressed up against quivering in response. It’s so loud it hurts, vibrating through the warped linoleum floors and through your body. It makes you shiver in disgust, as if it’s some sort of parasite worming it’s way through your veins in timed intervals.

Your brother would kill you if he knew.

You’ve been backed into a corner—literally, surrounded by three college boys you’ve never seen before as they drunkenly leer at you. They’re a year or two older than you, glassy half-lidded eyes scanning your body in a way that makes you feel filthy, in a way that makes you want to scrub your skin raw to rid it of their slimy gazes.

They’re mumbling out something, speaking amongst themselves in low voices, peppered with raspy snickers that make your skin crawl. Pressing further into the corner, you quickly wrack your mind for something—anything—that will get them to part just a little, that’ll crack the wall of bodies you’re now surrounded by just enough for you to barrel through. Adrenaline begins to surge through your veins as you gear up, drawing in a deep breath, and—

“Whadda we have here?”

The men part immediately at the sound of that low voice, smooth as melted chocolate, revealing a figure with spiky onyx hair, an involuntary gasp escaping your lips the moment your eyes collide with sapphire.

“Ah, I thought it was you,” he smirks, peering down at you with a gaze so intense it feels like your body’s been set aflame. “What’s a good little girl like you doing in a place like this, hmm?”

Dabi.

This wasn’t the first time you had seen him, remembering the man with the pretty cobalt eyes and inky hair standing under a singular flickering lamp post outside of the tiny house you and your brother share, or lingering on the threshold of the front door, eyes lazily darting around the space as he waits.

He never comes inside. Your brother doesn’t allow it.

You’ve barely spoken any words to him, always responding to his polite greetings with shy nods or little waves.

But this is the first time you’re meeting him properly.

Feet bolted to the floor, you try to respond, only able to emit a pathetic little squeak.

He huffs out a condescending chuckle, gazing down the bridge of his nose at you, head tilted up just a touch, lidded crystal eyes glittering in the dim light. That trademark smirk spreads into something darker, something almost ominous in nature, something that whispers in your ear that it knows something you don’t, sending sharp spikes of ice shooting up your spine.

“Does your brother know you’re here?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes widening in panic as anxiety begins to rise in your throat. He isn’t about to rat you out, is he?

“Thought so. Dunno why I asked,” he heaves a heavy sigh, chest rising with the force of it, as if he’s extremely exasperated, as if you’re some sort of child lost at a supermarket and he’s bringing you back to your parents. “Alright, let’s go,”

A hand extends, hanging limp in the smoky air for a moment, waiting, before Dabi sighs again with a roll of his eyes, latching onto your wrist and all but dragging you out of the corner, maneuvering through the mass of sweaty bodies crowding the dingy living room.

“We’re leaving?” you ask dumbly as Dabi approaches the back door, hand still wrapped in a firm grasp around your arm.

“Yep. My work here is done, and you,” he tuts his tongue with a slow shake of his head, hidden smile on his face. “Your work here is done, too,”

“W-Where are we going?” you ask as the two of you stumble outside, shivering a little as the cool, fresh air hits your heated skin.

“No idea. Away from this place,” he looks back at your briefly, giving your wrist a soft squeeze before dropping it. “You tryna put your brother in an early grave or somethin’?”

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head again. “No, I just—”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” his words echo your thoughts from before. “You were in some real danger for a second, y’know that?”

“I-I know. Thank you for, uh, s-saving me, Sir,”

“Sir?” his eyes are bright with mirth, shining despite the weak light provided by the waxing moon. The smirk returns, and you feel it again—like he’s plotting something, like he’s got some big secret he’s hiding, a plan, something up his sleeve. “Sir is nice, but I think there’s another name you’d rather call me,”

Eyebrows knit in confusion, your eyes drift to the ground, mulling over his words. Something else you’d rather call him? Like what? You’ve only seen the guy a few—

“Still have no idea why you haven’t fucked him yet,” one of your friends muses as Dabi’s exiting his car, eyes watching him lazily from where you’re both seated on the front lawn.

“Keigo would murder me, literally,” you giggle a little, glancing over at the man with inky hair before looking away again, down at your lap as little fingers thread through the grass beneath you and shaking your head.

“Shame,” she sighs, twirling her sticky pink lollipop idly, the candy catching in the sun. “He’s Daddy as hell,”

A sharp gasp leaves your parted lips, eyes snapping back to her face and holding them for a moment before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, your fingers tapping her bare knee in a silent warning that he’s approaching.

Heavy black boots collide with the front stone path, buckles jingling daintily, his head perking up in a catlike manner, trademark smirk forming on his lips as you both urgently try to calm your laughter.

“Ladies,” he nods with a wink as he passes, little giggles cutting off instantaneously, the two of you mumbling shy greetings in response.

That was the only time you had ever spoken to him, until now.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. He did hear.

He chuckles slightly, dropping the subject with a shake of his head.

“So. Where to?” he asks expectantly, feet slowing to a stop on the cracked sidewalk as he taps out a cigarette. He whips a silver Zippo open, sharp twinge of metal swiping against metal cutting though the silent nighttime air. “Home?”

A shrill bubble of incredulous laughter escapes your throat. Dabi glances over at you, amused, raising an eyebrow in question as he cups the flame and brings it to his lips.

“Do you want to put my brother in an early grave?” you snort.

“I could just walk you to the street, you know,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “Precious niisan wouldn’t even need to see me,”

You shake your head, idly kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe as you begin walking again. The campus is beginning to bleed into the city now, engulfing the two of you in familiar florescent light. “No, I can’t go home,”

“Why?”

“I…” you trail off, heat flooding your cheeks. “I, um, told him I’d be staying at a friend’s place tonight,”

Dabi gasps mockingly. “Baby, you lied to your niisan?”

Knocking your shoulder against his arm, you scoff, trying to hide the stupid smile the nickname conjures. “Oh, shut up,”

“Getting bold now, I see,” he hums to himself. “Could’a swore just a few minutes ago you were scared of me,”

“N-Not scared, just—uh, just surprised, that’s all,”

“Uh-huh, sure. Tell me again why you can’t just go to this friend’s house?”

“Well, she’s—she’s, like, y’know—” you shrug as a form of explanation, deflating a little at his unimpressed stare as he blows smoke out his nose. “She’s going home with some guy,” you mumble. “A-And I was supposed to too, but…”

Dabi tsks, shaking his head in false sympathy. “Sweetheart, you’re a teenage movie cliché,”

“Shut up,”

“You tell me to shut up one more time and I’m gonna have to do something about it,” he singsongs, a thinly veiled threat coated in sugar. Swallowing thickly, you glance up at him, blinking twice. His eyes tell you that he’s not fucking around, despite the relaxed features of his face, smile easygoing and gaze lidded.

“S-Sorry,” you murmur, looking away.

“Don’t you know? Good little girls don’t speak like that to Daddy,”

He spits the word out, almost patronizing in his tone, but that fails to stop the way your stomach flutters when it falls from his lips, fails to prevent the choked little gasp that escapes yours. He laughs loudly, your cheeks burning with shame.

Sapphire eyes glint in the pale moonlight, as if he’s just discovered the most valuable treasure, as if he’s just been given the key to the universe—a predator who’s just ensnared it’s prey, and the smirk that slowly etches itself across his face is nothing short of sinister.

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

“Hmm?”

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to, but you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

He only has one bed and no couch, he informs you as he leads you up four flights of stairs, explaining that the elevator’s been broken for a few months now, panting out the words just a little.

A soft giggle slips from your lips, amplified by the empty stairwell and echoing off the concrete walls, and Dabi looks back at you, amused.

“Something funny, princess?”

And although there’s a friendly grin on his face and mirth in his eyes, something in his voice makes you tremble, shoots scorching sparks up your spine and sends them rushing through your veins, and your laughter immediately cuts off.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head and hoping that he didn’t catch the full body shiver that coursed through your figure just a second ago, all thanks to his voice. “Just laughing at the absurdity of it, s’all,”

“Ah,” he says sagely, nodding once. “Well, here we are,”

A tattooed hand gestures vaguely to a white door with a large, black 4 painted on it, the paint beginning to chip away, worn down and faded in some spots.

Dabi’s apartment is small, but you like it. He’s surprised, he tells you, expected someone like you—someone brought up with luxury, someone who’s never had to ask for or want anything in their life, because they always already had it—would hate it.

“Or maybe, that’s exactly why you like it,”

It’s a little snarky, the way those words flow out of his mouth, biting your cheek as they pass, and you wince a little.

“I think it’s homey,” you say quietly, tiny voice raw and honest, deciding to omit the fact that you’ve never really had a space that felt homey yourself. “It’s very you. I really do like it.”

His eyes soften at your gentle confession, features relaxing a little as calloused fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then, I’m glad,”

For a moment, you’re positive he’s going to kiss you, staring down at you so intently with that look in his eyes as they slowly sweep across your face. But he turns on his heel a moment later, stalking into the tiny bachelor and beckoning for you to follow with a wave of his hand, flicking on a lamp as he passes.

“You hungry?” he’s asking as he walks. “I know this kickass noodle place that delivers 24/7,” he collapses on his bed, outfitted in black sheets, looking up at you expectantly when you stop hesitantly a few feet away. “You should probably eat something,” he continues, pushing himself up on his elbows, legs dangling off the end of the mattress. “Especially if there’s still alcohol in your—”

“Oh no, I don’t drink,” you cut him off without thinking, the words etched into your permanent vocabulary, sitting down next to him, just a hint too close.

“No, no, of course you don’t,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head, sitting up fully. “Let me guess; niisan doesn’t allow it,”

A frown forms on your lips, brows knitting together. “Well I—”

“Ah! Stop,” he cuts you off with a disinterested wave and a roll of his eyes. “I’ve heard enough,”

Normally, you’d scoff at someone speaking to you so rudely. But with Dabi, with Dabi, it’s different. A little giggle escapes your lips without your permission, the bubbly noise surprising you, and Dabi chuckles in response, a genuine grin spreading across his face, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“So. Food?”

The takeout arrives at 1:56am, Dabi bringing the bag full of noodles and other appetizers—too much food for only two people, if you’re being honest—back to his bed, placing it in front of you and then crawling onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged.

The action surprises you—he doesn’t have a table, but you had been expecting him to bring the food to the small breakfast bar, complete with two mismatched stools, not his bed.

Old Hammer Horror films flicker on the TV as the two of you pick through the food together, Styrofoam containers littering the bedspread. And it’s…fun—it’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time, a strange, unfamiliar giddiness fizzing in your tummy every time you make him laugh, every time his eye catches yours, every time he shoves your knee and calls you dollface, despite the deep, honey-coated voice echoing in your head telling you that you shouldn’t be doing this and he’s dangerous.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

“Bedtime,” Dabi says simply as he returns from the little kitchenette after storing the leftover takeout in the fridge, using a hand to tug at the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Wha—”

The material hits you square in the face and an involuntary, entirely unsolicited giggle bubbles past your lips, pulling the garment from your head.

“Pajamas,” he nods at the fabric now bunched in your hands, but you can’t seem to find your voice to respond.

Teeth bite into your tongue hard enough to make you wince in an effort to keep a gasp within your chest when he comes into view. He’s lean—toner than you expected, muscles gliding smoothly under his skin as he moves—and you’re unsurprised to find his chest and back decorated with vibrant, intricate tattoos.

Of course, you knew Dabi had tattoos—they’re on his face, his neck, his collarbone, disappearing under the neckline of his shirt and resurfacing under his short sleeves, curling around his arms, brilliant flowing ink telling stories across his skin. They’re beautiful—they’re mesmerizing, inquisitive eyes slowly roaming the expanse of his chest.

But you had never noticed the soft, slightly puckered skin they hid. Scars, your mind provides dimly.

“Do you want to touch them?”

The rumble of his deep voice snaps you out of your revere, heat flooding your cheeks when you realize you were staring. There’s a playful lilt to his voice, and you can’t quite tell if his offer is serious or not, your eyes floating up to his.

“Here,” he chuckles a little as he sits down, offering you his forearm, flipping it over and resting it on the bed.

He lets you trace every single one. He won’t tell you where or how he got the scars, and you don’t push, even as curiosity erodes your chest. It’s impolite to pry, Keigo’s voice echoes through your mind, and you nod once to yourself.

You don’t have sex that night. He doesn’t force you. You nearly tell him that you’re surprised, what, a man of his stature, of his reputation, has a pretty girl in his bed and he doesn’t fuck her?, petty retaliation for what he had said to you when you entered the apartment hours ago, but you chicken out at the last minute. You’d soon come to find that some things are better left unsaid.

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Spring has just arrived, bringing with it cool, gentle breezes and swaying blades of grass decorated with glistening dewdrops that sparkle when the sun catches them in just the right way. The smell of freshly battered cinnamon sugar donuts and cheap coffee wafts in through the open window, drifting over your bodies and embracing you.

It rouses you, and your eyes flutter open to be met with Dabi’s face. And, God, he’s so damn pretty, with thick dark eyelashes fanned out delicately across inked skin and tousled onyx hair, breathing deep and calm, sharp jaw on display. Reaching out, you daintily trace over his relaxed features—circling defined cheekbones, sliding down the slope of his nose, trailing along his jaw—allowing yourself a moment to admire him before thick guilt begins to strangle you.

You should go. Keigo still thinks that you’re at a friend’s house, and doesn’t expect you to be home until late afternoon, but that belated bitter guilt finally brands the back of your tongue, face souring a little at the idea of deceiving your big brother. And after all he’s done for you, niisan tsks in your head, voice sweet and syrupy, and you can almost see the disappointment in his eyes as he shakes his head. We’re all each other has, you know. And you do, really, you do know, head nodding routinely, instinctual at this point, as you begin to push yourself up.

“Stay,” Dabi says softly, eyes still closed as a hand catches your wrist. You stop immediately, allowing him to pull you back down to the mattress as lids lift to reveal the most brilliant sapphires. Fingers trace down the curve of your neck and you hum, arching into his touch.

“Keigo—”

“Doesn’t have to know,” he cuts you off, his voice still quiet, rough around the edges and heavy with sleep. “C’mon. We’ll go get pie for breakfast, and I’ll have you home to niisan by dinner, promise,”

Giggling a little, you roll into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you atop his chest as he flops onto his back.

“Pie,” you laugh, resting your chin on his toned muscles and gazing up at him. “For breakfast?”

“Why not?” He asks, and that smile is back again, the boyish one that looks like he’s hiding something, a little amusing secret just for him, the one that induces a whole flock of butterflies in your chest. “It’s Saturday,” he shrugs as best he can, then squeezes you to his chest. “You don’t got anything to do, I don’t got anything to do...”

Crystal eyes glitter in the morning sun as they gaze at you, golden rays creeping through the small gaps in his thick purple curtains, swaying gently in the wind.

Molars sink into the inside flesh of your cheek as you think, and Dabi tuts his tongue softly, a hand coming to gently pull the skin from between your teeth.

“Okay,”

His lips curl into a smirk, something sharp flashing in his cobalt eyes. “Okay,”

That’s how it begins—with deceptively bright, youthful smiles and cherry pie for breakfast— and five days later, in the backseat of his Cadillac Eldorado while James Cagney flickers on a worn out, off-white screen and two of his fingers are three knuckles deep in you, he asks you to be his, digits curling in your pretty little pussy as he breathes the words against the shell of your ear.

You’re whimpering out yes as you cum, nodding almost frantically against his shoulder as your hips roll towards his palm.

That’s it, that’s his good girl.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

But it progresses faster than you ever thought it would—faster than you ever thought possible—like a shot of morphine straight to your bloodstream, pupils gaping as DabiDabiDabi surges through your veins, becoming all you can think about—all you want to think about, all you want to do, eat, feel, breathe.

Midnight double-features of old Hollywood films at the local rundown drive-in become one of the many staples of your relationship, finding comfort in the sharp smell of buttersalt popcorn stinging your nose, in the way the film’s sound cracks and pops as it travels through the car radio, staticky like an old record, in the way Dabi forces a cherry Jolly Rancher from his mouth into yours, the hard candy clacking against your teeth.

This is how you spend most of your weeknights for the next month or so—passing candy through kisses in the backseat of the Eldorado, tongues shoved down each other’s throats, stained red and purple and blue from the cheap artificial dye, hands wandering up dresses and little fingers tugging at beltloops and buckles.

On Saturday mornings—sometimes Sundays, too, if you’ve been a really good girl—you find yourself in a familiar red booth at The League—a little diner tucked away on one of the city side streets not too far from Dabi’s apartment—cheap speckled plastic glittering in the sunlight and sticking to your thighs as your favourite waitress, a young woman by the name of Himiko who insists that you call her Mimi, takes your order. She seems to know your Daddy—your Dabi—somehow, but you don’t press, because it’s impolite to pry, you know and niisan raised you better than this.

He always lets you pick what you want for breakfast, but Daddy always orders it for you, always reminds you the mornings you decide on pancakes that if you get those, you aren’t allowed any sundaes or a slice of pie, because too much sugar is bad for his babygirl, and he knows how much syrup you drown those things in, dollface.

But there’s one staple of your relationship that you love more than all the others.

Joyrides.

That’s what he calls them, those drives through the bad parts of the city, the parts with cracked concrete sidewalks and shattered glass and needles littered in the dying grass.

Dabi takes you along frequently, tells you that you have an important job to do, that you play a crucial role in this whole operation, because the police—including your father—have been cracking down especially hard on dealing in this area. But nobody bothers to question a seemingly innocent young woman delivering inconspicuous brown paper bags—bags full of pretty little pills and tiny baggies of white powder—to shop owners and crumbling apartment complexes, eerily reminiscent of a Girl Scout selling cream filled cookies and thin-mints.

Keigo would kill you, if he knew.

It’s an instantaneous rush, though, being allowed to participate in Dabi’s business ventures, being allowed to help. It’s a privilege, you think, makes you feel like he trusts you, and you absolutely live for the praise, for that gorgeous smile he gives you after you deliver the sweets to the client, for the passionate kisses he rewards you with for being such a good little helper.

Joyrides are the best. Because it’s just you and him, the Eldorado’s radio struggling to play whatever station it’s picking up on—usually some sort of sixties rock—as you cruise the streets in his absurdly large car, the sky smeared with strokes of faded pinks and oranges, peppered with wispy clouds that look like loose strands of white cotton candy.

And sometimes, after his work is all finished, he’ll drive you to one of those cliffs you’ve come to know so well and let you ride him in the drivers seat—precious little whines and pathetic broken whimpers spilling from your lips as you rest your head against his shoulder, gyrating your hips in fast, shallow little circles, using his cock like it’s a toy, just like he told you to—before taking you back home to fuck you properly, to fuck you right.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s quaint, the little house you and your niisan live in, with its perfectly trimmed hedges and well-manicured grass, a stone walkway leading up to the front door, which is painted white. White windowsills, white brick, white, white, white, the whole thing is white—bright, pure, untarnished.

It’s just enough space for the two of you, your adoptive father, an absurdly large man by the name of Toshinori Yagi, had stated proudly, the first day he showed it to you.

And it’s only a short walk from the university, his wife chimed in with a smile too wide for her face, nodding excessively.

It’s convenient, they had said, the day you received your acceptance letter and scholarship offer from the university your brother attended. It’ll be good for you to stay with your older brother for a little, before going off into the world on your own, they had promised.

You hadn’t really wanted to go to this university—would’ve much preferred to go away to school in another country—but you didn’t. Keigo knew it, too, knew your desire to leave, to see more of the world, to experience it on your own without that hulking shadow with the wild hair. But he coaxed you into it, convinced you to stay, just like he always does, begging you softly not to leave your poor niisan all alone as gentle fingers pushed locks of hair from your face, trailing down your cheek and coming to cup your jaw, reminding you that you’re all each other has.

And you had nodded, nuzzled your face against his palm, sought comfort and relief in the presence of your big brother, just as you always do. He was right; you had your entire life to travel the world, what’s the rush? Why leave now? Stay with him, just for a little longer.

But your niisan, your niisan has a secret.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know. Keigo has always had a penchant for living fast, after all, seems to somehow incorporate conceptual and literal speed into all aspects of his life—his marks in school, his record-breaking track races, and now, his personal life, too.

It started in high school. He was in twelfth grade. You still don’t know who gave him his first taste, still don’t know why he decided to shoot up that night, but he did.

And it made him feel invincible. It made him feel like he could fly.

He hid it well, didn’t look like a heroin addict—at least, not what the words ‘heroin addict’ usually conjure up. His topaz eyes were bright as ever, even if his pupils were just a pinprick; nails cut so short it looked painful, to keep from scratching and scabbing his body; was always sure to keep his track marks well hidden, methodical in choosing his injection sites, and kept up with regular hygiene, even if his wild, windswept hair did get a little messier.

Yes, he hid it well.

But he couldn’t hide it from you for long, didn’t hide it from you well enough, becoming increasingly careless the deeper he spiralled into the addiction.

And it takes a while for you to truly acknowledge it. You didn’t want to—not at first, anyway—didn’t want to believe that your all-star, top-of-his-class, golden-child of a big brother was a junkie.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way he began recklessly disposing of the needles in the small trash can under his desk instead of hiding them in the kitchen trash whenever your mother asked him to take it out, ignored the burnt spoon you found in the sink and the bloody Q-tips you found littering the counter of the bathroom the two of you shared, ignored the way those tiny orange syringe caps had begun appearing in odd places, seeming to pop up more and more frequently.

Yes, you ignored it, until he stole one of the shoelaces off of your sneakers. And you still can’t explain it, exactly, can’t explain why that was the final straw, why that had you gripping a laceless shoe in a trembling hand as you stormed into the washroom uninvited and unannounced, catching him with the string between his teeth, just as the last of that disgusting orangish-brown liquid sunk into his veins.

The words disintegrate on your tongue, escaping in a pitiful little squeak, all of the fury you felt towards him for his behaviour melting the instant your eyes catch the end of the injection, wide and unblinking as they stare at the needle stuck in his forearm.

For a moment, neither of you are able to speak, Keigo’s mouth opening and closing a few times as his eyes flood with tears, the prettiest topaz shining in the warm washroom light as they frenetically search your face.

“Sit,” you tell him, finally breaking the silence, your voice not your own. His eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head a little in misunderstanding, but you persist. “Sit,”

Shoulders deflating, he holds your gaze for a moment longer before nodding once and obeying, sitting on the closed toilet.

“We have to—” you stop as your chin begins to wobble, swallowing thickly against the sob crawling up your throat, quivering hands rooting haphazardly through a first-aid kit. “W-We have to clean those, so they don’t get infected,”

Glassy golden eyes watch you intently, his chest hiccupping just a little as he wordlessly holds his arms out to you, armed with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, the scent stinging your nose.

There aren’t many—only a few little pinpricks on each arm, some decorated with dark blooms of periwinkle and violet, but they still cause your tongue to crumble to bitter, suffocating ash in your mouth.

Tiny fingers encircle his wrist, your touch always so soft, so gentle, as if you’re afraid to break him, and he chokes on a noise that sounds suspiciously similar to a sob.

“You don’t—You shouldn’t have to—” and he can’t even force the words out, breathing out forcefully through his nose as his tears finally overflow, glistening drops streaming down his cheeks, bleary eyes unblinking, focused on your little fingers as they continue their tender ministrations with so much care, with so much love it’s nearly stifling, and he can’t breathe, because he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it—

“I want to,” a knuckle catches one of his fresh tears, swiping it across his cheekbone and leaving a glimmering trail in its wake. “Alright? I want to,”

And this—this becomes a habit.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You don’t tell Keigo about your relationship. Not at first, at least, conjuring up flimsy excuses that become more ridiculous as the days pass, as your disappearances steadily increase. Dabi doesn’t want to, makes up some bullshit excuse about how he isn’t ready yet. But you buy it anyway, and you wait.

Until the morning of one of your niisan’s big races, the ones where multiple trainers and coaches come from all over the country to assess his performance, when Dabi shows up entirely unannounced and uninvited, makes sure he’s in Keigo’s line of sight as he bounces around at the starting line, and kisses the life out of you, right in front of him.  

That’s the only time he attends one of Keigo’s races.

The rest you continue attending by yourself. Dabi doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to have you out of his sight at all lately, but he knows it’s moot to argue with you. You’re going, you told him firmly, the night before Keigo’s next race, whether he likes it or not.

But, boy, was your niisan fuming by the time the two of you arrived home that day.

He hadn’t cared that he had, essentially, lost the race, hadn’t cared that he didn’t even manage to place in the top three for the first time in literal years, hadn’t cared that he just blew several chances with potential coaches and sponsors.

None of it mattered.

With a rough hand wrapped around your bicep, he all but yanks you out of the car, doesn’t care that you’re stumbling over your own feet as he drags you towards the front door, doesn’t care that he shoves you inside the house so hard you do trip, crying out as your hands and knees collide with the cold tiled floor.

And he’s yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, the moment that white door slams shut, shut so hard the walls tremble.

“Fucking Touya Todoroki!? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You can barely see him through your tears as you quickly flip yourself over, beginning to inch away on your hands and feet as you stare up at him, breath hitching in your chest.

“Wh-Who?”

“Dabi, for Christ sake!”

“T-T—” Touya?

“Oh Jesus, don’t tell me—He didn’t tell you his fucking name?”

No, you shake your head quickly, chest stuttering as the name echoes through your mind, your big brother nothing but a blur of crimson and gold advancing towards you, mumbling to himself about how no, of course he didn’t, why would he? Of course not, as he drags nimble fingers through his messy hair.

“To-Todo—”

“Todoroki,” he spits, so harsh it makes you flinch.

“Your coa—”

“Yeah, I know his father,” Keigo rolls his eyes as he crouches down, catches your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger, and you cease all action immediately, freezing in his grip. “You know his brother,”

Your brow furrows as you belatedly search your memory for any instance of the name, gunmetal grey and snow white flashing through your mind, but everything’s too foggy, too hazy with the fear of disappointing your niisan more, eyes squeezing shut as you hiccup at the mere thought.

But then he’s sighing, always knows when he’s gone a little too far—you are very delicate, after all, so small and naïve and in desperate need of someone to take care of you, aren’t you?—collapsing back on his heels and pulling you into his lap as soft hands smooth down your hair, murmuring it’s alright, it’s alright and niisan’s got you, niisan’s got you.

“What’re you doin’ with a man like that, my little songbird?” his voice is gentle as he rocks your bodies back and forth, after your sobs have calmed a bit.

What are you? you want to ask, front teeth sinking into your tongue hard enough to make you wince, keeping those three tiny words inside of your mouth.

“I like him,” you mumble instead, nuzzling your face into his chest and hiding from those bright, inquisitive topaz eyes.

“You—You like him,” he snorts to himself in disbelief, shaking his head a little.

“I do,” you respond, a little firmer as you pull back to stare at your big brother’s face, eyebrows knit together in determination, sparks of fury igniting deep in your chest at the thought of Keigo thinking he knows better, when he’s just as bad.

“He isn’t good for you—”

“He isn’t good for you,” you shoot back, tone clipped as you level your gaze, squirming a little in his arms. His grasp tightens, like he’s terrified you’re going to leave, honey eyes holding yours for a beat before he lets out a breath, looking away, defeated.

“That doesn’t mean you should be allowed to see him,” he mutters, glancing at your tear-stained face for a moment before his eyes flit away again. “But…” his chest rises with a deep inhale, pressing against you. “I guess…I guess it isn’t very fair of me to, uh, judge you, is it?”

“No,” you pout a little. “It isn’t,”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, gazing at you from the side of his eye, a tiny smirk spreading across his face. “Stop being so cute,” he grumbles, squeezing you against him just a bit too hard, giggles spilling from your lips as your fingers curl in the cotton of his hoodie. “I’m trying to be mad at you, y’know,”

“Kei-nii,” you whine with a roll of your eyes, shoving his shoulder weakly, though there’s a smile on your lips.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s saying as lithe fingers brush some hair back from your face, palm resting against your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw rhythmically. “Just—Promise me, if he ever hurts you…You’ll tell me immediately, yeah?”

Blinking a few times, your eyes search his face, sobering up as gold bores into you. There’s something in his stare, something you’ve never seen before, something that you can’t decipher, and it sends chills pebbling across your skin. Swallowing thickly, you nod, little jerky movements as your eyes hold his. “Y-Yeah, promise, niisan,”

“Good,” he whispers, chin resting atop the crown of your head as he cradles you to his chest. “We’re all we have. Never forget it.”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You only question Dabi about his name once, lounging around on his bed in the early hours of the morning, tangled in his sheets, wearing his t-shirt, with his large hand resting on your bare thigh. His head’s tipped back against the headboard as he exhales smoke in pretty little curls that disintegrate into hazy nothingness only a moment later.

“T-Touya?” Your hearts thudding against your ribcage as you almost whisper the name, barely audible at all, but his head snaps forward, sapphire eyes finding yours immediately.

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, that you’ve crossed some invisible line you hadn’t had a clue about, his glare scathing your skin; but then his features relax, and a little smirk spreads across his lips.

“Ah, so he finally told you,” his voice is quiet, and you can’t read his tone, eyes squinting a little as you lean towards him. “I don’t go by that name anymore,” he speaks up, voice ringing out clear and strong. “Don’t call me that again,”

The or else is implied, and you nod meekly, promising him softly that you’ll never utter it again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s been gnawing at you all week, sitting heavy like a block of lead in your stomach, the cuticles on your left thumb bitten raw in agitation. You need to tell him. You’re going to tell him, it’s just…

It just never seemed like the right time to tell him—then again, is there ever a right time to tell your older brother that you’re spending the entire weekend at his drug dealer’s place?

But now it’s Friday, and Dabi will be here in a few minutes, and you still have yet to let Keigo know.

Because Keigo is currently otherwise occupied. With a girl.

You hadn’t been expecting to hear the tinny laughter of a woman when you entered the house, arriving home after your last class of the day, hadn’t been expecting to walk into the living room to find said girl splayed across your niisan’s lap, staring up at him dreamily as endless giggles spilled from her painted lips, hadn’t been expecting him to be so completely enamoured with her that he doesn’t even greet you.

It burns up all of the anxiety that had been building inside you in an instant, turns it into boiling rage that bubbles and pops, noxious as it rises up your throat.

And so, you decide that you won’t say anything at all. If he’s too busy to even acknowledge you like he normally does every single day, then surely he doesn’t care if you leave, right?

“I’m going out,” you toss airily over your shoulder as your halfway out the front door, a small grin spreading across you lips as you spot Dabi leaning lazily against his car. He gives you a nod of acknowledgement, smug grin of his own forming on his lips.

Keigo shoots up immediately, nearly knocking the girl to the floor, moving faster than he ever has in his life as he catches your wrist and tugs, hard. A loud yelp sounds from the back of your throat and you stumble backwards, right into your big brother’s chest.

“Where? Huh? Where?” he growls out the word through clenched teeth, squeezing again. “With who? That—That fucking scumbag?”

At the sound of your yelp, Dabi straightens up instantly, usual lidded eyes now wide open and alert, zeroing in on where Keigo has ensnared you.

“Not like it matters to you, not when you have a whore to entertain,” you spit, and though your gaze is blazing, your eyes are filling with tears, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “Right?” you push, after a few moments of silence.

His grip loosens, although he doesn’t let go completely, fingers still clasped around you.

“Princess, I…”

“No,” you snap, viciously pulling yourself free of him. “Don’t princess me. Not after ignoring me like that,”

“You’re overreacting—”

“Then so are you,” you cut him off sharply, already beginning to back away and blinking hard to clear your eyes of stubborn tears. “I’m spending the weekend at Dabi’s. I’ll see you on Sunday,”

Dabi catches you the moment you’re within reach, drawing you close to his chest for a second before pulling back. Calloused hands gently raise your wrist, sapphire eyes assessing the damage. His thumb caresses the rapidly bruising area rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth, and he frowns deeply, his gaze finally meeting yours.

“Does he do this often? Hurt you like this?”

And it’s startling, shocking, to see the overflowing concern in his crystal eyes, studying your face intently as you try to find your voice. You don’t think he’s ever sounded that serious before.

“I—No, of course not,” you shake your head, tongue tripping over the words. “We—Y’know, siblings fight, and stuff, it’s—he doesn’t know his own strength, sometimes, uh, forgets it, a-and I bruise easily,” you shrug, wincing a little at the serious expression still etched deep into Dabi’s face.

“If he ever puts his hands on you again, I’ll fucking kill him,” Dabi says slowly, softly, as if he’s reciting the morning news to you, dark eyes drifting up to refocus on the figure still standing in the doorway. “Do you understand me?” he asks, though his stare does not leave Keigo’s, voice still calm, almost serene. “I’ll fucking kill him,”

He won’t, you reassure him, countless times over the next few weeks. Niisan’s never intentionally hurt me, Daddy, he won’t, I promise.

And they’re all true, those words you repeat to him, over and over and over again, while you comb fingers through his inky hair or press chaste kisses against his scarred skin. They’re all true.

Until they aren’t.

You should’ve known, really, not to talk about it. He doesn’t—not when you’re cleaning his track marks or wiping sweat from his forehead, not when he lays his head in your lap as he’s coming down, eyes fluttering as your fingers thread through his hair, not even when you’re feeding him teaspoons of water to keep him hydrated as his body forces him to throw up nothing, again, lips dry and cracked, skin clammy and cold—and you shouldn’t, either.

“Have you ever thought about switching to pills?” You ask one night, casually, as if this is mundane, normal, to discuss while washing dishes. “I heard oxy is like, heroin in a pill,”

His jaw clenches, you can see the motion out of the corner of your eye, quickly refocusing your gaze on the bowl in your hands, the same bowl you’ve been washing for about five minutes now.

“No.”

“Why not? They’re more controlled—”

“I said no,”

“And I asked why not,” you spit, dropping the bowl from your hands. It cracks as it collides with the aluminum of the sink, the sound piercing through the tense air as you turn to glare at your brother, soapy hands on your hips. “It would be safer—”

“Marginally—”

“That’s still better than nothing, Keigo! Christ,” you sigh, running a sudsy hand through your hair. “They’re all fucking opioids, what’s the difference!? They’re all gonna get you high the same way, aren’t they?”

“No—for fuck’s sake—”

You wouldn’t understand, even if he tried to explain to you. You wouldn’t understand that he’s already attempted this, attempted to switch from heroin to pills, and that it wasn’t the same—isn’t the same. You wouldn’t understand that oxy doesn’t give the same instantaneous rush as heroin does, doesn’t take his breath away like heroin does, doesn’t warm his entire fucking body the way heroin does.

No, you wouldn’t understand how most of the time he feels like he can’t fucking breathe until he shoots up, wouldn’t understand how, at this point, heroin feels like an old friend, safe and cozy and more comforting than anything he’s ever felt before, than even your arms are, wouldn’t understand how heroin makes him feel like he’s fucking invincible, like he can take on the entire world in one day, like he can continue living.

It makes him feel whole again, full again, put back together with no cracks or missing pieces. It distracts him from how irrevocably shattered his insides truly are, providing him with quick, fleeting relief, just long enough for him to keep going, keep striving, keep breathing. But you wouldn’t understand any of that. How could you?

He’s sighing as he walks away from you, raking both hands through golden hair.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t see what this shit is doing to you! It’s killing you, niisan!”

God, no, not the honorific. Not when you’re gazing at him with tears spilling from your eyes, little hands desperately pawing at his t-shirt, urgent just to make him understand, to get through to him for one instant.

“I-It’s killing you and all I can do is watch,” your voice fades into a whisper, breaking on the last word as more tears streak your cheeks, leaving small gleaming trails in their wake, fingers readjusting, knotting in his shirt and tugging, latching onto him as he keeps walking, jaw clenching again as he tries to ignore you. “Y-You have to stop—no, no, n-not stop, just—just slow down, yeah? Slow down a little, it’s—it’s too fast, niisan, you’re going too fast—”

But it’s building, and building, and his head is throbbing, and throbbing, and your voice is rising higher and higher, louder and louder, and it’s all just too much, and before he even knows what’s happening, his hand is cutting through the air, knuckles colliding with your cheek so hard it sends you stumbling backwards, tripping over your own feet as you fall on your ass.

He regrets it the moment it happens, the very moment his skin makes contact with yours.

But that doesn’t matter; the damage is already done.

He’s never hit you before. Sure, he may be a little rough sometimes, and his grip may leave a few bruises every once in a while, but he has never deliberately hit you, until today.

He never thought he would.

Golden eyes dart from his hand, still raised in the air from where it struck you, blood gleaming on his silver rings, to your face, small and terrified, crimson flowing down your cheek, mixing with your tears as it slowly drips off your jaw, and then back to his hand.

And for a moment, he swears, the whole world stops.

Then, a mere second later, his whole world shatters.

You’re trying to form words, staring up at him with impossibly wide, unblinking eyes, but they’re just escaping your lips in little mumbles, half-formed and coated in spit.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, nothing more than a pitiful huff of air formed in the shape of a curse leaving his lips.

It takes your mind a moment to register what’s happened, numb with dizzying shock, stupid with the most heartbreaking pain, dazed as tiny, trembling fingers raise to tenderly prod at the wound, wincing the moment they make contact. But the throbbing of your cheek brings you back quicker than Keigo would’ve liked, and then your eyebrows are knitting together, mouth settling in a wobbly line, blinking hard to clear your eyes of pesky tears.

And all he can do is watch, watch as you shakily push yourself to your feet, watch as your hand grips your phone like it’s a fucking lifeline—a lifeline he very briefly thinks about diving forward and snatching out of your grasp—watch as you turn on the balls of your feet and disappear down the hall, the slam of your bedroom door echoing a moment later.  

You barely make it into your bedroom before your collapsing on the floor, wheezing out uneven breaths, sharp, hard huffs of air that slice through your tight chest with each exhale, vision blurry with stinging tears as you stare down at your phone, cradled in quivering hands.

You know that if you make this phone call, Dabi will never let you come back. You know that if you make this phone call, this is it. Trembling fingers hesitate over his name, those four glowing letters staring back at you, an unnecessary amount of various heart emojis cushioning them.

He doesn’t pick up the first time. Maybe it’s a sign, you think to yourself, a sign that you shouldn’t leave just yet, that you should stay and rot away with him for a little bit longer, remain with him for a little more and give him another piece of your soul that he can add to his prized collection as he slowly steals your life force from you.

But then searing pain radiates through your entire face, along your jaw and to the back of your head, and the coppery smell of blood stings your nose, and you press on Dabi’s name again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

If he’s being honest, he would’ve never picked up for anyone but you, probably would’ve killed the idiot that thought to interrupt him during one of the biggest deals of his career—of his life.

“What?” he snarls as he answers, pacing along the wall outside the warehouse like a rabid dog, anxious and eager. “This better be important, sweetheart. You knew I was meeting with one of the bosses today—”

“He hit me,”

It’s hard to understand you when you’re still sobbing, words all wet and garbled, and Dabi squints as he focuses his concentration, feet skidding to a stop as his heart begins to pound.

“What?”

“He hit me. Nii—Keigo hit me,”

And then, his blood runs cold. His ears are ringing, vision fading in and out of focus as red tinges the edges, breathing beginning to accelerate, exhaled harshly through flared nostrils. The thin skin stretched taut across his bony knuckles has turned white as he grips his phone so tightly he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand.

“Pack your shit,” he tells you, voice oddly calm, cold and sterile and sending shivers skittering up your spine. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,”

[zee-has-commitment-issues]

Songs on my Wilmon playlist, and why:

Hi. I just wanted to talk about some songs on my Wilmon playlist because it's like 9 hours long and I've been listening to it while I edit "You Have Reached the Voicemail Box of... Wilmon"

So here we go:

Friends by Chase Atlantic: this is really a whole Wilmon vibe and I will fight anyone who disagrees. "Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved. Running in circles, now look what you've done" is 100% a Wille lyric. "And what the hell were we? Tell me we weren't just friends. This doesn't make much sense, no. But I'm not hurt, I'm tense. 'Cause I'll be fine without you, babe." Simon's line 100%. That is a Wilmon song right there. That is their whole vibe. 10/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

ICU by Phoebe Bridgers: "Whenever I feel good, it'll be the last time. But I feel something When I see you now. I feel something When I see you," Wilmon. That's it. That's Wilmon. 9/ 10 deserves to be on the playlist.

Fight or Flight by Conan Gray: Ehhh. This is like... kinda a Wilmon song. Some of it fits them, and some of it doesn't. A Gray area if you will (let me have that pun. I'm sad and gay, ok?) Like "I'd rather die than have to cry in front of you. Fight or flight. I'd rather lie than tell you I'm in love with you" is definitely a Simon line. The song itself is about cheating, though, so not exactly Wilmon. 5/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

If This is Love by Ruth B: YEP. This one right here. This is Wilmon. This is their entire relationship in a song. It leaves me broken and sobbing every time. "If this is love, why does it break me down? Why do you break me down?" WILMON LINE. "even though it hurts in this moment, I have always known it. You're the other half to my broken heart." WILMON. 100/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez: this is much more of a Wille song than a Wilmon song. "Everyone thinks that we're perfect. Please don't let them look through the curtains," is very much a Wille line, but... curtains. You know? Overall, I can see it. 7/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

ilomilo by Billie Eilish: There are two specific lines in this song that make me think of Wille and Simon talking to or about each other. The Wille one is "And I don't wanna be lonely. So tell me you'll come home. Even if it's just a lie." That is definitely what goes through that boy's head every single time he sees Simon or thinks of Simon. And the line that I think Simon would say/think is "the day I met you, I just wanted to protect you, But now I'll never get to." Yeah. He won't get to protect Wille, even if he wants to. Because he broke up with Wille (for good reason) and he can't be his protector anymore. Idk I think those two lines really sum up how they think about each other. 10/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

Mine by Taylor Swift: I definitely don't need to explain this. Like you all know, right? This makes sense to everyone universally? I'll provide one line that just makes it make sense if I'm alone in this: "You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter. You are the best thing that's ever been mine." 10/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

They Don't Know About Us by One Direction: Again, I don't need to explain this. "They don't know about the things we do. They don't know about the I love you's" is 3000% a line written for Wilmon. "They don't know I've waited all my life. Just to find a love that feels this right" and you know what? THAT'S RIGHT. No one in their world knows about them. Because Wille monumentally fucked that up. So this song is definitely for Wilmon, but it also makes me sad. 100/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

Don't You Remember by Adele: this is pain. This song is pain. This is what it sounds like. Especially if you think about Wilmon. "You left with no goodbye, not a single word was said. No final kiss to seal any sins. I had no idea of the state we were in" reminds me a lot of Simon thinking about Wille leaving. About him saying he wanted to be with Simon and then taking it back. It hurts a lot, but it's definitely a Wilmon song. 10/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

Would You Be So Kind by Dodie: a very cute Wilmon song. Reminds me of like episode 2's shenanigans. Adorable little babies falling in love for the first time. "'Cause I like you but that's not enough, So if you will Please fall in love with me" is so cute. They don't know if the other likes them, so they just really hope. Early Wilmon vibes. 10/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

Samurai Swords by Highasakite: This song is in the show, so I don't think I need to explain. It's the scene where August leaks the video, so obviously it's quite emotional. They just love each other so so much and this song makes it so much harder. "I'm not focused, I'm not stable. There's no patience, no salvation. There's no heartache, I'm not loving." It hurts. 10/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

GO TO HELL by Clinton Kane: So this song is about cheating, and that's not Wilmon. BUT some of these lyrics just scream Simon. I can see Simon screaming this song at two in the morning after the breakup. "It's hurting in my chest to breathe, When all I see are stories of our love So hard, but it was not enough" yep, definitely Simon. "Did you care when you just Tore my heart to shreds?" Simon. Because did Wille care? Did he? "This is my loving last farewell. I hope you both go rot in hell." Simon talking to Wille and the queen. This is Simon's breakup song. 6/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

People Watching by Conan Gray: This song is for Wille. This is his song. If I had to pick a song to describe this little fruity prince, it would probably be this one. "But I wanna feel all that love and emotion. Be that attached to the person I'm holding. Someday, I'll be falling without caution. But for now, I'm only people watching." He really wants to be attached to Simon, and he can't. He feels like he's not allowed to. He feels like he has to be cautious. He can't fall for Simon. He continues to watch his life from the sidelines. 10/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

Je te laisserai des mots by Patrick Watson: I'm going to use the English translation of lyrics for you guys because I think more of you guys speak English than French. But this song is so fucking sad in the context of Wilmon. The title, when translated is "I'll Leave You Words," and the lyrics don't get any less fucking sad. "I’ll leave you words Underneath your door Underneath the singing moon" they'll leave words for each other in secret. "And when you’re alone for a moment Kiss me Whenever you want" Kiss me, please, but only when we're alone. LITERALLY FUCK OFF. This song is so fucking sad when you give it sad context. 100/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

Last Kiss by Taylor Swift: yeah. It's sad. They definitely both listened to this song on full blast and cried after they broke up. "I never thought we'd have a last kiss. Never imagined we'd end like this. Your name, forever the name on my lips." Yeah, they definitely thought these exact words without the prompt of sad country music. "So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep" Simon thinking about those damn magazines he keeps buying because it means he gets to see Wille. "And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe. " Wille thinking about Simon when he keeps waking up alone and all he wants to do is reach out and touch Simon. This is very much a Wilmon breakup song. "Sit on the floor wearing your clothes. All that I know is I don't know How to be something you miss" I could write an entire fic about that one lyric. 300/10 deserves to be on the playlist.

Let me know if you want a part 2. Again, this playlist is literally 9 hours long so I could make like 400 parts of this.

[rattyoakenbitch]

death note: “mother hen” ���˚ ⸝  l lawliet x reader

❝love everything you do

when you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit i do❞

gif credit: n/a

song: melanie martinez - training wheels

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: l lawliet x reader

warnings: angst, language, slight (but legal) age gap (youre eighteen whilst l is twenty-four), slight injury, attempted sa

summary: you get yourself in trouble and lawliet doesnt take it so well.

You were escorted into the large meeting room where the taskforce was gathered. L was in the center of the room, perched over his desk while watching security footage of Raye Penber, the FBI agent who had apparently been killed by Kira.

Soon as you walked in, all eyes were on you. The taskforce scanned your soaked self from head to toe. Your baggy skater girl jeans were dirty and torn, exposing your scraped up knees.

Your oversized white tee (which wasn't really yours, you borrowed it from L) was soaked with rain water, becoming translucent. Just like your pants, your top was soiled and torn, but more evident due to the lighter color. The hem of the shirt was loose, as if it had been pulled and stretched. White threads hung off the ripped collar that had stretched all the way over your bare shoulder. Your hair was disheveled and drenched, emitting the smell of a wet dog.

The state of your face wasn't any better, if not worse. Thick, red liquid dripped from both of your nostrils. Your undereyes were black and purple, almost similar to L's, the only difference being you weren't lacking sleep. Lips, cheekbones, chin, forehead, nose, all badly bruised and cut up. But your wounds weren't terrible. A first aid kit would do the trick. Watari was quick to grab you some towels, hanging them over your shivering and wet form. Water dripped and trailed wherever you walked but that wasn't even the least of their concerns.

"Sheesh.. Bad day, huh?" Matsuda spoke mindlessly, earning a few angry glares. "Sorry! I-I mean, what the hell happened to you?"

"Y/N! Are you all right?" Chief Yagami questioned, keeping his jaw from dropping to the floor.

"I'm.."

L was quick to hop off his chair and rush over to you, a heavily concerned and wary look on his tired face.

"Y/N, L, come with me," Watari said, taking your arm and leading you to the bathroom. Of course, being the caring boyfriend that L was, he asked nonstop questions along the way.

You tried to give a clear answer, but that wasn't enough to satisfy L. He forgot everything he was doing prior, his priority now being there for you.

You sat down on the bathroom counter while Watari fetched the first aid. L had now calm down, shutting up with the questions, realizing it wasn't doing you any good as you seemed to be weak and still in shock. L stayed close by your side, your injured hand clasped in his. He looked up at you worriedly and lovingly with those tired puppy eyes of his.

"Watari, I'll take care of her wounds. Please, just get some clean clothes for Y/N," L stated, his eyes never leaving yours. Watari silently agreed and left you two alone.

L carefully tended to your wounds, trying not to cause any more pain than you were already induring.

L asked as calmly as he could, "Y/N.. I need to know. What happened to you?"

You sucked in a breath, looking down at the ground, wearing a shameful look on your face.

"I got into a fight with some guys from campus. They teased me, followed me around. One of them was very persistent in asking me out but I told him I was already with someone." L gave you a look, partly of pride that you didn't give in to the boy. "Well I guess that sent him over the edge because him and his buddies jumped me after classes. They took my raincoat, my textbooks, beat me up and left me in the rain. One of them came back and attemped to.."

L squeezed your hand, as a way of letting you know you didn't need to further explain.

"Watari came by to pick me up before he could, you know, 'n scared the guy off."

"Why would they follow you around?"

"Ah, that. I already got in a fight prior to that with one of the guy's ex-girlfriend. She thought we had a thing for each other so she tried to ambush me. I never told you because I didn't get injured, I managed to fight her off."

"You should've told me. You know I worry about you. Especially with Kira around. We're not even sure if he knows we're together. He could use you and-"

You stopped him. "You see why I didn't tell you? You worry too much. Especially with this case, you associate everything with Kira."

"I would rather be paranoid than ignorant. It could still be a possibility. You could get yourself killed."

You rolled your eyes, "Why would that be so bad?"

L was taken back by your words. Despite the situation, you still had a sense of sarcasm. L allowed himself to smile lightly at the comment.

"If I wasn't so busy with the case, you know I'd be by your side at all times, right?"

"I know, but-"

"So that's why I want you here with me at all times. I can't visit you while you're in campus but I can keep you here with me."

"L! Do you know what you're asking of me?" I worked my ass off to get into college, I can't just leave like that."

"Your studying would amount to nothing if you end up dead."

"Wow, that was blunt."

L took both of your hands in his. "For your safety. Please."

You smiled slyly, raising your brow. "Just for my safety?"

L sighed. "And I really miss you."

You giggled, kissing the tip of his nose, causing him to scrunch it up. "Okay, fine, you mother hen."

L blushed, rubbing the back of his head. "I am not-!" He thought for a moment. ".. Am I?"

[ghostdrew22]

Can i get a draco x reader where the reader is obsessed with the yule ball but unfortunately she gets into a accident so she in a wheel chair for a few days and draco likes the reader so he makes her day memorable by picking her up and making her dance like the scene in twilight.

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: a bit of angst i guess, swearing, insecurity, an injury, asshole!theo nott Summary: Draco x reader where the reader gets injured before the Yule Ball and Draco swoops in to make the night memorable for her.

WORDS : 2451

Not going to lie, I struggled a bit with this one and I ended up focusing more on the build up than the actual scene but I hope you like it because I’m quite happy with the way it turned out.

Lyric snippets I used are from “High School Sweethearts” by Melanie Martinez and they’re not in chronological order, I honestly just put them in randomly.

Anyway, love you all,

jean <3

<~>

“Y//N, I’m bored.” Draco grumbles as he sits down on your lap- resting all of his body weight on you and trying to annoy you.

You grunt at the action but get comfortable regardless- propping your chin up on his shoulder and resting your arms around his waist like you usually do when he sits on you for fun. “Well, we could go over plans for Friday.”

“If I have to hear you talk about that damn ball one more time I swear to Merlin I’m going to kill myself in the Black Lake.”

“Promise?” You ask perkily and he lifts up one of his hands to flick your head, “Sorry!”

You both laugh and he rolls off of you and into the seat beside you. “Okay but seriously, I’m bored.”

You laugh and shake your head as you get off the couch, “I’m going to do my muggle studies homework in the library- if you come along then when we’re done we can do whatever you like.” You offer your best friend and he tilts his head to the side as he considers your offer before grinning and jumping off the couch.

“You’ve chosen some very bad words.”

“You also have to listen to my Yule Ball ideas.” You add and he groans.

“That’s not fair-“

“Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” He mumbles with an eye-roll as the two of you walk out of the Slytherin commons and toward the library.

“And damn it, if you fuck me over I will rip your fucking face apart”

“If you cheat, you will die, die”

“So I was talking to Theo and he basically suggested that we wear matchin-“ As you and Draco walk toward the library, and you relay all of your thoughts regarding the Yule Ball to him, you come across Theodore Nott. Your date to the Yule Ball- technically your boyfriend considering the fact that you’ve been flirting with each other for weeks- shoved up against a wall with another girl’s lips on his.

You and Draco freeze in the hallway and take in the scene- trying to decide how best to react. Draco takes a step forward- ready to defend your honour- but you’ve already yanked the girl away from Theo by her hair and swung your fist straight into his face.

“You must accept that I’m a little out of my mind”

A crackling sound is heard followed by the shriek of your voice- “You filthy piece of shit!”

Theo stumbles backward then grips his bleeding nose in shock- obviously not expecting you to have had such a strong hook- “You bitch!”

“I guess your mother and I have something in common then.” You spit back and his eyes widen in fury as he regains his balance and walks toward you.


“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I know that it’s dark and lonely in there for your two single braincells but I feel like the quip was quite straightforward. You are a son of a bitch.” You grit out with venom lacing your words and Draco sucks in a large breath from behind the two of you- watching the scene unfold and deciding that it’s best to let you handle it.

Theo laughs coldly and runs a fist beneath his nostrils to wipe away some dripping blood, “This is exatly why I didn’t make things official with you, you’re fucking psychotic.”

“Oh please, you’ve got to have something better than that.” You scoff and roll your eyes.

“If you can't handle the choking, the biting The loving, the smothering 'Til you can't handle it no more, no more Go home”

“You know what? You’re right.” He sniffs and bends down a little lower so that you’re both eye level- just so that he can patronise you. “You’re clingy, bitchy and honestly I could do a lot better than you looks-wise. You make me want to bash my head into a wall and the only reason I asked you to the Yule Ball, and flirted with you, was to get Daphne Greengrass’s attention.”

“Fine, since I make you so goddamn miserable we can end all of this here.” You crane your neck and shrug, “If you can’t handle me then you can fuck right off.”

“I will!”


“Theo-“ Draco calls out to the fellow Slytherin, perhaps hoping to talk him out of the stupid decision he’s about to make, but Theo’s having none of it.

“Oh, sod off!” Theo shouts back as he walks away from you and Draco and gives you both the middle finger.

You take a moment to breathe before the adrenaline runs out and the searing pain in your fist comes rushing at full force. “Ow, crap!” You exclaim as you hurriedly grab your bag from off the floor and start running toward Madame Pomfrey.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Draco shouts from behind you as he tries to run with you.

“Run faster!” You shout with a giggle as you turn to stick your tongue out at him. Then it happens.

You turn back to watch where you’re running, but it’s too late and before you know it, you’re tumbling down one of the many flights of stairs that graces Hogwarts.

~~~

“You’re such a dumb shit.” Draco mumbles from beside you with a chuckle.

“I know, shut up.” You snap back at him but you can’t hide the slight smile tugging on your lips.

After your beatdown fight with the stairs, you got carried to Madame Pomfrey’s and had to be treated for your fist injury as well as the ones you sustained from your tumble. She was quick to give you a potion for pain and immediately got started examining you- deducing that you’d sprained one of your legs and hit your head, but not hard enough to contract a concussion.

So now you’re sat in one of the beds with your leg hanging above you in a cast, a bandage wrapped around your head and one wrapped around your fist. Madame Pomfrey walks back with a wheelchair and gives you a stern look as she gently unhooks your leg and lays it down on the bed.

“Now, you’re going to need to use this for a week, then after the initial week I will examine you again and either remove your cast or put you on crutches.”

“Wait, a week?” You furrow your eyebrows and she nods, “But the Yule Ball is in three days.” You frown.

“You won’t be able to dance but you can still have a nice time.” She offers you a wayward smile and you nod faintly with a thin smile- trying not to think about how the night you’d had perfectly planned out for weeks is suddenly coming apart before your eyes.

She helps you into the wheelchair and then her and Draco have an exchange in which he promises to get you to dinner, and back to the dorms, in one piece. Then before you know it Draco is wheeling you out of the ward and toward the Great Hall, but you’re not particularly hungry and instead want to lie down.

“Draco?”

“Hm?”

“Do you mind just taking me to my dorm? I’m not in the mood to eat.”

He stops abruptly and peers his head round your shoulder so that you can see each other, “You’re not hungry? It’s apple pie night.”

“I’m not in the mood for apple pie.”

“Uh oh, what’s wrong?”

“You mean besides the fact that I technically just got cheated on and then landed myself in a wheelchair, leaving me injured and dateless three days before the Yule Ball?” You raise your eyebrows and he laughs, “Nothing really.”

“Okay that’s fair… You want to talk?” You shake your head in response and he nods silently as he thinks. “Okay, how about I bring food up to your dorm and we can sit and eat it in silence together instead?”

“I can do that.”

So Draco does as you ask, despite it being a very long trip for him, and drops you off in your dorm room before collecting dinner for you both and returning to join you.

“Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion”

You finish up your dinner with a laugh as Draco shakes his head at you.

“That’s a ghastly dress Y/N.” He says as he looks at the y/f/c dress you’d originally picked out for the Yule Ball- before you realised that the cut was too small and wouldn’t be accommodating to your hips.

“Hey!” You gasp and toss a pillow at him as you both laugh, “Don’t be rude.”

“I don’t have that setting.”

“I noticed.” You grumble and sigh as you fall back against your headboard.

“Are you sure that you’re okay?”

You look down at your fingers as you fiddle with them and make a thinking face, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay- not knowing, I mean.” He reaches out for your hands and encapsulates them in his own, “What he did was shitty, it’s not your fault and none of the things he said about you are true. But it’s okay to be confused between anger, sadness, relief-“

“Relief?” You raise your eyebrows up at him in question with a smirk, “Why would I be relieved that he called me a clingy and psychotic bitch?”

“I-“

“I mean maybe that’s arousing for someone with a degradation kink like yourself but I found that quite demeaning.” You tease with a wide grin at the sight of his frustrated and annoyed features.

“You know I was going to offer myself up as your new date but-“ He trails off as you cut him off.

“I’m sorry! Please go with me?” You whine and he laughs.

“Since you’re begging…” You throw another pillow at him and he raises his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay! I’d love to be your date to the Yule Ball.”

“I know you would.” You smile proudly.

“Pansy will just have to deal.”

~~~

“You can't be scared to show me off and hold my hand”

“Draco, are you sure this isn’t too much?” You peer your eyes up at him- referring to the dress his mother had tailor made for you.

“Y/N, my mother was more excited than you when I told her that we were going together and she could send you dresses tfor you to try- it’s nowhere near too much.” He reassures you with a chuckle.

“Thank you so much, it’s truly exquisite.”

“No, thank you.”

“For?”

“Giving me the opportunity to take the prettiest girl in our year out to the Yule Ball.”

“I don’t remember convincing Cho Chang to lower her standards to yo-“

“Why do I bother?” He mumbles to himself and you giggle.

“Thank you, and you look great too.”

“I know.” He smiles smugly before walking behind you so he can push your wheelchair. “Now let’s go in so that I can show off my incredible date and best friend.”

“If you think you can be my one and only true love You must promise to love me”

After an hour of you and Draco sitting by a table- eating, laughing, observing how ridiculous everyone looks on the dance floor- you start to feel an immense weight in the pit of your stomach, a reminder as to why you’re sat on a chair instead of dancing the night away with your date, and you have to look away from Draco to hide the tears that are pricking at your eyes.

He notices the change in your demeanor and furrows his eyebrows in confusion, trying to figure out what exactly changed your energy so quickly- then his eyes scan the room and land on Theo dancing with Daphne and a wave of realization hits him like a freight train. He clears his throat to drag your attention toward him and you swallow hard before plastering on a fake smile and meeting his eyes. “You know, she doesn’t look as good as you do.”

You tilt your head to the side in confusion for a second before registering that he’s referring to Daphne. “Oh.” You look back at her and Theo, “I really want to believe you but it’s kind of hard to do that when I’m staring straight at her holding the guy that picked her over me.”

“Bu-“

“It’s okay, really.” You give him a wayward smile, “I think I see why he likes her and not me, she’s just better.” You shrug before continuing, “There was some merit in Theo’s words that day, I am a bit much too handle and I guess she just isn’t.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Draco furrows his eyebrows at you, “There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re not too much Y/N, you’re just enough and he’s a fool not to see what an incredible person you are.”

“Drac-“

“I love you. And not like best friend love, like you’re my soulmate and I want to spend the rest of my life with you love.” He interrupts you with his confession before he loses the nerve, once again, to tell you how much you mean to him. “And I know that we’re still young, it sounds ridiculous of me to say something like that so confidently but it’s true and I just know it.”

He takes a moment to breathe before continuing, “You don’t have to feel the same way, I honestly don’t expect you to, but I want you to know that I plan to love you forever whether it be as your best friend or more.”

“You’re such a sap.” You finally breathe out with a soft smile on your face once he’s done, “I love you too, you fucking idiot.”

“You’re so bloody rude.” He grumbles out with a grin, “But you’re still the only one for me.”

“That I am.” You laugh out with a smile. “I’m sorry that I got myself injured, we could be having our first dance right now.”

He goes silent for a moment before a grin sneaks its way onto his face suddenly, “Who said we can’t?”

“What do you mea-“

Before you can even finish he’s standing up, snaking his arms around your waist and delicately pulling you up off of your wheelchair and into his arms. You gasp at the sudden movements and struggle to find balance in his arms but he does the work for you and helps you rest one arm along his while he takes the other hand in his own fingers and holds you up by your waist- with your feet resting on his. “Is this okay? Are you comfortab-“

“It’s perfect.” You cut him off with a content sigh and a smile as you start to sway back and forth gently.

“You’re perfect.”

“I know.” You giggle.

“Cocky.” He scoffs before dropping his lips down to meet your own- making you heave another content sigh against his lips.

“Merlin, It was about time you disgusting lovebirds got together!” You hear Pansy utter from somewhere behind you and drop your head into Draco’s shoulder as you both laugh at her comment.

[sushi-guro]

Hey!

I would like to request a playlist for maki zen’in, if its alright with you!

let's get started - a Maki Zen'in inspired playlist

My body remembers. But I tried so hard to forget this fear.

⚠️I recommend you to listen to this playlist after getting through the manga⚠️

a/n: I've just finished ch.152 and omg, THIS WOMAN MAKES ME FEEL STRONG AND POWERFUL BY JUST WATCHING HER, I LOVE HER. Also, this might contain some Naoya references, cause we love to hate this man, right? :))) I hate him even more cause he's attractive, so, thank you maki for ruining his pretty face, he deserved that. I'm sorry for adding more than one song per artist but I thought they fit really well

They say I'm different - Betty Davis

And that’s why they say I’m different

And that’s why they say I’m strange

STFU! - Rina Sawayama

How come you don't respect me?

Expecting fantasies

Leave our reality, why don't you just sit down and shut the fuck up

Nightmare - Halsey

I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind

They talk shit, but I love it every time

And I realize I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night

¿ - Bring Me The Horizon (feat. Halsey)

Got mud on my face but I can′t get clean

Guess my fairy tale had a few plot holes

Dollhouse - Melanie Martinez

Places, places, get in your places

Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces

Everyone thinks that we're perfect

Please don't let them look through the curtains

Throne - Bring Me The Horizon

So you can throw me to the wolves

Tomorrow I will come back

Leader of the whole pack

Beat me black and blue

Every wound will shape me

Every scar will build my throne

Alphabet Boy - Melanie Martinez

I'm not a little kid now

Watch me get big now

Spell my name on the fridge now

With all your alphabet toys

You won the spelling bee now

But are you smarter than me now?

You're the prince of the playground

Little alphabet boy

Churchyard - AURORA

He told me I belong in a churchyard

He told me I could walk away but I wouldn't get far

Same Ol' Mistakes - Rihanna's cover

Finally taking flight

I know you don't think it's right

I know that you think it's fake

Maybe fake's what I like

Point is I have the right

Not thinking in black and white

Thinking it's worth the fight

Soon to be out of sight

Knowing it all this time

Going with what I always longed for

Venom - Little Simz

They would never wanna admit I'm the best here

From the mere fact that I've got ovaries

It's a woman's world, so to speak

Pussy, you sour

Never givin' credit where it's due 'cause you don't like pussy in power

Venom

Oh, you mad? Then come at me, you prick

Make a move, better patent it quick

I assume you'll be comin' for blood

That makes two of us

MY POWER - Nija, Beyoncé, Busiswa, Yemi Alade, Tierra Whack, Moonchild Sanelly, DJ Lag

he never seen so much rage from a queen

Rage from a queen, queen so strong, thought she was a machine

Castle - Halsey

And there's an old man sitting on the throne

That's saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean

Mother's Daughter - Miley Cyrus

Oh my gosh, she got the power

Oh, look at her, she got the power

Don't fuck with my freedom

I came up to get me some

I'm nasty, I'm evil

Must be something in the water

Or that I'm my mother's daughter

So back up, boy

Yellow Flicker Beat - Lorde

the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold

This is the start of how it all ever ends

They used to shout my name, now they whisper it

I'm speeding up and this is the

Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart

spotify link

a/n: since @unbotheredfairy and @strangeenbytumi both requested a maki playlist I thought it was okay to include two requests in one bUT I'm always willing to make as many playlists as you want <3 I hope you enjoy this one as much as me! <3

check this if you wanna request a playlist too🌻

[swtki]

Techers Pet - Spencer Reid x Reader

A/N: I have been listening to Teachers Pet by Melanie Martinez literally for 3 days straight. Also I have been watching Criminal Minds so much I’ve gotten through six seasons in four weeks lol. So with both of those factors (and my horny monkey brain) I got the idea for this!

WARNINGS -  Professor! (slightly sub) Spencer Reid, College student! Fem! Reader, mentions of sex, teasing, bad words :(, slightly dom reader, mostly soft core erotica. 

Caught the teacher giving his eyes to a student Thought, "He pretty cute" and she bit her lip back to him Chewing on her nails and her pens while she's dreaming of him And he's fucking in sin (you know he is) 

I looked up from my paper, my hands forming into fists on top of my skirt. What the actual fuck does this even mean? and what the fuck is Dr. Reid playing at? Usually when all fifty of us students pile into the lecture hall, Dr. Reid would start with using his big fucking mouth to start telling us about whatever subject he had chosen for that class. He never had us do papers, honestly it made up for the amount of time he spent telling us weird statistics that really have nothing to do with the curriculum.

 He just stood at the chalk board, grazing around the room with his beautiful deep brown eyes. I wondered what it would be like to stare into them as I absolutely ruined him. I wanted him to shut up as I tell him what is what for once. We locked eyes, I knew it probably meant nothing to him. But, I bit my lip anyways, simply because I wanted to test him. I wanted to see how he would react to his twenty-year-old criminal psychology student looking at him with desire. I could see him swallow and then quickly turn away, avoiding my gaze. He was so adorable. His messy brown locks always in his face, his glasses always perched on his perfect nose. I wanted to see those hands on me. I could easily list out a hundred and one things I wanted this man, this man who was thirteen years my elder, to do to me. 

When I heard him clear his throat, I knew the real lesson was about to begin. I’m sure my classmates were all listening to the actual lesson about how handwriting analysis can depend on many factors, that's why we all got different pages with different instructions. I’m sure that would have been more than fascinating, if I wasn’t so focused on wanting him to get on his knees and devour me. I fucking hate having an imagination.

Finally I snapped out of my thoughts for good when he looked at his watch, declaring class was over. I lingered, taking my time to pack away my stuff. I saw the last student exit, then I started moseying my way down the hall.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), what can I help you with?” He asked, leaning back on his chair. God fucking damnit why was he so perfect in everything he did?

“Well, Dr. Reid, I have a predicament that I wanted your input on.” I said, stepping to the side of his desk and propping my hands on top. I could tell he was fighting the urge to look down my shirt. His face was a nice, cute crimson color. He hesitated before speaking,

“I’ll do my best, please, shoot it at me.” He looked into my eyes as I smirked, bending down to put my lips to his ear.

 “Dr. Reid, I’m having difficulty with deciding the chances of me giving you the best head you’ll ever receive. I was wondering if you could give me a number, an estimate maybe?” I purred into his ear. I could hear his breath hitch as I finished my sentence. 

“I- well um, I guess thirty three percent of educators know of at least one student-teacher relationship, so while it may not be common, its not extremely uncommon either. But, in this situation, one hundred percent.” I smiled as he timidly gave that reply, surprisingly he had an attraction to me as well, which made the whole crushing on my professor thing a lot better. We kissed for a while, pulling away for air. 

I dropped to my knees in front of him, eyeing the tent he had developed in his trousers for me. I placed both of my hands on his thighs, batting my eyes at him. 

“Tell me Dr., have you always been looking down my shirt, or just since I started flirting back with you?” I teased, placing my head on his knee. He was breathing heavily, wanting my touch so badly.

“I-well-” he stammered “I have always wanted you.” I pushed myself up, straddling his lap now. 

he bucked his hips up, wanting any friction he could manage. I leaned in slowly, letting a small chuckle escape my lips. 

“For a genius, you are so pathetic. You wanna know how many men I fucked, imagining you in their place?” I slid my hands into his hair, making a slight tug at the roots. He made a small whimper that I found so arousing. 

“Oh Dr. Reid I would love to tell you all the amazing things I want to do to you.” I pulled a hand away from his hair, placing it on his cheek, lifting his face up so he was forced to look me in the eyes.

“Please tell me (Y/N), tell me what I could do to please you.” his voice was filled with desperation.

I pulled my face away from his, staring at the needy mess in front of me. I started to laugh, causing him to look at me with concern. 

“Nah, you don't deserve it now” I placed a quick kiss on his lips and hopped off his lap, leaving him shocked.  

I grabbed my bag off the floor and slung it around myself. His jaw was slack open, his eyes searching for an answer on me. 

“Wait-” he started, I spun around on my heels, walking towards the door. 

“See you next week you fucking loser!” I called as I left the building, 

On my way home I couldn’t stop thinking about what he must be doing all by himself. He must have gotten home, sad, disappointed that he got so close and still didn't know how my insides felt. I kind of chuckled at the thought of him getting off to my actions, then laying there contemplating if I was just teasing him or if I had an actual plan.

My phone buzzing snapped me out of my head, I picked it up, seeing it was an email. I wasn’t going to open it until I saw the name. 

DOC187781@gmail.com

hey I know you probably were just messing around today, that's okay I’m not expecting anything. I just thought, in case you weren’t, well I don’t have your number obviously. But if you want to see me before next class, well here's mine.

###-###-####

Dr. Spencer Reid.

pt 2

[linawritesocs]

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐭

FINALLY i'm writing about these boys overblotting! i wanted to make this post look similar to the first one, i included game osts that i chose as their overblot themes, i added song lyrics that fit them, but i also wrote post-overblot info for them!

as for my other ocs, i think i might write about angel and bunny's overblot in the future, but that's not something i want to focus on right now. I SHOULD FINISH WORKING ON VOICELINES AND LESSON CHATS HSDJSKSKLS

warnings for roland's overblot: yandere themes, mentions of a toxic relationship and eye injury

warnings for hayden's overblot: mentions of abusive family

warnings for riley's overblot: allen is just being a bad cousin. that's it.

roland's overblot

"her face was fucked up and my hands were bloody, we were in the playground, things were getting muddy, the teacher broke us up after i broke her, and my one true love called me "a monster"" - class fight by melanie martinez

(timeline info: this happened back when roland was a first-year, two years before twst's current plot starts happening. he was a nrc student back then)

roland doesn't like to talk about his past and for a good reason. roland always was a bit.. violent. he had a terrible personality: he was rude, aggressive, he didn't care about other people's opinions.. or did he? roland was always a troublemaker, teachers hated him and his classmates feared him. and then one day, he got accepted into nrc, which made him feel even better about himself, his talent got recognized by such a famous school! he will make his family proud! and of course, he got sorted into diasomnia, a perfect dorm for a powerful fae like roland. roland didn't care about making friends, but he did get attached to some of his dormmates. one of them was lilia, for some reason he kept trying to talk to roland and get him to open up. lilia believed that there was more to roland than meets the eye and he wanted to know the reason why roland keeps acting this way. roland's ex-girlfriend also was in the same dorm as him, she was a very sweet and kind girl, who genuinely wanted to know more about roland, perhaps she believed that she can "fix him". roland thought that she was interesting, not only because she wanted to become closer with him, but also because she was even more smart and talented than some of the dorm members and she was just a human. and yes, roland knows that it sounds cliche, but he really did start to fall in love with her. he liked spending time with her, listening to her talk and explain her interests to him. wow, this girl really likes gardening, huh? she wants to start a gardening club too.. roland says that it would be great, she smiles and says: "i'm glad you agree with me".

but sadly, love couldn't fix roland. it couldn't save him.

love made him worse.

roland started dating that girl. it was fun at first, but then roland started becoming more possessive, he didn't want her to talk to anyone but him. he just couldn't let her do that, what if she realizes that she actually doesn't like him that much? he wouldn't be surprised if that happened, there's no way such a sweet girl could fall in love with a guy like him.. wait, that sounds like he has a low self-esteem or something. his self-esteem is okay, it's great! it's just.. roland doesn't understand why she chose him. what did she see in roland? you know what, he doesn't care about it anymore, he doesn't need to know why she loves him, he just wants her to never leave him. he doesn't need to know the reason anymore.

roland started using his unique magic way too often, so that no one could see his girlfriend, hear her voice or touch her except him. his girlfriend wanted to talk to him about it, but she was too afraid. she loves him, she really does, if she mentions roland being too possessive, he will probably think that she hates him.. and then lilia notices that something is wrong. she tells him everything, she explains how roland's unique magic works, she says that she's very lucky to be talking with lilia right now, because roland could find her at any moment and use his magic again.

after that, lilia is the one having a talk with roland. he asks why roland is doing this and why roland treats his girlfriend like this. roland simply says that she knew what kind of person he is, so it's her fault for falling in love with someone like him. he wants to end this conversation and leave, but then he suddenly hears lilia say that he's disappointed in roland. lilia hoped that there really was more to him, that roland is actually a good guy, he's just misunderstood. lilia thought that if he starts dating this girl, roland will become a better person, but.. he was wrong. roland is just a scared, weak and pathetic guy who treats his girlfriend like his property, there's nothing more to him. lilia leaves and roland doesn't notice a smirk on his face. lilia knows that he pushed all the right buttons. roland should really start thinking about his behavior more..

wait, what do you mean, roland got into a fight with his girlfriend because he was mad at her for telling lilia the truth about their relationship? WAIT, HE ALSO GOT AN EYE INJURY FROM HER?

and of course, all of this leads to roland overblotting. he used his unique magic way too many times and he's definitely not feeling so good mentally.

"YOU! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME? NO, ACTUALLY, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? i did everything i could to protect you, i just wanted you to be safe, you know how messed up some nrc students can be! and it looks like you might be one of those messed up ones. how could you hurt your dear boyfriend who loved you so much?? i listened to you ramble about your precious flowers, i even helped you take care of them, i supported you, i protected you from those who made fun of you AND THIS IS WHAT I GET? what should i do, what should i do.. oh, i know! i will make you regret falling in love with me and breaking my heart like this."

post-overblot info: roland ends up getting expelled from nrc for his behavior (let's just assume that nrc rules were more strict back then) and his family decides to send him to rsa, hoping that this way he will change and learn to be a better person. roland really does feel guilty for what he had done and he's okay with his girlfriend not forgiving him. lilia gives him a rose-shaped eyepatch as a "farewell gift" and roland is thankful to him. roland starts attending rsa, he gets sorted into apelcenois/wisbene/snow white dorm (credits to taruchi and aurora for the names!) and he starts feeling even worse because of how rsa students treat him. they don't trust him, they prefer to ignore him and they spread rumors about his past. however, it also motivates him to become more kind and caring and when he's a third-year, he decides to start a gardening club, just like his ex-girlfriend wanted to.. even though it's rsa and not nrc, haha.

hayden's overblot

"every time that i try to speak, it feels so calculated, if i say what i really mean, it's like you see me naked, not a word until i was three, the doctors were elated, thank god there was nothing wrong and everything's fine" - i need control by will jay

(timeline info: this would happen after allen's overblot and before riley's overblot)

just like his boyfriend allen, hayden has lots of issues. he comes from a family that worships less famous villains and they call them "the other seven". so yeah, his family is basically a cult. hayden always felt a connection between him and hans, who was one of the villains that this family admired. hayden always found him relatable, he even thought that they were way too similar and it can't be a coincidence. no one in this family was treated well, hayden's parents argued all the time, all children were regularly "punished" and their needs were ignored, often leaving them without food. however, hayden was definitely the "least favorite" family member. he was too weak, too soft, he was a coward who cried too often. his older brothers were treated much better and they were simply better people in general, they were smart, strong, good-looking and they had a lot of friends, some of them even got married and left the family (though it doesn't mean that they weren't under their influence anymore). it also doesn't help that all family members except hayden could hear "mysterious voices" in their heads and they were sure that these voices belonged to "the other seven". but hayden didn't have that ability. he couldn't hear any voices at all, so other family members decided that hayden doesn't deserve to talk to "the other seven" and those villains don't want to talk to him. hayden felt lost, he had no one to ask for help.

until he met angel and bunny.

angel and bunny were his only childhood friends and they understood him well. one day he told them everything about his family, which scared them a lot and they promised him that one day it will get better. however, angel also got a great idea for a coping mechanism that could help hayden get through this. they told hayden that he's actually much better than all of his family members and him not having an ability to hear voices actually means that he's much closer with the other seven than his family, they don't even need to talk to him, he already knows what they want! oh, hayden also thinks that he's similar to hans? well, what if he IS connected to hans? what if he's connected to one of the villains his family worships? how cool would that be? he just needs to make his family believe him, he needs to get proof and they will pay for everything they've done to him. but for now, hayden just needs to remember that he's more strong and he's more powerful than he thinks.

.. let's just say that angel's idea really did help hayden get through this, but it also turned him into a very, VERY bad person.

hayden's family decided to send him to nrc even though all of his brothers were homeschooled. they had two reasons for this: 1) they wanted to send someone to nrc so that he could make nrc students and staff forget about the great seven and 2) they were simply tired of hayden and they hated him so much that they couldn't let him stay. hayden got popular really fast, he knew what each student needs and he was able to give them that. he could be a good friend, a study partner, a loving boyfriend, he could be anything! okay barbie kin but even though he has so many friends now, hayden still doesn't feel anything. that's because hayden is only manipulating them, he's trying to be nice to them, he wants to use their trust so that it will be easier to make them worship the other sev- you know what, he actually doesn't want to make these students worship the other seven anymore. he's tired of doing everything his family wants.

he wants these students to worship him and only him.

that's what he deserves, right? angel told him that he deserves it and they encouraged his behavior! so he's not doing anything bad, he just wants people to be nice to him, that's all!.. huh.. he wants people to be nice to him? does it mean that he simply wants to be loved and respected and worship doesn't have to do anything with it?

no, no, that's not right. hayden deserves more than love and respect, he wants these people to bow down before him. that's what he deserves.

so, hayden is a third-year now. most students know him well and they trust him, so it shouldn't be hard to make his plan a reality. he manipulates all the dorm leaders, he becomes friends with all of them (even though leona is still suspicious of him) and he starts slowly convincing them that they're actually.. not that great. he starts breaking their already fragile self-esteems, he repeatedly tells them just how worthless and useless they really are and he even has proof. he also starts turning the dorm members against their leaders and he's really good at it. this guy even manages to manipulate some of the staff members! and of course, he starts dating allen, who looks and acts a lot like the princess of arendelle and hayden thinks that allen must be connected to anna in some way. and if he is, then hayden must use him too, that's what hans did with anna, right?

however, there's this small obstacle on this way and that obstacle is riley glacier, a freshman from savanaclaw. he's very understanding, very supportive and he doesn't try to become hayden's friend, he simply listens to him and says what he really thinks and.. hayden likes it. hayden likes to spend time with him. hehe, it would be nice if hayden had a little brother like riley..

but.. all good things must end one day. so there he is, surrounded by nrc students who feel angry, betrayed and simply lost. they ask what hayden wants and why is he doing all of this.

so, he gives them the answer.

"why am i doing this, huh.. well, maybe i'm doing this because i really am better than all of you? look at my grades, look at my reputation, i'm more smart, more talented, more powerful than all of you! i never was your friend OR boyfriend, i was using you all this time! i'm better than all of you and i want to be treated like the greatest nrc student! no, i actually want something more than that. i don't want to be associated with nrc at all. i want you all to treat me like a god, because that's what i deserve."

post-overblot info: wow, hayden, way to make the school hate you! haha did you get the reference yeah, no one wants to do anything with hayden anymore. he almost gets expelled because of how violent he got during his overblot and because of how he used not only students' trust, but also nrc staff's. hayden even says proudly that he's ready to leave this school, because he hated nrc all this time.. but then he has to face the reality. if he leaves this school, he will have to go back to his family. and they won't like the fact that he not only failed to make everyone at nrc worship the great seven, but he also got expelled. and hayden doesn't want to know what they will do to him. surprisingly, riley AND MERRILL (he thinks that him and hayden are quite similar and he also fought against him) protect hayden and ask crowley to let him stay. they tell him everything about his family situation and they say that if hayden goes back to them, he will most likely not make it out alive. crowley thinks about it and agrees to let hayden stay at nrc BECAUSE HE'S SO GRACIOUS and also if hayden hates nrc so much, you can count that as his punishment. hayden ends up leaving the octavinelle dorm because he doesn't want to be associated with the great seven in any way, but now he has to find a place to live. no, he doesn't want to join the ramshackle dorm, he knows they hate him and he doesn't like them as well. merrill lets hayden become his roommate (becoming a temporary ignihyde dorm member in a way until he finds a better shelter. WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT NOT WANTING TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH THE GREAT SEVEN, HAYDEN?) and he also makes a new uniform for him, using his old cosplay outfits, so that hayden won't have to wear nrc uniform anymore (it's painful for hayden to look at it). hayden feels much more comfortable in his new unique uniform and his behavior changes greatly: he's openly mean to everyone except merrill and riley. he can finally be himself, he doesn't have to pretend to be a completely different person, he doesn't have to get anyone's trust anymore. hayden is still not sure who he really is and what he likes, but.. maybe his future is more bright than he thinks.

riley's overblot

"oh, i swear my emotions are the enemy, be dead by now if I'd have done what they were telling me, whisper lies, but they sound like half-truths, confusing a sick mind isn't that hard to do" - curse or cure by icon for hire

(timeline info: this happens after both allen and hayden overblotting)

riley is a very strange boy, he knows that well. allen told him that many times before. he never shows his emotions, he's very quiet, he always has a bat with him and he doesn't understand how feelings work. also, he doesn't know ANYTHING about romance. but he's still a lot more popular than allen, people love him, people often send him love letters and confess their feelings to him. but he doesn't feel anything for them, so he rejects them. allen doesn't understand how riley can do that, why he's still not dating anyone when he's so loved??

the thing is that riley is actually full of feelings. he simply represses all of them and doesn't show them. why does he do that? you see, riley had a good reputation since he was a kid. his parents loved him and spoiled him, everyone wanted to be friends with him, some kids even had a crush on him. he was a nice and polite boy, who was good at sports, video games and some other things too, of course they'd love him! but riley actually hated being treated like this. he didn't want to be so popular, he wanted a calm and peaceful life, he didn't want to be anyone's idol. he wants to play in his room, but no, he has to come to this boy's birthday party, because if riley doesn't come, no one will. he wants to go somewhere alone, but no, these kids will follow him, because they think he's so cool. riley also hated the fact that every time he showed some kind of emotion, everyone thought that it was a really big deal. he's happy? everyone is happy for him! he's sad? everyone will go and beat up the person that made him sad! he's angry? everyone is so sorry, they'll understand if riley doesn't forgive them!

this is why riley doesn't like showing his emotions. he doesn't want people react to it like that. he doesn't want people to pay any attention to him. he's fine being alone, really, he likes being alone! he's not his cousin, he doesn't like having so many fans and admirers! if only allen had such a reputation, he really deserves it more..

that's weird, why people hate allen so much even if allen is so normal compared to riley? allen is such a creative and emotional person, riley respects him so much! allen is so smart too, he knows so much about love and romance! but why allen is still single? why allen still doesn't have any friends?

why people are so cruel to allen? they should be cruel to riley instead.

riley deserves it more than allen. riley is weird, he doesn't show any emotions, he can't be a good friend, he can't be a good partner, he will never be able to support others because of him not being able to feel anything. he doesn't remember feeling any emotions lately because he's so used to repressing them and ignoring them.

riley wants people to love allen. forget about him, pay attention to allen instead! just leave him alone, okay? he won't mind, riley likes being alone! he deserves being alone, he's not that special.

but why does everyone still hate allen? wait, ALLEN ACTUALLY OVERBLOTTED BECAUSE OF PEOPLE HATING HIM? that's it, they've crossed the line. riley is here to remind them that he still has his bat. and he's also here to remind them that his unique magic is really powerful, he can make anyone feel any emotion that he's feeling at the moment.

he will make them hate themselves for what they've done to allen. he will make them cry because of what they've done, he will make them feel disgusted with themselves, he will make them feel happy because they have allen in their lives. he's doing all of this for allen, he's such a good cous-

huh?.. why did allen slap him right now?

yes, allen, he knows that he's not normal and he will never be able to become normal. yes, he knows that he's annoying. yes, he knows that he's a bad cousin. yes, he knows that allen hates him.

.. you hate him, allen? after all he has done for you? AFTER ALL OF HIS ATTEMPTS TO PROTECT YOU AND MAKE PEOPLE CARE ABOUT YOU?

that's it, allen. he's done being a good cousin.

"yes, allen, i'm your emotionless little cousin. i never show my feelings, actually, i'm not sure if i even feel anything. but i know that what i felt for you was a desire to protect you from anything bad. you've already went through a lot, you lost your friend, you had to go through all of this alone. i wanted to support you, i really did, i wanted to become someone that you could depend on. but you've decided to push me away, allen. just like you were pushed away before. i'm sorry, allen, i really am. i'm sorry for not understanding you and being so annoying. i didn't know that you actually like being alone and being hated by everyone!~ now, let me show you how i really feel."

post-overblot info: riley really is done being a good cousin and he prefers to ignore allen and he doesn't hang out with him anymore. he doesn't ruin his dates anymore, he doesn't annoy him with questions about romance, allen is free to do whatever he wants. meanwhile riley slowly learns to express his emotions more freely and he starts to appreciate being popular and surrounded by people who love him and care about him. he still wishes the best for allen, but he also doesn't want to be friends with him anymore. riley has hayden now and he likes him a lot more!

[padfootodd]

Okay, pals, hear me out:

616 or MCU Stevetony fic based on Notebook by Melanie Martinez.

Like: And you're selfish 'cause you always think your ass is always right. And you never see the lesson when it's right in front your eyes.

Steve having enough with Tony after a mission, they fight and Steve basically screams this at Tony. Now, mind you, they aren’t a couple yet. This is Steve Rogers having his crush doing stupid shit in the battlefield while simultaneously calling him out bc hAVENT YOU NOTICED I LIKE YOU, YOU DUMBASS?

But theeeeeen we get the: Actin' like your time's more valuable. When I sacrificed blood for you. I sacrificed blood.

Tony won’t let go about how he truly sacrificed himself over and over and over again for Steve. Multiple times and in multiple ways. He won’t have this oversized golden retriever with no clue of his true feelings scream at him for something he clearly did thinking about Steve’s and the team’s well being.

Ho ho ho ho we get the: What's the point in your "I love yous" when they don't hold any weight You touch your computer much more than you have ever touched me.

So Steve says “fuck it” to sense and probably to all Tony’s logic and go fully “y’know what? You say you like me and that’s all for me? Then why you didn’t you act up on this? Why you went and made yourself a cyborg? Why you made a whole war when you knew we should talk? You stay in that damn workshop so much, sometimes I think you don’t even remember there are human beings that care about you!”

Tony stays quiet. Deadly quiet.

And boom, the final blow: Time you know just how I feel. Since you threw me away forever.

Steve’s red faced and red eyed. He wants to cry in frustration. Wants to shake Tony up and tell him all the things he thought but then he won’t. That’s not his Tony anymore so… what good would it do? He turns to leave when:

“You know I didn’t want to do that, right?”

He doesn’t dare turning. He won’t have strength to go if he does.

“Does it matter anymore?”

He leaves like the drama and rage queen he is to punch something up.