#I can't fucking do this anymore. I can't do this

[thissurprisinglyisnttaken]

Idk man, apples are apples and I'm picturing a base idea in my cluttered brainspace. That apple either has to pay Brain Rent to take up current space or you have to keep adding details to the apple, otherwise it's Gone. However, sometimes it'll rewrite a part of the brainspace and I lose my shit. I'll paint you a little scenario:

You look into my eyes and stare into my soul (if eye contact is a think between us) and say to me, "Think apple." Congrats, I am thinking 🍎 and the mental image is floating in the corner of my vision to the upper left above your head.

You say "It's a green apple." The 🍎 becomes 🍏 and it's still floating above your head.

You say, "Describe it to me," and my brain already has a pre-loaded background specifically for apples ready for describing. I say, "It's a green apple with little yellow freckles and a green/brown stem. It's sitting on something wooden with sunlight from the left side lighting the apple." As I'm saying this, I'll doing the mental equivalent of putting the apple scene in fullscreen mode and there's a chance I've gone glassy-eyed or just straight up closed my eyes.

You ask, "Is there a plate nearby?" There might not have been a plate nearby, but no worries! I've cooked one up just for you <3 "There's a medium sized baby blue porcelain plate further behind and to the right."

You say, "Put the apple on the plate, I'll cut it up in a minute." I've now put the green apple on the blue plate and leave it sitting on the wooden countertop/table.

I continue on with my task(s) at hand and de-load the apple scene, but what you've done is now update the pre-loaded apple background to automatically have a blue plate. I won't realize this until I next try to picture an apple.

If you see me later and hand me a blue plate with slices of a red apple, I FUCKIN BLUESCREEN. I hate it! The Reality apple and The Brain apple have a distinct dissonance and it causes me memory issues. The existing scene with the apple is now messed up because the apple is both red with the streaky-apple lines and green with yellow freckles and I can't directly focus on it without getting frustrated. The apple picture doesn't work anymore unless I start over with a new apple with no background! AAARGGH

Anyways, I can never have a task running at the same time as a task loading because if I even so much as THINK I completed either of them, then it'll overwrite and I'll believe I've done it. Which makes me lose my shit when I find out I've fuckin tricked myself Yet Again and the task still isn't done.

Case in point: I'm cold right now, and I'm pretty sure I didn't bump up the temp because omg why is it so cold?? BUT I could've sworn I turned on the heater. So instead of always checking myself and second guessing, I never second guess and just get annoyed at times when I should've double checked. So I'm not angry that I'm cold, I just hate that I can't change my fucked up little brainspace to be more efficient. ......... on my way to go change the goddamn temp 😤

i have neither a good imagination nor aphantasia, but a secret third thing

[silverskye13]

Silver's Care Guide for the Impulsively Inclined:

Hi, did you just receive bad news? Are you one of the many many people who, upon receiving bad news, react with self destructive spirals, or lash out in a need for control? Are you just really fucking sad, or angry, and would like an alternative to hurting yourself and others? Are you just feeling a little manic or impulsive?

Welcome to my handy guide for alternative (self) destruction! These are alternatives to physical and immediate harm to your person. That does not necessarily mean they are safe, just safer, and they are all things I've done before to mixed results. With that in mind.

Remember the golden rule: if what you're doing cannot be fixed, repaired, or healed within an hour, don't fucking do it. You have one body, and one life, and regardless of what your thoughts say in the moment, that body and life is necessary for your future happiness. Prioritize yourself; harm objects instead.

Alternatives to harming yourself or others:

Kick something loud. A tin can. A plastic bag. Take it to an outdoor space and see how far you can kick it, and how loud a sound you can make. If you have multiple objects to kick, listen to the differences in sound. How one thing sounds hollow and another rattles.

Kick something soft. A pillow. A hackey-sack. Take it to an outdoor space, or kick it against a sturdy wall (I recommend brick or stone). Listen to the sound of the batting, or the beans. See what shapes you can get it to land in, and how deep a divot your foot can leave.

Tear paper. Get a cheap notebook, some old bills you don't need, note cards or old magazines. See how big of pieces you can make. Put several sheets in your hand and see how thick the paper can get before you can't tear it anymore. See how thin of strips you can tear. Experiment with folding it into shapes and trying to tear along the lines.

Do a very small controlled burn. Newspaper, a cheap notebook from the dollar store, a handful of old homework assignments you don't need, a candle, etc. The best objects are ones made to burn such as matches or candles. In lieu of that, focus specifically on paper, as it will have fewer chemicals/fumes that can damage your lungs if you inhale smoke. Take it to a well ventilated place, the floor of a concrete garage, your driveway, an empty lot or sidewalk. If you have a burn barrel or fire pit, use it. If you have no access to any of these things, make the burn very small [less than half a page at a time] and confine it to your sink. If your building has automatic sprinkler systems, don't do this. Light one edge of your paper on fire and watch it curl. See if you can burn small, individual poke-holes in the page. If you are lighting a candle, watch the wax melt. See if you can light one match using another. When a match is used, try and burn what's left of the stick. If you want some extra catharsis, write a person you hate, a source of your angst, or just general thoughts on the paper you're burning.

Throw rocks. Go outside and touch grass -- and look for rocks while you're there. All sizes are fair game, but the bigger they are, the harder they are to throw. I recommend something the size of a marble. Gather a number of rocks and throw them one at a time, trying to hit targets like trees or fence posts. If you can find a convenient body of water, throw them in there and listen to the splash.

Skip rocks. Skipping rocks across the top of the water can also be a fun challenge to use your aggression on. For skipping rocks specifically, you want a stone that is smooth and flat. Hold it between your forefinger and your thumb, and throw sideways in an arcing motion. You are trying to get the rock to spin. The combination of the spin, and the force, and the flat side hitting the water, causes the skip. I average 3 skips per stone. Beat my average. My Papa, who taught me, used to routinely get 5-7 skips. Beat him after you beat me.

Play a violent or fast paced video game. Most people have games on their mobile or console devices these days. Pick something quick, with low investment and high reward. Shoot-em-ups and arcade games. Something with a number that ticks up, and stock zombies you can kill. Try to beat your high score, or aim for an exact number. My lucky number is 13, so I will often try to score a number that's a multiple of 13.

Break glass. This one requires some investment to do legally and safely. Note: I am not telling you to throw rocks at people's windows or vandalize property. This is an alternative to those things. Find or obtain (I buy mine at Michael's for $10) some glass panes. They can be multicolored if you're feeling fun. Cover a pane in an old sheet or the plastic bag you bought it in. With a thick soled shoe or a rubber mallet, smash it. Try to make fun shapes with the pieces. Listen to the crunch. Keep a broom and dustpan ready, and make sure you have dedicated time to clean the mess. There is nothing worse than walking barefoot through a room and cutting open your foot.

Smash pumpkins, guards, watermelon, etc. Exactly what it says on the tin. Grab your murder-able vegetable of choice and a weapon (stick, hammer, sword, axe, etc) and go wild. Make as big a mess as you can. I mean absolutely destroy that fruit. If you aren't covered in the blood of your prey, have you really won? Take a long shower afterwards, and wear clothes you don't mind staining. Too depressed to clean up the mess? It's fruit. The local wildlife will thank you. Though if it's summer, you may get ants/bees.

Switch a tree. Find a switch. If your parents never made you pick your own switch, congratulations. If they did, you know exactly what you're looking for. Grab a stick, something green and flexible and long -- whip like. Go to the tree you wish to switch, and smack the shit out of it. You can also do this to bushes. Try to make the whip-crack noise, listen to the whistle of the branch through the air. See if you can take the individual leaves off a branch. Smack the shit out the tree with your switch until the switch breaks. If you're still feeling angry and impulsive, rinse and repeat.

Alternatives to moping sadly / wallowing in self pity:

Write a list of things you enjoy. This is just to remind you that you do have joy in life, actually. Focus on finding the smallest things possible, the ones that are truly niche to you and you alone. An example for me would be the strange purple-red color your veins take on when bright light is shining through them. I could stare at that color for ages. I'm talking really strange, personal joys. The way a sharpie brand pen clicks. How saying a word too much turns it into not-a-word. Make a list of those things.

Find a favorite texture and run your hands over it. Over and over. Obsessively. If this texture happens to be a pet, all the better! If not, that is also fine. My favorite texture is running my fingers through my hair when I've put hair gel in it. The feeling of detangling it with my fingers, all the sharp brittle hairs loosening into softness again, is the most cathartic in the world. Close second is my fingernails on very cheap construction paper, the pulpy stuff they give to kindergartners. Pass your hands through the texture until it loses its allure. Listen to the sounds it makes when you run your hands across/through it. Smell it, and smell your hands after you've touched it. Rub it on other parts of your body, like your arms or your neck. Try to pick it up with your feet.

Eat your favorite food. I don't give two shits about calories. This is comfort. If you don't have access to your favorite food, or it is too hard to cook with the energy levels you have, get the closest approximation you can find, or get your second favorite. Eat it slowly. Try to pick the tastes apart on your tongue. Make obnoxious noises while you eat, or eat it in a way you normally wouldn't. Eat ice cream with chopsticks. Eat soup with a butter knife. Lick pudding off the tines of a fork. Use your hands I don't care. Slurp out of the bowl like a dog. Pretend you're a caveman. Get stupid and silly. It's food. It's food. It's food. Enjoy every moment of it!

Tell a friend how awesome they are. Pop into their inbox and ask them about their day. Call them and ask for five minutes of their time. Invite them to dinner. You don't have to get super heartfelt if you're scared of being weird. Just say "Hey, have I told you you're awesome recently? Because you are." Be prepared to list at least one reason why.

Go cry about it. Seriously. In the words of my boss, "Sounds like you need to drink a bottle of wine, put on the saddest episode of your favorite TV show, and have a good sob fest." Crying is a releasing of built up chemicals in your brain, which is why people sometimes cry when they're happy or pissed -- you've got too many emotions inside and you need to literally put them outside. So if you're feeling the Miseries and need a quick release, give yourself a reason to cry and go for it. And I'm not talking like, tasteful wife mourning her husband lost to war with a single stoic tear down her face. Get ugly. Sob your eyes out. Scream, and wail, and thrash. Pretend you're an Irish widow who's just lost her child to famine and dirge. Lament. Do that thing in the Bible where people are so upset they tear at their clothes. When you're done, breathe, and breathe, and breathe again. That feels... Better. Doesn't it?

Listen to calming music, or sing/hum a song. This one might just be a me thing, but it is hard to be truly miserable when there's a soundtrack playing in your thoughts. This works best if the music you're listening to has no words, and is calming. We are not looking for sad mixes on YouTube. We are looking for lofi, and orchestra, and rainy mood. Something to dampen thought, not enhance it. I like putting on rain sounds and humming as I walk through my house. It lets me take action while still providing background noise I can rely on.

And that's about it, I think. I hope! My scattering of thoughts can help you! Or at least get you thinking about what works best for you. Feel free to add your own thoughts in the comments and I will try to reblog them!

Remember: we are prioritizing the safety of self here. This is to curb impulses for self harm, and self destruction, and the harming of others. Above all else, stay safe.

You've got this. I believe in you.

[vaspider]

I'm sorry to bother you, but just

It looks like a Trump win. I can't live another 4 years in Trump America but I have no escape. I have no passport, no car, no driver's license, nothing. I'm essentially stuck. What the fuck do I do? How do I keep living knowing that the rest of my life is going to descend into hell because this country is filled with murderous shitheads that hate anyone that isn't just like them?

That really is the question, isn't it?

I can't answer that for you. That's a question you are gonna have to answer for yourself.

Personally, I'm just too fucking stubborn to let bullies beat me. I'll keep getting up every morning until I physically can't anymore because I just refuse to let these petty creatures tell me I should lie down and die. And I refuse to let my kid watch me get knocked down and not get back up. Whatever reason you find, find it and dig your roots down into that.

I'm sorry I don't have a magic answer for you.

[deadpresidents]

I just hope these next 4 years go by fast

This election isn't just about the next four years. With Trump in the White House and a Republican Senate at his side, the MAGA movement can pick up where they left off when it comes to packing the federal judiciary with right-wing judges who will control the Supreme Court and appellate courts throughout the country potentially for the rest of the lives of everyone reading this right now. It's the perfect recipe for them to continue stripping reproductive rights away from women nationwide and gives them the opportunity to turn their attention to the other issues that they have been dying to attack, from voting rights to gay marriage and every other extension of personal freedom that has been won by minorities and marginalized people in hard-fought battles over the past 60 years. This is the nightmare scenario that people have been warning folks about for the past few elections. It's here. And there isn't going to be a way to put the toothpaste back in the tube.

The consequences of this election will have a direct, negative impact on your life -- possibly on the entire remainder of your life. This country just re-elected a President with authoritarian tendencies who is the willing puppet of a dangerous Christian nationalist movement that figured out exactly how to manipulate him (through flattery) for their aims. They have created the perfect vehicle for a genuine cult of personality that they can use to achieve the goals they have been very clear about striving for over the past few years. And you can't blame anybody other than the American voters because they not only elected Trump, but they gave him a fucking mandate, with a Republican Senate and potentially a Republican House. They already have a right-wing dominated Supreme Court for the next few decades, and now they are going to ensure that the entire federal judiciary is in their control for years to come. And don't forget the fact that a few months ago, the Supreme Court handed down a decision that gave Presidents sweeping immunity for a broad (and conveniently undefined) range of "official" acts, so Trump is going to go into this second term knowing that not only does he not have to deal with the "guardrails" of responsible adults he had around him in his first term (Mattis, Tillerson, Kelly, General Milley, etc), but he knows he can get away with virtually anything and everything that he wants to do this time around. If you thought that Trump's first term was bad, just understand that they are prepared this time and now he's surrounded himself with people who will do his bidding -- people who are perfectly willing to let Trump be Donald Trump.

I wish there was a reason to cry foul, lodge protests, and challenge the election's results. But this wasn't a rigged election. There isn't any confusion about what the voters really wanted. The American people did this. People you know and care about and who say they care about you are the people who did this. We need to recognize that these elections aren't outliers anymore. Trump's supporters aren't simply chaos agents who got lucky on a bad day for the Democrats. That's the country we live in now and we have to find a way to resist it that actually makes a difference because now they have the keys to all the doors and all of the alarm codes. This country has normalized the conspiracy theories and nativism and racism that has powered the MAGA movement since the moment Trump came down the elevator at Trump Tower in 2015. He's given those people permission to be open with their hatred towards people who aren't like them, and it's actually become surprising to see how many Americans have been eager to take advantage of that. I didn't think I had any misconceptions about this country before Donald Trump because I recognized this nation's history, but I clearly had some misconceptions about people I thought I knew until I saw them wearing a red MAGA hat or noticed they had a gigantic flag with Trump's name hanging where their U.S. flag used to hang. Once that happened, it was like a switch went off with them and they started saying things in ways that I'd never heard them speak. I feel like that's happened to the entire country. It breaks my heart and it pisses me off.

For the past few years, I've been warning everybody about how elections have consequences. I imagine that there are hundreds of posts on this blog with that phrase in all caps listed with the tags. Now the elections have happened, and we have to live with real fucking consequences. And we're going to pass these consequences on to other generations because this is the one that you can't get a do-over on. When you give a movement like this the power and the mandate that this country just gave them, there is no easily rolling back the things that they end up doing. They are going to fundamentally change the lives of people in this nation and especially change the way the younger generations of Americans live and love and learn for years to come. And you have people in your life who made that happen. It's another disgusting day in America -- a prelude to another reprehensible four years (at the very least) -- and I'm ashamed of tens of millions of my fellow Americans because this one is on them. They know exactly who the man is that they voted for, and now we know exactly who they are, too.

[chaoskirin]

Part of "providing something for these people" is allowing people to make mistakes, and not attacking them for every little thing they do wrong. This means not putting someone on blast for getting a tiny thing wrong. And if they do get put on blast, you need to see if they apologize and try to do better.

What pushes people right is that the left expects perfection. If you fuck up--and you will--you are ostracized. And where do people go for comfort? Right into the arms of people who say they love them. (Even if that's a lie.)

You all have to stop expecting perfection. I know this is a hot take, but young people get on the internet, fuck up, and then they're "held accountable" for the rest of their lives. Are you fucking surprised? Are you really surprised they look for companionship in the wrong places? Because anyone who could do any sort of good in their lives has them blocked.

I'm not even arguing this with you all anymore. It's gone too far. I still see a bunch of internet police "holding people accountable" for things they did a decade ago.

I know it's a big thing on tumblr that you never have to forgive people, but if you can't forgive, at least shut the fuck up. Seriously. If you're going to dog people and warn those they interact with about things they did a hundred years ago, you are part of the problem.

I don't even fucking care who likes me anymore or unfollows or blocks me over this take. We're all fucked now anyway. So do with it what you will.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[backinmyphase]

Just a heart broke bitch!

Synopsis. Only 24 hours passed since your ex ended it. So why did you find yourself in a club waiting for someone to fuck? Someone like Satoru Gojo?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, college! Gojo, Satoru is down bad and reader doesn't know, overstím, (not mentioned but reader is on the pill), nipple sucking

Word count. 2.2k

A/N. I have never written smut before, so this is more like an experiment hehe

"Shouldn't we at, fuck! hah~ l-least have a first date?"

Gojo had that smug smile on his face as his eyes looked down at your body, inspecting the sweat that was shining from your naked chest. Behind his smugness you could see his back tense up. Just as sweaty as yours. His hair disheveled, standing up in all directions.

"S-shut u-AAAAAAh-" you gasped and couldn't keep the moan in as he made you shudder with his-

"Up."

A little context to this situation you found yourself in. You were in a shit position. A couple of hours before you sat at the table of a cafe trying to grasp what was happening right there.

"What?"

"We should break up." your, well now ex-boyfriend didn't have any readable expression on his face. "I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean with this?" your body stiffened, no seeable reaction shown.

"I heard about how you acted in high school. About your little adventures with your friends." his look was different from before. It was filled with- "I don't want a girlfriend which is a slut. Who sucked off more men than she kissed."

Your hand gripped your glass of coffee harder. "Excuse me?"

He shook his head. "You know what I am talking about. Let's just end and forget about this relationship. It was never that good anyway."

And like that he got up and walked away.

And you really wished you got up and gave him a piece of your mind. Tell him how it really was at these parties which you were back then to young to go to. And how the guys you met there knew that. How they used that.

Tell him what kind of entitled asshole he was, to shame you for your old ways of seeking validation.

Back then you were only seventeen. And they were at least twenty one. But you were the filthy slut, who was to wild and surely not loyal enough to be in a relationship, right?

You hated how even now you just swallowed your emotions, your tears and your feeling of self worth.

Because you shouldn't be crying about such an asshole, right? Your friends, well they called themselves that, said not to sulk just search for a new one in the club. They probably told him all about your old stories. Like always when things were going good for you.

They were the only people you had, who stuck by your side. So was it really your fault that you took out your black dress, with your six inch heels?

Yes.

Because even though you wanted to deny it, you liked this boy you had dated. He was your first real relationship, shouldn't that mean something?

But it was never that good anyway, right?

While sitting and sipping champagne in this nightclub, you could already feel your common sense slipping away.

Stupid like back then, because you should know that your friends wouldn't bring you back to your home. Isn't that how you ended up in all these beds? Them doing drugs outside while you were drinking with a guy who will bring you with him, no matter what you really wanted.

You shouldn't trust those people.

It was always just drunk calls, drunk texts, drunk tears, drunk sex.

And those days were behind you. Right?

You wish you could say that. But then you wouldn't be sitting here, dressed up to forget what was really going through your mind right now. No, they weren't behind you and maybe your ex was right.

You stopped smoking along time ago. You stopped following these things that told you you were only something with them. But today was different.

You took some cigarettes that were given to you from some dude with a devious smile. Not your best move. But right now anything was better than you alone in your head.

"This seat free?"

And then there was this guy like your fate was laughing at you. This guy who had this gorgeous white hair and kind of boyish smile. Like a perfect opportunity to forget tonight.

"Yeah, no worries." you were kind of surprised at the sound of your own voice. It was raspier than usual. Like the smoke already made it's mark.

His tall frame lowered onto the seat next to you, his body facing your direction, instead of the bar. He already had this curious look. "So what brings you here alone?"

You shrugged and gave the bartender a sign as you finished your champagne. "Two more wines, please."

The bartender just nodded and fetched you your first one.

"Woah, slow down." The white haired mans expression changed. "That bad down to get wasted?"

"Yeah, well wouldn't be in a Club if not, or would I?" you looked up at his face, and now was your turn to check him out. Other than the fact that he was tall and he was insanely pretty. That was no problem, in fact it helped. But his almost concerned expression wasn't.

"I guess." He tilted his head a bit. "What's your name?"

Maybe it was the alcohol but for some stupid reason you just told him your name. And he leaned forward and whispered.

"I'm Gojo Satoru."

That wasn't ideal. While you didn't really care about your college people, he had quite a name in your college. But any critical thinking was thrown out of the window since your second shot in the last hour.

Amd as you looked at those eyes that had the for you known look in them you whispered back.

"You want to fuck?"

Yeah, your thinking really did leave an hour ago. Because you swore that you would never be in these surroundings and would never ask such a question a stranger again. But like back then you just wanted to forget.

You didn't remember what came next and how you did end up in this small apartment. All you did know that you were impatient at Gojo because he took too long to get on the bed and fuck you.

Why were there two glasses of wine on this table next to him? Were you talking to him? You couldn't remember.

You just knew that you needed something to keep these thoughts away.

"God, you are driving me crazy." he was on top of you, his hands were everywhere, touching you, heating up your body.

"So beautiful for what?" he mumbled, his naked body (wait when did he get naked? When did you get naked? Oh what does it matter...) was pressed against yours as he kissed your lips.

"I need you now." your arms now around him pressing him closer to your, trying to get your aching pulse down there closer to his.

He laughed and laid his head back. "You are acting like a dick you know that?"

"Well you might as well stick it in."

And that's how you ended up under Satoru Gojo as he bullied his far too big cock inside you.

And you could almost swear he was in love with you, with how he clashed on your teeth so messy, so hot, so starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. 

"Oh. Fuck. You are so unfair you know that?" he was heavily gasping for air, but still made sure to leave a kiss after every deep thrust inside you.

"Is that what you wanted? No more thoughts because I fuck you so good?" and he went all the way back out of you just to slam his hips back down again.

"fuck!" you almost screamed as he hit that spot inside again, holding onto his back, no more like clawing at his back for dear life. "right t-there, please!"

His head went lower with his trail of kisses until he reached your chest. "No need to beg, pretty."

Your body is slick with sweat and only growing hotter by the moment; the sound of his rough panting coupled with the occasional whine he lets out only has you panting more.

And he has the nerve to go faster while thrusting inside you. Making you see stars as he kissed your nipples, sucked on them, made out with your chest.

"Satoru!" you moaned, you couldn't do anything else. "You are killing me!"

And even though you were far gone and overstimulated to the moon you could feel his cocky smile at your chest. And he didn't even consider slowing down at your plead, no he more seemed proud of himself making you so fucked out.

How is he fucking you like his life depended on it, couldn't he get tired? Every lasting slap! at your walls had you gasping for air, while he had to close his eyes at how your walls clamped down around him and sucked him back in.

Was this heaven?

"Are you close?" he was out of breath while he stopped sucking for just a second and you would be lying if you said you didn't want him to just continue.

"Yeah, please keep going."

"What did I say about b-begging?" he moaned again. " I'm getting closer myself. Where do you want it?"

And for some dumb reason you screamed-

"Inside!"

And he did. You felt the hot spurt inside you, filling you up, making you feel so full. And yet he didn't stop, no still helped you to reach your high.

And you couldn't help how his frantic hits against your core caused your toes to curl and your back to arch further than ever before as you’re slowly being brought closer to your tense, and awaited edge. “Cumming, cumming!”

"Yeah, just let go for me..." his voice was low amd his face suddenly no longer on your chest, but so close to your own. "Cum for me, pretty girl."

"Ooh... Ah!" it was almost embarrassing how hard you came. But you needed that at this day. Maybe it was far more embarrassing how you were asleep five seconds later.

"Fuck, baby, you are so beautiful..."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Want a glass of water?"

Your eyes were still sticky, the last night not fully slept away. Where were you? This wasn't your own bed.

You sat up, but realizing that your head would spin and push you down before you could steady yourself. And as you looked up you saw him.

And you remembered what had happened yesterday.

"Wouldn't hurt." he answered himself and sat down next to your, heavy, heavy body and somehow lifted your back so you sat. Bringing the water to your lips.

"Drink so you don't throw up on me now."

You just obeyed him and sipped on the cold water, that went down your aching, dry throat so deliciously. You downed it in one sip.

"That's right." his hand went up and down your back soothing. "You and I had maybe too many drinks yesterday."

And then you realized the situation.

You were sitting here. On the bed of a stranger. With still no clothes on. As you drunkenly followed him into his apartment. What was wrong with your brain?

"Thank you." you took the glass from him. "I'm alright now."

He had that soft smile and something inside it punched you inside your gut.

"Alright I'm doing breakfast now." he stood up and looked amused as you hid yourself under his covers. "You can come when you're ready."

And like that he was out the door. Breathing began to be so much easier. You had to find a way out of here. And quickly, before this was becoming more awkward than it should.

What were you thinking yesterday? Fucking Gojo Satoru of all people? You just proved the point of your ex. You really were a slut.

Your things were all around the room, probably disgarded in the act yesterday. Picking them up and dressing yourself in them again felt nasty, like last night was sticking onto you.

You opened the door and looked around to see the exit. And there it was. The wardrobe with your shoes. You tiptoed there, softly.

"Leaving already?"

You turned around to a Gojo Satoru leaning against the doorframe of the supposed kitchen. He looked amused and had one eyebrow raised.

"Well, yeah... I completely forgot about it, but I have some things to do..." you fiddle with your shoes impatiently.

"Alright, should I bring you home?"

"NO!" You cleared your throat. "I mean- there is really no need."

He shrugged. "If you say so. But be safe and drink at home again."

You nodded and with that you were out.

You didn't remember your old one night stands to be that open and smily. No, they just told you how to leave and slept through the morning, while snoring.

Your phone vibrated inside of your bag. And you could see a message of a new number.

Satoru <333

Hey, get home safe!

Oh and we exchanged numbers yesterday, if you don't remember.

You couldn't help but feel guilty, but you left him on read. Why did he message you? Why was he so nice to you like he wanted to get to know you.

How could you tell him, that you just used him as a good fuck?

[smutoperator]

Bad Bunny

Jung Eunbi (Eunha) x Male Reader

Kinkvember Chapter 2

Main kinks: public sex, free use, sex with a stranger, spanking

Word count: 5639.

Eunha is a bad bunny. She may look cute from the outside, but once she gets inside the walls of any bedroom, she transforms herself into the neediest slut ever known. However, in this month of November, you had decided you would abstain from having any sex with her and let her prepare for her group's comeback.

But Eunha's horniness knows no boundaries, and her comeback preparation couldn't go ahead without sex. And if you weren't going to give it to her, no problem; she would find it somewhere else.

Eunha invites a guy to your house for a hot night of sex. He fucks her in every possible way, giving her the relief she needs while you preach your abstinence. However, one little mistake ended up leading to her demise.

On the next day, you do your duty as a good boyfriend and collect the garbage to take it away. However, when you start separating it, you find a few condoms mixed in it. You noticed a few holes poked in them and quickly connected the dots. "Damn, that bunny is so horny she couldn't go over a day without sex," you say.

You take the garbage out but grab one of the condoms, waiting to confront Eunha when she arrives from the latest practice. It doesn't take long for her to come, and as soon as she does, you ask her.

"What is this, Eunha?" you say, pointing to the condom. "I don't know," she answers, clearly lying as you can see her pale skin blushing. "Eunha, did you have sex with another guy while preparing for your group's comeback? You ask her. "Sorry, baby, I couldn't resist; I'm just a horny bunny," she answers. "Please forgive me; I love you," she continues.

Eunha's needy face makes your heart melt. You truly want to forgive her. But first, you need to set some conditions. "I forgive you, baby, but you cannot disobey me anymore," you tell her. "Okay, baby, I promise I will be very obedient," Eunha answers. "Well, I will start enforcing it right now; you better obey every command I give you and let me do whatever I want to you," you answer her. "Yes, baby, do it as you please; I deserve to get punished; I'm a bad bunny," she says.

"Let's take a walk then," you tell Eunha. "Sure, baby," she says. But as soon as you two get out of your house, you cuff her hands. "Baby, what are you doing?" she asks. "Shhhh, you told me you would let me do whatever I wanted," you say to her. "Alright, do it," she says.

You walk Eunha across the street in the direction of the construction site on the other side of it. You walk her through it, making sure she doesn't trip over anything with those knee-high boots she's wearing. You get her towards one of the fences at the construction site, pushing her against it. "Punish me, baby," she says. And indeed you will.

You grab scissors and cut Eunha's top right at her boob area. "We can't do that, baby," she says. "Today we can, follow my lead, you cheating bunny," you say to her, groping her perfect pair of tits and giving them a few spankings in between. "Bad bunny," you say as you spank them.

You pin Eunha against the fence and bend her body over, showing off the part that made you fall in love with her: the perfect round cheeks of her butt. You do one of your favorite things to it: spank it a few times before you pick up the scissors to cut her panties off. "You won't need those today," you say to Eunha.

You stick your hands on Eunha's pink fuckholes and start massaging them. "We can't do that in public, baby; it's too risky," she says. "Of course we can, and if you stay quiet, nobody will see," you say to her as you keep fingering her pussy and anus in broad daylight.

You once again reach into your toolcase and push out a nipple clamp, and you use the chain coming out of it to tie Eunha to the fence. "Today you're Daddy's free use girl," you say to her. "Yes, daddy, please use me," she says.

"Arch that pretty butt for me, little bunny," you tell Eunha, who obliges. As soon as you do, you cut the remnants of her panties off, leaving her big ass out in the open for you to spank it unchallenged. A construction worker arrives from behind, leading you to instinciteively pull Eunha's skirt back to cover her ass.

"You can't stay here," the worker says to you, who obliges and takes Eunha along with you, but not before flashing her nipples to them. You walk Eunha across the street and then reach a very heavy traffic avenue, crossing it as the drivers stop and get greeted with more nipple-flahing from Eunha. On the other side of the avenue, some curious guys look at your girlfriend, wondering what kind of stuff you're doing to her, as they see her tied up with her torso fully exposed, some even perverted enough to try to touch her.

Eunha is now completely naked from her waist up, but you just don't care and take her across the crowd walking down the streets. In fact, you lift her skirt up too, offering them a glimpse of your girlfriend almost totally naked, with many guys turning their necks around to look at her big ass, even better when you spank it in front of those horny dudes and even get some drivers to honk at Eunha flashing them, while you keep greeting the people walking across the street with your girlfriend's hot body.

You get even bolder, bending Eunha's body and flashing her ass to the people on the street and the guys on the avenue. They really enjoy it. Indeed, that fat pale piece of ass is a marvel to look at: so plump, round, and already red from the spankings you gave her.

Eunha grinds herself on a street sign and puts up a little show for the drivers stopping at the red light. "I wish Yuju was there; she could easily do some pole dancing at that sign," you say to your girlfriend, who is basically naked except for the bar of her skirt wrapped around her waist. The transients can see everything from her: her pink pussy, her perky tits, and especially her fat ass.

You take Eunha to the parking lot of a supermarket nearby and decide it's time to start putting some heat up in her pussy, as you finger it while crossing the lot. "Don't squirt; you can only cum when Daddy tells you," you say to her. Eunha obliges, managing to keep herself uptight and not cum.

Eunha gets put on her knees as you unzip your pants and finally show her your cock. "You missed it, right?" you ask her. "A lot, daddy," she answers and then quickly dives to bob her head on it like a good horny bunny. You grab her head from behind and push her even deeper, slowly fucking her doll-esque face. "Oh yeah, you're such a good Barbie doll," you tell her as she takes your cock in her mouth with ease in that parking lot.

You push your pants back up and walk Eunha across the parking lot a little bit. "What do you say?" you ask her. "Thank you, Daddy," Eunha answers. "Good girl, I think you deserve some more of Daddy's cock in your mouth," you reply.

You pin Eunha towards a garage door and violently fuck her face. You don't care about her head slamming hard against it; in face, the more, the better. Your thrusts are filled with rage, ready to teach that cheating bunny a lesson as your cock bulges under her throat and her head keeps slamming the wall. You then walk her around a bit and switch to doing that against the door of one of the parked cars. God, it's so good using that slutty bunny's pretty face like a toy.

You toy with Eunha, slapping your cock against her naughty tongue. That only makes her even hornier, as she seizes the opportunity to bob her head against your cock. "Calm down, little bunny," you say to her, quickly regaining control and pushing her to gag on your cock. "You're such a bad bunny," you say to Eunha, slapping her face.

"Tell me you want more," you ask Eunha. "I want more, Daddy," she answers. "Again," you reply, spitting in her face. "Please, I want more, Daddy. Give me that big cock; I want it inside me," she says with more detail this time. You push your cock a bit more on Eunha's mouth, and she answers by quickly bobbing her head on it, getting it perfectly wet for her fuckholes. She doesn't care about the cars passing through the lot and watching; all she wants is to be a good girl full of cock.

"Where do you want it first, pussy or ass?" you ask Eunha. "Pussy, daddy," she says, and you follow. You truly missed that tight pink hole of hers, groaning as soon as you get in. "And how do you say it?" you ask her. "Please, daddy, fuck my pussy," Eunha answers.

You pump Eunha's pussy at a steady pace, her making tons of effort not to moan and get noticed by someone else. Instead, you're the one groaning as her tight hole squeezes your fat cock quite hard. "Say thank you, Daddy," you tell her, giving her ass another spank. "Thank you, Daddy, for having such a big cock for this little bunny," she answers.

"Such a good whore, getting daddy's cock for everyone in the street to watch; I hope they film us and sell the tape," you say to Eunha. "Oh, oh, oh, ohhhh," Eunha softly moans as you attack her little pussy. You keep groaning as Eunha's walls tighten around your shaft, more so when you spank her ass.

"Come here, clean it," you say after a while. "You made my cock very dirty with that slutty pussy," you continue. Eunha promptly follows your orders, ducking down to taste her juices. "Good girl," you say as she licks the side of your shaft and then takes it deep in her throat before you grab her head and speed up the process by fucking her face.

You lift Eunha's right legs up and spread them until her boots hit the door of the car on the opposite side. With her in prime position, you get back to fuck her pussy from behind while reaching to grab her hair. You fuck her harder this time, Eunha's legs barely able to stay at the car's door while her pussy feels the wrath of your cock. "Are you struggling, whore? Maybe you shouldn't have cheated on me, stupid bunny," you say to her, spitting on her face.

You completely dominate Eunha, now reaching one hand to finger her pussy as you pound it. You fuck her full of rage, punishing her nonstop for being such a bad bunny. You now even stretch her mouth with both hands, humilating her at any possible opportunity.

"Get down, bitch, you are getting too much fun from my cock; now clean it again," you say to Eunha, stopping fucking her pussy and going straight to more facefucking. "Filthy little whore," you say, spitting on her face before doing some cock slapping and then face slapping. "Time to get on your feet; this round is over; I'm taking you somewhere else," you tell her.

You walk Eunha across the neighborhood, never missing a chance to spank her pale butt and make it even redder. You two finally reach your destination, a shabby alleway in front of some long abandoned buildings. You keep spanking her pussy and tits at the alleway. "You like it?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy, spank me; I'm a bad bunny," Eunha says.

You follow what she asks, hitting Eunha's whole pale body with a whip. Her thicc thigs, her beautiful face, her perky tits, her pink pussy, nothing escapes your wrath. "Turn around," you say, delivering some pain to her ass next. "Look at you; you're all dirty," you tell her. 

"Eunha, I'm still being very soft to you; you know I can spank you much harder than that, right?" you ask her. "Of course, daddy, spank me harder, I beg," she says. "Alright, I won't deny it," you tell her, hitting her ass at full speed now. Eunha seems to take it fairly easy. Her pale skin has made her the target of much spanking over the course of her career, to the point that she's addicted to it. "Daddy, I think you're going to make me cum just by spanking me," she says.

"Not yet; you aren't clear to cum yet. And you know what? This filthy alleway is the perfect place to clean your dirty hole," you say to her. "But first, you have to beg it for me," you tell Eunha.

"Please, daddy, fuck my ass," Eunha answers. You like that she already knows what hole you were talking about. "Say it again," you tell Eunha, but you actually block her from answering by shoving your cock in her mouth once again. "Please, daddy, fuck my tight, dirty, slutty ass," she says as soon as your cock is out of her mouth.

You turn Eunha around at the alleway and put your cock in her ass, her tight hole making you struggle to put in there. Eunha clings her head against the wall, trying to cope with your thrusts. "Ohhhh, ohhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh, yesss," Eunha moans as you pick up the speed. You also groan, trying to dig deeper in her anus and pushing really hard. "I'm so thankful for having a daddy that fucks me so good in the ass," Eunha says in between meany moans.

"Holy sh*t, you're such a fucking tight bitch even though you get fucked in the ass every day," you say to Eunha. "Yes, daddy, I always make sure to make things very difficult for your big fat cock or for other cocks when I'm being a bad bunny and cheating on you," Eunha answers, confessing last night wasn't the first time she did it.

"Let me sit; I want to see you bouncing on that cock," you say to Eunha, never pulling out of her at any second. You lie on the dirty sidewalk floor as she impales her dirty butthole on your cock and rides it like a champ, giving you a privileged view of her fat ass. "Come on, stupid bitch, just bounce," you tell her. Eunha follows and picks up the pace, getting your cock all the way inside her tight asshole.

"Good girl," you say to Eunha as the sounds of her cheeks clapping on your pants get louder. "Yeah," she moans, grinning her teeth as your big cock seems to be too much for her tiny butthole.

"Get up," you tell Eunha, asking her to pull out of your cock. "Now sit down and suck it clean; I want you to get your dirty anus off my cock," you say to her, shoving it in her face once more and pushing her head against your manhood. "Fuck yeah, you like being fucked in the ass like this?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy," Eunha answers.

"There you go," you say as you force your cock balls deep in Eunha's mouth until she gags. She goes insane and starts licking your balls. "You're such a nasty girl, aren't you?" you ask her, grabbing your cock and slapping in on her face while spitting on her.

You fuck Eunha's pussy hard and fast for a little bit, punishing the slutty bunny with a hard pounding as a guy appears on the street. "Turn around, against the wall," you order to Eunha, letting the guy grope her tits while you spank her. Eunha bends over and shows her ass to the dude as you hit her big butt.

"Dirty slut, your punishment is far from over," you say to her, lifting the bar of her skirt. You take Eunha to a playground, tying her up to one of the equipments and putting a blindfold in her eyes. Eunha's body is completely suspended as you put your cock back in her ass. "I'm ready to use that asshole a little more," you say to her, toying as your cock goes in and out of her anus. 

"Fuck, ahhhh," Eunha moans as you thurst your cock deep in her ass and finger her horny cunt, her legs fully spread and suspended in the air as you fuck her ass in a missionary position. "Please, daddy, keep fucking my ass," a blindfolded Eunha says as you increase the pace, finger-fucking her pussy as well at the same pace you attack her asshole. You spank her pale butt like always, leading to more moans from the porcelain princess.

"Dadddy, can you fuck my pussy too?" Eunha asks. You accept it and switch holes, taking her cunt even harder as her body jiggles all over the playground equipment with the speed of your thrusts. Some kids appear at the playground, but you just don't care; to you, they will just be having a free class of sex education. Besides them, a stranger appears and gets side by side with you, who lets him finger Eunha's pussycat and eventually gets inside it.

You step aside as the stranger fucks Eunha's pussy. "Have fun," you tell him. The guy seizes the opportunity, pounding Eunha hard as you spit in her blindfolded face. "Stupid slut, can't resist any cock that comes in your way, can't you?" you say to Eunha, jerking your cock off and slapping on her face while the stranger fucks her hard and spanks her butt too.

"You like his cock, don't you?" you ask Eunha. "Yes, daddy, I can't help myself; I'm a bad bunny that loves cock," she answers. "Do you want him to cum in your pussy?" you ask her. "Yes, Daddy, would you let him?" she asks.

But the authrorization doesn't even need to come, as you inserting a vibrator on Eunha's clit makes her walls clench harder, making the stranger unable to resist as he fills her pussy full of his cum. You uncover Eunha's eyes, letting her enoy her cunt getting stuffed to the brim of a stranger's semen, much to her glee.

You and the stranger take Eunha under a shabbed railway bridge in the worst part of the neighborhood as you three go down an access stairway full of graffiti defacements and dirty walls. "Let's have some fun," you say, stripping Eunha fully naked and offering her to the strange. "Make him happy, you dirty slut," you continue, spanking her ass with the whip once more.

Eunha unbuttons the stranger's shorts, jerking his cock off until it gets hard again. She can feel the remnants of his sperm still covering his shaft. You get Eunha on her knees and push her to suck his cock; all that while you spank her back, make things worse for the horny bunny. Eunha savors his shaft under your watch as the stranger gropes her tits.

After some jerking off, you take your cock back in Eunha's pussy, making her get spit-roasted alongside the stranger. You fuck her furiously, spanking her tits and making her pay for being such a cockslut. Eunha gets completely bent over as she pleases both cocks.

"Where do you want our cum, you fucking slut?" you ask her. "In my ass," Eunha answers, prompting you to pull out and deliver her a nice fat load in her pretty slutty face as the stranger can't also resist the warmth of her mouth and soon glazes it with his cum. "What a cum bunny you are, dirty bitch," you say to her, spitting on her cum-filled face once again. "Thank him, bitch," you say to her. "Thank you," Eunha politely says to the stranger as he leaves.

The humiliation isn't over for Eunha though, far from it. You make her walk her across the neighborhood with both of your cum in her face, taking Eunha to the busiest square at the place. Where you take the jacket you had put on her and strip her completely naked once again, taking her back home with no clothes on.

Or so she thought.

To punish Eunha, you decide to go back where it all began, tying her to the garbage can as the pickup truck comes to take the used condoms she wore yesterday, showing what you truly think about her: a filthy, dirty, worthless horny whore that is completely disposable after sex.

A few hours later

It's freezing cold outside, and Eunha remains tied to the trash can. You finally have mercy on the little bunny and bring her back inside your house. Her skin is so pale now she looks like Snow White.

Eunha gets tied up and her body suspended in the air as you start to ask her some questions, ready for a night of dominance. "You look like such an innocent bunny; why are you here?" you start. "I want Daddy to give me as much pain as possible," she answers. "You better be very obedient, because if you don't behave, I'll deliver double the pain," you say to her.

"Yes, daddy, I'm so addicted to the way you spank my porcelain skin," Eunha says. You tease her, touching her body from top to bottom, before pinning her against the wall hard. "Look me in the eye and say it," you tell Eunha. "I want to be spanked, Daddy," Eunha answers. "Why, bunny?" you ask her. "Because I deserve it for being a bad cheating bunny," you say.

You start touching Eunha's pussy, edging her, and then stopping it. "You see, baby, I can give you the pleasure, but I can also take it away," you tell her. "Whatever you want, Daddy," Eunha says. "Then let me do it, Bunny," you say, making her moan hard. "AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH," Eunha moans. "Are you going to cum?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy, I'm going to cum," she says.

"No, you're not," you tell Eunha, pulling your hands out of her pussy and denying her an orgasm. You bring out the vibrator and start stimulating her again, showing her your intentions. "I'm going to fuck your throat, your pussy and your ass; use you like a little toy; is that what you want?" you ask. "Yes, daddy," she answers.

"You wanna cum?" you ask her again. "DADDY, I'M GONNA CUM," she answers, begging for it as you put the vibrator in her pussy and spank her tits. "OHHHHH," she screams. "Is that what you want, little bunny? Then say it to me," you ask again. "I'M GONNA CUM, I'M GONNA CUM, I'M GONNA CUM, PLEASE DADDY LET ME CUM," she screams. "PLEASE DADDY, PLEASE," she keeps screaming, running out of breath.

You push Eunha's body down until her face gets lined up against your shaft, feeding her mouth with your cock. She bobs her head on it, but not for long as you take the initiative and fuck her throat until she gags, reaching it balls deep in her mouth. "Yes, daddy, feed me that big cock," Eunha begs and gets it as her face gets pounded like it's a second pussy and she chokes all over it.

"Open your fucking mouth, bunny," you say, spitting on Eunha's face. "Keep it open; I'll take it all the way down," you say as saliva comes out of Eunha's chin. You use it to lube your hands and massage her needy cunt until Eunha squirts all over the floor.

"Please, daddy, use me harder," Eunha says as you suspend her body back up, lining your cock to her pussy and inserting it inside her. "FUCK," Eunha gasps, already very sensitive from your edging session. "H YEAH, DADDY, USE MY PUSSY," Eunha says. "Beg harder," you tell her, pulling out after a couple thrusts. "PLEASE, DADDY, MAY I HAVE YOUR BIG FAT COCK IN MY SLUTTY BUNNY PUSSY?" Eunha screams.

"Do you think you're ready?" you say, spanking her pussy. "Yes, daddy, I'm more than ready," Eunha answers. You spank her butt and then go back in her pussy, grabbing her by the ass and fucking her hard, making her body shake as you clap hard against her cheeks. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" Eunha screams nonstop. "AHHHHHHH," she says as she squirts on your naked body.

"Fucking taste it, you bunny slut," you tell Eunha, feeding her juices straight into her mouth. "You want more?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy, please, give me more," Eunha answers as you do just that, fucking her pussy hard. "OHHHHH YESSSS, MAKE ME CUM, DADDY," she moans.

"No," you stop. "You will only cum when I say so," you say, smacking her pussy and enjoying the squirting coming out of it. "AHHHHHH," Eunha screams as she cums. "Thank you, Daddy," she says, looking like an utterly submissive bunny.

You give more hard thrusts into Eunha's sensitive cunt, enjoying the clapping sounds that come out of your bodies colliding against each other. You choke her and then turn her around, starting spanking her fat ass cheeks. "AHHHHH, DADDDY," she screams. "Thank you, Daddy," she then says as they turn red.

"I didn't tell you to speak," you say to Eunha, kissing the bunny and punishing her by jerking your cock off against her clit, making her squirt before pounding her like a crazy. "OH GOD, YES, YES, YES, DADDDY," Eunha screamed. "Thank you, Daddy," she says again as you pull out and stare at her.

You untie Eunha, dropping her at the stairs of your house and opening her legs, tying her up to the handrail before you insert your cock in her ass. "Yes, daddy, please, fuck my ass," she begs. "Yes, daddy, stretch my ass," Eunha begs as you go deeper in it and spank her tits. "You're such a bad bunny," you say.

You show no mercy to Eunha's tight butthole, making things harder for the little bunny as you play with her pussy. "OH FUCK DADDY!" Eunha screams. She whispers inaudible words to you as you keep spanking her whole body. "AHHHHH," Eunha screams as you hit her nipples hard. You tease her cunt with more rubbing. "Ohhh, daddy, please, make me squirt," Eunha begs as you resume the anal pounding, leading her to moan with her mouth wide open.

"Fuck, yes, daddy, yes, daddy," Eunha moans as you now choke her and destroy her butthole. "AHHHHHH," Eunha screams as your cock hits the depths of her anus. You look at your dirty bunny girlfriend calling you Daddy, her pale skin now completely red. "Take every inch of your cock inside me, AHHHHHHH," Eunha moans. 

"Spank my tits, daddy, choke me," Eunha begs as you fuck her harder, getting more and more animalesque. "OHHHHHH," she screams as the spanking never stops. Her tits, her cheeks, her face—everything is a target.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, please, daddy, let me cum again," Eunha says, but you ignore her, saying focused on fucking her ass. Her thicc thighs and big butt are now almost with her flesh exposed after so much spanking.

"Oh yes," you say as Eunha starts letting out a geyser of squirt out of her pussy. "AHHHHHH," the little bunny screams as you stare at her wasted face, never pulling out of her ass and pushing it deep, making her squirt again almost as if the tip of your cock had pressed some kind of button buried in her anus. 

Eunha squirts multiple times with the anal session you give her. "OH GOD, FUCK ME, DADDY," she screams and begs. "Daddy, it feels so good," she says as you can't stop destroying her butthole and enjoy her squirt all over the stairs steps. "Fuck daddy, you use my ass so good; I want more; I'm a needy bunny for daddy's cock," Eunha says.

"Then turn around," you tell her. Eunha obliges as you tie her knees to the stairs, and your cock quickly finds her already sore butthole for more fun. "Oh yeah, you're so deep, daddy," Eunha moans, more so when you turn her cheeky butt into your prime target of spankings. Eunha's cheeks get massacred, getting hit every time you hit deep in her ass. You enjoy seeing the exposed red flesh from so many hits you deliver on them, only pushing you to go harder. Despite all that pounding, her asshole is still as tight as ever and queefs with your cock inside it. 

Spank, spank, spank. That's all you do now. "Daddy, you're gonna make me cum with so much spanking," Eunha says as she gets used like a little toy. A fuckbunny. "Pull my hair, Daddy," she pleads, and you follow. "I'm your dirty little slut daddy; yes, daddy, treat me like a free use fuckhole," she begs, her body shaking with the speed of your poundings.

"Daddy, you like making bunny cum?" Eunha asks you. "Yes, I love using that bunny until she cums," you tell her, staying focused on pounding her ass. Eunha is completely wasted, but she doesn't want you to stop, jiggling her butt as you fuck it. "I'M CUMMING FOR YOU, DADDY," Eunha announces. You slow down, toying with her gaped anus going in and out of it, giving her sensitive hole a little stabbing. 

But your kindness is short-lived. You soon mount on top of Eunha and deliver her the most aggressive anal pounding of the night. "OH FUCK, YOU'RE HITTING ME SO DEEP, DADDY," she screams. Eunha's ass gets used hard as you are like a raging bull fucking a cow—I mean, a bunny. Your thrusts are full of energy and power, making Eunha roll her eyes as she struggles to cope with the heat.

"I'll do anything for you, Daddy," Eunha says. "Well, then let me use that big, fat, cheeky, red ass," you say, tossing all adjectives about her butt while pounding it hard. "I'm a bad bunny," Eunha says. "Yes, you are," you tell her, choking your slutty girlfriend.

"AHHHHHH," Eunha moans as she cums again. You spank her butt multiple times after pulling out of her ass. "Yes, daddy, harder," she begs. "You want more?" you ask her. "Yes," she answers. "Beg," you reply. "Yes, daddy, please, give me more; spank me like a bad bunny, harder," she says.

After beating Eunha's cheeks like a drum, you reach to finger her throbbing pussy, making her moan and then hitting her every time she screams. "Stay quiet, bitch, I'm going to punish you," you answer, getting back in Eunha's ass and fucking her like crazy, showing no mercy for her and not getting her feeling getting in the way of your anal destruction. "Oh yeah, daddy, you fuck that tight little asshole so well," she says.

The stairs creak as Eunha screams and groans. You finally stop as Eunha begs you to cum again, whispering like a needy bunny. "I need you; I need you; please, Daddy," she says, very out of breath.

"Then come here," you tell Eunha, tying her arms to the ceilling by a chain. "That's right, bunny, sit right down this cock," you command to her as Eunha drops down it with her ass. "OHHHHHHH," she gasps as your length impales her. "Ohhhhh, daddy, ahhhh," Eunha moans as she starts bouncing on it, her legs spread at 180 degrees. "Oh fuck, it feels so good in my ass," she moans.

"That's it, little bunny; now I'm taking control," you say, pounding her from down low. "AHHHHHHH," Eunha squeals as your cock drills her asshole one final time. You manhandle her queefing anus, groaning like a monster and massaging her cunt to make her squirt. "OHHHHHH FUCKKKK!" Eunha screams. She gets pounded to oblivion, losing sight of her surroundings.

"YES DADDY, YES, DADDY, YES DADDY, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, I'M GONNA CUM," Eunha says, losing her breath and grinding on your cock. "Please, make me cum," Eunha moans as she's basically levitating with your thursts. "Take it all," you say, your balls smashing against her clit. "Yes, daddy, I will take all that cock in my a... fuck," Eunha moans. You and her reach orgasm at the same time as she squirts on your body and you explode inside her asshole.

Eunha grinds on your cock as your cum flows out of her asshole. You free her and start jerking your cock off against her face. "I think I'm going to cum again; you're just too sexy, Eunha," you say to her. "Cum for me, daddy, cum for your little bunny," she says, sticking her tongue out. Her pretty face begging for it makes you lose it again, covering her blonde hair and sexy face with your white seed shortly after again.

"Thank you, Daddy," Eunha says as she licks your shaft and cleans it one final time. You go to bed and leave Eunha lying on the floor at the stairs, her body full of cum as you finish punishing that bad bunny. "You'll be sleeping here tonight," you say to her.

"The next day you wake up and don't find Eunha there, until you go to the kitchen and find a scene that makes you spill your milk: Eunha upside down and completely tied up. As she sees you, she asks you something.

"Daddy, can you punish me again?"

[candyeager]

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

— sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

PART TWO 10.1k words

short summary. in which your heartbreak over Mikey pulls you into the dangerous and irresistible orbit of Bonten's Number Two, Haruchiyo Sanzu. warnings. sanzu haruchiyo is his own warning, graphic violence, substance abuse, toxic/manipulative relationships, explicit sexual content, depression & self-destructive behaviour, strong language. tags. female reader insert, bonten au, tsundere!sanzu, ex-boyfriend!mikey, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, heavy pining/yearning.

masterlist

Manjiro Sano never hurts you—not physically, at least—though the emotional havoc he's wreaked has left you unraveling. But what you face now is something entirely different. 

Haruchiyo Sanzu's grip is iron-clad, dragging you away from Mikey's door with no regard for your protests. His fingers dig into your wrist like vices, the pressure biting deep into your skin until the pain is sharp and throbbing. It radiates up your arm, but even that ache is dull compared to the hollow devastation gnawing at your chest. The image of Mikey with her—so close, so intimate—burns behind your eyelids every time you blink.

It's as though the world around you has ceased to exist. You can't even register the hallways passing by as Sanzu hauls you through them, his erratic pace nearly causing you to stumble. You feel like a ragdoll in his grasp, powerless, your heart beating out of sync with reality.

Kakucho's voice filters through the numbness. "Sanzu... what are you doing?"

There's concern in his tone, but he stays planted where he is, as if crossing that line would be dangerous. 

Sanzu doesn't slow, doesn't even glance at him. His lips curl into a sneer as cold as the concrete walls. 

"Taking care of a stray," he bites, yanking you closer as though you might slip from his grip.

The words sting, but not as much as what follows.

Kakucho's frown deepens, but he's hesitant. "You sure you wanna do that? She's—"

Sanzu cuts him off, sharp and merciless. "She's nothing. A nobody. Mikey made that pretty fucking clear, didn't he?"

Nothing. A nobody.

Each word hits you with the force of a physical blow. Whatever you were to Mikey, whatever you thought you had—it's been ripped away, stripped down to these ugly truths. 

You're nothing now.

Kakucho's gaze flickers to you, sympathy and uncertainty mingling in his dark eyes. But you can't meet them. You drop your head, staring at the floor as though it holds all the answers you need. Maybe if you don't look, you won't have to acknowledge what Sanzu just said. Maybe you can pretend you didn't hear it.

Mikey doesn't want you anymore.

"Stop this," Kakucho urges, stepping forward now, his movements careful, deliberate. "You're high. This isn't going to end well, you know that."

Sanzu's eyes snap up, wild and feral, like a predator guarding its kill. "Exactly." His voice drops to a venomous whisper. "So back the fuck off before I kill you too."

The tension between them is palpable, but Kakucho eventually steps back, his jaw tight with barely suppressed anger. He's seen what Sanzu is capable of when he's in this state. They all have. 

"Just don't go too far," Kakucho mutters, his voice tight, his eyes flicking to you one last time before he steps aside. His reluctance lingers, but in the end, he's still letting you be dragged away.

Ran, sprawled lazily on the couch, barely lifts his head as he calls after Sanzu. "Mission's at nine. Try not to be dead before then."

Sanzu pays no mind to either of them. His grip tightens, and you're dragged deeper into Bonten's labyrinthine corridors, every step taking you further from any hope of intervention.

He pulls you into a small room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle your bones. A click follows—the lock sliding into place—and you're alone. Alone with him.

The room is stark, clinical, a conference table dominating the space with its polished wood surface and neatly lined chairs. But there's nothing neat about what's happening now. The moment Sanzu shoves you against the table, hard enough that the edge bites into your lower back, the sterile, formal atmosphere of the room is obliterated.

His hand shoots up, fingers wrapping around your throat. The pressure is immediate, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurs at the edges. You gasp instinctively, hands flying to his wrist, nails scraping against his skin, but he's too strong. His hold tightens further, cutting off more of your air, and panic grips you.

He leans in, his breath hot against your face, laced with the stench of drugs. His expression is wild, unhinged, pupils dilated and blown wide with intoxication. But beneath the drugs, there's something else—an anger, a bitterness that has nothing to do with you, but is aimed at you all the same.

"Now..." His voice is low, almost a growl. "What the fuck do I have to do to make you understand that you don't belong here?"

Your lungs burn, your head spinning as your fingers claw at his hand. I don't belong here? The thought pierces through your fog of fear. Maybe he's right. You're not sure of anything anymore—not after Mikey, not after what you saw. 

You can't breathe, and everything is turning dark. Sanzu's face, his mocking grin, is the only thing in focus.

Tears well up, spilling over your lashes. But you're not crying because of the physical pain. It's the emotional torment that's killing you. The crushing realization that you are utterly, completely alone. No one's coming to save you. 

Sanzu watches as you choke on your own sobs, and he laughs, low and cold. "Already crying?" he mocks. "I haven't even started yet."

But the tears won't stop. The dam inside you breaks, and you're gasping, sobbing uncontrollably in front of him. You can't take it anymore. Not this. Not after what Mikey's done to you.

"Just..." You choke on the words, your voice broken and hoarse. "Just fucking kill me already."

For a moment, there's silence. Then, his grip on your neck loosens just enough to let you breathe. You gasp, sucking in precious air, coughing as your lungs fight for life. But the relief is short-lived.

Sanzu's face hovers inches from yours, his smirk growing, eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. "Kill you?" His tone is soft now, condescending. "Nah. That's too easy."

His fingers trace the curve of your jaw, rough, possessive. "I think I'd rather play with you a little longer." 

You squeeze your eyes shut, hands pressing against your face as tears continue to spill down your cheeks. This feels so stupid. So, so stupid. Mikey's across the hall with his wife, living his perfect life, while you're stuck here with Sanzu—his insane, drugged-up number two. 

What a fucking downgrade. 

Suddenly, without warning, Sanzu grabs your face roughly, forcing you to look up at him through your tear-filled eyes.

"You're pathetic," he sneers before crushing his lips against yours. 

The kiss is brutal, possessive, and filled with an overwhelming heat that makes your skin crawl. You try to push him away, but his weight presses you into the table, your wrists pinned beneath his hands. It's suffocating, just like his grip on your throat.

And then you taste it. Something bitter and foreign sliding past your lips. Your eyes widen in horror as you realize what he's doing.

He pulls back, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, "Swallow."

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. No way. You're not going to swallow that. You try to spit it out, but his hand clamps down over your mouth, smothering any attempt to resist.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," he murmurs, his tone soft but filled with menace. "Be a good girl... and swallow."

His words slither into your ears, so sweet and venomous all at once, poisoning what little willpower you have left. You want to fight him. You want to scream and tear away from him, but you can't. Your body is too sluggish, too weak to resist, and part of you doesn't want to. 

It wants him to be right.

It's easier, isn't it? To let him take control. To stop resisting and just give in, let the numbness wash over you. Maybe then the pain of everything—of Mikey, of the betrayal, of this twisted mess—will fade, even just for a moment.

"I said swallow," Sanzu hisses, his patience thinning. "That. Shit."

You finally swallow the pill, the bitterness lingering on your tongue like a promise you'll regret. The drug settles deep inside you, blooming warmth spreading through your chest like wildfire, but there's no comfort in it. It only intensifies the chaos swirling in your mind—the betrayal, the loss, the desire to escape. It all collides in a sickening wave, leaving you gasping, clinging to the edge of the table as your body betrays you.

Sanzu watches you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl, his eyes dark, wide, and hungry. He's waiting. Waiting for the drug to take hold, waiting for you to crumble.

"Good girl," he breathes, and the words slide over your skin, soft and menacing. His gaze lingers, tracing every tremor in your body, every stifled breath. 

The drug spreads quickly—too quickly. The next thing you know the room is spinning violently, the floor tipping beneath your feet, and you're stumbling as warmth floods your limbs. You try to steady yourself, but your body feels too light, too hot, like you're floating, disconnected from reality. Your breath quickens, panic swelling in your chest as your senses sharpen, every touch, every sound amplified to unbearable levels.

Sanzu's hands are still on you, his touch electric, sending jolts through your skin. You gasp, your heart racing as the euphoria spreads, tangling with the devastation inside you, turning everything into a dizzying blur of sensation. You can barely breathe, and yet, in the haze of it all, a part of you is aware of his gaze, watching you intently, reveling in your reaction.

"How does it feel? Hmm?" His voice is low, almost a purr, and you can feel his breath against your ear as he leans in closer. 

"First time's always the best." He laughs, a quiet, sinister sound that rattles through your bones. "You'll feel good soon... or maybe you'll just cry harder. Who knows?"

You choke on a sob, the tears spilling over as the drug overtakes you, drowning you in heat and haze. Your body feels foreign, your mind too foggy to comprehend anything other than the intensity of it all. You want to fight it, fight him, but there's nothing to hold on to—nothing but him.

And that terrifies you.

"Let go," he murmurs. "Let it take over... Forget about him. Forget everything. Just feel."

Your body acts before your mind can catch up, your hand clutching the front of his shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. It's an instinctual, desperate motion, driven by something deep inside—a need for warmth, for something to hold on to. You can't explain it, but you crave him now, the heat of his body, the solidity of his presence. You pull him closer, though you don't even understand why, though it feels all wrong.

"Look at you..." Sanzu's chuckle is dark, amused. "Hanging onto me like a lost puppy." 

But he leans in anyway, his breath brushing against your neck as he speaks. His proximity feels like a lifeline, shielding you from the blinding lights that seem to intensify with every passing second. The room tilts, but his voice anchors you, even as it weaves dirty, degrading things in your ear—things that make your stomach twist, yet ignite something you don't want to acknowledge.

Your heart races, breath coming in ragged bursts. Everything is too intense—his touch, his words, the sensation of your body betraying you. You don't understand this feeling, this mixture of euphoria and humiliation. It's confusing, overwhelming, and yet, you can't shake the craving. The need for more. 

His touch, his heat.

Then, without warning, he steps back.

The sudden absence of him is like a cold slap to the face, leaving you breathless and cold. Your body aches for the warmth he took with him, for the closeness that you didn't even know you craved. You hate it. You hate the emptiness he leaves behind.

He adjusts his waistcoat with a casual smirk, like this was all just a game to him, like your unraveling was just another form of entertainment. 

"You're on your own now," he says, his voice detached, distant. "Enjoy the ride."

And just like that, he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You're left sprawled across the table, the world spinning, lights burning into your skull. Your limbs are heavy, useless, and you try to move, to escape the overwhelming heat and dizziness suffocating you, but your body won't cooperate. You tumble to the floor, the carpet catching your fall with a soft thud.

A giggle bubbles up from your throat, though you don't know why. Everything feels distant, like you're floating, detached from reality. The warmth of the drug mingles with the cold ache of abandonment, creating a disorienting swirl of emotions that you can't make sense of.

And so you lie there, lost in the haze, your body sinking deeper into the plush floor as the laughter fades, leaving only the hollow emptiness behind.

Until, finally, the world pulls you into the darkness of sleep.

Manjiro Sano never cheated on you before. You've known him for nine years—nine long years where loyalty was never questioned, not once. He's never strayed, never looked at another woman the way he looks at you. That was the truth you clung to through all the chaos, the violence, the bloodshed. But tonight, the foundation of that truth crumbles before your eyes.

When you catch him with his wife, it's not exactly cheating, is it? Not when she's the one wearing the ring. Not when she's the one he made vows to. And yet, it feels like betrayal. If anything, you're the other woman now. Your position, the one you held so dearly, has shifted, without your consent.

He's the one betraying her, not you. But that logic doesn't make the pain any easier to bear. It still cuts deep, searing through you with what you had just witnessed in Mikey's office. You thought you were strong enough to endure it, thought you could compartmentalize the ache gnawing at your insides. You were wrong. The sight of them together burns itself into your mind like a wound that refuses to heal.

Until Sanzu forced that pill down your throat. 

The memory floods back, vivid and suffocating. His twisted grin, the roughness of his hands, the way he made you feel so helpless. But now? Now you feel the strangest relief. The aching wound in your chest—the one Mikey and his wife carved out—fades into a distant blur, replaced by a creeping, unnatural numbness. Your mind is hazy, clouded, but in that haze, you find comfort.

The world felt kinder in that numbness. And for a moment, you were almost grateful for the relief Sanzu gave you. Almost.

When you wake up, the high is gone, leaving behind a pounding headache and a body that feels stiff, heavy, like someone drained the life from you. The floor feels strange under your hands, cold and unfamiliar. You blink, trying to orient yourself, and realize you're not on the floor anymore. Someone moved you—you're sprawled across the couch in the executive lounge, a blanket thrown haphazardly over you like an afterthought.

Your body screams in discomfort, muscles sore, your skin aching where his hands had pressed too hard. But the pain is secondary to the memories—Sanzu. That damn pill. The way he—

"You're awake."

The voice cuts through the fog in your mind, and your head snaps to the side. Mikey sits in a chair not far from you, the dim light casting shadows across his face. He's watching you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes are different. Tired. 

The night stretches behind him through the window, a dark sky lit by city lights. The office is quiet. Everyone else is gone. Even Sanzu.

It's just you and Mikey now.

You don't answer him. The ache in your chest resurfaces, sharper this time, suffocating as the image of him and his wife flashes in your mind again. It hits harder now, with Mikey sitting right in front of you, looking at you.

You push yourself up, your body swaying under the weight of exhaustion and leftover dizziness. Your throat is sore, bruised, where Sanzu's fingers had pressed too hard, too rough, forcing. You reach up instinctively, wincing at the tenderness, and you catch Mikey's gaze drop to your neck.

His jaw clenches. The air between you shifts—heavy, tense.

"He won't touch you again."

His voice is low, soft, but there's a dangerous edge beneath it, one that sends a chill through your veins. You know that tone. It's the tone he uses before someone dies.

You swallow, the reality sinking in. What has Mikey done? What did he do to Sanzu? The thought twists in your gut, unease settling deep inside you, but part of you pushes the thought away. Sanzu deserves whatever he gets, doesn't he? After what he did?

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "Forget about that... He gave me something. A pill."

Mikey's face shifts, unreadable for a moment, then he shrugs. "A pill? X, probably. He does that sometimes. Are you alright?"

That makes sense. No wonder you passed out so quickly. But it doesn't ease the anger boiling inside you, doesn't take away the humiliation of letting Sanzu drag you deeper into his twisted games when you were already at your lowest.

"I'm fine," you bite out, though it feels like a lie. 

Fine? You're far from fine.

The words hang in the air, sharp, bitter, and when you look at Mikey, the ache in your chest becomes unbearable. You're not sure if it's anger or heartbreak that makes it so hard to breathe.

"Mikey..." you begin again, your voice cracking slightly, the words lodged in your throat. It's harder than you thought to say it, because once it's out, there's no taking it back. 

"We can't just pretend like nothing's changed."

He doesn't look at you at first. He just stares at the floor, his jaw clenched tight, as though he's trying to force himself to say something, but can't. The silence stretches on painfully before he finally speaks, his voice so low you almost don't hear him.

"I know things are different." Each word sounds forced, like it's taking every ounce of strength for him to admit it. "But..."

Your heart clenches, your breath catching in your throat. There's always a 'but' with him, isn't there? Always some excuse, some reason why things can't go back to the way they were.

"But what, Mikey?" you ask, unable to stop yourself. It's not anger that drives you this time, but the desperation clawing at your insides. "You have feelings for her now, don't you?"

You watch him as he exhales slowly, his face still calm, almost detached. You wish he would say something, anything, to ease the ache in your chest. But he doesn't.

"I do," he says, his voice distant. It's a confession that feels like a knife to your heart. "I can't deny that. She's... she's gonna have my kid. It's not simple anymore."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You knew it, deep down, but hearing him say it aloud makes it real in a way you weren't prepared for. The sharp, bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the back of your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions from spilling over, but your voice wavers when you speak again.

"And us?" 

The question slips out, soft and fragile, but it cuts deeper than anything you've said before. You're asking about more than just your relationship—you're asking about the nine years you gave him, about the promises he made, about the love you once believed was unbreakable.

Mikey's eyes finally meet yours, and for a brief moment, you see the boy you once knew—the boy who swore he'd never leave you, who promised you forever under the stars when you were both too young to understand what that meant. His gaze softens for a second, a flicker of something almost tender, almost apologetic.

"I still care about you," he says, his voice low but steady. There's no hesitation in his tone, no doubt. But it's not the answer you were hoping for. "That hasn't changed."

But it has. 

The truth of that slams into you with crushing finality. You shake your head, the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating you. 

"Oh, it has, Mikey," you whisper, barely able to get the words out. "You know that."

The silence that follows is thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. Mikey doesn't argue, doesn't try to convince you otherwise. He just leans back in his chair, his hands falling limp at his sides, as though he's too exhausted to fight anymore. There's a defeat in his posture that wasn't there before, as if even he knows this is the end.

You want to scream at him, demand why it took him so long to be honest, why he let things fall apart so silently. But the words won't come. All that's left is the ache, the unbearable knowledge that the man you've loved for nearly a decade is slipping further away from you with every passing second.

Mikey looks like he's about to say something, his lips parting slightly, but then he falters, his shoulders sagging under the weight of whatever he's holding back. 

"Maybe," he murmurs after a moment, his voice so soft you almost miss it. For the first time, he sounds vulnerable. "But I don't want to lose you. I can't..."

His voice breaks, just a little, and that cracks something inside of you too. Because it sounds like the truth, like the rawness of his feelings is finally breaking through the cold exterior he always wears. Nine years together, and this is where it's come to—a place where even his honesty feels too late. Too hollow. You know it's not enough. It never will be.

You don't want to lose him either. You don't want to believe that all those years meant nothing. But deep down, you know it already has. The moment she became his wife, the moment he chose her, you lost this battle. The war in your heart is over, and all that remains is the wreckage of what once was.

"You're already losing me," you whisper, the finality of it sinking in. Each word feels like a dagger in your own chest. "When you started choosing her, Mikey."

Mikey doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He just sits there, silent and still, like he's frozen in time. Maybe he doesn't have the strength to argue. Maybe, deep down, he knows it's true. He's losing you, and there's nothing left he can do to stop it.

You don't wait for his answer anymore. You've spent too long waiting for him to decide, too long hoping for a future that's already gone. The pain in your body—your aching muscles, the soreness from Sanzu's rough touch—it all fades into the background, drowned out by the unbearable weight of your broken heart.

You push yourself to your feet, your legs shaking slightly under the strain. But you don't let yourself falter. You can't, not now.

"You need to figure this out on your own," you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay strong. Your words are an ultimatum, a final plea for him to understand what he's done. 

"Because I can't keep waiting for you to choose me. I'm not meant to be an option. I'm worth more than that."

There's nothing left to say. The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of goodbye. Mikey doesn't move, doesn't speak, and that hurts more than anything else. He's letting you walk away.

Without another word, you turn and head toward the elevator. Each step feels like a thousand miles, like you're walking out of his life for good. And maybe you are. Maybe this is the end you've been dreading for so long.

The elevator doors close behind you with a soft click, and in the quiet of the enclosed space, the tears finally come. They fall silently at first, warm trails down your cheeks, but you don't wipe them away. 

As the elevator descends, you let the tears flow freely. The weight of the years, the memories, the love you poured into him—it all hits you at once, and you don't stop it. You don't need to hide from the truth anymore.

Manjiro Sano has killed before. The thought of it had once terrified you, the cold certainty in his eyes when he spoke of violence always chilling. 

You know this because you asked him, point-blank, one night when the weight of his world became too much to ignore. He didn't tell you directly, but the silence that followed, the coldness in his eyes, was answer enough. In that moment, the boy you knew, the boy you loved, disappeared into the shadows of the man he had become.

Still, you accepted him. Loved him anyway. You convinced yourself it was the only way to keep him—by accepting all of him, even the parts you couldn't bear to understand. You've always found a way to justify it—his actions, his choices, the darkness that clung to him like a second skin. Because loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. It became an instinct, a reflex, something that felt inevitable.

But now, the uncertainty gnaws at you, harder than ever before. Not just the heaviness of knowing who he is, but the gnawing question of what he's capable of—what he's done to the people around him. 

What he's done to Sanzu.

Your mind races, replaying every detail of your last conversation with Mikey. The hard edge to his voice, the finality in his words. If Mikey killed him, it's because of you, isn't it? Because of what Sanzu did to you. 

If Sanzu's dead, then his blood is on your hands. 

That thought lodges itself deep in your chest, a weight too heavy to shake. Even after everything—after the drug, the violence, the way he pushed you to the edge—you can't stomach the idea of Sanzu dying because of you.

Which is why you find yourself here again, standing outside Sanzu's condominium in the middle of the night, your heart pounding so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts. 

Mikey's words echo in your mind—his cold, distant voice, the final crack in everything you thought you knew about him. The realization had shattered you in ways you hadn't been prepared for.

It's over.

The words taste bitter on your tongue, but they ring with a truth that you can't deny. The boy you loved, the man you thought you'd stand beside forever—he's gone. And in his place is someone you no longer recognize.

Your feet move almost on their own as you approach Sanzu's door, but a hesitation stops you just before you reach the doorbell. Do you even know what you're doing here? What you want? You aren't sure. But the pull toward him, toward finding out what Mikey's done, is stronger than your doubts. 

With a shaky breath, you press the doorbell. The silence that follows is deafening, punctuated only by the racing of your heart. Each second that passes feels like a lifetime, until finally, the shuffle of footsteps inside tells you someone's there.

The door swings open with a creak, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. Relief washes over you—but only for a second. What replaces it is a sharp stab of pity. 

Sanzu looks like hell. His one eye is swollen and bruised, a fresh bandage covering the right side of his face. His lips are split and caked with dried blood, a sight that twists something deep in your chest. 

His trademark sneer is still there, but it's marred by the pain that's evident in the way he stands, slightly hunched, favoring one side. There's an anger in his eyes, but behind it, you can see the weariness, the vulnerability he would never admit to.

"What the fuck do you want now?" Sanzu snaps, his voice sharp despite the obvious discomfort he's in. He's trying to sound like his usual self, but you can tell the fight has been knocked out of him. He's hurting. Badly.

Your mouth opens to respond, the words on the tip of your tongue, but they die there. Seeing him like this—broken, battered—it's not what you expected. It shakes something loose inside of you. Your eyes scan his injuries, your mind reeling with the knowledge that Mikey did this. The boy you loved did this.

Mikey isn't supposed to be this brutal. Not with his own.

The thought makes your chest tighten painfully, and before you can stop it, the tidal wave of emotion crashes over you. Tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. You thought you'd cried all the tears you had to give tonight, but this time, they come from a place deeper than heartbreak. This time, you're crying for everything—for Mikey, for Sanzu, for the person you've become in all this mess.

Sanzu's sneer fades slightly as he takes in the sight of you, replaced by an annoyed scowl. He's trying to hide his discomfort, but you can see the confusion in his eyes. 

"The hell are you crying for? Stop that now!" His words are rough, but there's an edge of bewilderment in them. 

He doesn't understand why you're here, why you're crying.

But you can't stop. The sobs come hard and fast, tearing through you in a way that makes it hard to breathe. You're overwhelmed, consumed by the realization that Mikey is no longer the man you fell in love with. When did he start to change? When did the violence become more than just a part of his world, but a part of him?

Sanzu watches you, his irritation growing as your sobs continue. He's never been good with emotions—especially not yours.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, rubbing a hand across his face and wincing as he touches the bruise. "You're crying over him, huh?"

His words hit you like a slap, and more tears fall, a pitiful, uncontrollable mess. And in that moment, you don't care. You don't care that Sanzu's dangerous, that he's hurt you before, that he's the reason you ended up here in the first place. All you can think about is the fact that Mikey—your Mikey—is gone.

He's no longer the boy who used to hold you late at night, whispering promises of a future that now feels like a distant dream. He's no longer the man who looked at you like you were his entire world.

He's no longer yours.

Sanzu scoffs, the sound harsh in the quiet hallway. "Fuck's sake, stop crying. You're acting like a kid." 

But even his sharp words don't reach you. 

When you don't respond, don't even acknowledge him, something in Sanzu snaps. He can't stand it anymore—the emotions, the tears, the fact that you're standing here crying over someone else while he's falling apart.

"Goddammit!" he snarls, and before you can blink, he slams the door in your face. 

The sound echoes in the empty hallway, a loud, final punctuation to the moment. You're left standing there, your body trembling as the sobs finally start to quiet, though the tears continue to stream down your cheeks. You're alone again, and the weight of that reality hits you harder than anything else.

Mikey is gone. And so is the life you thought you'd have.

Manjiro Sano hated seeing you cry. Every time your tears would spill, it was like the world stopped spinning. His face would twist in pain, even if the tears weren't his fault. He once said that when you cried, it felt like he had failed—like he should have protected you from whatever caused them. 

He always pulled you into his arms when you broke down, his touch so gentle it was almost unreal. He would stroke your hair, whispering that everything was okay, hiding you in the crook of his shoulder so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

But that Mikey? That Mikey is long gone.

Now you're standing outside Sanzu's condo unit, your fingers shaking as you try to dry your tear-streaked face. The cold air bites at your skin, or maybe it's the weight of what's happened tonight that chills you to the bone. 

The second time you've cried in front of Sanzu today. 

The first time, his hands were around your throat, forcing a pill past your lips, his eyes distant and clouded with drugs. The second time, there was no pill, no high to hide behind—just bruises, pain, and a door slammed in your face.

You shouldn't have come here, but at least you know he's alive. Mikey hadn't killed him, though something in the pit of your stomach told you it could have easily gone that way. You should feel relieved. Instead, the relief is mingled with anger, a deep-seated frustration that makes your heart pound even harder.

Just as you wipe away the last tear, the door swings open again. 

Sanzu stands in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the dim light inside. His scowl deepens as his eyes land on you, scanning your face like he's surprised you're still standing there. 

Then, without a word, he grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, slamming the door shut behind you. His grip is rough, but it loosens as soon as you're inside, leaving you stunned and blinking in the middle of his condo unit.

He disappears into another room and comes back with a box of tissues, shoving it toward you without a word. You take it, still in shock, as your eyes land on the bandage on his cheek. It's crooked, slapped on without much care, and his busted lip is still untreated, blood crusting around the edges, making him look even more broken than usual. You flinch inwardly at the sight.

"Did you get that wound treated?" Your voice is softer than you intended, concern slipping through the cracks in your resolve.

Sanzu glares at you. "What's it to you?"

You ignore his harshness, stepping closer. "You need to clean it properly," you say as your eyes fall to the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, scars you've always tried not to stare at too long. 

"Or it'll leave... a scar."

"Yeah? So what?" he mutters, brushing off your concern as he walks away.

You stare at him, the words catching in your throat. The sight of him—bruised and bandaged sloppily—somehow makes your chest ache in ways you don't fully understand.

"Don't you have any antiseptic?" you ask, turning toward the door. "I'll go buy some if—"

"I have it," he grunts, cutting you off. "Top shelf, next to you. You'd think I wouldn't know how to deal with a damn wound in this line of work?"

You glance at the haphazard bandage on his cheek, clearly not impressed by his self-care. Still, you open the shelf and retrieve a small emergency kit. 

"Then why didn't you treat the cut on your lip?" you ask, your voice a little firmer this time as you sit on the edge of his couch. "Surely you know you need to put antiseptic on it."

Sanzu grumbles under his breath, looking away. "Because... it fucking hurts, alright?"

You freeze for a second, blinking at him in surprise. Sanzu—the man who seems to thrive on chaos and pain—can't handle the sting of a simple cut? It's almost absurd, and yet, in that moment, you glimpse a flicker of something real beneath his usual mask. Vulnerability.

"I didn't think you were afraid of pain," you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

"I'm not afraid of it," he snaps, his voice rising defensively. "I just fucking hate it."

There's a childishness in his tone that catches you off guard, like he's throwing a tantrum rather than admitting weakness. The outburst lingers in the air for a moment before you decide to ignore it, reaching for the antiseptic in the first aid kit.

"Let me treat it." Your voice is calm, quiet. An olive branch, if only he'd take it.

Sanzu stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowing. "Forget it," he mutters, brushing you off. "I don't need you all over my business."

"You're a dick, you know that?" you say, watching him limp slightly as he heads toward the pantry. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach.

He doesn't even glance back as he opens the fridge, retrieving a beer. "And I get paid for it," he replies, voice flat, devoid of his usual smugness.

You roll your eyes as he cracks the can open, lifting it to his lips, his pink hair a mess, like he's been through more than just a fight with Mikey. The black shirt and sweatpants he's wearing make him look almost... domestic. It hits you, suddenly—this familiarity, this strange sense of calm despite everything. It reminds you of Mikey, the way he used to walk around your apartment. The way things used to be. 

Your heart twists.

"We broke up," you blurt out, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them. It's like ripping off a bandage—quick and painful, but it has to be done.

Sanzu pauses mid-sip, his back still turned to you. You watch as he downs the rest of the beer in one long gulp, crushing the can in his hand before tossing it aside. 

"'Bout time. I'm surprised it took him this long to figure it out," he mutters, but his words lack bite. There's no usual mockery, no cruelty, just... hollow indifference.

You study him, sensing the weight of his own pain, the bruises left by Mikey—not just on his body but somewhere deeper. You want to ask, to probe at the cracks in his usual defenses, but you don't. Instead, you take a breath and shift the conversation.

"I know, right?" You force a smile that feels thin, brittle. "I'm so heartbroken." The sarcasm coats your words, but it can't hide the tremor in your voice. 

"You must be feeling pretty good right now, so why not do me a favor?" You motion for him to sit beside you. "Sit here and let me treat your wounds."

Sanzu turns slowly, his eyes scanning you as if weighing your request. You can tell he's torn, that a part of him wants to accept the help, even if his pride keeps getting in the way.

You sit there, waiting, knowing that if he needed to push you away, he would've already done it. You don't say anything, just hold your ground, offering him something he's clearly not used to—genuine care.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, he mutters, the words almost begrudging, "Fine. But don't expect me to thank you."

You smile softly, shaking your head as you hold out the antiseptic. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He walks toward you, but instead of sitting next to you, he drops down on the opposite couch, legs sprawled out carelessly, almost as if daring you to come to him instead. You raise an eyebrow, the familiar exasperation rising within you.

"You could at least make it easier for me," you grumble, standing up and walking over. 

There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as you sit down in front of him on the coffee table, closer now, the scent of alcohol faint but present on his breath. He watches you carefully, eyes following your movements with that predatory focus he always seems to carry, even in moments like this.

When you peel back the bandage on his cheek, revealing the jagged scrape underneath, he winces, trying but failing to hide it. You smirk despite yourself, dabbing the wound with antiseptic. 

"You're such a baby," you tease, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

The reaction is immediate. "Am not," he snaps, his voice cutting through the space between you. "Don't fucking call me that again." There's a sharp edge to his words, but you can hear the vulnerability beneath it, the bruised pride of someone who's used to fighting, not being taken care of.

You ignore his outburst, focusing on his wound. This time, you're more careful, your touch gentler as you apply the ointment. His lips press into a thin line, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to sit still. There's something oddly endearing about it, watching him struggle with the idea of being vulnerable, even for a moment.

He really hates being called a baby, doesn't he?

When you finish with the bandage, you move on to his split lip, focusing on the dried blood caked around the cut. He avoids your gaze, scowling as if pretending this isn't happening. 

As your fingers brush against the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, curiosity gnaws at you. Before you can stop yourself, you press a thumb to one of the scars, feeling the jagged line beneath your skin.

Sanzu jerks back, his eyes blazing as he swats your hand away. "What the hell?" he growls, the vulnerability from a moment ago vanishing beneath the weight of his anger.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back. "I got distracted." 

The air between you shifts again, tense and fragile. You can tell you've touched something he doesn't want to share, a part of him that's still too raw, too guarded. And yet, you can't help but wonder what it would take for him to open up—to let you see more than just the surface.

You watch him stands abruptly in front of you, like he's about to bolt. "But I'm not done yet," you lie, trying to keep him there, keep the moment from slipping away.

He hesitates, glaring at you, but after a second, he sits back down with a grunt. "Whatever, just get it over with. I don't have all night to wait around."

You stay still, your hands resting in your lap as you stare at him, not moving to pick up the first aid kit again. "Can I ask you something?"

Sanzu slouches deeper into the couch, his eyes narrowing at you. "What now?"

You take a breath, steadying yourself. "How did you get those scars?"

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. For a moment, you expect him to laugh it off, to mock you for even asking. But instead, he just stares at you, his gaze cold and distant, like he's weighing whether or not to answer.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. "Mikey gave them to me."

The admission hits you like a punch to the gut. Mikey? Mikey did that to him? You feel your heart sink, your stomach twisting in disbelief. Judging by the faded look of the scars, it wasn't recent—this happened years ago. Long before Bonten. So why...?

"Why?" Your voice cracks, betraying the flood of emotions rising inside you.

Sanzu's eyes darken, his expression hardening. "I don't fucking remember," he snaps, his tone sharp, like he's daring you to push further. 

But the look in his eyes tells you more than his words ever could. This isn't something he wants to talk about—not with you, not with anyone.

You lower your gaze, staring down at your hands as the weight of everything threatens to crush you again. The urge to cry surfaces, hot tears stinging your eyes. You've cried so much today, and in front of him of all people. It's humiliating at this point. 

You stand, trying to escape the overwhelming weight of it all. "It's done. So I'll just... go," you mumble, stepping toward the door.

Before you can make it far, Sanzu's hand wraps around your wrist, his fingers cool against your skin. His grip is light, almost hesitant. You look down at where his fingers hold you, then back up at him. 

"What is it?"

You can feel your voice trembling, on the verge of breaking. You're so close to falling apart, and he's just... watching.

"Want this?" he asks suddenly, holding up a bottle filled with colorful pills. 

He gives it a small shake, and the pills rattle softly inside. The smirk that spreads across his face now is familiar, predatory. This is the Sanzu you know, the one you hate. 

"This shit's the real deal. Remember the other stuff I gave you earlier? That was just a trial run." He laughs, that low, mocking sound that makes your blood boil.

Your chest tightens as you stare at the pills, your mind flashing back to the euphoria from earlier. It had felt so good, so easy, like all the pain had vanished for a while. And yet... you narrow your eyes at him, anger replacing the temptation. How could he think you'd ever take anything from him again after what he did?

Sanzu sees the anger flash across your face, and the smirk fades. He lets go of your wrist and looks away, his expression hardening again. "Forget it. Just leave."

For a moment, you almost do. You almost walk out the door and leave him behind. But something makes you stop. The way his hand had felt around your wrist, the way his voice had softened when he realized what he was offering. You glance back at him, his body tense as he stares ahead, avoiding your gaze. And suddenly, you don't want to leave anymore.

"I want it," you say quietly, turning fully to face him. "Give it to me."

Sanzu's eyes flick back to you, surprise flashing briefly before his usual sneer returns. "Fuck no," he grunts. "You think I'm gonna give you this just to watch you walk out the door?"

There's a pause. His words hang in the air, and for a split second, his eyes widen slightly, like he's just surprised himself with the admission. He hadn't meant to say that, but now it's out there—he doesn't want you to leave. Not yet. 

He actually wants your company.

You can't help the bitter smile that tugs at your lips. "What, are you gonna choke me again?" you ask, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

His head snaps toward you, confusion etched into his features. "Huh? No. That's—" He stumbles over the words, almost defensive, like he hadn't considered how far he'd gone before.

Without waiting for him to finish, you plop down on the couch beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. You extend your hand, palm up, eyes fixed on his. 

"Fine. Give me that, Sanzu."

For a moment, he doesn't move, his gaze searching your face. Then, slowly, a smirk tugs at his lips again—the same smug, infuriating expression you've come to expect from him.

Manjiro Sano has warned you more than once: avoid Sanzu when he's high. The fact that you were Mikey's girlfriend has always been enough to keep Sanzu from crossing certain lines when he's sober, but when the drugs took over, his already fragile self-control shatters. 

The warning always carries weight, like a veiled threat that lingers at the back of your mind, but tonight... tonight, you don't care. You're too numb, too broken, and the reckless part of you craves the release Sanzu offers. The part of you that wants to forget Mikey. 

The pill between Sanzu's fingers gleams like forbidden fruit, a dual-colored capsule that promises escape. His grin is lazy, predatory, as if the thrill of watching you self-destruct is part of his form of entertainment. Without a word, you reach for the pill, swallowing it down without hesitation. The bitter taste lingers at the back of your throat, but the anticipation of oblivion drowns out any second thoughts.

Within minutes, the edges of reality begin to blur. The room shifts, the walls breathe, and the floor ripples like water beneath your feet. Colors bleed into each other, swirling in dizzying patterns that make you feel weightless. The cool marble floor presses against your cheek as you lie sprawled on the ground, your limbs heavy yet disconnected from your body.

Above you, like a ghostly shadow, Sanzu lounges on the couch, watching you with an intensity that both unnerves and thrills you. He takes a pill of his own before the next wave hits you—stronger this time, pulling you under completely.

For a fleeting moment, you let everything go—the pain, the heartbreak, the memories of Mikey's distant eyes as you walked away from him. All the weight of your unspoken love, of your shattered heart, evaporates in the fog of euphoria. It's terrifying how easy it is to forget, to lose yourself in the numbness. But somewhere, deep in the pit of your soul, the fear lingers. 

What will be left of you when the high wears off?

When you wake the next morning, reality presses you down like a vise. Your head pounds, each throb a reminder of the drug still pulsing through your system. The soft morning light filters through the unfamiliar room's windows. You blink, disoriented, trying to piece together what happened. 

Right... Sanzu. You were in his condo last night, and this—this must be his bedroom.

As you shift, the soft rustle of sheets draws your attention, and your heart leaps into your throat. Sanzu lies beside you, his face buried in the pillow, his hair a wild mess of pink strands. He's half-naked, the blanket draped loosely over his hips, and for a moment, panic seizes you. 

Your fingers instinctively brush over your clothes—still on, thank God. Relief washes over you, but it's fleeting. The haze of the previous night is still there, muddy and unclear, and you have no idea what happened between the two of you after you'd lost yourself to the high.

Whatever it was, it doesn't seem like you had sex with him. At least... you hope you didn't. Two people who are really high wouldn't bother to put their clothes back on after sex, right? 

You sit up carefully, the bed creaking softly beneath you, and that's when you notice them—his scars. Lines of jagged, raw skin crisscross his back like a violent roadmap of his past. Some scars are old, barely visible against his pale skin, while others are fresh, still healing from whatever recent chaos he's endured. 

You know that Sanzu lives in violence, that it clings to him like a second skin, but seeing the marks so intimately, so vulnerably laid bare before you—it stirs something inside you. A deep, unsettling pity, but you quickly shove it down, pushing it past the ache in your chest.

Your shift your gaze to the floor, where the bottle of pills lies tipped over, colorful capsules scattered across the marble floor. How many did you take last night? Too many, you're sure. You feel their lingering effects, the way they dull the edges of your thoughts, how they slow your movements. 

Shaking off the grogginess, you move toward the door, eyes landing on the katana propped up against the wall. A glint of steel in the early light. 

You pause, your hand gripping the door handle. The memory of what Sanzu did before flashes through your mind—the way he choked you, forcing the first pill down your throat. Mikey has punished him for it, but still, you felt guilty enough to treat his wounds. Then, stupidly, you let yourself get high with him again. Willingly.

But the anger still simmers under the surface. All those cruel words over the years, the taunts, the smirks, the way he looks down on you. He's infuriating. And this... this is your chance to get back at him.

Without thinking, you walk over to the katana. The hilt feels cool and foreign in your hand as you lift it, the weight of it surprising you. But you don't hesitate.

As you drag the katana behind you, the metal scraping loudly against the floor, the sound reverberates in the silent hallway. Each step feels like defiance, like a rebellion against everything Sanzu represents—the control, the twisted power he holds over you.

In the basement, you find the garbage bin. Without a second thought, you dump the katana in, the clang of steel against metal echoing in the empty space. It isn't enough to truly hurt him, but it's enough to piss him off, enough to make him notice.

And that's what you want, isn't it? To get under his skin the way he always gets under yours? To make him feel something—anything—that isn't amusement at your suffering?

As you walk away, a small, bitter smile tugs at your lips. You know this won't end well. You're playing with fire, and Sanzu is dangerous when pushed. But the part of you that's still reeling from Mikey, still wounded and desperate, craves this chaos. You want to see what will happen when Sanzu finds the katana, want to watch the fury flash across his face. Because for once, you aren't the one falling apart.

Maybe it's madness, or maybe it's something deeper—a need to reclaim some form of control in a world that's stripped you of it. Either way, you aren't running anymore.

You'll face whatever comes next, even if it destroys you.

Manjiro Sano haunts you everywhere. He's with you in the empty bed, a ghost beside you as you stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the dark. When you’re in the kitchen, his voice echoes in your mind, teasing, laughing, pulling you into memories that make your chest tighten with an ache that hasn't dulled. In the mirror, you see him staring back, his familiar, cold gaze mocking you as you brush your teeth, as if daring you to forget the life you shared with him.

It's been weeks since the breakup, but the weight of nine years doesn't just vanish. You were naive to think it would be easy to let go. After all, you didn't just lose Mikey—you lost the future you had envisioned, the dream of always being by his side, no matter what. 

You'd never loved anyone else, never felt the safety of another person's arms. You never had a reason to think you'd need to. And when you first learned about the arranged marriage three years ago, you foolishly believed that nothing could ever come between you and Mikey, that love would always win. However, reality had other plans.

Eventually, it all became too much. So, you made a decision. You packed your things and left the apartment you had once shared with him, that place filled with memories—of laughter, of love, of a time when he was truly yours. But now, those memories felt like weights pulling you under, drowning you in a past that you could no longer live in. 

So, you found a new place, a smaller apartment far away from that suffocating ghost. You didn't tell anyone from Bonten. Not a soul knew where you were now. It was supposed to be your clean break.

But fate never lets you escape that easily.

Weeks after you've settled into your new life, you find yourself out for a casual walk, basking in the simplicity of a quiet day. An ice cream cone in one hand, a plastic bag of snacks in the other—small, ordinary comforts in an otherwise chaotic life. You're beginning to breathe again, to feel the freedom of being on your own. And then you see him.

Mikey.

He's sitting outside a café, his silver hair catching the sunlight, his posture as calm and unreadable as ever. But next to him is her. His wife. The sight of them together makes your stomach lurch, your heart clenching as if gripped by an iron fist. She's laughing, and though Mikey's face is still as cold and impassive as always, there's something different about him. Softer. He looks at her in a way that sends a sharp pang through your chest. 

He's moving on.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels like it's tilting on its axis. You need to get out of here. Now.

Before you can make your escape, though, you spot them. Ran's lazy, amused expression is the first thing you notice, his sharp eyes locking onto you with that all-too-familiar smirk. 

"Well, well. Look who it is," he drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. But it's the presence next to him that makes your blood run cold.

Sanzu.

The moment his gaze lands on you, the air around you thickens. His eyes narrow, his lips curl into a sneer, and you know. He knows. You can almost feel the anger rolling off of him, simmering beneath the surface. You've crossed a line with him, and now, you'll pay for it.

Your heart hammers in your chest, panic seizing your throat. The plastic bag slips from your hand, the ice cream falling, forgotten, as it splatters against the pavement. You don't even care. All that matters now is getting away.

You turn and run.

"Oi!" Sanzu's voice slices through the air, sharp and dangerous. "Stop running!"

Like hell you will. 

You know what he's capable of, and you know there's nothing holding him back now—not Mikey, not anyone. Not after what you did. The memory flashes in your mind—the clattering of metal, the weight of his katana in your hands as you threw it into the trash. The reckless satisfaction of it all.

You can hear his footsteps behind you, the sound growing louder with each passing second. He's faster than you remember, and your chest tightens in fear. Sanzu is dangerous even when he's calm, but this? 

This is personal.

The crowded street is a blur as you dash through it, weaving past confused onlookers, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. Dignity is the last thing on your mind right now—you're running for survival. And yet, amidst the chaos, a ridiculous thought crosses your mind: If I die today, I'll die looking like shit. No makeup, no cute clothes, just sweat and terror.

You can feel him gaining on you, the heat of his rage practically burning at your back, and desperation grips you. You need to think fast, or you won't make it. That's when you spot the riverbank up ahead, the water glistening in the distance. 

Without a second thought, you sprint toward it, your feet barely touching the ground as you throw yourself into the icy water. The shock of the cold steals your breath, but you don't stop moving. You swim, forcing your body through the water, the chill biting into your skin. 

When you finally break the surface, you gasp, a fleeting moment of triumph swelling in your chest. You've escaped.

Or so you think.

Your heart sinks when you see him standing on the riverbank, his figure dark and ominous against the bright sky. Sanzu is already peeling off his blazer, his eyes fixed on you with a predator's focus. There's no hesitation as he tosses it aside and kicks off his shoes. Of course, he's going to follow you. Of course, he's not letting this go.

You should have known better.

Sanzu dives into the water without a second thought, cutting through the current with frightening speed. And that's when it hits you—he isn't just chasing you out of anger. He's chasing you because you've crossed a line you can never uncross. Because Sanzu doesn't follow any rules, doesn't have any boundaries. 

And neither of you are sane enough to stop now.

< part two ends >

author's notes. heyy beloved sanzu kinnies <3 i'm so so happy & grateful for all the love you showed to part one of BNT that i decided to bless you guys with twice as long part two hehe :D hope you guys enjoyed it! i've got some fun stuff planned for sanzu and y/n in the next part... so please stay tuned! also, i'd love to hear your thoughts so do leave some notes & comments!! tysm for reading guys! stay awesome ☆(>ᴗ•)

taglist. @iluv-ace @reiners-milkbiddies @bontenbabyy @risheliette @loveantonnlee @sukunas-bitxh @honeygonebads-blog @r3yk @soilaluna @l1ttl3m1ss666 @novv @slvdsjjk @miffysoo @qyoongi @drakensdarling @ask-the-insect-hashira @awkwardaardvarkforever @thebiggestlovergirlever @shinichirolover @kyyuuuuu @meowww1041 @kiasnotforever (comment below if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

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[unforth]

I keep seeing posts comparing this to 2004 or other past election losses and how this feels the same or similar to those past times.

As another Old who voted in 2004 (and I missed voting in 2000 by a month and was furious about it) I really can't even put into words how vehemently I disagree.

In 2008, I remember very earnestly sitting down with some friends and saying that if somehow McCain beat Obama, I'd have to join the fucking revolution, because I couldn't believe that this country would elect a Republican AGAIN after the previous 8 years of bullshit. I look back now and think how incredibly naive I was, but I also look back now and think, damn, why aren't I 25 NOW? I can't join the revolution now, I'm 41 and I own a house and have two young children and one old parent depending on me.

Because honestly, truly, as someone who has been studying American history since I was 7, as a Civil War buff with expertise on the years before the Civil War, as someone who has at least some memories of every election since 1988... guys, this isn't the same as 2004. I was furious then. Swift Boat bullshit I swear to fucking dog. And I was and still am fairly convinced that the 2000 election was deliberately stolen. But also I still had every reason then to believe in the rule of law.

In 2004, I still believed term limits would be respected.

In 2004, I still believed a person who wasn't elected would demure gracefully to the winner.

In 2004, I still trusted the courts.

In 2004, I still believed that we'd made progress on bigotry.

I could go on, and to be clear, my point isn't "I thought these institutions were ~good~" in literally any objective sense. Y'all are cynical but my generation was raised by, surrounded by, Vietnam vets and trust me, there was no way to be a kid, seeing what the 70s did to this country, and not come out as cynical and furious as the best of um. (My grandfather was a World War 2 vet, as were his close friends. My father and both his brothers are Vietnam vets, tho my dad didn't go overseas.) But I did believe that even corrupt institutions, even broken racist systems, even fucking Republicans, would follow basic norms of democracy. They said they believed in the constitution and I believed them. I believed that, like Nixon, truly getting caught doing something insane would at least force a mea culpa and turn public opinion. I believed...

Well, I guess it doesn't matter.

Because I no longer believe any of that.

I have watched the guard rails disappear over my lifetime. I have watched the party who once spent 2 years pursuing a guy over a BJ in the oval office elect a convicted rapist. I have watched and at times I've participated and I've voted and I've organized and I've protested and I've read the news more days than not and I've lived and I've grown and I've learned.

I have been an adult, legally, for almost 24 years now.

Guys... there are no norms remaining on the far right. The guard rails are gone. The Fascists control the White House, the senate, the Supreme Court, and things aren't looking promising for the House.

The bus has no brakes anymore. They think they have a mandate - and I can't blame them, as horrifying as this mandate is, because if things had gone the other way and Harris had gotten these results I'd also think it was a mandate.

Please sit with what this means: Trump and the Republican party said, "hand us the reins and we'll make everyone you hate hurt," and more than half the people who bothered to vote said "sure buddy, here goes." We don't have a usurper this time. This is the country that the majority of Americans said they wanted. Whether they come to regret that or not, they saw open Fascism and went "oh yes, count me in." And it wasn't because of the electoral college this time. It was because this country is so bigoted and misogynistic that they'd rather have this than a woman of color in the office.

I'm sick of "well she didn't run a good campaign." (Lie.) I'm sick of, "well we didn't get a primary." (Who cares?) I'm *extremely* sick of "well, Palestine." (Yes! Democrats actions have made the suffering there so much worse! It fucking sucks! You know what's about to suck so much worse?)

15 million people who showed up for Joe Biden couldn't be fussed to place a vote for Kamala Harris. Whatever their reason for not voting, we all knew the outcome if she lost. And seeing open fascism didn't fire them up enough to make the effort, and that's fucking pathetic. The consequences of the worst happening mattered so little to them that they couldn't be fucking bothered to make the minimum effort to stop it, and now millions of people will suffer as a result.

Because here we are: the huge swathe of the country who wanted a strongman now have one.

Look, I don't know what happens next. But I do know, and remember keenly: after 2016, Trump did, or at least tried to do, most of the things he said he'd do. When he was stopped, it was often because of career government employees: judges, bureaucrats, etc. And this time, he's said he's going to purge those people. I don't know if he'll succeed, but I certainly believe he'll try.

This is not 2004 again.

This is 2024. The Republicans have ripped the mask to shreds, shredded apart the book of political norms, and empowered hate, and they've been handed a governmental mandate for stamped "have at with our blessing!" in exchange.

And now they'll use that mandate to make everyone they hate suffer: people of color, queer people, trans people, immigrants, non-Christians.

Don't assume the worst can't happen. I am a Jew, and I have a photo album full of black and white photos of dead people that constantly reminds me: the worst has happened and it can happen again.

Do not despair. Despair is enervating. Be furious. As we should be. These douche bags are repulsive. Be prepared to fight. Be prepared to flee. Be prepared to defend. Don't assume you simply can't do something. There's always something to do, and even the smallest act of defiance can help. There's never any knowing until after which acts of resistance will end up galvanizing the good and just out of their apathy. But that apathy is the enemy.

Because none of this is normal. None of this is "just like when..." Please stop saying it is.

And before anyone screams "privilege" at me, yes, I am in many ways. I'm white. I have access to some generational money even tho my own family lives paycheck to paycheck - we won't be rich but have enough of a support network to be comfortable. I live in a blue area of a blue state. But I'm also a woman (legally speaking, at least) married to another woman - since before Oberkfell, and yes I remember exactly what steps we had planned any time we wanted to leave our state. My wife has physical disabilities. We have two children. Both are biracial (half black). One is trans. We are caring for an elderly parent. I am Jewish and as my kids' birth parent, so are they. I own a publishing company that publishes the exact kinds of queer and kinky lit these people intend to ban. We tick so many boxes of what these people hate.

I know ya'll are scared. Trust me, I'm terrified. But fear is paralyzing. And that won't help. Whatever happens, don't lie down and take this shit.

When Gore lost I was one month shy of my 18th birthday and already in college. I have been fighting my entire adult life, and I'm exhausted. I'm much less able to fight now, much more tied down with responsibilities. But the fight isn't over. I'm checking our passports. I'm packing a go bag. I've convinced one vulnerable friend to move here and I have another who wants to and we're figuring out how to make that happen. I'm protecting who I can, starting with putting on my mask first. I don't know what will happen but if in the end all I can do is uproot my entire life to protect my children then I am preparing to do so. I can at least save them if no one else.

None of this is normal.

And I'm not sure, after Trump's in office, that anything will ever be normal again in the US. At least not the old normal. And there are ways that's a good thing, so many ways that the old normal sucked for so many people, and I'm optimistic that there's a bright future ahead, but man it looks far away right now. I don't want to go back to the old normal, and I want to be part of establishing a kinder, more just, more equal new normal, but we're a long way from there.

Whatever happens, we must endure. We must survive. We must support each other. We must find our allies and be prepared to compromise with them. Don't try to save everyone. You'll fail. Help even one person and you can change the world. Everyone things they can't do everything and so do nothing. That's insane. Do a single thing and it will be better than nothing. One phone call. One letter. One act of defiance. Very few people get the opportunity to grand gestures that matter, and the rest of us will die waiting for that moment. But the secret is that what makes those moments - the time when one person is in the right place at the right time for their action to matter - is built on millions of small moments by millions of people doing what little they can to make things slightly better. Think of every iconic photograph of a Sole Resistor you know of and think about every single tiny thing that had to happen for that moment to occur. Most of us will never me that one person, but that one person is a myth anyway. Countless tiny unseen moments create those myths. Doing literally anything is better than doing nothing.

And tooth and nail, quietly and loudly, in our homes and our towns and cities, during protests or when they come for our neighbors, we must fight.

[aricarianis]

CW: explicit depictions of violence and sexual themes.

John Price was the love of your life. Love is a powerful force—capable of building or destroying—and what you shared kept you bound to him for years. But only having his rough hands on your skin for a few months at a time, hearing his gruff voice say sweet nothings over the phone, missing the feel of his beard grazing your neck as his words seeped into you like venom, all wore down the foundations of what a real relationship was supposed to be.

He knew it. He felt the same sick ache in his chest every time he promised to come home soon, both of you aware it was a lie. He’d promised to slow down, to leave the job, to stay by your side, but the marriage you ended up with wasn’t the one you’d signed up for. You didn’t want a husband who vanished for months on end. When he returned, he’d devour you, craving your body like a hard drug. His hands too eager to find your sweet spots, cock too hungry to make you forget that he had lied. He'd push you into constant moments of bliss, tricking, but even his passion couldn’t erase the truth: he’d lie again.

In time, your marriage went where so many do. When he was handed the divorce papers at the base, he still tried to attack the process server. You wanted out, and nothing he did would change it—not refusing to sign, not tearing the papers up, not skipping court. You weren’t his anymore.

Life carried on, with months passing and, as usual, not a word from John. You thought losing the love of your life would be agony enough, but his indifference only added to the torment. Part of you wished you’d never met him; never knowing love would’ve been worth never knowing this pain.

The night before the hearing, you invited your lawyer to your flat to go over last-minute instructions. As the meeting wound down, a low, metallic sound came from the bedroom.

“Did you hear that?” you asked. He shook his head.

The two of you sat in tense silence for a moment, dread prickling at you. Your lawyer offered to check the bedroom, but you dismissed it, assuring him it was probably nothing. The meeting continued until, just before leaving, he asked to use the restroom. You directed him to the en suite, since the guest bathroom had stopped working that morning.

Lost in thought, you noticed several minutes had passed without him returning. Concerned, you called his name. No answer. Yelled. Still no answer. Your chest tightened, dread spreading through you like poison. Gripping the hunting knife John had given you for protection, you made your way to the bedroom.

“You can put that thing down, love. ‘S just me.” The gruff voice sent a shiver down your spine—unmistakable.

You peeked into the dark room, spotting the familiar silhouette against the dim light from the window. “John? H-how did you find me?”

“Why’d I have to find you in the first place?” His tone was cold, anger simmering beneath restraint.

“I needed space,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Single people live alone.”

“You know damn well you aren't single.”

“I’ve been single ever since I married you.”

Your words cut deep. His shoulders slumped as he sighed, hurt etched on his face.

“Where’s my lawyer?” you asked, searching the shadows.

“He’s not our problem anymore.”

“John…” Your breath hitched. “What did you do?”

“Someone’s trying to take you from me, innit? Was it him?”

“Where is he?”

“Think a piece of paper’ll keep me from you?” His voice dripped with rage.

“Why do you care? You love your job more than you love me—”

“Don’t say that.”

“I understand, John, but this wasn’t the marriage I was promised. I’d rather have none of you than pieces,” you said, your voice thick. “At least then I wouldn’t have to lie to myself that I’ll ever have you whole.”

He breathed heavily, brow furrowing as if struggling to comprehend your words.

"Why can't you just admit you've fucked up and leave me alone, huh? You had months to pull this little stunt—it's too late to care now."

John’s expression went blank, unreadable. He lunged, disarming you with practiced ease, gripping you by the hair and throwing you onto the bed. Your back hit something solid, unfamiliar beneath the covers.

He flicked on the light, and before your eyes adjusted, he was above you, pressing the knife to your throat. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his beard scratching your skin, hunger corroding him from within.

Instinctively, you turned to the side, seeking something to help you escape. Instead, you saw your lawyer’s lifeless, bloodshot eyes staring back, ones that had met yours with empathy so many times, reassuring you that everything would be okay. His neck twisted at a grotesque angle, lips slack in a silent scream.

“I’ll hunt you down forever, love,” John whispered, his voice carrying all the rage and obsession you overlooked for years.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, your breathing erratic, heart thundering. He pulled back, holding your gaze with a look that seared into your soul, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile.

“Doesn’t matter what you think,” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “I will always be the love of your life.”

[the-prophesied-disco-gay]

"If" there is an election is the part I see everyone pretending isn't part of this.

"We have to do better in 4 years!"

The whole fucking reason it was important to vote in THIS GODDAMN ELECTION was that he's promised there won't be anymore. And the only thing that kept him from keeping a lot of his promises the first time was his lack of experience and understanding of how to get things done. He has a nice plan written up for him by the right now. All he has to do is follow the instructions. He will do the horrible things he has said he will do. He very consistently does whenever he is able.

"He can't do that!"

"Checks and balances!"

"It would never be allowed!"

Allowed by whom exactly? The red dominated legislative branch? The supreme court tailored by and for him? The common people (who fucking elected him)?

Y'all are gonna "revolution harms the vulnurable most!" right up until all us vulnurable are fucking dead.

IF there is an election in 2026. I'm going to throw up.

I was a student at UC Berkeley during the 2000 presidential election. The propaganda at that time was that Al Gore and George W. Bush were exactly the same candidate wearing different ties. There was no difference between them, so you should vote for Ralph Nader.

In 2016 the propaganda was Bernie Bros—and going both ways ("Hillary is an establishment candidate! You're not a real liberal if you don't vote for Bernie!" and also "Bernie will never win! If you EVER supported Bernie you're not a real liberal!").

This time the propaganda was Gaza. "How can you vote for a candidate that is a part of an administration responsible for GENOCIDE?!"

The thing with propaganda is it's always true—kind of. You can go right down the list and see the truth in all of these things:

Both Al Gore and George W. Bush were establishment candidates. Al Gore was the sitting vice president and a career politician and George W. Bush was the son of former president and vice president George Bush, who himself was vice president to Ronald Reagan.

HIllary Clinton was an establishment politican, the wife of a former president, and the sitting secretary of state. Bernie Sanders didn't have the party support to become the Democratic Party candidate on account of his history of independence.

Biden and Harris were in office during the Hamas attack on October 7th, 2023, and the US government has offered continued support to Israel in its couteroffensive.

Those things are true. But the true things were being used to distract the distractible from other arguably more important true things, e.g. that Al Gore's actual policies were more liberal than George W. Bush's; Hillary Clinton's policies were more liberal than Donald Trump's; and a Kamala Harris-led government was going to be better for Palestine than a Donald Trump-led government.

The goal with the propaganda each time was exaclty the same. It wasn't to get votes for a third party candidate or change policy or help Gaza.

The goal was to get liberals not to vote.

And it worked. Every time.

It'll work again, too, if we don't teach voters how to recognize this. It's pretty obvious though. If it's near an election and it's a wedge issue between liberal voters and ultra-liberal voters, that's the propaganda.

And it is 100% active and alive here on Tumblr.

[peeble]

guys i know everyone is busy with the us elections rn but can we talk about the german government coalition literally collapsing in this second. what on earth is happening

[bunny-1111]

Beg for it, Part 3 - Theo Nott Smut

Description: Returning to Hogwarts after ignoring Theodore all summer long, was so much worse than you imagine; Theodore was starving you of what you so desperately needed.

part 1 - part 2

Word Count: 1.4k

SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - unread and unedited

Comments, likes and reblogs appreciated my loves <3

...

Theodore closes the shower screen door with such hast and strength you thought the glass might smash.

The steam filled the small space, and the heat of the running water ran fast down your body. You didn't know if the temperature or his fierce kisses were making you lightheaded. As he pressed you against the cool tile, you felt instantly relieved.

There was no time to be slow or soft; he came at you wickedly rough, his mouth exploring as much of your bare skin as he could swallow.

You’d half-expected him to let go, all the teasing, all the games; you hadn't really expected them to stop.

His sloppy mouth travelled from your lips to the bottom of your ear as you felt the pinch of his teeth collect your skin. You couldn't collect your breath, panting against his, a trembling, weak mess.

"Please, teddy, please", you practically cry, he was unravelling you by the millisecond, you wanted him so bad, it was undoing you completely, exposed, unraveled.

"Please what?" he spat out, his voice like venom

You were going to reply, really, the words were about to spill, but then his hand suddenly took a handful of your ass, squeezing so hard, you blanked.

He pushes your body even harder against his own, the noise of running water flowing, everything was so wet, losing balance, your feet almost slip below you, Theo holding your whole body up with a death grip.

He cups your face with his hand, you can't help but break away from the kiss. In need of something more, you grip his wrist as you begin to take his fingers in your mouth. You stare right at him as you do so, your wide eyes flutter up, he can't help but lean his head back and groan, he was mad at you yes, but fuck you're sexy.

You watch the droplets of water drip down his face to his chest. He looked so good. His fingers taste so good in your mouth as he slams them deeper, almost reaching your throat's bottom.

Your hand lurks down your own thigh, desperate for relief, Theo's eyes flicker down and follow your fingers, halting everything, gripping your wrist.

"don't you fucking dare" he spits

"Then do it for me! I can't keep going. I need you inside me, now!" you choke out

With the speed of a cracked whip, Theodore picks you up again, not bothering to turn the water off, carrying you to your bed. The feeling of his hardness hitting you with each step almost made you faint.

Sitting you at the edge of the bed, he lines himself up with a long exhale. "You're so fucking wet" he praises as he injects his tip

"I've been drenched for you for weeks Theo" you admit in a rush

"Gotta do something about that, hm" he growls enter you without warning, a smile creeps up your lips, ugh, finally.

Theo's eyes stay on yours until you can't look up anymore.

Flipping you around, he starts from behind, your favourite.

Your moans are music to his ears, he can hardly hold back his own listening to you "I love those pretty noises, darling" he praises, gathering your hair in his hand.

"are you mine?” he questions, his voice a low growl, each word sending a thrill through you. “huh!” he screams out, yanking your hair back

“Yes, Theo, I’m yours—” The words tumble out, and he cuts you off by covering your mouth with his hand, swallowing the rest of your sentence as though he can’t stand to hear anything but your submission

"Yeah well you didn't do much to show for it during break, did you" he pants out

A wail of pleasure leaves your mouth as you feel each pound so deeply, his hand still crushing your face as his hand stays snaked around your jaw

"yeah, you can't talk right now? how about you write it out instead" he chuckles a dark laugh you had only heard once before

You tug your brows up; what did he mean write? You could hardly breathe

One of his hands leave it's place on your hip, leaning over to grab the parchment that laid on your bedside, he moves slowly cautious to not slip out of you.

You try to follow his movement, it wasn't until the parchment and a quill was thrown in front of you that you that you became utterly confused.

Theodore crept his mouth just beside your ear, his breath hot against you "I want you to write out, how sorry you are" he whispered

"No tedd-" you begin

"It wasn't a question, go on" he insisted as he adjusted his hands back to your hips, arching your back even lower than it already was

'I'm not fucking playing. Pick up the pen" he instructed, his voice booming behind you

Your shaky hand bring the parchment closer, trembling as the quill touches down. You try your best, but Theo resumes his way with you, going harder than ever, slamming into you as you attempt to even remember to spell.

Your breath hitching as you finish your pathetic attempt at writing 'I'm sorry', your elbow giving out with the last letter.

"Good girl" he grins, flipping you over, facing him again, his hand sliding down your leg to finally grab hold of your ankle, positioning your leg to lay on his shoulder.

Delirious and dizzy, you lift your head up to watch what you are feeling, it was too much, seeing him pulse in and out, you can't help but take hold on his arm, clawing onto any part of him you could hold.

He could feel it, too, moving you to sit on his lap, you arms wrap around to his back, unsteady, your hands move up and down as you do.

"Theo, Theo, Theo" you pant out as you squeeze around him

"That's it, baby, let it out" he guides you as you feel that sticky white substance drips out of you, so full, so satisfied.

As he slows down and pulls out he connects your lips again, mouthfuls of love with each peck.

You both stay there, unmoving, catching your breath, Theo mumbling lovely words, how much he loves you, missed you, how good you felt after too long

"you feel better baby" he says as his hands find their way through your hair

"mhm" you nod gently in agreement mustering through the comedown of the high

"I needed that" you sigh, your forehead meeting his as he pucks your hair weakly behind your ear

"I know" he admits kisssing your forehead tenderly

"I did too" he continues as he wraps his burly arms around you

"c'mere", he mutters, moving you to spoon.

All of that tension, everything you just felt, you knew then and there, you couldn't right him next break either, if it meant you'd be fucked like that again.

...

my first proper proper smut... im sorry part 3 took so long, but here you go my babies <3

-B.

Comments, likes and reblogs appreciated my loves <3

Taglist: (everyone that commented for part 3) @cookiesex115 @jetblackpayne @flowersarcute @staarflowerr @iamaslytherin0 @fanfic-girl-2 @notttheo-sgirl @blocked-zombieartist @ayyeitssarahh

[glass--beach]

how do we cope with this? I can't take it anymore. I'm not strong enough.

i totally feel you, genuinely. it’s been fucking rough. this whole year’s been rough for me for so many reasons. but these people wanna break our spirits and i’m never gonna let them. we shouldn’t have to tough it out but we’re gonna have to. keep your friends close, build community, build solidarity, and take care of yourself as much as you can. wish there was more we could do to cope but we gotta do what we can

[queermarzipan]

sorry did you just say the BARE MINIMUM of a CEASEFIRE??? A ceasefire for a GENERATIONS-LONG CONFLICT funded by fucking IRAN?????

You people will never gain my sympathy. Never. "pretending that there's always a better choice" THERE IS ALWAYS A BETTER CHOICE. NO TWO PEOPLE ARE THE SAME. Hi, I'm Irish, and I don't GET to vote in your elections, BUT THEY FUCKING AFFECT ME ANYWAY BECAUSE THE US IS A GLOBAL CULTURAL SUPERPOWER. I CAN THINK OF NOTHING SCARIER RIGHT NOW THAN THE PROSPECT OF THE US OF A BECOMING A FASCIST COUNTRY. DO YOU GET THAT??? NOTHING. SCARIER. I'M FUCKING TERRIFIED. STFU WITH YOUR VILIFICATION OF THE PARTY THAT HAS MANAGED TO GET A SUBSTANTIAL NUMBER OF PEOPLE WHO PREVIOUSLY WOULD HAVE VOTED FOR THE FASCIST TO NOT VOTE FOR HIM ANYMORE. YEAH THEY WENT RIGHT??? SO???? IT'S GAINING THEM VOTERS!!! THIS AHIT IS INSANE I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU THINK KAMALA HARRIS IS THE SAME AS DONALD TRUMP. STFU AND GO TAKE A LONG HIKE OFF A SHORT PIER

screaming "we can push them Left!" when all the while they've been pushing you Right.

[salemlunaa]

Let me start off by saying that I absolutely love your posts. And ur energy really made me want to embody that for myself. I hope u can help with some issues that's I've been facing.

I've been in this community for an odd 4 years and u can say that I've consumed every type of information. I know all about the law. When I start to apply the law I get really discouraged waking up in the same fucking reality and when shit doesn't change instantly. That sets me off on a cycle that I can't seem to get out of.

It's been a nightmare with me being so anxious and desperate all the time. Also some things that I've done hurt my parents real bad, but I did it with the intention of leaving this place the next day. And by bad I mean constantly lying to them abt going to clg and they finding out and all of the shit that follows after that. But yeah I admit I wasn't that great of a daughter. So now that I'm trying to manifest a better life for myself, I feel guilty and feel like all I'm doing is just escaping.

I don't know how to deal with my emotions but I want out of here immediately cause it's gotten really bad and I don't even feel like living anymore.

What do I do to leave here immediately? How do I trust that I am a god and that only what I want will happen?

Sorry for all that rant. Just needed to get it out.

hi love, i’m sorry you’re going through this, circumstances can get so shitty sometimes, trust me, i know.

And you might not like the answer, but you have to live in imagination, give yourself your desires in the 4d, give yourself the success of waking up with your desires in the 4d, give it all to yourself in imagination and the 3d will always follow.

You’re allowed to have your emotions, it won’t mess up your progress if you scream, cry, get frustrated etc, you’re allowed to feel discouraged but don’t let that stop you, please don’t let it stop you because it will be so worth it when you have the life of your dreams after realising how easy it is.

live in the 4d now, who’s to say you woke up with nothing? who’s to say you’re a bad daughter? who’s to say you haven’t manifested much? are you resonating with that reality because the 3d said so? screw the 3d!! you have your desires and always have done 💞💞