#alcohol abuse/

[giggibaloggio]

you can find me here if you need

[neuroticboyfriend]

get in bitches, we're surviving rock bottom no matter how much further we dig. one day we'll put down the shovel and climb out of this for good. we have to. as long as we're still alive there is hope.

[shattered-system]

I’ve seen some art with the line “the future is plural!”

I hope it isn’t.

More systems means more abused kids.

[nopanamaman]

What’s the deal with Tsar and Arthur?

Today we’ll look at the two most popular members of Sanya and Yura’s friend group, Tsar and Arthur, a.k.a. Anger Management. How did they meet? What’s their life like? And most importantly, why the hell are they so angsty?

Let’s start with the older one.

Arthur Sokolov

Joining the orphanage

Arthur was brought to the orphanage not long after being born. He never met any of his parents.

Growing up in a state-funded shelter meant developing a clear understanding of what kinds of behaviours will and won’t result in getting your shit kicked in. You can’t be too cocky, and you can’t be too weak. Follow the hierarchy, but don’t let your fear of elders show.

Arthur learned to navigate that little society well. He had earned respect among kids his own age and younger, and avoided being pushed around by the older teenagers too much. Less due to a noble heart and more because of being too proud to act like a doormat. 

However, that didn't make him immune to peer pressure.

Correctional psychiatry

Business trip.

Many low-end orphanages across the former USSR had been essentially transformed into incubators for future gang members. “Businessmen”, either by bribe or threat, came to these institutions to recruit impressionable children into their organisations. One such uncle visited Arthur’s foster home.

For kids like him, the course of action was simple:

misbehave;

get sent to a mental institution for corrective treatment;

sneak as many bottles of trihexyphenidyl as you can into your bag during your stay;

leave the hospital as normal;

transfer the trihexyphenidyl to a gang representative and get your paycheck.

Under that business model, Arthur became a frequent guest at psychiatric wards. Having witnessed their indifference and medical callousness firsthand, he had developed a massive disdain for all kinds of mental health professionals.

It started even before joining the gang, of course – way before. It’s hard not to foster a vendetta when you get thrown to the looney bin for any misstep. At first he tried to honestly convince the doctors working there that he was fine, but he eventually realised it was futile: they were always in on the punishment.

Hustling continues

Arthur and Ivan at 15 and 17 respectively.

As Arthur grew older, he got more deeply involved with the gang’s activities alongside other kids. This meant participating in transfers, standing watch during certain deals, acting as a “treasure man” (i.e. hiding drugs in agreed upon places for clients to pick up), and so on. Fights were frequent.

He knew it was a slippery slope, but getting out was not an option – not an easy one, at least. This was the period during which he grew close to Ivan, who was commonly assigned to work with Arthur and other children from their institute.

They bonded on the basis of wanting to leave the business, though for different reasons: most of all, Ivan didn’t want to disappoint his grandma.

Getting out

First meeting with Yura.

The sudden disbandment of the gang was a relief to both Ivan and Arthur. A major member got caught and ratted almost everyone out, except for the dozens of orphans involved. So while Ivan went to turn himself in, Arthur got to walk free.

Before going, Ivan suggested Arthur replace him at his pop’s car repair salon. The boy seemed to have a knack for fixing things, and the two had developed a trusting relationship over their time working together.

While everything was looking fine, Arthur still wanted to destroy all traces of his activities - even those that couldn’t reasonably be tracked down to him. This led to him encountering Yura. Despite the very rocky start of their acquaintance, they went on to hang out together pretty regularly.

As of today, Arthur continues to do part-time at the workshop alongside Ivan. Both are committed to never getting back into the criminal business. Unless you count Sanya's Dynamo. Which you shouldn't. Having experienced what actual gangs are like, Arthur finds it hard not to look down at the girl's little roleplay.

Tsar

Joining the orphanage

Before coming to the orphanage, Tsar lived with his grandma. She died when he was 6. Since his parents had lost their parental rights due to alcoholism a couple years prior, there was only one place for him to go.

Tsar had a very hard time adjusting to the rigid hierarchy of the foster home. He was lucky enough to catch Arthur's attention and, in a sense, got scooped under his wing. The boy disliked relying on the older kid too much, but was too weak to stand on his own.

Gang involvement

How come mom lets you have two trips to the mental ward

Since Arthur got dragged into gang activities earlier than Tsar, the younger kid felt jealous. He, like most other children, fully bought into the romanticised idea of criminal life that was pushed by the uncles visiting the orphanage.

But as years went on, he saw the toll it had begun to take on Arthur. Tsar had taken a couple of correctional trips to mental wards as well, though he'd never participated in any illegal schemes. Those times were bad enough - he couldn't imagine going there again and again on purpose.

By the time Tsar would be old enough to get recruited into the business, Arthur forbade him from it. The kid still wanted to join to prove his worth, to earn his share, to show his guts. But his trust and respect for Arthur were stronger.

As much as he hated the idea, he stuck to the sidelines.

Contact with parents

Teatime with family.

Tsar’s parents reached out to him a couple years after he was transferred to the orphanage. He could only meet with them under supervision up until he was 13 years old. Afterwards they were allowed private meetings.

Today, he occasionally comes to visit them at their apartment. They still drink, but to Tsar, they just seem quiet and pitiful. He usually lends them the pocket money he receives from the orphanage. He knows they won't return it.

Anger Management

Ural models are known for their incredible durability and a baffling number of switches.

Tsar found a creative release in music and wrote songs to vent his frustrations. The orphanage had an old acoustic guitar that he learned to play, but it got completely broken when the boy was 13. After Arthur joined the workshop, he bought a black Ural from Ivan’s dad for cheap, upgraded its port, and gifted it to Tsar.

As it turned out, Ivan’s dad was hopping from one band to another in the 80s-90s, so he was happy to accommodate the kids' creative endeavours. He allowed them to use the spare garage space to practise and even supplied an incomplete drum set.

Tsar begged Arthur to back him up with drums. The latter begrudgingly agreed to learn them, but ended up really enjoying hitting barrels with sticks. Right now their band has a tiny local following, mostly in the face of Sanya Kazarina.

Some notes

I remember sitting down and reading about actual orphanage experiences in the post-soviet space – it was eye-opening, but also gave me a lot of material to work with, as heartless as that probably sounds. A lot of things simply clicked into place.

I didn't go into too much detail here, but FYI, I've downplayed the severity of certain situations. Trauma aside, I'd say both Tsar and Arthur got quite lucky in the end.

[rinhaler]

Baby I Know How To Use a Gun (𝒢𝓊𝓃.. 𝔊𝔲𝔫)

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ toxic!megumi fushiguro x f!reader

Genre: smut Notes: this concept has been making me insane for WEEKS I just had to get it down, it's icky as usual = bon apetit ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ p.s. i dont know anything abt guns uwu Warnings: 18+, dubcon, vaginal sex, alcohol consumption, cheating, toxic!relationship (they are both toxic af), gaslighting, manipulation, coercion, co-dependency, gun inaccuracies (probably), gunplay ♡ physical abuse?, pussy drunk!megumi, choking, dacryphilia, daddy!kink, bruising ♡, spanking, masochism, minor dildo use, fingering, dumbifcation, pussy spanks, scratching, breeding kink, calls your pussy ‘she’. Words: 8k (I'm so sorry)

part of my toxic lovers collab

Nothing bothers you when you’re with Megumi. It’s impossible to feel any emotion besides pure, unadulterated lust whenever he’s with you. You were always such a prude before him. Absolutely disgusted whenever you’d see a couple hold hands or peck each other on the cheek.

It made your skin crawl when you saw couples kiss with tongue.

But he’s turned you into something you hate. You don’t care if you’re sitting with a group of friends, you couldn’t stop yourself from straddling him and basically dry fucking his thigh while making out with him. And it was worse when you drank.

So here you are now, in the back of a taxi on the way home from a mutual friend’s party. You haven’t seen Megumi in two days after a particularly vicious fight. You’d think an invisible force was driving the taxi, the way you’re kissing and wriggling around for him. You’ve rolled your hips so much that the uncomfortable driver can see a tease of white cotton between your legs under your little cocktail dress.

Megumi’s mouth is wet. A combination of sticky lip gloss and a mixture of saliva’s. He pulls away from kissing you every so often just to hear you whisper desperately for the feeling to return. He pulls little moans from you as he teases between your sodden folds.

“Knew you’d miss this dick too much to say no.” he grins before kissing you more. You laugh into it, not an ounce of remorse or regret behind it as you feel him against you. “Say you missed me. Tell daddy you missed ‘im.” he demands, grunting against you.

You ignore him, trying to shut him up with a kiss. A perfectly manicured hand traverses from his shoulder to his thigh, a subtle tease to distract him. A noble attempt results in failure when he stops playing with you and grabs your wandering wrist.

“Tell me.”

You avert your eyes, deciding to look out of the window while wiping the spit and gloss from your chin. He watches you, carefully, eye twitching as he tries to deduce what you’re keeping from him. A finger presses into that soft flesh of your cheek bending quickly and forcing you to face him yet again.

“What are you hiding?” he asks, the friendly lilt behind his voice being betrayed by the unamused sneering smile on his face. “Who did you fuck?”

“None of your—”

“Just tell me, you know you’re going to fucking spill so just do it now.” he instructs. You hear an amused scoff from him as you cross your arms petulantly and pout like a child who isn’t allowed a toy from the store. His face gets closer to yours, but you’ve already had enough of him. It’s been two days and you thought you were gonna die if you didn’t see him. But a few minutes in a taxi has reminded you why you didn’t want to see him in the first place. “Did he at least make you cum?” he whispers into your ear.

A soft breath leaves you as his hand slithers down your stomach and under the hem of your dress. You want to protest as you feel him prodding over the damp spot of your panties, but your mouth turns dry. Words turn to ash as he repeatedly tortures you with featherlight touches against your clit.

“Hm? Did your new little boyfriend make this pussy cum?” he wonders, voice a lecherous buzz that vibrates from your ear to your cunt. You fucking hate him. You can’t stand how difficult it is to stay true to your morals and self-respect when he knows every single square inch of your body and exactly which titillating button to press. “Mmm, bet he didn’t. Bet he couldn’t. ‘cause she only listens to me.”

“Megs…” you groan. Your hips involuntarily rolling up into his touch. The teasing barely there presses making your mind hazy, your body instinctively chases for more as the touch feels less and less the harder you buck. “D-Don’t stop, Megu—”

He softly kisses your lips to silence you, still refusing to continue touching you properly. You moan, a chaste sound as his lips stray from yours to kiss along your jaw like he loves you. He sucks at your neck like a fucking vampire before alternating to those sweet kisses again. You hate him, you hate that he’s trying to be something he’s not to get you to tell him your secret.

These kisses are so fucking sickly, like a stranger is forcing himself inside of your skin with each delicate press against your neck. And it’s making your teeth rot. You’re a stupid girl. His stupid girl because you’re falling for it. Your candy-coated tongue is loosening and preparing to bare your entire fucking soul to him so long as he keeps touching you and giving you your sugar fix.

His hand holds your waist, a weight for himself more than you. Two whole days away from your perfect cunt has been hell for him, and not being able to touch you is a fate worse than death. He wants to tease your pressure points until you’re dying for him. He wants your every breath to be agonising without him.

Without seeing him.

Without feeling him.

Without breathing him.

He needs your every thought and whim to be aching for him and him alone. So, he needs to control himself. By showing restraint and fighting his primal urge to make your pussy fucking purr for him, he’s keeping his hand on your waist.

You smirk as he decorates your neck in bruises, you feel the sickening smile sprawling across his fucking face. And again, you want to protest, you want to tell him what you think of him and how much you can’t stand him. But when his hand begins another journey, you can’t. You can’t as your body jolts into his touch as his fingertips tickle your ribs. They don’t stop, teasing traces of his finger cover your body despite being clothed.

How can such a light touch feel so powerful?

You try to stifle yourself as he cups your breast, the flesh and swollen nipple are exposed thanks to your decision to forgo a bra. You still have your dignity, Megumi isn’t that perverse to allow this random old driver the honour of seeing your tits.

You’re just that weak.

They’re covered, entirely, and still his rubbing and tweaking are too much for you. Your attempt to bite your lip is just that. An attempt. A feeble attempt to withhold your pleasure from him which only ends in you mewling harder for him. Your heavy, lust-filled breaths fill the cab as he rubs his thumb slowly back and forth over your nipple. His teeth bite and kiss at your jawline once more, albeit he is barely present either. He’s almost as fucked out as you are, he can’t silence his pleasure. His breathing heavier than you know it to be. His eyes lidded heavier than they’ve ever been.

“Yuuji—” you pant, your body is limp in the back seat as he feels you up. His fingers dig into the supple flesh of your thigh as he kisses your neck and sinks his head until he reaches the top of your breast. “Did you hear m— ow! Megumi!”

“Shut up.” he chides. He sank his teeth into your tit before speaking.

You stare into his emerald eyes as you contemplate his next move. That’s the one bad thing about being with Megumi.

That’s a lie, there’s a lot of bad things, you just choose to ignore them.

But you know you’ll never be as clever as he is. You’ll never be able to fully read him like he does you. He knows every move you’re going to make before you’ve made it. He can read you like a book and it fucking scares you.

“Yuuji couldn’t make you cum… you wanna know why?” he asks, his thumb strokes your earlobe between gentle pulls. It’s too sweet again, you think. There’s no way he’s this calm after finding out you fucked his best friend. He’s always been jealous. You think he’s just possessive but deep down you should know the truth. He’s scared you’ll leave him. He’s insecure and that is why he makes such a show of making it known that you are his.

“Why…” is all you can think to say. And he smiles at that. His fingers no longer toying with your ear. The way his fingers draw along your skin makes your hair stand on end. He feels no sympathy as he sees your arm breakout in goosebumps despite knowing he is the cause. And he feels even less as he wraps his hand around your pretty little throat.

He squeezes tight.

Tighter.

Tighter.

“Because you don’t belong to Yuuji. You belong to me.” he tells you, his grip is bruising. His teeth are bared as he feels your pathetic pawing, desperately trying to pull his fingers from your neck.

He’s going to kill you, you think. His voice full of vitriol and malice as he effortlessly wrings the life out of you with one hand. And the taxi driver doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to intervene because it isn’t his place.

A lovers quarrel.

That’s what he must think. You were all over each other a moment ago after all, maybe you’re just a slut who likes it a little rough.

You are, but that’s besides the point.

He probably doesn’t want to risk sticking his nose in and getting more involved than he needs to be. You know yourself that Megumi doesn’t care. He’d only tell him to mind his own fucking business.

“You think I didn’t know?” he whispers, his breath warming the shell of your ear as he doesn’t let up. “You reek like him… you smell like a fucking whore.” his words, his tone, his breath all dripped with virulence. He lets go of you, practically throwing you to the other side of the taxi as tears spill over your cheeks.

You wipe them, quickly, but the damage is done. The way you’re sniffling and trying to do damage control to your perfectly done makeup is nauseating to him. Silence fills the taxi and the air is thick. You roll down a window, the cold air lashes against your face and dries your tears as you wait to reach your destination.

--

The car pulls up outside of your apartment. You barely wait for him to come to a stop before you open the door and rush out to open the security door. The bite in the winter air has you trembling as you fiddle with your keys. The little dress and lack of coat certainly wasn’t a wise choice, but you’ll always place looking hot ahead of being practical.

But in truth, the weather isn’t the sole culprit. It’s barely bothering you, honestly. Megumi’s casual callousness and unyielding grip around your throat are what has you shaken up. It’s not the first time he’s choked you and you doubt it’ll be the last. But it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him do it with that look in his eye. A look that told you how little you mean to him. How unfazed he would be if you died by his hand.

You’re wrong, though. While you’re fiddling with your keys Megumi pays the driver. He tips him a fair amount and then follows you out, approaching slowly as he waits for you to open the door. His eyes weren’t cold because you mean nothing to him, it’s the opposite. You are everything to him. Why do you think he’s being so cruel to you? To get it through that pretty little skull.

“You didn’t answer me, princess.” he tells you, and by now you don’t even know what he’s talking about. “Did you think you could fuck anybody and I wouldn’t find out? I always do.”

“Shut up.” you tell him, though it’s quiet and meek. Your usual bravado and confidence lodged in your dry throat. You finally slot the key in the hole and turn it, allowing him to enter with you. “You said it yourself… I was always going to tell you I fucked him.”

He scoffs, watching you climb the stairs. Even now he has no shame. He’s unable to stop himself peaking up your dress to see your panties riding up your ass as you walk. You can be as mad at him as you like, you both know you’re too weak to say no to him.

He follows, eventually, catching up with ease. You allow him to take the key from you and walk ahead, unlocking the door like it’s his apartment. It may as well be, he spends so much time here after all. Most of his things are here, you’re here. Though he’s been banished for the last few days to stay at his dad’s house after your latest fight.

The door opens and he makes himself at home. He collapses onto the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and crosses one ankle over the other. You go inside, slowly, locking the door behind you and looking at him suspiciously.

“… What are you doing? I know you aren’t here for a fucking movie night, Megs, are we going to bed or not?”

“No. We’ve gotta talk first.” he tells you. You roll your eyes and leave him alone to walk to your bedroom. He sighs, annoyed, following you. “Back to being a brat? You only fuckin’ behave yourself when I make you cum.”

“Fuck you.” you sigh. “What is there to talk about?”

“You cheating on me with my best friend springs to mind, baby. We should probably clear that up, shouldn’t we?” he’s talking like it was a silly misunderstanding. Like you almost walked away with his suitcase at the airport that just so happens to be identical to yours. But nothing you do will ever match up to what he does. You can go low; but there’s no sight to the depths he’ll stoop to.

“Fuck! You!” you tell him, pointing your finger in his face like you always do when you’ve had too much vodka. “You are the reason I don’t have any friends anymore because you fucked them all! I broke up with you when I fucked Yuuji so whoever I fuck in that time is none of your business. I—”

“Baby—”

“No, shut up. I forgave you every single time you fucking cheated on me because I’m an idiot and I love you. So, stop talking about Yuuji, it doesn’t matter. We weren’t together. In fact, we still aren’t! You should count yourself fucking lucky that I’m even giving you the chance to fuck me tonight.”

He walks to you, slowly, and you don’t have the energy to be a brat anymore. You let him get closer and closer until you’re looking up into his eyes while his hand rests on your hip and the other cups your cheek. His head tilts, and your eyes instinctively flutter closed as his lips press against yours.

“I know ‘m lucky, princess. Missed you so much baby.” he tells you before deepening the kiss.

You’re too weak to be with a man like him and expect to be anything but a plaything. The hand lingering on your hip wraps around your back before down to your ass. The pudgy softness of your ass swells between his fingers, the white material of your dress warming his hands as he grips you roughly. He smirks against your lips before landing a harsh smack against your supple flesh. The yelp he extracts from you is fucking delectable. He could quite happily gorge himself on the sound and make it his life essence until the end of time.

“Daddy missed his perfect girl ‘n her perfect pussy… didn’t even fuck anyone else. No one compares to you, y’know?” he tells you quietly, almost like it’s a secret only meant for you to hear. He hikes up your leg so it’s settled around his waist, your other instinctively follows so that you’re completely in his hold. He walks you to the bed, his mouth suffocating yours and you can’t think of a single coherent thought as your brain feels starved of oxygen.

You giggle as you fall onto the bed, your shoulder blades against the mattress while he presses his weight fully on top of yours. He keeps a thigh between both of yours, and he revels in how pathetically you’re rutting your hips against it just to satiate the slightest bit of tension formulating at your core because of him.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you slip your tongue into his mouth. The moaning sounds trapped in your throat break free and he devours them as he feels you up in every way he can to make your mind dizzy and drunker than vodka could ever make you.

“Do you believe me?” he asks, breaking the kiss to see how needy you are. Your eyes give you away in an instant, filling with water the minute he pulls away. You feel so in love with him when you have your arms around him like this. When he’s caging you in like you’re his property.

You are.

That’s how he sees you, and that’s how he makes you feel.

No matter how dehumanising or fucked up, you just don’t care. You wouldn’t want to belong to anyone but him, anyone. And isn’t this what the main goal in life is? To find your person? To fall in love and be adored so wholly it makes you insane?

You feel that with him.

He feels that with you.

“N-No…” you confess. You aren’t scared of him; you never really have been. You’re scared of what he can do to you. You’re terrified of how strong he is and how unyielding he is in his pursuit of having all that he wants in the world with a cherry on top for presentation. But he doesn’t scare you, not really. Not enough to hide how you really feel. “Why would I believe you when you’ve cheated so much?” you ask.

He’s a little surprised by your brazenness and resolve. Usually with a little kissing and humping you stop caring about what kind of a person he is and what he’s done to you in the past. You aren’t scared; but you’re making him feel fear.

“Mmm, baby. You really need to cum, hah? Is that why you’re bein’ so dumb f’me? Can’t think because you need to cream for daddy…” he insults you with ease, and your brows knot into a bemused frown. “Awe… you’re s’cute when you’re confused, baby. Jus’ let me touch you, don’t think too hard. I forgive ya.”

“W-Wha?” you hum, the determination to continue questioning him falls silent as he pushes your panties into the crease of your thigh. The breeze rolling through the open window causing a shiver to roll through you and truly feel the difference between your freezing body and the sopping warmth betwixt your thighs.

“You said you didn’t cheat when you fucked Yuuji. So how can I cheat if I fucked other girls at the same time?” he asks. “I didn’t, though,” he spreads your pussy lips open and collects the ever-dampening slick on his fingers. He buries his head beside yours, kissing and breathing against your ear as he swipes softly over your throbbing clit.

“But you—”

“I fucked my fist ‘n thought of you.” he whispers, his fingers not stopping the lackadaisical stroking. “Whenever I got hard… jus’ thought of your pretty cunt swallowin’ me and made myself cum so fast. Looked through your Insta feed ‘n your selfies, imagined cumming all over your face.”

“Fuck.” you keen, hips bucking wildly in search of more pleasure than his modest touches. You fully wrap your arms around him, kissing him passionately and he begins to pick up the pace. “I love you.” you mumble, like the pathetic person you are. He grins and bites your lower lip before kissing you deeply.

He’s got you right where he wants you.

“I love you, baby.” he confesses, though you’ll never know if he really means it. Maybe he loves fucking you and loves having a pretty little trophy on his arm to call his and show off to his friends. Maybe he loves the idea of you and what you can do for him in terms of looks and status.

But is he in love with you?

You can only hope.

All you can do is hope he never lies to you. He never hides his cheating from you, you think he’s always honest with you so is it possible he can actually love you when he says he does? It’s enough to make you cry. Knowing that you’ll never really know makes you feel sick with an excruciating desire to make him.

You have to be his perfect girl.

You have to take all of the negatives that come with loving Megumi Fushiguro.

He stands above you on his knees, reaching over you to grab some pillows to place under your hips. You wriggle and squirm in his absence, awaiting his return to you. But you forgot about the pillows. Your head snaps in the direction he’s reaching as he picks up the two nearest pillows to him. Any attempt to object would be fruitless now that you’re too late.

Your body fills with heat and shame as he lifts the pillows to see a purple, silicone dildo beneath where they once were. The laugh that escapes him is boisterous as he looks between you and the toy. You shield your face with your hands, almost ready to cry, and his laughing doesn’t cease.

“This is pathetic, princess. Did you even fuck Yuuji? Or did you just spend the last two days riding this stupid thing?”

“I fucked him!” you protest. You reach to grab the purple dildo from his hand but he’s too fast for you, still far too amused by this discovery to let up on teasing you. “He did make me cum, by the way—”

“You are a fucking liar.” he snorts. “Bet ya hurried him out of here so fast so that you could stuff this purple cock up yourself and pretend it was daddy fuckin’ you. Bet you were tryin’ so hard to cum and you couldn’t.”

“I hate you.” you sniff, attempting to grab the toy once more to no avail.

“You just told me you love me. So again, you’re fuckin’ lying to me, princess.” he continues.

You feel his body press against yours once more as he cages you in. You just watch him and prepare for whatever he’s about to do. There’s no point in trying to fight him when you know you’ll always lose. You cringe, slightly, as he starts to trace the tip of the cock over your swollen lips. His own mouth widens, a silent action, he’s coaxing you to mirror. And perfectly, you do.

You’re almost certain you see a heart-shaped twinkle in his eye as he softly pokes it in and out of your mouth, enamoured by the way your tongue instinctively swirls around it. You see more of his sharp canines the further he pushes it in. And it’s a full-blown snarl as he shoves it down your throat until you’re sputtering.

“I fucking hate you!” you yell and grab the toy quicker than he’d anticipated, snatching it from his grasp. “Get off me, now.” you command, pushing him off you. You know he let you when he moves away effortlessly. If he wanted to keep you trapped, he would.

“You’re so easy to tease.” he smiles.

You ignore him completely as you stand up. He watches you intently as you pull open the second drawer of your nightstand so hard the entire cabinet shakes. He tries to steal a peak of whatever other treasures you might be hiding in there, but you kick it closed before he can torment you any further.

“Awe, you’re no fun. Not gonna let daddy see what other toys aren’t good enough? Can show you how to use ‘em when you’re missing me.” he grins, he gets closer to you. Close enough to smooth his hands over your sides as you glare down furiously at him. You grab his hands, basically throwing them back at him.

“You are such a dick all of the time. I actually can’t stand you; I hate you.” you tell him, knowing yourself it’s a weak response even for you.

“You’re always such a good fuck when you’re pissed off.” he smirks, he takes off his shirt and throws it aside. You do your best to keep eye contact with him, not wanting to let your eyes wander and rake over his chiselled body. He sees you steal a few glances; he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. “Stop bein’ such a brat. Don’t be embarrassed, daddy thinks it’s cute that you touch yourself.”

A black silhouette in the drawer is stuck in your mind. Despite your cunt growing wetter and your thoughts becoming cloudy, you can think of nothing else. He is a dick. And part of you does fucking hate him. So, you open the drawer again. He doesn’t watch you, this time, he’s more focused on reading your body language now. What are you thinking? What’s on your mind?

“’m really pissed off, daddy.” you tell him with confidence. His body stiffens like a corpse as you pull a gun from the cabinet. A Glock 40. He does all he can to maintain his composure, to remain control of the situation and of you. But it’s clear he’s worried. He’s never seen you like this before, ever.

But he knows you. He knows what you’re thinking before you even do. He can read every little muscle pulling on your face. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to look angry, he knows what you look like when you’re really angry. You’re pissed, sure, but you certainly aren’t capable of doing any real damage with that thing. Not on purpose, anyway. And definitely not with the way your hands are fucking trembling.

“You gonna kill me, baby?” he asks.

“I might.” you tell him, you can feel the way your hands are shaking while gripping onto the gun. There’s no question he’s noticed, too. You’ve made a declaration by standing here like this, willing to toy with his life as well as your own. You can’t just put it away and pretend nothing happened, you need to make some kind of statement or you’ll never here the end of it.

He’ll ridicule you ‘til his dying breath.

“How?” he asks, getting closer to you. You back away, but you’re against the wall before you know it. He sits on the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly against the ground so you know he can lunge at any moment.

“I’ll shoot you…” you speak, he hears an unintentional warble in your voice, and you can see the fucking smirk stretching across his face at the sound. You fucked up, he knows you don’t have it in you. But he’s probably known the whole time.

He grabs your wrist, and you yelp. Your eyes widen in horror as he moves your hands so that the gun is aimed at his chest.

His heart.

“Here?” he asks, and it’s so casual, you think you might throw up. You want to protest, to snatch your hands away and tell him to stop being so stupid. But you can’t, you can’t give into his mind games now. You can’t. Your hands are tremoring as he moves the gun again, resting it right between his eyes. “Hm… here? Probably the quickest. Won’t leave much mess if it gets stuck in my brain.” he explains.

“Stop it.” you mutter, he can feel the way your hands are trying to get free from his hold but he’s much too strong. “I’m s-sorry, stop it, please.”

“Could make me swallow a bullet too, but I don’t think you’re gonna shoot me anywhere.” he smiles, forcing you to aim at his perfect, gleaming teeth. “Where the fuck did you get this anyway? You really are stupid.”

“My dad gave it to me!” you inform him, and you’re aiming at him with new courage and will. “I know how to use it; I have a license.”

“Your pussyof a dad got you this?” he laughs.

You shove the gun against his teeth, not taking kindly to him insulting your father unprovoked. He looks up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, he’s never been so attracted to you, really. Seeing you do all you can to stand up to him but both of you ultimately knowing you will never truly be a match for him, it’s quite interesting. Arousing, even.

He widens his mouth, allowing you to slot the black chamber between rows of white. The blinding contrast is almost enough to make you consider what you’re doing. Are you sure you want to do this? You are dangling his life in your quivering hands, after all.

“I should make you choke on this.” you whimper a little, a tear finally rolling down your cheek and giving your true cowardice away. You aren’t going to hide it this time. There’s no point in trying to clear away what he’s already seen. And you have no intention of holding a gun with just one hand when you’re already so shaken up.

He grabs your wrist, shocking you, but you don’t falter. You watch him carefully as he sinks his mouth down the chamber until it hits the back of his throat.

You hate him.

You hate how easily he can take any ounce of power you feel over him and turn it to nothing but a grandiose idea. A fleeting thought that you could make him tremble and weep before you. Maybe even apologise and promise to change because he’s the one scared of you for a change. But you should have known he’d never let you have that over him.

Hell, he won’t even let you embarrass him.

“I should fucking kill you.” you start to cry, thinking back to how he’s treated you tonight alone. He hasn’t even broken a fucking sweat. You thought you might be able to humiliate him like this. Making him choke and sputter around the gun like he’d made you with the dildo, just to see heat sear through you and add to the already burning shame you felt having been caught.

But instead, you watch him as he takes the gun as far as he possibly can. His stare is still lidded and hazy with lust and adoration for you. He does it a few times, repeatedly, and somehow still with a fucking smirk on his face.

He holds your hands still, pulling away from the gun as an obscene amount of drool pours from his mouth and down his chin. And then, he finally does begin to hack up choking breaths. Despite it being almost entirely on his terms, the feeling of cold, hard polymer clogging up his airways proved to be too much for even him to withstand for too long.

“Did you really think you could embarrass me like that?” he asks, sincerely. “You really are pathetic.”

“Megumi I—”

“Good thing you’re daddy’s stupid little girl, my pretty li’l airhead.” he grins, snatching the gun away from you. Your back slides down against the wall as you watch him fiddle with the gun, pulling out the magazine with a sadistic fucking snarl on his face. “The safety was on the whole time. And there aren’t even any bullets in here. You’re s’fucking stupid. It’s adorable.”

“I can’t do this anymore.” you sob into your hands. He watches you for a moment, not an inkling of remorse lingering in his body as he sees you crying inconsolably. You feel his fingers dig into your arms and pull you towards him.

Quiet protests die the instant he throws you down onto the bed. You’re underneath him once again, but you feel even more trapped as he shows no intention of letting go of the gun. He aims it between your eyes and you can’t stop crying.

His choking was unrelenting in the taxi.

And now he has a weapon that could end your life in an instant.

But would he? Is he capable?

“I’m sorry… I love you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” you weep, you don’t think you’ve ever cried so loudly or so hard in your life. You wouldn’t be surprised if a vein was bulging in your forehead, and you can without a doubt feeling a migraine bursting through your brain. But you can’t stop, you can’t stop crying. “Megumi I love you, I’m sorry.”

You know it’s empty and you know the safety is on because he told you so. And Megumi is always honest with you, isn’t he? And still, you’re panicking. You’re worried that he’ll pull the trigger and somehow wills a bullet into existence simply because he often gets what he wants in life.

He keeps the gun aimed at you until your head is resting on the pillows still remaining against your headboard. He’s donning a facial expression you’ve never seen from him before. A stoic yet somehow manic stare as he watches you cry and plead for your life beneath him like he’s some sort of God.

His expression doesn’t falter as he turns the gun and aims it at his temple. You’re screaming now. You dread to think what your neighbours think. It’s not like they’ve never heard you two fighting and fucking before, but it must be concerning for them to hear.

“Megumi I’m sorry! Please!” you wail, fear stabbing through you as you see him begin to shake. You close your eyes, expecting the worst yet still begging with him to see sense and stop this.

He lowers the gun again, his eyes wander to follow it as he drags the cold weapon between your clothed tits and down your body. You shudder as you feel him use it to move up your dress and exposes your still bare cunt, having not moved your panties back into place.

You feel the chilled polymer dip between your folds.

“P-Please…” you beg, hoping he won’t put it in you. Your eyes screw shut as he moves it, sliding it through your soaking flesh again and again as butterflies soar through your stomach. He pulls the trigger, the vibration almost assaults your clit, despite the empty clacking filling the room. “Hnnff—”

“You’re so wet f’me… or is it just the gun? Is it turnin’ you on, princess?”

“N-No, please. I don’t wanna play with it anymore, d-daddy.” you tell him, each hitched breath you take scratching your throat. Your cries still evident as you gasp and plead with him to finally stop. You should never have pulled it on him, you should have known he’d do this.

He moves from you, opening the drawer you’d taken it from and puts it back inside. Even though it’s gone, out of his reach, you end up crying tears of relief as he places gentle kisses against your forehead and cheeks.

“You’re such a good girl, y’know? Did so well… proud of you, baby.” he whispers, and you hate yourself. You hate yourself because you’re brimming with confidence after he tells you he’s proud. Your heart crescendos to a place you know there’s no going back from now. Even after almost threatening to end your life; you’re still in love with Megumi Fushiguro.

You’re too tired.

Emotionally exhausted and physically defeated. There’s no fight left in you anymore as you feel him carefully peel away your dress from your body. He rolls the top down to your midsection, exposing your breasts to him and your still hardened nipples. He does the same with the skirt, fully revealing your glittering cunt and what a drippy mess he’s turned you into.

No one makes you wetter than he does.

He pushes your thighs apart, and lightly spanks your pussy to steal a quiet whimper from you. It’s not a punishment by any means, he just wants to make sure you’re still here with him. Still relishing this moment. Still honoured by the fact he’s even giving you the time of day to play with you like this. To satiate the burning need to be toyed with until your mind goes blank. He’ll do it for you, and it’ll take no time at all.

He kisses down from your left knee towards the apex of your thighs. He’s admiring his handiwork on your body as he does. Purple bruises he left you before your last fight have begun to turn greenish yellow as they heal.

You love his little reminders of who owns your body.

He hurts you so good. And you wouldn’t feel conquered without the bruises that his tenacious touch bestow upon you. You sink into the mattress as his tongue laves over the doughy skin of your thigh, reminding you where every single bruise is.

You gasp, back arching off the bed as you feel him insert a thick long digit into your sopping entrance. He’s slow, prodding and twisting deeper and deeper. He can make you cum like this, and you think you might gush as he teases the sweet spot buried within.

“What are you—?” you start, watching him push your legs further apart as he suckles at your clit. You feel the fingers on his free hand trace along your skin, the sensitive bruises almost pulsating beneath his touch. The way your head throws itself back seems like an out of body experience. An involuntary response to the way his finger pokes harshly into a particularly nasty looking bruise. “Hnng— fuck, daddy!”

He spanks your clit before swiping over it rapidly with the tip of his tongue. Your fingers lace between black tendrils of hair and pull as you deliquesce into the empyrean feeling that only his tongue has ever offered you.

Your mind is stripped bare as he continues his assault. Manipulative fingers push carelessly yet purposefully into your ageing bruises to extract those ethereal moans from your weak little throat.

“’m gonna c-um, daddy.” you groan, eyes fluttering white as he presses harder into your marked body.

“Show me.” he whispers, breath fanning across your sex as he speaks. “Show daddy how a slut cums.”

Every inch of your body feels tarnished and stained by him. With him. A cloying film embedded to your skin that is purely the work of Megumi Fushiguro. His insults as well as his loving touch. The fear as well as the adoration. Even his eyes ravishing you with nothing but a salacious stare leave their mark on you.

His tongue doesn’t stop as your cunt begins to spasm. He feels how your pretty pussy pulsates against his greedy face. You cum hard and coat the lower half of his face in a shimmering gleam. He’s loud, unable to hide his pleasure as he begins to hump into the mattress at the sight of you coming undone for him. It extends your own pleasure, hearing how fucking noisy he is purely from giving you head.

You hate him.

He’s so vile.

But you can’t help wanting to make him proud.

You can’t stop feeling proud when you’re a good girl for him.

And seeing him like this makes you think that he might actually love you. His eyes are definitely dotted with hearts, now, as he savours the taste from devouring your essence. There are two words lodged in your throat. Two stupid little words that you would do anything to choke down and forget right now. Maybe he won’t care, not when he’s like this. Not when he’s pussy drunk and utterly enamoured by your mere existence.

“Kiss me…” you almost suffocate as you speak, tears spilling down your cheek as your cheeks burn with heat and shame. Your eyes scrunch closed, preparing for a barrage of insults from him. You know he’s going to call you stupid, pathetic. Maybe even an airhead again.

But it doesn’t come.

He finds his strength, holding his body up on his knuckles as he drags his body up yours like a wild beast. He lowers himself, his lips locking perfectly against yours before he cups your cheek. Why isn’t he always so soft and gentle with you? You feel yourself cry more as he swipes his thumb softly across your cheek as he kisses you. His tongue teases yours, licking it and smiling when you can’t quite keep up.

You know he loves you.

Why else would he do this?

Why else would you allow this?

He pulls away, familiar green eyes staring into yours as he studies you. They’re intimidating, clinquant. The most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. He wonders if you know he thinks the same about yours.

“You want me to put it in, don’t you?” he asks. He chuckles softly as he notices you nodding before he’s even finished his sentence. Your eyes are pleading and desperate, and he’s never been one to deny you of him when you’re so needy and polite. He stands on his knees again, unbuckling his belt slowly while he examines you. The way your hips roll in anticipation, the way you’re biting your lip and forcing yourself to not allow your fingers to dip between your thighs to toy with your clit. It’s too much. It’s too long to wait as he undoes the button and pulls down the zipper. You’re almost salivating when he finally frees his cock. “Missed me that bad, hm? Missed daddy’s cock, didn’t you?” he asks, ignoring the fact he knows the answer is obvious.

“Y-Yeah…” you struggle to speak. To think as your mind runs rampant with so many sex flashbacks you have; courtesy of the very cock you’re ogling. It’s thick with gorgeous veins and flushed with the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. “Need it— need your daddy cock.” you tell him, your chest jittering with hitching breaths as you try and maintain some semblance of composure.

You’re far from composed.

You’re nothing more than a mammal, burning with a white-hot intensity from trying to control your basic instincts. The primal urge and need to fuck. He’ll help you, though. You never need to worry about those needs being neglected while Megumi has nothing but you on his mind.

The pleasure is blinding as he presses his tip against your entrance. He pushes and pushes until he’s fully sheathed in your welcoming cunt. His cockhead rests at your sweet spot, and you know he’ll waste no time in forcing your vision to white out as he fucks you.

His fingers wrap around your throat, the prettiest necklace you own, and he squeezes tight. It’s not without reason. It isn’t just to give you more bruises or to cut off your air supply. He wants to keep you focused. Focused on him. He dips his head down to slot his tongue inside of your mouth once more. It’s a sloppy, drool induced kiss that shows no signs of stopping as he rocks his hips against you. His cock slamming deep and hard against your g-spot.

You can’t talk.

The only words that swirl around your brain are expletives anyway.

His kiss is suffocating and so is his grip on your neck. He releases you, slightly, giving you the chance to breathe once more. You can barely sense where you are, you don’t know if your eyes are open or closed as the only thing occupying your mind is his cock slamming into you and bringing you to your second release of the evening.

You’re brought back to reality, though, as he lightly taps your cheek a few times before slapping you hard.

“L-Love you, daddy.” you pant, you moan for him again and again until drool leaks from the corner of your mouth. You don’t care, you don’t even notice. And the sight is making him feral as he realises how there’s truly no one for you but him.

There’s no one for him but you, either.

“Fuck.” he grunts, knowing he’s going to cum sooner than he’d anticipated. He could stop fucking you, of course, but he can’t think of a worse fate. He wants to cum. He needs to cum inside of you and flood your pretty insides with his seed. He needs to make his mark on you and remind you who you fucking belong to. “’m cumming, baby, auh—”

“D-Don’t stop!” you warn him, desperate to reach your peak with him. You try to keep him in place, your legs wrap around his back and your fingers claw into his porcelain skin. He groans, quietly, hissing as you drag your fingers across his back deep enough to draw blood. He doesn’t mind, how could he when he leaves you covered in bruises at any given opportunity? If he marks you, he owns you. If you mark him, you own him.

And he wouldn’t want to belong to anyone but you.

“S’perfect… so fuckin’ perfect f’me. Unnff— oh, oh fuuuuuck.” he finishes, still pistoning his hips to fuck his sperm deeper inside. He’d knock you up in a heartbeat if you let him. Not because he wants to be a dad. Not because he wants to have a family with you. But he wants everyone to know you’re his. He continues to moan as he imagines you with a big swelling bump and everyone knowing that he is the cause.

You can’t ever leave him.

He’ll go mad without you.

“Such a good girl… look so pretty when you cum on daddy’s cock.” he tells you. He dips a hand between where you’re joined and rubs torturous circles into your throbbing clit. Your body jolts relentlessly from the aftershocks, unable to withstand the teasing.

His touches slow, and he pulls out as you begin to catch your breath. Your breathing deepens as you feel him part your pussy with two fingers so that he can watch his seed drip out of you and onto the mattress below. He smiles, brimming with pride that he did this to you. That no matter how much you claim to hate him, he’ll always be able to do this to you.

He collapses by your side. He’s staring up at the ceiling as your bodies shine with sweat and sex. He’s panting, loudly, with the biggest smile on his face you’ve ever seen. You’re staring at him. Trying to understand what actually goes on in that fucked up head of his.

But you never will.

So, you stare up at the same ceiling as he is and keep your thoughts to yourself. Where does this leave you, now? You never said you were back together, but you think he might have already decided.

But it was always going to end up like this.

You kick up a fuss and banish him to his dads house. But he always comes back. Always. And it’s because you want him back. Because you are too weak willed to stay away from him and do what you know is right. You could move on. You could fall in love with someone that doesn’t play mind games and make your life miserable.

But you love him.

You’re so stupid, because you love him.

“I love you, Megumi.” you whisper.

He’s quiet, he’s thinking.

“I know.”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[muzgozjeb]

[valtsv]

i love making characters so much. newest addition: middle aged divorced substance abusing milf with an angelic spear in her left eye that she can pull out and beat people up with magical girl style (plus copious amounts of gore) (it's slowly killing her with each use) (never let it be said that my metaphorical devices are subtle)

[1343-40]

insane to me to be in love with a guy with the same vices as your drunken dead gambler of a father. does the smell of whiskey when he drapes an arm around your shoulder remind you of pony tracks, buck. does your stomach churn at the increasing frequency with which you see a flash of that flask. are you terrified of looking into his drunken eyes one day and seeing a stranger there

[blitzwhore]

So. Stolas is an alcoholic. That much is very clear at this point in the show and has been for a while now. He binge-drinks to cope with depression and with his life problems at large.

What's interesting is that he's far from the only character in Blitzø's life who is an alcoholic. In fact, substance abuse seems to be a recurring theme in the show. At least three other people Blitzø was or is really close with (potentially four, if we count his father) have struggled with substance abuse: Verosika, Barbie, and Fizz.

And the show has made a very clear point that both Verosika and Barbie have been in rehab. Not just that, but it's also emphasised that they're both still struggling with addiction (Verosika still drinks at her concerts, "clutches onto Beelzejuice bottles like they're the last cock in hell", and writes magazine articles about binge drinking being sexy; Barbie still peddles heroine, though not H8). Clearly, for both of them, this is an ongoing issue presently in the show.

So, with all of that being said, I recently saw someone theorise that, in a future season, Stolas is going to go to rehab, too.

I thought it was certainly a possibility, and one that I would personally love to see explored. So I've been thinking about it... and I remembered this:

The beginning of Unhappy Campers, and Blitzø breaking into rehab to go visit Barbie.

Now, I think a lot of people (myself included) felt surprised and a bit disappointed the first time we watched this episode, because our initial assumption was that Blitzø was trying to visit Stolas. It just made sense! Stolas was hospitalised right at the end of the previous episode and texted Blitzø that he could visit if he wanted to. (At this point, we also didn't know Blitzø had trauma surrounding visiting loved ones at hospitals). And suddenly they hit us with Blitzø seeking out Barbie out of the blue? So many of us were left wondering... why? Yeah, people have mentioned that maybe feeling like he could've lost Stolas prompted Blitzø to try to mend a different broken relationship, one that he felt he had more chances of fixing. But the timing, as well as the non-immediate revelation that it's Barbie he's looking for, is still... strikingly suspicious, isn't it?

And just now, after all this time, it hit me.

What if this is foreshadowing?

What if, all along, they were telling us Blitzø will visit Stolas at the hospital in the future... when Stolas is in rehab?

[aerostaticsurrender]

Do you remember running? The purity of the air around. / Im a child humming into the clarity of black space.

[chocmoon-latte]

Took some berry mentats and now he looks like some kind of mystical being granting me wisdom

[mysharona1987]

This utterly shameful situation will obviously end well.

[fuzzyghost]

[izzyspussy]

and ftr ed needs it first and foremost a) to alleviate his guilt without having to face it but also b) so he has an excuse, can convince himself it'll hurt izzy worse, to not do it again

and it takes izzy a while to figure out either one of these of course because a) if you directly acknowledge these things they don't tend to work so great and b) his brain just doesn't work that way

but when he does eventually Get It, to some degree, that when ed insists to him that he wanted it it's not because he really believes that but because he wants izzy to agree for some esoteric personal reason he will probably never fully understand, he does it

and ftr izzy says he wants it when ed demands challenges prompts begs him to first and foremost a) out of desperation to give ed everything he could ever need but also b) out of self preservation

so when ed holds him up against the wall and asks tells izzy, "this is what you want, huh?"

and after a long, horrible pause where izzy realizes what he needs to say, where they both contend with the fact that even if izzy wasn't a bad liar no one could make this convincing, where izzy is choked up with heartbreak for edward and fear for himself and the hand on his throat, he finally coughs out, "yes. yes, i wanted it. i want it."

and when ed responds with a split second of tearful agony that contorts itself into a sneer in the space of a blink - because they both know it's not true, they both know izzy is just playing the part ed has assigned him (this time) as best he can - and growls, "well, too bad. i'm not gonna give it to you," and tosses izzy away from him toward the door like so many empty bottles

that's why izzy goes briefly faint with relief, before he takes the out and flees

but it's also why he'll be back to try again tomorrow

izzy didn't want it. obviously izzy didn't want it. but he'll say he did, if edward needs him to.

[muzgozjeb]

[galgali]

jekyll and hyde is not about an evil guy who independently inhabits a good guy's body it's about a guy who consciously and intentionally has an evilsona