#and when i tell u my mind fully blanked out???

[padfootastic]

being greedy but i'm interested in your answers for 6, 16, and 18 for the ask game <3

hello sharmz 💜💜 thank u sm!! (for kickstarting this, i was so worried it’d go ignored lol 💀)

6. Do you have pets?

sadly no :(( always wanted one (i used to be obsessed w dogs earlier but covid,,,did something,,,and now i’m just tolerant of any and all creatures but not especially passionate about one) but my dad has a Thing about ‘caging’ animals in the house and never really liked it. my grandma did have a german shepherd when i was young and i grew up alongside her and have the fondest memories w her tho!!! she was the absolute best <33

16. Do you have any tattoos? If not, would like to?

this is another sad no 😔😔 for all my piercings, tattoos are still a bit of a no-go in ~desi households and i’ve been trying to convince my mom for *so long* my god. i want to get a whole sleeve on at least one hand, including an arm band on my forearm (so hot?? for no reason??) and just. idk. fill my body up with a lot of doodles and shapes hehe

18. Do you like reading? If yes what's your favourite book?

absolutely obsessed w it. i go through phases where i’m either in reading slumps or going thru 30+ books a month easy. for the past couple years, i’ve only been able to stomach super chill romcoms because escapism is the name of the game 😎 don’t really have fav books,,,,but a few of the ones i loved recently are:

- Talia Hobbert’s Brown Sisters series (esp the second one!!)

- Joely Sue Burkhart’s Their Vampire Queen Series (basically just sex and blood and vampires; it’s a polyam series of like. 7? books and i love each and every one of them <3)

Get To Know Me!!

[sabahs-stuff]

Manifest appearance change. (Weight loss/gain)

(Success story)

❏First and foremost, Yeah, I know you shouldn't let go of your manifestation. Like detaching from your manifestation bla bla..

However, I have noticed that actively affirming appearance change is difficult for me because I love looking at my reflection in the mirror all the time. And I've to constantly remind myself to affirm. Every time I affirm, one of my inner voices started stating the opposite.

I weighed 47kg (I'm 5'3; I know it's the ideal weight, but I wanted to gain a little more). It was difficult for me to eat more. I believe it was about April 14 or 15. I decided to quit trying to eat more. I started to joke that I was gaining weight without eating,"are u kidding me? I'm eating nothing and also skipping dinner these days, so how tf am I gaining weight?" Some of my friends even laughed at me.🙂

Then, out of nowhere, my sister began complaining that I had gained weight, then few days ago I went to the doctor for a checkup, and they also measured my weight, it's 51KG now. Mind you, I skipped a lot of meals and wasn't eating at all. It was during the Mercury retrograde. I was quite depressed and saddened also someone so close to me died. But it took me like 10 days to gain 4kg. If that's not shocking idk what is.

So, this is what I did (•_•)

Reminder : "If you could make yourself believe that you have the exact appearance you desire, it would change"

Every time I ate, I told myself, "I should be dieting." And look at what I'M doing. I should start working out before it's too late. And that is all. Then I didn't even affirm anything during the day, ( I believe that if you make your brain believe that you're prettiest little creature on the planet and your existence is a service to the humanity then that's how it would be. And my toxic trait is that I believe my presence is a blessing to the humanity.😂

every time I looked in the mirror, I said, "Wtf? I'm gaining weight . "Shit, I need to diet." And trust me when I tell you at that exact moment your brain is going send you a thought "Stop lying; you're still skinny bitch"

But don't forget that you get to select what happens in your reality. If your mind wants to offer you lemons, make lemonade.😂

I said, "Yes, that's correct. If I want to lose my weight I need to affirm I'm still skinny" and I kept on saying "I need to lose weight or I'll gain more weight" just tricked my brain into thinking that I'm chubby and attempting to manifest becoming skinny. And I didn't focused on the end goal; I wasn't obsessed with it; I didn't give a damn about it, but whenever I noticed a little change, I freaked out as if something terrible had happened. And believe me when I say I freaked out it was Oscar worthy😂

I Remember, the first thing I noticed was that my arm was looking a bit chubby. I was screaming and even fake crying, 😭 "Damn this is embarrassing, I need to work out, I'm gaining weight." I then searched and downloaded weight loss workouts online.

Trust me I was living the moment 😂. literally living in the end. It was easy at the time because my brain was literally blank. I had no feelings or emotions, so I fed my brain whatever I wanted, and it ate every thought I gave it. I'm happy with my weight now.

I'm now 51kg this is just a photo I saved from Pinterest but this is my Desired type-

Here are some tips:

Your appearance is constantly changing with your affirmations and beliefs. So don't doubt whether this is going to work or not. 

Your manifestation will take time, depending on you and your beliefs.

And about mental health, I would post about it later, but it's important.

The more you visualize, the faster it will become a reality.Visualise everything; literally, everything you want, VISUALIZE 🙌 stay in your head

The amount of things I changed and manifested in my life is crazy; it's different for each person. But it took me a year to fully understand manifestation. So give yourself time. Spend time with yourself; the better you know yourself, the better you'll get in manifestation. Best advice: talk to yourself (in your head, of course, or others would think you're crazy, lol 😹.)  gossip with yourself; if you want to be tall tell yourself that you're tall and stick to it refuse to let go. ✊🏻

Hope you like it. It's my first ever post but clearly not the last 😉 feel free to ask any questions. 🩷

[seungkw1]

maestro — ljh // chapter 1

⛧ pairing: lee jihoon x afab!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns) ⛧ theme: fantasy, suggestive (18+ smut in future chapters) ⛧ chapter wc: 2.7k ⛧ warnings: minor knife violence ⛧ a/n: when i tell u that lee jihoon wrecked me sooooo bad this comeback !!!! the maestro mv was fully giving villain!woozi and my brain took that and absolutely ran with it. also, this is my first chapter fic!! much more to come, stay tuned <3

Your knowledge of the enemy is minimal, but what is known for certain is this: the Maestro is a dark and powerful sorcerer that is not to be trifled with - and you’ve just walked right into his trap.

You fucked up.

Your task was simple enough: sneak into the palace, steal the ring, and get the hell out. You’ve done countless jobs like this over the years - you're a professional for fuck’s sake. Sure, this gig was a bit more high-profile than usual, but nothing you couldn't handle. 

Yet somehow, they caught you. 

You rack your brain for a clue - something, anything, to indicate what went wrong. But you come up blank. Everything had gone according to plan (up until you found yourself surrounded by imperial guards with a knife at your throat, anyway), not a single detail overlooked. Something is off here, your instinct tells you. 

Here you are now, being forcefully escorted through the palace’s underlevels by a squad of imperial goons. The head goon hauls you through the dim hallways, his grip on your arm painfully tight, knife drawn and at the ready in case you were to try something foolish. A dark mask covers his lower face, so he's hard to get a read on, but you can tell he’s nothing more than a large, brainless oaf. You’ve single-handedly outwitted enemies like him in the past - but here, you are far too outnumbered. For the time being, you comply. 

You arrive at a large steel door, adorned only by a small barred window in its middle. With a rough shove the guard pushes you into the cell - you fall to the ground, your palms striking the cold stone floor. The hinges let out a horrid creaking sound before the door slams shut with a loud CLANG. You hear the clunking of a heavy chain, then the click of a padlock. Footsteps fade away as the imperial squad retreats - then, silence. You are all alone, trapped, imprisoned in this musty cell, somewhere in the depths of the Maestro’s palace. 

You sit on the hard ground, alone with your thoughts. The more you think about it, the only explanation is that this was a setup. But the Agency’s entire job is to sift through lies and misinformation; if this was a trap, there must be something larger at play - something elaborate, sinister. 

Unfortunately for you, you have nothing but time to try and piece together this puzzle. You lean your head against the stone wall, trying to figure out how the fuck you're gonna get yourself out of this mess. 

The absence of natural light leaves you with no way of telling time. The silence grows eerie. Your mind wanders, imagination soon running wild. You’ve heard of people who lose their minds within days of solitary confinement. Will that happen to me?, you can’t help but wonder. How long will I be here? Are they going to bring me food, or am I doomed to die of starvation? How did I even end up here? What are they planning to do with me? What if they forget about me? What if…

Your mind grows weary. You decide to lay down - no use in staying awake and overthinking. You rest your head on the gravelly floor - it’s uncomfortable, but your eyelids soon become heavy. You drift in and out of consciousness, strange visions and voices floating through your mind. Before long, you are asleep.

You’re running. You don’t know where to, but you are running through winding, endless corridors. Running from… something. You don’t know what. The sound of your racing heartbeat pounds in your ears, surpassed only by the heaving pants of your labored breathing. The neverending halls begin to expand around you - they grow larger and larger, disorienting your sense of perception. From behind, unsettling noises draw nearer and nearer: screeching echoes, thunderous crashes, wicked laughter. You run, but it’s not fast enough. The horrid sounds infiltrate your mind, reverberating through your skull so loudly you feel as if your head is about to explode. Suddenly, through blurred vision you see the hallway’s end; at it stands a cloaked figure, facing away from you. You can’t see anything else of the entity, but you sense the dark energy that surrounds it. Dread wells in the pit of your stomach, filling you with terror - but, for some reason, you are drawn to the malevolent being. Their presence is magnetic, alluring - frightening, but seductive. You press on - you don’t know why, but you must get to them. Your legs feel as if they’ve turned to lead - each footstep slowing you down further. You’re almost there, almost, almost… finally - the figure is within arm’s reach. In excruciating slow motion, you extend your hand toward them. Your fingertips graze the black cloak, its woven texture coarse against your skin. Your hand glides over the thick fabric - you close your grip around their shoulder, forcefully turning them around to face you. You lift your gaze to look at their face-

BANG.

You jolt awake in a panic. Disoriented, heart pounding, it takes you a moment to realize you’re still in the cold, dark prison cell. Faint light enters the room through the now-open doorway. Standing in it is a tall, thin man - you can barely make out his face, but his presence is unsettling. He peers down at you, his piercing eyes practically boring a hole into your head. 

“Come with me,” is all he says. 

You blink dully a few times, still not fully lucid. You try to process what all is happening, but your dream (nightmare?) weighs heavily at the forefront of your mind. The odious man quickly becomes irritated.

“GET UP!” he bellows at you.

You rise, stumbling to your feet. Two guards enter from behind him, swiftly seizing hold of your arms and yanking you out of the cell. They halt in front of the man. An unpleasant scowl seems permanently engraved on his face. He smirks at you.

“Well aren’t you pretty.”

You spit on the ground in front of his feet. The man glares at you with vitriol. He draws a short sword from the depths of his cloak, pointing it at your face. He traces the razor-sharp tip lightly across your cheek.

“Act like that again,” he sneers. With a quick flick of the wrist he delivers a small slash into your cheekbone. You barely flinch.

“And I’ll carve some very permanent scars into that pretty little face of yours.”

You stare at him, but say nothing. With a huff he turns, sauntering off into the hallway.

“Come along now. The Maestro wants to see you.”

—

The first thing you notice upon entering the chamber is the hundreds of candles set alight, illuminating the otherwise unlit space. The second is the hooded figure seated upon the throne at the room’s distant end, reclining arrogantly - watching you intensely. 

You hadn’t seen their face, but you know: it is the figure from your dream.

The guards stand you before the Maestro. You still can’t see their face. The thin man who summoned you steps forward, giving a small bow to his master.

“The thief, Your Majesty.”

The Maestro leans forward. Their face, previously shadowed, becomes illuminated in the candlelight: you see a man, much younger than anticipated - and strikingly beautiful. His eyes, adorned with dark makeup, peer up and down your body, studying you. He rises, nonchalantly descending the few steps before him; the clacking of his boots against the dark marble echoes through the otherwise silent chamber. He strolls toward you, maintaining eye contact, coming to a stop within mere inches of you. Slowly he removes his hood, revealing a head of long pale tresses. Up close, he is even more stunning. 

The man lifts his hand, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts your head, observing the cut on your cheek.

“I told you to bring me the prisoner unharmed,” he scolds his servant. His gaze doesn’t stray from your face.

The subordinate’s face drops. “Apologies, my liege,” he responds hesitantly. “I-”

“Leave.”

He says nothing else. The servant’s eyes darken with fear. “My liege-”

The man before you motions to the guards. “Take him away.”

The guards seize the man, dragging him from the chamber in silence. The door closes with a heavy thud. You are now alone with the enemy. 

Your existing knowledge of the mysterious individual known as the Maestro is minimal - you have a fairly high level of clearance within the Agency, but even there the details are sparse. Rumors abound, but what is known for certain is this: the Maestro is a dark and powerful sorcerer, and is not to be trifled with.

You watch the man before you intently as he turns on his heels, meandering casually across the room, hands behind his back. Undoubtedly, his presence is intimidating; but admittedly he does not seem to be nearly the loathsome monster you’ve been led to believe he is. Regardless, you will not be letting your guard down. 

“My apologies for the poor treatment you have received thus far,” the man starts as he resumes his seat upon the large, ornate chair. A bowl of deep-purple grapes sits on the table beside him; he reclines again, reaching for the supple fruits. He plucks a particularly round grape from its stem, drawing it to his lips - he places it upon his tongue, holding it there momentarily before biting down, its juicy flesh bursting within his mouth. He chews, his eyes fixated upon you. He swallows before continuing.

“I had to ensure you were who I thought you were, and not some irrelevant member of the Agency.”

You grimace, displeased to learn that your suspicions were correct. He did know about the mission, and presumably the Agency’s agenda too. If that’s the case, then how much else does he know…

You’re itching to ask him who exactly he thinks you are, but you hold your tongue. You know better than to engage with the enemy unless absolutely necessary.

“But now that I am certain, I assure you you will receive nothing but the finest accommodations.” 

You say nothing. He eats another grape. You’ve been staring for far too long when you realize his plush lips seem to have you in a trance; you quickly return to glaring at him.

A few moments of silence pass. The intense eye contact he sustains stirs up a sensation within you - not fear, not worry, but rather… intrigue. You know the man is dangerous, yet here you are - simply captivated by him. You silently curse yourself for allowing emotion to infiltrate your mind like this. You’re smarter than this. Get your shit together.

“Refusing to speak, I see. Very well then. But aren’t you curious?” He leans forward, taunting you. “You know I hold the answers you seek, y/n.”

Your stomach drops. He just called you by your real name. Members of the Agency are exclusively referred to by their code names - even amongst colleagues, true identities remain concealed. How does he…

Your face remains stoic, indifferent, but he smirks. He can read you like an open book, and he knows you know it. 

“Go on, question me. You must see there is no threat here - I am unarmed. You may speak freely.”

You know that’s an absolute crock of bullshit. A cunning sorcerer is never truly unarmed - god knows what he could conjure up in the blink of an eye. But, admittedly he does have a point. You very well may die here - might as well get some fucking answers first. 

“How did you know I was coming?” you ask coldly.

A sly grin appears on his face. “Ah, she speaks! Good girl.” You scowl at him; he continues. “It’s simple, really - it was me who allowed the Agency to ‘discover’ the location of the palace. I made sure their little reconnaissance efforts would lead them to send their most skilled operative to retrieve the ring.”

“You wanted the ring to be stolen.”

“No. I wanted the ring to be stolen by you.”

You pause at his unexpected words. What?

Every neuron in your brain is screaming at you to be silent, don’t play into his little games. But you open your mouth anyway.

“And why me?” 

“Oh, I’ve had my eyes on you for quite some time, darling.”

Your stomach jolts. He said it so nonchalantly, as if he was telling you the weather rather than admitting he’s been watching your every move for god knows how long.

You stare at him incredulously. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He simply shakes his head. “Patience - you will learn the whole story in due time. Guards!”

A new pair of imperials, much more polished and intelligent-looking than their brutish counterparts you’ve dealt with thus far, enter the room. 

“Please escort my guest to her bedchamber for the night. I must retire.”

The guards steer you toward the hallway. You follow without resistance. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” the man calls as you step through the doorway. You glimpse back: he is seated in the same position, watching you intensely. You catch a curious look in his eye, one you can’t quite read. He disappears as the heavy door shuts behind you.

—

As promised, your new accommodations are satisfactory - lavish, even. You’ve never seen a room with so many ornate embellishments, nor a bed with so many cushions and fine coverings. The washroom was equally fanciful, offering a large tub and luxurious-looking towels. Enticing, certainly, but at this point you are exhausted, and simply want to sleep anywhere that isn’t a cold stone floor. You lay upon the bed, not even bothering to retreat under the covers. Within seconds, you drift off to sleep.

You find yourself in the same hallway again - this time, not running, but merely standing behind the cloaked figure. You extend your hand, grabbing his shoulder and turning him round. You raise your eyes, meeting his gaze - but where his eyes should be, you only found blackness. You stare into the void of his sockets, hypnotized in fear, their darkness seeming to infiltrate your soul. He draws a dagger from his cloak, shoving you into the wall and placing it against your throat. You feel its pressure, but it does not break skin. He draws his face into yours, tenderly placing his lips upon your cheekbone - right atop your freshly-scarring cut. He kisses you - slowly, fervidly, his lips burning against your skin, but instead of pain you feel only pleasure. His free hand wraps around the small of your back, pulling your torso into his, holding you tightly against his blisteringly-hot form. The dagger remains perilously at your throat, a constant reminder of the power he holds over you. His lips parts from your cheek as he draws his head back, looking at you once again, the abysmal darkness of his stare penetrating through you. Slowly, he leans in, his lips converging on yours. Your mouth reaches for his, wanting for his kiss, yearning for his taste- 

Your eyes open. There are no windows in your room, but you get the sense that it is morning, midday perhaps. Dazed, you try to wake yourself up, but your mind keeps drifting back to your dream - to the man who has somehow infiltrated your subconscious. You raise your hand to your face, running your fingertips over your wound, but…

Quickly, you sit up, tossing your feet to the floor and heading toward the washroom. You approach the mirror, peering your face in close to the glass. Where there should have been a fresh scar: nothing. Not a mark on your skin. 

You frown. You don’t know what this means, but you suspect nothing good will come of it. 

A knock comes from the door. You hear the turn of the lock, followed by the creaking of the door swinging open. A young female servant enters, carrying a bundle of fabrics. A second follows, placing a tea set on the small table.

“You are expected at supper today,” the first woman informs you curtly. She places the fabrics upon your bed. “Wash up and dress in fresh clothes.” The two leave swiftly without another word.

You let out a sigh of annoyance. So this is how it’s going to be then. Fine - I’ll play along with his little games. You glance back at the mirror. A tired face looks back at you, grimacing.

Not like I have much of a choice anyway.

⛧ chapter 2: coming soon ⛧

[sst0rmm]

♡₊˚ a piece of you・₊✧

ft: isagi, rin.

notes: their habits and idiosyncrasies 🫧 𓇼 ೀ

part/series: 1.0 2.0

wc: 1809

yes i named this after the song u have to listen to it its utter perfection

makes me feel like the world is ENDING but you're in love, so it's okay ;)

taking a tiny baby little break from the in the mornings series to write this one (shameless plug, go check it out bcs rin and isagi r everything)

i have been gone for a while, SO SORRY life happened :(

god listening to the song makes me cry for a love (i never had)

okay isagi my lover's up first

isagi yoichi 💙🧿🫧

isagi will cook and clean and prep everything for your arrival back home. when he's not at a game, far, far away, with only the isolated moon as his company (he wonders how he ever slept alone in a bed before), he basically becomes a doting house-husband.

when you're about to come home, he'll have prepped everything and made everything as neat and perfect as he will. because in his heart, your happiness comes first.

if the sun didn't shine at your workplace, or wherever you were out, he'll bring the sun back home.

"you didn't need to do this- isagi-"

"i wanted to, baby." he holds a finger against your lips and gives you that soft, sweet, slow kiss that never hesitates to make your world spin and clouds disappear and a garden of love bloom in your heart.

"now, let's eat."

AGHAHAHGHAHGH house husband isagi is best isagi and i will not believe otherwise

this isn't the only thing he does...

isagi will also get in his little sentimental moods. he'll spend his days scouring images of you, walking around the house, and one time even smelling your shampoo.

it's a fondness that grows in the utter core of his being when he's with you, and without you, he feels a little alone. like a neglected plant in a vast, vast field, he'll grow again when he's with you.

and he's also a little frightened. you wouldn't believe that one of the best strikers in the world'd be frightened, but these inner voices that whisper in his mind, a hypnotizing siren's song, tell him "he's not good enough."

when you're not there, only the voices remain, eating at him from the inside.

after all, he's not the most athletic, the best technique. he just has his mind, and when that starts to fail, what else does he have?

you come home to no warm meal one night. rain plops steadily with a thunk-thunk noise on your roof, and you see isagi staring vacantly at an empty TV screen.

you call out his name, but he doesn't respond. keeps on staring at that TV, blank as can be. you feel a soft shiver down your spine, but you shake it off and creep on the couch next to him.

"isagi, are you-?"

you don't finish your sentence before he wraps you up in a hug. it's crushing, like if he lets go of you you'll leave, and he'll be surrounded by the torrent of his own emotions.

he'll drown in them.

blue eyes look down at you wide and you can see the tinge of anxiety.

"listen to me," because you've seen this mood many a time before, "you are good enough, isagi yoichi. the glue that holds the team together- it's you. you're perfect the way you are."

and the wan smile that he had on before explodes into a defeaning, perfect crescendo. isagi's real smile, reserved for truly joyous moments with his team or simply whenever he's with you, is blinding and beautiful to behold.

"thanks, y/n, i really needed that." now, he presses a soft kiss onto your lips, and you're met with the heady taste of chocolate (you glimpse discarded wrappers in the corner of your eye). his lips are so soft, so pillowy that you can feel your heart stop and your body become fully aware of him.

you melt against him, souls intertwined, then take him by the hand. "now, let's go make dinner."

oh my goodness okay okay isagi fever is real

next blue lock dream man is up!! (they're all dreamy perfect beautiful but still)

rin itoshi ˖𓍢ִ໋🍃✧°.💚

rin is caring, no doubt about that, but also a victim of his own genius. sometimes, he stays late at the field, practicing kicks and plays with undying fervor.

it's like a light has switched on his mind and it refuses to be switched off- it's hard to understand the inner workings of rin's mind, sometimes.

tonight is one of those days that he's just completely fired up. for whatever reason, he stays two hours after practice. no texts, no calls, and he leaves you staring at the clock anxiously. by now, dinner has gotten cold, and the only thing you can hear is the rhythmic tap of your fingers on the kitchen counter.

like, silence has never been so loud.

rin walks in around ten minutes later, face sweaty and hair a mess. he reaches out to hug you, but you decidedly step away and cross your arms.

you're a little bit more than mad. "where have you been?"

your boyfriend's brows furrow. "at the field, where else would i be?"

you scoff. it's not like you want to start an argument, but he needs to know where to draw the line. "well, i don't know. i called you like, three times but you didn't pick up."

"it's not the first time this happened," rin sighs, scratching the back of his neck, teal eyes downcast at the floor. normally, you would've left it at that, but you realize if you don't put your foot down now, this perpetual cycle of anxious worry will continue.

you gaze straight at his face pointedly. "yeah, it's not. which is why i'd like it to stop before it continues."

rin groans. "come on, y/n. i know i messed up, alright? i promise not to do it again."

"that's what you said the last time, and the time before that too." your voice is calm, measured, carefully controlled. then it breaks. "i'm just worried about you, rin."

he opens up his arms in search of another comforting embrace. you're not sure if it's more for you or for him. his teal eyes cloud over a little bit with sadness.

"i'm sorry, okay? i shouldn't have left you hanging like that."

"yeah, you shouldn't have."

"but-" rin's eyes alight with a determined fire, that very same fire he gets when he's on the field, that very same fire that can melt your heart into a puddle and make you weak in the knees, before he opens his mouth, "i'm done making excuses, y/n."

you don't even realize that you're crying until you look down and see the bottom of your, or rather rin's hoodie, slightly damp. rin's at your side in a flash, cupping your face with warm palms. the warmth of his skin on yours threatens to set your heart aflame.

"y/n, you're the end goal," he promises, while staring deep into your eyes. your vision is full of him- the slightly curved bow of his lips, hair pointing every which way, but most of all, his eyes, which seem to send an unspoken message to yours.

you can feel all your nerves sparking alight with the intensity of his gaze.

his lips press on yours decidedly, insistently, with no disguise of softness. you surrender immediately and throw your arms around him, and they nestle on the curve of his neck while he presses you flush against him.

it's electric, and you think you'll never quite have enough of rin itoshi. his tongue gently slides into your mouth, meeting yours, and you sigh.

"i love you. so much."

your head can barely come out of the kiss-induced daze. "i love you too," you respond, and the two of you melt against each other.

outside, the night is young, and the stars wink brightly down, as if to foreshadow a good omen. you smile against rin's lips and kiss him, this time is soft, sweet, and slow.

YESSS this made me rememberr how much i love writing on tumblr loll

you know what's coming next.. ;)

rin is also very possessive. maybe it's because he's used to getting what he wants, where he wants, when he wants it. especially in football, he basically always gets what he wants with how hard he works.

you were actually the exception to the rule- unlike the population of the rest of japan- you didn't fall for him at first sight. of course, that only made him love you more, and make the wait worth both your whiles.

anyways, if he sees another guy's hands on you, it's game over for the guy. in your case, your friend's slinging his arm around your shoulders while you two are walking down the street after getting coffee.

"and like, she totally cussed him out," your friend stage whispers, and you laugh.

"oh my god, really? but like-"

rin rounds the corner just then, smiling in a way that would be uncharacteristic to anybody else except for you. "hey, babe, i brought you some coffee-" then he sees your friend's arms around your shoulders, and his eyes darken.

your friend, however, doesn't seem to notice. "is that your boyfriend?"

before you can respond, rin interjects. "yeah. i'm her boyfriend." he says it so matter-of-factly, so aggressively, that you wonder how your friend doesn't realize rin's intentions.

because your friend probably doesn't have a death wish, and also because you don't want to see your boyfriend behind bars, you step out from underneath your friend's arm.

"hey, rin," you press your hands against his chest and peck him softly on the cheek. he relaxes, but instead winds an arm around your waist, pressing you close to his side. you almost blush in embarrassment at his clearly possessive behavior.

your friend seems to take the hint. "so, i'm just gonna go now..." you wave goodbye, while rin just looks at his retreating form with a glare.

secretly, you're kind of more amused than anything. also, it's kind of endearing to see how much he cares. you roll your eyes. "what was that all about?" knowing full well what it's about.

rin grumbles. "i didn't like his arm around your shoulders."

you bat his arm playfully. "so what? it's not like i'm dating him or anything..."

rin's eyes spark with that very same fire again. thankfully, you guys have moved past the stage of your relationship where rin would actually argue with you about this sort of thing. "that's right, cause you're dating me."

to prove his point, he presses his lips against yours and pulls you tight to him. he's only wearing a tank top, and you can feel the hard press of his muscles, warm through the thin fabric.

rin kisses like he plays football- all or nothing- and the heady, intoxicating sensation is enough to make you forget where you are, why you're there. a passerby wolf-whistles, but the two of you barely register it.

all you feel is the way your body slots perfectly against his, the sensation of his lips sending a wave of heat coursing through your body all the way down to your toes, and the soft press of his fingers, one on your cheek, the other rubbing soft circles on your hips.

then, he grins mischievously and pulls away, leaving you standing there for a second before clearing your thoughts and catching up to him.

"you did that on purpose," you complain. rin simply smirks as if to say i did, didn't i? and winds his arm around your shoulders this time, as the two of you walk forwards together into the sunlight.

YAYY THANKS SM for readingg

i lowkey forgot about this tumblr acc im not even gonna lie... life happens grrr but i'm back again!! divider creds today go to @attxnt tysmm 💖

(two more pics bcs y not lmaoo)

OK LOVE YOU ALL THANKS FOR READING! pls lmk who u might want me to write next in the comments :)

[violentviolette]

im gonna be very real and only say this once because there is zero room to change my mind on this

i am very psych critical and i agree with antipsych pricinicples and points, but bipolar disorder is a physical genetic condition that requires medication. point blank. medication is the Only proven effective treatment for bipolar and u cannot actually get better without it

and when i say get better i dont mean just slightly alleviate some things. i mean that remission means a complete and total lack of symptoms. if u are on the proper medication and taking it as perscribed then ur bipolar symptoms will stop. you will no longer experience mania, hallucinations, breaks from reality, delusions, ect. they will literally stop. and i say that so strongly because i know its factual because it is my very literal lived experience. it is also the lived expereince of everyone in real life that i have met and known throughout my 15+ years of treatment for bipolar disorder, which is dozens and dozens of people. I was diagnosed at 14 and have been in and out of treatment and on and off medication for over half my life at this point, and this is very much the reality but u also don't have to believe my lived expereince alone. bipolar disorder is one of the oldest recorded mental illnesses (we have literally known about it since the early 1800's) and treatment for it has existed almost as long. lithium is a naturally occuring salt and the only known antimanic agent in existence and humans figured out very quickly that this specific salt made some of us not insane anymore. the effectivenes of lithium and other mood stabilizers and the rates at which proper medication will result in full remission for bipolar patients and how relapses almost always only occur when people stop taking their meds is Very well documented. a reputable study done in 2003 reported that over 90% of bipolar patients recieving medication as treatment entered full remission within 2 years. and 72% of those people reported ZERO symptoms going forward

do not listen to people who tell u that u dont need medication for bipolar disoder, that it wont really help, that it only helps a little, that u can manage without it, that it wont actually make ur symptoms fully go away. they are lying to u, often to justify their own misguided decision to not take medication and ruin their own lives. do not listen to them because that kind of thinking will literally kill u. take ur fucking medication.

[002yb]

I think Jason has a little obsession with Dick's smell, I mean, it's canon Dick smells really good and people can recognize him by smell

My boy Jay is just there, hugging every pillow with his boyfriend scent, trying to memorize his perfume, blushing when the smell makes him remember something that happened last night

Okay but what if it's Jason smelling like Dick that gives away their secret relationship ahhhhhahahaha. No one can really say anything though because they don't want to be the creep that recognizes someone by scent (it's just something they noticed in passing and continued noticing because Dick smells nice and it's distinctive, they swear).

But oh, back up. Lets say Dick is in Blud fulltime. So there's a commute for the booty call. Either Dick will stay over with Jason (and Jason will smell faintly of Dick) or he'll be the one going to Blud (in which case the lingering scent is stronger).

Only in this situation, Bruce can't figure it out. The smell would be familiar, he just can't place why because Dick isn't over very often. When he is - it's as Nightwing and they all make sure to not have any discernible scents to them.

So Bruce is just haunted by this knowing something but not remembering it fully. So he would sit and stew and be broody over it. And Tim, bless him. It's getting in the way of Bruce's productivity so he checks in on what's up. To which Bruce is just like, 'Recently Jason (my darling bb boy) smells different from usual.' And Tim is l: because why the fuck did he ask, okay. And Bruce explains how it's familiar, but it's not Jason and - oh, god. The realization that his darling boy is sleeping with someone that Bruce knows well would be gutting.

Meanwhile Tim, knowing full well that it's Dick giving Jason the d, plays dumb like no tomorrow. No involvement. Just judgment because really, sniffing out J's boytoy? That's over-the-top dramatic even for Bruce.

But Bruce wouldn't be deterred because that's a good idea, Tim ('it was a warning that this is w e i r d, Bruce'), thank you.

And then Bruce promptly goes about trying to discreetly smell all his colleagues and associates - even some of his adversaries which is dangerous, but the hazards are worth it because Bruce needs to know who's screwing his boy.

Of course Jason picks up on Bruce having lost his mind. Or maybe Tim complains to him about it because it's a lot (even if Tim wouldn't be above doing it -- even if he had done it when he first recognized the smell, himself LOL).

'It's Dick.' Jason tells him, point blank.

'Yes, I'm aware of your proclivities.' Bruce would tell him, nonplussed by the inferred crassness. Just. World's greatest detective extraordinaire. Meanwhile Tim would be in the background, embarrassed for his mentor because wow, Bruce.

Needless to say this goes on for a while. Perhaps indefinitely. At least until Dick comes around the manor as himself. At which point Bruce would surprise pikachu meme face in that stoic Bruce way.

Also, I recognize that I went on a tangent of Bruce being an embarrassing dad hahahaha. As far as dickjay content goes, what you wrote is so cute though. 10/10!! Thank you for such a cute submission, anon. Jason curling up around something that smells like Dick in Dick's absence is so sweet. ;U;

[super-rangers]

i'm rereading uiw becuase fuck it i'm crazy and hyperfixated and late to the party, so i wanted to get a chance to read the story and the uiw posts and asks here in real time, so get ready for a few comments lol

first one (not even in order but i have been thinking about it) is that i LOVE the little interactions regina has with aaron, especially taking his hat to protect from the sun lol i'm a sucker for an exes to friends and she's never liked that man but they have INTIMACY, and i love it 10/10 what other little things do you think she does because they share this intimacy? or do you think she gets weirded out by some things he does with cady bc she remembers they did it together (and her being Not Into Men didn't like it?)

i'll (probably) be asking more as i read if that's okay ^u

I’m so glad you like their interactions!! I’m such a fan of their platonic dynamic bc you’re right, they do have a lot of intimacy and the way they handle it is fun to explore.

As part of my original idea, I had Aaron being one of the main people telling Regina that she needs to confess her feelings to Janis. The scene where Janis follows Regina to the swing set during the t-ball game was completely repurposed from a Regina and Aaron scene later in the story where Aaron’s the one finding Regina on the swings (angsting about Janis instead of her dad ofc) and telling her point blank that it’s getting ridiculous that she’s keeping her feelings to herself.

In some ways, he’s very similar to Damian in that he doesn’t take as much of Regina’s shit as her other friends do. Like he’s still a bit of a pushover but being in a healthy relationship really gave that kid a bit of perspective (as well as a little bit of a backbone) and the ability to call Regina out – not that we saw it in UIW much lol.

Went on a bit of a tangent sorry about that

ANYWAYS

I’m going to be honest, I think Regina avoids thinking about just how close her and Aaron are 😂 Too much introspection for her. She knows that she’s comfortable with him, and that’s enough for her.

In regard to how their intimacy might manifest, we saw it a little bit when Regina was talking about her dad leaving with everyone. Instead of going to any of her other friends, Regina turns to Aaron when she questions whether it’s bad that she doesn’t miss her dad. He’s kind of that touchpoint for her emotionally bc – very similarly to Gretchen – he saw her at her worst and still liked her. (I mean, that’s fully because he’s a teenage boy and Regina hot, but let’s pretend there’s a little bit more behind it lol) She doesn’t go to him with everything, but he’s definitely one of the people she’ll talk to when she needs to check a particular emotional response.

As a lighter example, I think she continues to steal his clothes. And, when the whole gang gets together for a sleepover or trip or something, I think Regina is comfortable being in that kind of sleepy-cuddly state with 2 people – Janis and Aaron. In the mornings while Janis is still asleep, I think Regina fully gets Aaron to make her a coffee and just leans against him with her head on his shoulder completely zoned out until she’s fully awake. Physical affection is still a challenge for Regina except when it comes to Janis and Aaron. She does not analyze what that says about how much she values Aaron, and none of her friends bring it up bc they think it’s adorable.

One day Regina’s going to realize that Aaron is her best guy friend and she’s going to hate it

She definitely gets weirded out by some things he does with Cady. It’s more about the sappiness and emotion behind the actions than the actions themselves, tho? Like, she’s not going to mind seeing Cady and Aaron cuddle on the couch or have a standing date night or see him give Cady a gift out of nowhere or any number of things.

It’s more going to be about Regina realizing that she wants those things now with Janis and being uncomfortable with the fact that she was so blind to her own sexuality when she had such disdain for someone she claimed to like trying to do nice things for her. She wants all of those mushy things with Janis – she wants to sit close to her as much as possible, having a standing date night sounds like a dream, and every time she sees something that reminds her of Janis, she buys it as a gift. Seeing his actions towards Cady just recontextualizes her own past in regard to the way she feels now

This got very long lol oops I didn’t realize I had that much to say about them

Also don’t apologize for asking questions!! I love receiving them and (obviously from this reply) I love to yap

[acourtofthought]

why do u think the carved rose thingy that papa archeron made for elain was half in shadow?

"her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she'd placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside of figurine of a supple bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. some sort of primal goddess, perhaps even the mother herself. nesta hadn't let herself dwell on why she'd felt the need to set the rose there. why she hadn't just thrown it in a drawer."

and why do you think nesta put the rose next to a figurine of a goddes, maybe even the mother herself?

i love you blog btw!❤️

 

Thank you so much for your message!! ❤️

I've got a few ideas on that scene.

1) "half-hidden in the shadows" / "perhaps the mother herself" could be hinting at the bonus chapter considering Az is standing in shadows and thinks to himself, "where only the mother might witness them." But I don't think that makes it a point in favor of E/riel because there is nothing about Elain that should be half hidden in shadows. She should not be veiled or some dirty secret, if someone loves her, she deserves to have that love acknowledged and out in the open. If that is the interpretation and the carving that represents Elain is partially hidden by shadows, then she herself is being hidden by someone else and is not fully in focus.

But I don't really think it's that because I don't think the figure of the goddess was the mother.

I've noticed that SJM will say something specific and that will trick the reader into thinking that's exactly what she means but she ends up twisting what actually happens.

Like the whole "a mating bond can be rejected" when Feyre is talking to Rhys about Lucien and Elain, how "maybe that is what she needs" referring to Elain and Az.

Just like the Suriel said, "stay with the High Lord" and everyone assumed it was talking about Tamlin (even Feyre). The information was relevant but for someone different than who she was talking about at that specific moment. So I don't think the probability of Elucien breaking her bond and ending up with Az is high because that wouldn't be SJM leaving a crumb and would instead be her spoiling what actually happens.

SJM might follow patterns which makes her writing easy for some to follow at times (at least for readers who pick up on the patterns) but she doesn't tell us point blank what is going to happen.

So my other theory is a bit more tied up into other hints we've been given about Elain.

2) I do think the half-hidden in shadows could be alluding to the fact that Elain does not belong in the Night Court. That rose, carved for Elain by her father as a symbol of Spring and life (since it was winter and she missed the flowers) isn't meant to be kept in the dark and both Elain's crush on Az and her presence in the NC are holding her back from coming into herself fully. Until she steps out of the shadows, she's going to be held back from becoming who she's meant to be and doing what she's meant to do. Especially when you consider that Nesta did place the figure next to one of a goddess but "didn't let herself dwell on why, why she hadn't just thrown it in the drawer."

I refuse to believe that SJM isn't telling us to pay attention to this. That rose carving got a lot of attention in Nesta's journey and now Nesta is refusing to allow herself to think on why she felt the need to place Elain's rose next to a goddess figure? (SF shows Nesta's struggles on letting go of being Elain's protector and I think the goddess is symbolic of the next step to Elain's journey, where she won't need Nesta looking out for her anymore).

I do not think Elain is going to be a goddess (more likely a High Lady) but I do think it's possible that Elain was gifted the powers that call to mind the powers of a goddess in exactly the same way Nesta can be likened to "a Goddess of Death" (without actually being a deity) but Elain's would be that of life.

Not the bringing people back to life from the dead kind of life, but more of a healing nature. Healing a land that's lifeless and in disrepair (despite the flowers that still grow), healing the despair of it's people, maybe even healing the wounded. Even Lucien can heal injuries to some degree so Elain having the ability to heal Cassian after what happened with the king is still a possibility.

I think the specific goddess figure that SJM is describing is also noteworthy.

SJM tagged Elain under Blodeuwedd (Welsh Goddess of Spring) on her Pinterest and the hero in that story was Lleu (which would be Lucien in ACOTAR). Lucien's uncle was Gwydion who created Blodeuwedd out of flowers and turned her into the most beautiful maiden so Lleu could take a wife. Gwydion's sister and Lleu's mother is Arianrhod, a Celtic Welsh Star Goddess of Reincarnation and she is often depicted holding a moon.

Arianrhod is a primal figure of feminine power, a Celestial Mother Goddess who through her role as Goddess of Reincarnation, rules fertility and childbirth.

She was a virgin goddess in the ancient meaning of the word virgin – a woman who is complete unto herself; a woman who needs no protection from a man.

If this is the goddess SJM had in mind for the figure, it's kind of perfect for the setup.

Elain's rose is placed next to a being that represents:

"Who needs no protection from a man" after we have Az saying Elain shouldn't go near the darkness of the Trove.

"Figure of feminine power". - Elain's does have a nurturing personality, cooking for the IC, expressing her love openly for her Feyre. Spring needs to be cared for.

And someone needs to start partaking in Fire Night again because the magic of Spring isn't what it should be. Nesta says despite the life growing there, it felt hollow and stagnant. Calanmai is literally the person in power using their sexuality to bring life to the land.

At the end of SF, after following that rose journey throughout the book -

First Nesta noticing it's "surprising weight", then her clutching onto it and taking it with her from the house -> Elain having more depth than anyone realizes and Nesta still trying to hold on as her protector, followed by Nesta not wanting to think of why she she didn't just throw it in the drawer and instead placed it next to a figure of a goddess -

We have Nesta finally letting go of the carving that represents Elain, moving it out of the shadows by the end of her book "let's help one sister before helping the other" (which I think means Elain is preparing to finally leave the NC, that Nesta will no longer interfere with what Elan wants). Placing it with her father's gravestone as a "permanent marker of the beauty and good" he'd tried to bring into the world.

[oopsimafannow]

playing with chatgpt

so i've been trying to understand how chatgpt works and since i write fic...that's what i'm doing it with and let me tell you this is fun As Fuck.

Setting aside important things like data privacy/safety, because I'm not fully on board with a private company owning the material I'm giving it lol

(but THAT ASIDE)

it's an incredibly illuminating experience -- when i ask chat (the name I've given my particular iteration lol) for something that isn't quite right, figuring out how to articulate what it got wrong? figuring out how to ask it for what i want instead? rewriting a passage to show it what i mean? these are all really valuable skills for a writer to have.

and dang it's also fun to be surprised by what it gives me. so I started with this prompt:

Here are two characters: Black is a young man studying to become a lawyer. He believes the world is unjust and that direct action, even illegal, unethical action, is the only way to change the world Todd is the same age as Black, and he is the CEO of a wealthy company. He believes the world is unjust and that gaining wealth is the only route to the power needed to change the world. Black and Todd used to be friends, but their differences created a rift between them. Todd and Black have harmed each other physically and emotionally, but still yearn for each other. Write dialogue of the two of them arguing about where to go to dinner.

and then several dozen interactions later, after getting some good stuff, some not good, some very wrong, some off-the-mark-in-a-weird-indescribable-way -- after telling it what I liked/didn't like/wanted, after re-writing its scenes, after giving it examples of my own writing that I wanted it to emulate -- I ended up with this passage:

Todd still wraps his arms around Black's waist, even as Black pushes him away. And Black still has a bottle of whiskey waiting for Todd. And Todd still sends expensive gifts to Black, even though Black tells him he doesn't want them. And Black stays at work late into the night, even when Todd sneers that he'll never make partner with that attitude. They move through their days and nights, orbiting around each other, their attraction crackling with a dark energy that neither can resist.

At the end of the day, Black likes to meet Todd in the alley behind their office building, likes to press him up against the brick wall and kiss him hard. Todd likes the way Black's hands feel rough against his skin, the way his mind goes blank when Black is with him. Todd likes to run his hands through Black's hair, to tug at it until Black groans. Black likes to taste the bitterness of whiskey on Todd's tongue. They both know it's wrong, that their love is toxic and dangerous, but they can't help themselves. They are drawn together by a force they can't resist, and they know that no matter what they do, they will always come back to each other.

Which is honestly still not fully right -- it's too close to the sample passage from my dean/pharm fic that I gave it (and chat really struggles to capture their toxic desire -- every time it writes something new, I have to teach it that ToddBlack are worse) but I can rewrite it:

Todd wraps his arms around Black's waist, even as Black pushes him away. And Black replaces Todd's expensive whiskey with watered down trash after he drinks it all. And Todd buys designer suits for Black to wear, even as Black only wears them to get into fistfights, tearing the fabric and staining them with someone else's blood. (Black hangs them back up in Todd's closet: a gift.) They move through their days and nights, orbiting around each other, desire crackling painfully between them. They meet in alleys, pressing each other up against brick walls, dirtying their feet with mud and cigarette ash. Todd wants Black's hands rough against his skin, wants Black to empty Todd's mind of knowledge, of language, of anything but the sensations he directs across Todd's nerves. Todd lets his fingers creep up Black's neck, into his hair, tightens his grip until Black swears. Black likes to taste the bitterness of shitty whiskey on Todd's tongue.

Then, I asked chat to compare the two and honestly, chat is very kind to me:

There are several notable differences between Scene 1 and Scene 2. In Scene 2, there is a more intense and destructive energy between Todd and Black, with their attraction crackling painfully rather than with dark energy. Additionally, the gifts that Todd and Black exchange are very different - in Scene 2, Todd buys expensive designer suits for Black, only to see them destroyed by Black's penchant for fighting. And rather than sending expensive gifts, Black hangs the ruined suits in Todd's closet as a sort of twisted gift. The alley where Todd and Black meet is also portrayed differently in Scene 2, with the ground dirty and covered in mud and cigarette ash. The way Todd and Black touch each other is also different, with Todd wanting Black's hands to roughen his skin and Black enjoying the taste of cheap whiskey on Todd's tongue. Overall, Scene 2 has a more chaotic and destructive feel to it, with the relationship between Todd and Black seeming more volatile and unhealthy.

If you're willing to give up your data to openai, and you come at it with curiosity and a desire to co-write something with chatgpt...honestly, this is a really fun, engaging writing activity. I feel like I learned a lot about my own writing, about how I understand those two characters, and about how to play the instrument of chatgpt to get the music I want.

[channiesposts]

hwang hyunjin nsfw alphabet

hyunjin was my first bias when i got into skz and i have such a soft spot for him 🫶🏼 and our bdays are so close together, so i’ll always be a lil delusional for him 🫶🏼 anyways, i was debating doing another nsfw alphabet and then i saw a comment that said smth abt doing this w hyunjin (my app hasn’t been working properly, im sorry i cant tag u :/) but i’ve been stressed so i started writing again lmaoo.

also!!! i mentioned it in my last one but for x (x ray - how big the person is), i’ll be changing it to smth else. i’m just not comfortable doing that. okok i’ve talked enough.

a - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

hyunjin is the most romantic person ever. we can see that with some lyrics he’s written, his paintings, the way he talks. i truly feel like his aftercare reflects all of that as well. like bang chan, he’s there cleaning you up, making sure you’re hydrated, helping you get comfortable, talking to you in a soft voice and making sure you’re ok.

b - body part (their face body part of theirs & their partners)

iiii think, his fave body part of his is less a body sort and just is his height. he’s not one to particularly relish in how much bigger than you he is but he does love how much taller he is than you. he loves how your head rests on his chest when you hug him. he enjoys the fact that you have to tip toe to reach his lips. if we had to pick a body part, he loves his lips. on you, i feel as if he also loves your lips. loves kissing them, will look at them when you’re talking bc he loves the way you talk. obsessed. with. them. also loves your thighs.

c - cum (anything to do with cum)

will cum anywhere. on you, in you, maybe on his own hand, you get what i mean. but, he loves cumming right on your pussy. he will cum inside on most nights, will cum on your tits sometimes. but smth about fucking you, and pulling out to cum right on your pussy will only drive him wilder than he is. smth about it just fuels him to fuck you even harder.

d - dirty secrets

loves spitting in your mouth. there are some other skz members that i see being a part of the “filthy mouth spitters” and hyunjin is one of them. you two don’t usually have the whole “dom / sub” thing, but there are moments where he’ll be fucking you and make you open your mouth so he can see his spit go into it. honestly, i think he just loves fucking around with spit.

e - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s not that experienced, but he has experience. when you two first started playing around, he knew the basics and a lil more. as time went on, you both learned and now he fucks you so well, you forget your own name.

f - favorite position

missionary. loves seeing your face, loves kissing you, loves seeing just how well he fucks you.

g - goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they more humorous)

50/50. some nights it’s very romantic and passionate. some nights it’s just casual sex, with him cracking jokes sometimes.

h - hair (how well groomed are they?)

keeps himself clean. not fully but it’s clean.

i - intimacy (how are they during the moment? romantic aspect)

as mentioned before, he is so romantic. he will be telling you just how much he loves you, how you were made for him.

j - jack off

once in a while. on days he can’t see you and he needs you, all he does is think of you in that skirt he loves and suddenly his mind goes blank and his hand starts traveling on their own.

k - kink (one or more of their kinks)

blindfolding his partner / being blindfolded himself. smth about not being able to see what you’re about to do next and only relying on his other senses turns him on. he loves seeing you blindfolded as well. loves that you can turn your body over to him, and let him love you while you just lay back and enjoy.

l - location (favorite places to do the deed)

he loves shower sex. smth about it feels so intimate. especially in the morning. he will fuck you anywhere and everywhere, but something about touching you in the shower….

m - motivation (what turns them on and gets them going?)

really romantic moments. you can tell him you love him and he wants to drag you to bed. but he loves when you wear skirts as well. as mentioned earlier, he loves your thighs. anything that shows them off will definitely get him going.

n - NO (something they wouldn’t do, ever)

same w chan, will not do anything with piss. (someone said it was called golden showers, so he wouldn’t be into that). he’s also not into anything dangerous, so knife play, blood play, all of that. even in his toughest moments, he’ll be keeping it as safe as he can.

o - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill)

loves giving. loves receiving. it’s a 50/50.

p - pace (are they fast or rough? slow and sensual?)

most nights, slow and sensual. he will be taking his time with you. he’s fast and rough sometimes but for the most part, he wants you both to fully enjoy the moment.

q - quickie (their opinion on quickies, how often)

not a fan of quickies. loves taking his time with you. he’ll only do quickies if he’s insanely desperate. even then, he’s promising you that when he comes home that night, he’ll make sure to love you properly.

r - risks (will they experiment? do they take risks?)

i feel like this is also a 50/50. sometimes he’s down to take risks but sometimes he just wants to be with you the way he’s been doing before. but, when he does take risks, he wants you to take them (meaning, he’s the “test subject”). and then he’ll decide if he wants to do with you or not.

s - stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

bro is a dancer. he has STAMINA. will go for hours, if you let him. he’ll only tap out when he feels like you need a break. like he says, he could fuck you forever.

t - toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he has like one toy for himself. he loves using your toys on you though. wants to see how long you last with the toys vs the real thing.

u - unfair (how much they like to tease)

he has days where he will tease you and you’ll want nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow you whole bc of how much you need him. he‘ll ghost his lips over every inch of you, only telling you the things he has planned for you. will not let you cum until he feels like you’ve reached your limit.

v - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

he’s loud. you’re loud. you’re both loud. he’s not afraid to vocalize how good you make him feel. will be moaning, will let out a whimper here and there. a whole lot of groaning. but what can he do? you feel so good, he wants you to know that.

w - wild card

hyunjin has hidden away the part of him that dirty talks and degrades but sometimes, he’ll come out. he’ll be saying the most out of pocket things to you, and you don’t wanna admit how much more you need him when he does that. he’ll have 3 fingers, knuckles deep in you and will be saying the filthiest things right by your ear. will tell you you’re a slut for him, nothing hit a cocksleeve, his own personal cum dump. but he says it out of love <3

x - xtra piece of imagination

he loves seeing you touch yourself. multiple lights, he’ll ask you to lay in front of him while he sits in a chair a bit further away. he’ll ask you to touch yourself the way you like. he says that, but will be guiding you through it. he’ll be taunting you, saying how your fingers aren’t long enough to make you feel as good his fingers do.

y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

relatively high. he’s still relatively young, so it’s gonna be a little higher. and he has you around, and when he’s in love, any little thing will go straight down.

z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep after)

fast sleeper. sometimes you’ll be staring at the ceiling and you’ll turn around to see him passed out. he wakes up a bit earlier though, and will always (attempt) to make you breakfast in bed <3

[gabessquishytum]

yet another anon - hold on! you gonna talk about voyeurism and not talk about Dream just sitting on a throne-like chair, in full view of Hob's bed, while he directs a number of clones of him of your choice to sex Hob up with his mind? He can watch himself fuck Hob in so many ways, so many at once, and maybe he can feel what the clones feel and maybe not.

He sits there, riveted, orchestrating Hob's pleasure, fully clothed but so hard and panting and flushed and sweating, maybe just at the sight maybe because he feels everything.

His control is insane so he keeps this up for a long time but. sometimes. it does get too much. it's so hot to watch Hob like this. And so maybe then the clones stop, stutter, shudder like a mirage just for a moment when his control slips, just a second, when he can't help but hump the air, throw his head back in a silent moan, close his eyes all overwhelmed.

I just wanna see Dream come untouched just from watching Hob, okay? Just, unexpectedly, it hits him like lightning and he comes shaking, in his pants, eyes rolling back into his skull, and he's not human so he just comes and comes until his pants and trousers are soaked through at the crotch. And, in the meantime, of course his focus broke suddenly so the clones have disappeared, and Hob watches Dream come for ages, and when he's done Hob crawls between Dream's legs and gently peels his wet clothes off of him and licks him clean slow and loving.

Just, you know, Dream thinking up a way to overwhelm Hob with pleasure but he himself ends up being the one overwhelmed and needing some aftercare, Hob telling him how beautiful he is while he licks him clean, how good he is, while Dream's mind is blank and he can't stop breathing hard or move a muscle and he's just really blissed out.

I'm a writer and could write this but I've so many WIPs already and my life is a mess so I probably won't? I just wrote this on autopilot so idk enjoy/sorry?

Omg anon please don't apologise for this absolutely beautiful piece of filth, I am utterly enamoured. I don't have anything to add, because this is too good and I'm going to be thinking about it for literally weeks.

Asmsjsnwjwnsbd seriously the copious amount of cum and the licking REALLY set me alight thank u <333

[starryhyuck]

thin walls. (m)

pairing: softdom!jaemin x sub!reader

words: 1.8k+

summary: you try your best to keep quiet since you know jaemin’s room is right next to yours. turns out you’re not as quiet as you think.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: dom!jaemin, bestfriend!jaemin, roommate!jaemin, oral sex, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie

“Isn’t it weird?”

“Is what weird?”

You’re having your weekly video call with Donghyuck and Renjun, the latter actually paying attention to your conversation while the former furiously clicks away on his keyboard.

“We’ve been quarantining for almost a year now. You haven’t gotten any dick in months and your roommate is like the hottest guy we know,” Renjun clarifies, raising an eyebrow. You both ignore the sound of Donghyuck grumbling loudly as he loses another game.

You roll your eyes. “And you’re so concerned about my sex life because?”

“Because clearly, neither me or Donghyuck have one. I’m living vicariously through you.”

That gets Donghyuck’s attention. “For your information, I am supporting many lovely women through OnlyFans. It’s only Renjun that has difficulties with sexual partners.”

Renjun scoffs. “I could have anyone on their knees for me, and we all know it.”

There’s a knock on your door and you take an earbud out when Jaemin pops his head in. He looks like a mess — his hair springing up in different places and eyes puffy. You frown at his disheveled state.

“Hey, are you still busy?”

Your fingers move at the speed of lightning, barely registering Renjun’s protest when you quickly leave the meeting. You toss your laptop and earbuds aside to give your best friend your full attention.

He chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. “If you’re busy, I can come back later.”

“Nope, not busy anymore. Are you okay, Jaem?”

He fully enters the room and shuts the door behind him. He smiles softly at you as he takes a seat on your bed.

“Not feeling too great. Just wanted to see you.”

You ignore the swell in your chest at his confession, worriedly stroking his cheek when you realize how red his eyes are. His hand comes up to play with your fingers, eyes moving in and out of focus.

“What’s wrong?” You finally ask.

He shrugs. “Didn’t do so well on my test today. Feeling a little hopeless.”

Your frown grows deeper. You move closer to him, wanting to soothe his pain.

“Don’t say that. It’s just one test, you’ll do better on the next one. I’ll help you! We can make flash cards and create some trivia games to help you remember.”

He chuckles, eyes still staring down at your connected hands.

“You always know what to say. How is that?”

You giggle. “I earned the title of your best friend for a reason.”

“I suppose you did.” His eyes move upwards to lock on you. “Can I stay here? Just for tonight.”

You freeze. You haven’t slept next to Jaemin in months, the two of you only doing so when you were really drunk or really sad. You don’t even remember what it’s like to fall asleep in your best friend’s arms.

“Sure.”

And you two fall into a quiet rhythm, Jaemin’s arms circling around you as he brings your back to his chest. Your eyes flutter shut, focusing on his steady breaths as you try to fall asleep.

You’re startled when you suddenly feel a pair of lips ghost over your neck, pressing a small kiss to your collarbone.

“J-Jaem?”

He hums in response, not showing any signs of stopping while he continues to pepper kisses on your shoulder.

“Jaem, w-what are you d-doing?”

“I heard you last night.”

You pause. You try to register what he’s saying, which you find is incredibly hard to do when his tongue darts out, licking a stripe up your neck. You backtrack to last night, when you were feeling so drowsy but struggled to get to sleep. You don’t remember much, except for the fact that you reached to your nightstand to grab your vibrator-

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Y-You heard that?”

He hums again, moving to suck your neck with vigor. When he finally parts from his masterpiece, he chuckles.

“How could I not? The walls aren’t exactly thin, you know. I hear everything — all your silly commentary when you rewatch your favorite dramas, your weekly conversations with Renjun and Donghyuck, the pretty little noises you make when you turn your vibrator on, and the unmistakable sound of porn you watch when you’re really aroused.”

You feel more than embarrassed, stuttering as you try to offer an explanation. Jaemin chuckles against your ear, biting softly down on the lobe. A whimper tumbles out of your mouth before you realize it.

“I couldn’t sleep last night after listening to you. You made me fail my test, baby.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“If you’re really sorry, you’ll let me eat you out.”

You swear your heart stops. “W-What?”

“I’m hungry. You wouldn’t want me to go to bed on an empty stomach, would you?”

“U-Um, no.”

Before you know it, you’re on your back with Jaemin between your legs. His fingers thumb over the fabric of your pajama shorts and he looks up at you, his eyes glimmering with a question.

You nod. “It’s okay, Jaem.”

With your permission, he slides your shorts down your legs and throws them haphazardly across the room. His gaze darkens at the sight of your lacy panties, which you honestly wore unintentionally today. You’re glad you picked them this morning though, because Jaemin looked like he was about to go insane at the sight.

“You’re so fucking perfect.”

And then his tongue licks a stripe up your clothed core and you yelp. He’s almost predatory, shoving your underwear aside and diving into your sopping pussy. You moan when his tongue furiously licks your folds, curling in on yourself while he holds you down.

“Jaemin!”

He parts from you briefly and raises an eyebrow. “I think you have another name to call me.”

You’re confused yet again. “W-What?”

He snickers. “Forgot already? I listened to all those dirty videos you were watching, baby. I know all your cute little kinks. Now, I know you have a different name to address me as.”

“J-Jaemin, I-“

He clicks his tongue. “That’s not right.”

You gather all the courage you have inside of you, ignoring the clear embarrassment on your face by the fact that Jaemin has discovered all of your secret fantasies.

“Daddy, please eat me out.”

He smiles mischievously. “Good girl.”

You have no time to dwell on your self-consciousness before he’s sinking a finger inside of you, tongue lapping at your clit. You feel like a dog in heat, warmth spreading throughout your body as you struggle to comprehend the fact that your best friend is currently eating you out like his life depends on it.

“D-Daddy, daddy!” You scream when he slips another finger inside, curling them upwards while he sucks on your clit furiously. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-“

You cry out when your orgasm sweeps over you in waves, thrashing and whimpering under Jaemin’s hold. He uses his other hand to hold your hips down when the oversensitivity crashes into you, desperately trying to push away from him.

“D-Daddy, no, I-I’m sensitive-“

Jaemin growls and holds you tighter, fingers still drilling into your pussy and mouth wrapped around your sensitive bud. You don’t have time to warn him when your second orgasm comes just as quickly as the first, convulsing around him. You try to gain a sense of strength to push him away before he can launch you into a third, and Jaemin gets the message as he parts from you.

His chin glimmers with evidence of your arousal, fingers slipping into his mouth while he tastes the remnants of your two orgasms.

He pounces on you, lips crashing into yours and you moan. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and the fact shoots another spike of arousal to your core.

“What else did they do in that video, baby?” He whispers breathily. “Tell me.”

Your brain is a little fuzzy as you try to remember.

“H-He fucked the girl until she was crying and she took it. Anything to please her d-daddy.”

He smirks. “Is that what I should do to you? Fuck you until you’re crying? Will you do anything to please me?”

You know you trusted Jaemin with your life, so you nod.

“Anything for you, daddy.”

He grins. He quickly pulls down his sweatpants and his cock springs up, already half hard. You gulp at his size, and you’re suddenly reminded of why Renjun calls Jaemin the hottest guy you know. Jaemin’s girth wasn’t exactly a secret in your friend group, many rumors spreading around after Donghyuck discovered how well endowed your roommate actually was.

His fingers grip his base, slowly pumping himself while keeping his eyes locked on you.

“Like what you see, baby? Do you think your pussy is ready to take daddy’s fat cock?”

“Y-Yes, d-daddy. I c-can take your c-cock.”

He chuckles at your response, brushing strands of hair away from your face to fully look at you. His look is almost endearing, and you would swoon any other day if he wasn’t about to fuck you.

He lines himself up to your entrance, pausing for a second.

“Do I need to get a condom?”

You shake your head. “I’m on birth control. We’re fine.”

He doesn’t hesitate any longer, pushing into you slowly. You whine at the stretch. You haven’t been taken like this in months, and your vibrator is no match for his huge cock. He coaxes you through the pain, whispering softly in your ear and kissing your neck again to help ease you up.

Once he bottoms out, he waits patiently for your go ahead before moving. You can tell it’s killing him on the inside, brows pushed together as he tries his best not to pound you deep into the mattress.

“P-Please, daddy.”

Jaemin builds a steady pace inside of you, groaning and grunting into your ear as he sinks deeper and deeper. Your mind draws a blank when you struggle to form any coherent words, babbling while he impales you with his cock.

“You’re such a good girl for me. Always so good. Been waiting for this forever, baby. Dreamed so long of having you underneath me like this.”

“Daddy,” you gasp at his unexpected confession, hissing lowly when his fingers circle around your clit. Tears spring up in your eyes from the pleasure.

“Especially all those mornings when you were wearing practically nothing in front of me, you don’t even know how many times I wanted to take you on the kitchen counter.”

You cry when his cock hits you harder and faster.

“But you’re so good for me now, aren’t you, baby? So pretty and perfect for her daddy.”

“Y-Yes, daddy,” you whimper. “I’m all yours. All good for daddy.”

Jaemin groans loudly. “Cum for me, baby. Cum for daddy.”

Your orgasm is blinding, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride out your high. He follows shortly after you, grunting when he shoots his cum deep inside your waiting womb.

You both lay in silence before you suddenly burst out in laughter. Jaemin eyes you.

“What?”

“We just fucked. I just fucked my best friend and called him daddy. This is so surreal.”

He chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips.

“Better get used to it. Who knows how long we’ll be stuck in quarantine together.”

You smile. “Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

[meltingpotimagines]

Dating Haru

Warnings: None

this boy

is one of the most oblivious characters in all of anime

oh my gosh

but honestly dating him would be great

like is he gonna pick up little hints?

absolutely not

you gotta say everything point blank

but he's an absolute sweetheart

i fully believe he loves cuddles with the right person

like l o v e s cuddles

not a pda person but like alone?

all the touch

cuddles on a couch, cuddles on a bed

would for s u r e pull you into him by the waist if you tried to get out of bed

like you wanna grab a snack or gotta pee and this mf just snakes his arms around your waist to pull you back down and won't let go

would take a few good minutes of you telling him you gotta get up and a promise reminder that you'll be back in just a sec

also a very sleepy cuddler

likes to bury his face in your neck and doze

cuddle naps are essential

likes cooking for you

it's something he's really good at, so he takes at least half of the cooking responsibility, if not all

he cooks, you do dishes

a convenient arrangement

absolutely awful about making plans

you 100% would have to plan all the dates and anniversaries

not because he doesn't care

he's just... truly so bad at planning things

he's a very in the moment kinda person yk?

and a very one-track mind kinda person

and a space cadet

lowkey no thoughts head empty

i swear i love this man aksnsjs

also has no idea what to get you when it comes to presents

like he kinda knows but also like

does he really?

but no worries bc that's what friends are for

and makoto is far more observant than he is

so at the end of the day you'll get a nice gift

makoto just helped him a little lol

if you grabbed his hand in public, he'd adjust so your fingers are interlocked

it's just more comfortable that way

he really loves swimming with you

i mean, his favorite thing with his favorite person?

what could be better

will not offer you one of his hoodies bc it wouldn't even cross his mind, but also won't object to you taking one

as long as you don't lose it, he doesn't care

not really much of a kisser but like, they're still really nice?

like he gives the s w e e t e s t kisses on the cheek

and on the lips they're so... gentle?

like he's just completely in sync with you and they kinda just

feel completely effortless

kinda like the movement of water

i fully believe cats love this man

both because he's so chill but also because he always smells faintly of mackerel

not in a bad way just like

he eats it so much there's permanently just enough of a lingering scent for cats' sensitive noses to pick up

so i hope you like kitties bc you're gonna see a lot of stray cats

[inkykeiji]

break my bones but act as my spine

characters: shigaraki tomura, dabi

genre: smut if ur reading for tomura, angst if ur reading for dabi

notes: i truly have no idea how this got so dang long but uh there’s a good 3k worth of smut in there so do with that what u will. quirkless!AU, tomura is a spoiled rich brat (so the same, basically), dabi is a Sad Boi™️ w tattoo’s over his fully healed + scarred skin, reader is in university, ummm please please please heed the warnings n stay safe!! 💖 title credit = 16 lines by lil peep

warnings: 18+, noncon, drug use, daddy kink (implied ddlg dynamics), size kink/size difference, graphic depictions of violence, murder, blood, possessiveness/general toxic relationships, degradation, implied dacryphilia (???), pining

words: 10k

part one ⋆ part two ⋆ part three ⋆ part four ⋆ part five ⋆ epilogue ⋆ series masterlist

synopsis:

Tomura does not share toys; he doesn’t share his candy apple red Maybach, he doesn’t share his gleaming custom chrome and silver Ed Brown 1911, and he most definitely does not fucking share you.

—

Dabi thinks he’s really done it this time. You are Tomura’s baby, his perfect little princess, and he would fight the devil himself with his bare hands to keep you happy, to keep you safe, to keep you his.

You should be in bed.

Gentle taps echo around you as fat raindrops collide with the Maybach’s windows, the sound of heavy panting and breathless little whimpers mingling with the vicious howling of the wind, so strong it shakes the car. Soaked leaves slap against glass, collected in the arms of each forceful bellowing gust and sticking to the windshield, diffusing the light shining from the already dim lampposts that line the pier.

“So fucking eager,” he chastises, chuckling a little against your lips while tiny fingers work at undoing his belt.

“Can’t help it,” you whine, pulling back just enough to show him the pout on your face. “N-Need you,”

“Oh, need, huh?”

Really, you should be in bed.

“Yes,” you whimper, tugging at the waistband of his jeans, fingers hooking in the beltloops and pulling. “Please, Tomura,”

“Ah,” long, slender fingers wrap around your wrists, catching them quickly and holding them together in one hand. His grip tightens, and you cry out as the bones grind together. “Patience, babygirl,”

You have class in five hours.  

“But I want you now,” you barely even realize what you’re saying, voice high and whiny and brain hazy with lust, distracted by the heat pooling between your thighs while you grind against his hard cock.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps, voice stern as he crushes your wrists with his hand again, reveling in your little squeals and gasps.

“Stop! Stop, stop, please Daddy, st-stop,”

“Aw,” he chuckles darkly, rolling your wrists in his hands a little, causing the bones to grate against each other again. “But you sound so pretty when you’re in pain, baby,”

“Th-Then bruise my cervix, don’t break my—ow—wrists!”

“Excuse me? What was that?” he blinks at you in mock astonishment, ruby eyes wide. “I didn’t hear a please at the end of that request, sweetheart,” he growls out the last few words, hand squeezing again. You yelp, eyes shutting tightly against the burn of tears, whimpering out pathetic little pleads.

He finally releases and you gasp in relief, fingers moving to immediately massage your sore body and wincing when you come in contact with the sensitive flesh—you can already feel the bruises forming around your delicate wrists.

“Now, what was it my greedy little baby wanted?” his hands are sliding up your thighs as he speaks, pushing your dress up to bunch at your waist.

“I-I—” he’s got two fingers pressed against your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles into the sensitive bud through your soaked panties, forcing a soft gasp from your throat, mind blanking.

“C’mon baby,” he frowns, like he’s offended that you can’t speak. “Tell daddy what you want,”

“Want you to fuck me,” you manage to force out, the words fading into a breathy whine. “Please!” you add hastily, eyes snapping open to find him staring at you with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Please, please, fuck me,”

“Well, when you ask so nicely,” his voice tapers off into a growl as his fingers roughly shove your panties aside, two of them delving inside your dripping hole. He laughs at how easily his fingers slide in, how eagerly your cute little cunt sucks him in, clenching around him. “Such a good little slut for your daddy, aren’t you? Practically prepped to take me already,”

You nod, breathing out soft little yeses and begging him impatiently. “Pl-Please Daddy, I want it now—I can take it,”

And despite how wet you are from humping him, you aren’t nearly stretched out enough to take his thick cock comfortably. He knows this—you both know this—but he doesn’t care; if you want to act like an impatient brat, he’ll treat you like an impatient brat.

A loud hiss escapes your lips as you begin to sink down on him, little hole stinging as it tries to accommodate his girth.

“Ah-ah, don’t stop,” he chastises lightly, fingers digging into your hips the moment they still and continuing to force you down. “You wanted this, sweetheart. You’re ready for this,”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you nod in agreement, pressing your lips together in an attempt to silence your whimpers and breathing out harshly through your nose.

He laughs a little, a mean, sharp sound that echoes throughout the car, shaking his head. “Impatient little brat—You should’ve let me stretch you out right,”

“I can do it,” you breathe out stubbornly, eyes opening to glare at him in defiance.

The amusement fades from his eyes as they narrow, smile dropping. “That so?” he asks before thrusting up sharply, burying himself inside you in one quick motion.

You cry out at the unexpected intrusion, head falling forward to rest on his shoulder as your face screws up in pain.

“Ow, daddy,” you whisper, eyes tearing up reflexively.

“Don’t lie to me next time,” he responds flatly, coldly, as if this is obvious. Barely giving you a moment to adjust properly, he thrusts his hips up again, nails digging into the flesh of your waist as he forces you to bounce on him.

But it doesn’t take long for the burning to fade—within a few moments you’re rolling your hips on your own, sweet little moans falling from your pretty little mouth and seeping into his skin, your lips against his neck.

He’s trying in vain to meet your thrusts, and you can see the frustration collecting in his eyes, little half-baked snarls falling from his lips when he just can’t get deep enough.

“I can’t fuck you properly in this car,” he growls, grip on your hips tightening.

Your fingers tangle in the material of his shirt, pawing at him a little. “No, please, Tomu—”

“Oh, shut up,” he rolls his eyes, cutting you off. “I’ll let you cum on my cock before I fuck you right, don’t worry,”

Exhaling, your chest deflates with a soft sigh of relief.

“Such a simple slut, aren’t you?” he breathes in your ear as you grind against him, unable to do anything other than whine and nod, face buried in the crook of his neck again. “That’s it, get yourself off using my cock,”

It’s not long after that you find yourself gasping loudly as your pussy pulses around him, little whimpers of his name escaping your throat as your body shudders into his.

He praises you through your high, telling you you’re such a good little girl, such a good little whore for him, his beautiful little cockslut.

Then he’s depositing you onto the passenger’s seat, buckling your seatbelt for you and laughing at your blissful, fucked out expression.

“Oh, come on, baby,” he says with a smirk, glancing over at you as he races through the empty streets of Tokyo. “Don’t tell me you’re giving out on me already—I’m just getting started with you,”

And, true to his word, he was, wasting absolutely no time as he practically shoves you on his massive king-sized bed and crawling over you.

Tomura fucks you raw that night. He fucks you until you’re a whining, drooling, incoherent mess, until you can’t remember anything but his name, until you’re so stuffed full of cum that it’s leaking out of you and staining your inner thighs. He reminds you that you asked for this, doesn’t let you forget how fucking needy you were, how pathetically desperate you were for him, just a short while ago in the car.

Sharp hipbones leave dark periwinkle bruises on the tender flesh of your inner thighs, and he sucks his name into the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbone, signs his name into the flesh of your hips in the shape of his fingerprints.

“I have a-a nine AM class,” you croak out as Tomura spreads your legs, gently dragging a cloth along your inner thighs, cleaning the sticky cum before it can crust over.

“I know,” he says simply, not halting his actions. Of course he knows—he’s got your entire schedule memorized.

Your half-lidded gaze drifts to the glowing numbers on the bedside table, blinking slowly as you try to make your bleary eyes focus. 6:42.

“That’s in like, just over two hours,” you whine a little, lips jutting out into a tiny pout.

“You’ll make it,” he tells you in a voice that indicates this is not open for negotiation.

And he’s right—you do make it. Practically limping into the classroom half awake, collapsing at one of the vacant desks at the back of the lecture hall, wincing as stinging pain throbs between your legs and already sending a flurry of whiny texts to Tomura.

He texts you back a few minutes later, telling you to pay attention, or you won’t be able to sit right for a week.

      ✰          ✰          ✰

Heir to the family built, family run gigantic medical conglomerate A.F.O—a corporation that owns a network of healthcare companies and several massive laboratories that specialize in conducting research in a multitude of health-related fields (the most prominent being pharmaceuticals)—Shigaraki Tomura does not play well with others. He never fucking has.

No one actually knows what A.F.O stands for, though you’ve heard several people joke that it must stand for All For One, based on the corporation’s notorious greed. There’s speculation that they’ve been experimenting on humans, heard whispers of developing questionable ‘miracle’ drugs and selling them illegally on the streets—but it’s all just rumors, you’re sure.

Besides, a company that’s so heavily endorsed by the government could never be doing something as heinous as that, right? Tomura does not share toys; he doesn’t share his candy apple red Maybach, he doesn’t share his gleaming custom chrome and silver Ed Brown 1911, and he most definitely does not fucking share you.

You’ve been with Tomura for just over a year and a half now. He insisted you move into his penthouse—which sits atop a gleaming glass condominium building that he owns—only a few months into your relationship, to which you eagerly agreed and have been living ever since.

He likes to flaunt you, likes to show you off, bring you to meetings you technically shouldn’t be present at to show all of the other men and his rivals his most prized toy, even more than his gun or car. And it’s the one thing they can never fucking have; they can’t even touch.

And you—Christ, you must be a fucking idiot to stay with someone like him, they say. Or maybe you’re just a gold-digging whore. What else would a cute, sweet little angel like you want with a man like him? Is his cock really that great? Tomura finds it hilarious, really. Because these people don’t know a goddamn thing about you. He wonders what they’d say if they could see the way he fucks you until your drooling and sobbing, or just how obscene you get when you beg to suck his cock. How would they feel then? But that’s his little secret.

Nevertheless, you’re not entirely oblivious to everything going on around you; you know what he does, at least a little. You know the company isn’t normal—there’s nothing normal about their insanely heavy security. There’s nothing normal about their shady, inconspicuous meetings, about how you aren’t allowed to be present in certain rooms with certain people. There’s nothing normal about how tightly locked Tomura’s home office is, about how his desktop requires several passwords to simply gain access to Microsoft Word.

It’s just easier to pretend you don’t, that you’re totally ignorant; you always end up in trouble for asking questions, always end up making him irrationally angry with your curiosity.

And, like everyone else, you know that he’s next in line to inherit the company and everything that comes with it, know that he’s in the process of taking over the business and already in complete control of certain sections, with his father semi-retired.

But you don’t know everything, of course.

You don’t know about what he did to that boy, the one who harassed you on campus a few weeks ago, insistently asking you to go out with him, his pathetic requests peppered with a few crude comments. As far as Tomura’s concerned, you don’t need to—you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything. He splattered the poor kid’s brains on the concrete of one of their old abandoned laboratories, near the edge of the city close to the bay. He was sure to do it himself, too—didn’t send any of his henchmen or thugs to carry out the order. No, he wanted to see the look on that fuckers face right before death. Tomura loves that look. It’s got to be his favourite thing about killing. People are so fascinating in their very last moments, when they take their last breath before a bullet whizzes through their skull. Their lives really do flash before their eyes; he swears he can see it reflected in the tears that cloud their vision right before he pulls the trigger. He loves seeing their deepest regrets and darkest secrets manifest on their face, those simple looks confessing a lifetime of sins and missed opportunities to him right before he sends them to the afterlife. Similarly, you also don’t know what he did to the thugs who were supposed to be guarding you just a few days ago, when he just so happened to overhear the way they were speaking about you in a disgustingly lewd manner, as if they even had a fucking chance. He made sure they didn’t.

Now, Tomura doesn’t usually do knives; he’s a busy man, he doesn’t have time for it. Knives also allow his victims more time to talk, more time to beg, and it’s one of the most annoying things in the goddamn world, as far as he’s concerned. He’d rather see the instant fear that morphs their features the moment he points the barrel of his gun at them, watching as they rapidly realize that this is it. It’s so much more fun. As such, he shot them both in the head before he cut them up into tiny little pieces, and is currently in the process of feeding them to the dogs. It’ll probably take them about a week to finish off both bodies. He decides you don’t need to know that either.

 But, eventually, as it was bound to happen, Tomura’s relentless flaunting of you bites him in the ass, because now every crimelord in Tokyo knows who you are, who you belong to, who it would hurt if something were to happen to you.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s storming the day he finds out.

Rain has been steadily pelting against the windows of the penthouse for hours now, the grey sky lighting up with brilliant streaks of lightning, followed by cracks of thunder that seem to make the whole city tremble. Water has begun flooding the streets, and a continuous stream flows down the windows, obstructing your vision and blurring the city until the buildings are nothing more than distant lumps.

Although you normally don’t mind the rain, this constant torrential downpour has set you on edge, resulting in several texts to Tomura begging him to come home early.

He doesn’t answer a single one, which is extremely unlike him—usually he was enthusiastic and eager to text you back, even if your messages were nothing but senseless whining.

This should’ve been your first sign that something was seriously wrong.

It’s just past 7PM and still raining when he barrels through the front door, slamming it open hard enough that the doorknob bounces against the drywall, leaving an ugly hole.

“Tomura!” you breathe, his sudden entrance startling you, pressing both hands over your racing heart.

He storms into the penthouse, walking directly towards you and yanking you up from your spot on the floor. For a moment, you’re terrified, quickly wracking your mind for anything you might’ve done to misbehave in the past few days—but then he wraps his arms around you and crushes your body to his chest, burying his face in your hair and inhaling deeply.

Your body freezes in total surprise, stiff and rigid in his embrace, until he squeezes you again and you finally melt into him, arms snaking around his neck and pulling yourself closer.

“What is it? What happened?” you murmur, fingers carding through the fluffy hair at the base of his neck. He groans a little at the sensation, keeping his face pressed against your skin. It’s an awkward angle, his back bent and body practically curling around yours, and there’s no way it’s comfortable, but he refuses to straighten up.

He sighs, a large breath that has his entire chest cavity expanding and pushing against you before he exhales slowly, deflating and molding to you again. He doesn’t answer, and you keep silent. He doesn’t act like this often, usually gets soft like this when he’s coming down, but he’s very clearly sober right now.

Dabi appears in the doorway then, an odd look on his face as he observes the two of you. Jin pushes past him, Chisaki following close behind, and claps his hands together loudly.

“Alright, boss, tell us why we’re here,”

“Surely you didn’t call an emergency meeting just for us to watch you cuddle,”

Tomura whips is head around, seething at his closest confidents. He’s silent for a moment, glowing crimson eyes scanning each of their faces slowly before finally speaking.

“Office, now,”

You aren’t allowed to come. Curiosity is already gnawing at you and you beg to stay, promising you’ll be a good little girl and sit quiet and pretty while they discuss whatever the issue is. But your pleading only causes Tomura to snap at you, sternly ordering you to go sit back on the floor and read your textbook and to not fucking move until he comes back out.

You obey, of course, ruby eyes watching you sharply as you flit back to your open textbook, laying neglected on the fuzzy living room rug. Tomura doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, until you sit down, tucking your knees under yourself and stealing glances at him through your lashes.

You can hear the yelling begin almost immediately but your unable to decipher the words, muffled by the heavy mahogany doors.

On the other side of those doors, Tomura’s on the verge of a full-blown breakdown. His confidents tread with caution, speaking slowly in low voices and choosing their words carefully.

They’d all received his frantic flood of texts in the group chat, informing them of a snake among their ranks.

“He’s been selling information about her!” Tomura roars, slamming both hands down against the wood of his desk, fingers splayed. “About what university she goes to, her schedule and classes—”

“And you’re sure—”

“I’m fucking positive,” Tomura snaps, glowing crimson eyes flashing at Chisaki.

“It’s not a surprise,” Dabi says in a lazy nonchalant voice. “Giran’s always been scummy,”

“Selfish, too,” Jin chimes in. “I thought we agreed not to let him near any important information?”

“Yeah, in relation to the business. She doesn’t technically qualify as ‘important information’,”

“The whole idea was to keep him on the outside, to hold him at arm’s length and only use him when absolutely necessary,” Chisaki explains.

“Besides, you aren’t exactly discreet when it comes to your—what is she to you, your girlfriend?”

Tomura’s eyes narrow sharply, the shrill ringing of his phone saving him from answering. He snatches it off the desktop and jabs a thumb at the answer button, beginning to pace behind his desk.

It’s his father, trying desperately to diffuse the situation, to prevent his son from acting rashly, something he’s admittedly never been very good at.

“I don’t give a fuck how many security guards you’ve got,” Tomura’s growling, free hand coming to scratch viciously at his neck. “I don’t care if you’ve got a fucking army of them; she’s not leaving my sight from now on,”

And despite the firm finality to his tone, everyone in the room knows this is impossible.

He can’t bring you to their corporate meetings. He can’t bring you to the lab, or to the testings. It’s more dangerous than leaving you locked away in this penthouse because, as he’s told you a thousand times, the less you know, the better.

It’s dangerous, getting involved with an intricate web of corrupt corporations that are run more like a mafia than a business. It isn’t uncommon for loved ones to be kidnapped and held for ransom, for traitors to sell information to rivals, for people to wind up murdered.

“We’ll figure something—” his father’s in the middle of speaking when Tomura hangs up, slamming his phone down so hard the screen cracks. Damn, that’s the fourth one this month.

 It’s very late when Tomura reemerges from the office, neck bleeding and hair tousled, tufts standing in all directions. He finds you exactly where he left you, curled up by your textbook on the floor, asleep.

He coos to himself—such a good girl he’s got—and kneels to wake you gently. You refuse, mumbling out nonsense as a little pout settles on your lips.

“Brat,” he laughs softly to himself, slipping an arm under your knees and the other under your neck and hoisting you up, carrying you off to his lush bed.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

The next morning over breakfast, Tomura informs you that you’ll no longer be going to school. You’re in danger, he tells you. He won’t tell you how, or why, only that you aren’t safe, and can no longer—under any circumstances—go out on your own.

You think it’s absolutely ridiculous. He must be overreacting; you know how protective he is over you, so it’s not exactly a stretch to think that he might’ve blown the situation out of proportion.

“I refuse to stop going to school, Tomura.” You tell him sternly, holding his gaze. “I enjoy what I’m studying, not to mention my friends—”

He talks over you. “Either you’ll stop attending of your own free will, or I’ll cut your fucking tuition,”

“What?”

“If you won’t stop voluntarily, then I’ll make you stop.”

“You can’t expect me to drop everything in my life just because you’ve received some vague threat!”

“Really? You didn’t seem to have an issue with ‘dropping everything’ when you moved into my fucking penthouse,” he snarls.

You blink, astonished. “Are you kidding me? That’s different—That wasn’t agreeing to giving up all my freedom, to being locked away like some sort of—”

“I’m only trying to keep you safe! How fucking dense are you?”

“Then get me a bodyguard, like a normal person would, don’t treat me like I’m some—some limited edition toy,”

But you are! He nearly says it, you can see it in his eyes. Your glare dares him to speak it, to utter those three words, but his jaw clenches instead, and he exhales sharply through flared nostrils. When he speaks, his voice trembles with the effort of keeping calm. “I can’t trust anyone, what don’t you understand—”

“What about Jin, then? Or Dabi? Or Chisaki? You trust them, don’t you? Enough to call your emergency meeting last night…”

His eyes flash at being cut off, teeth grinding together, but you have a point. Who better to guard you than one of the people he undoubtedly trusts the most, the closest thing he has to friends? He mulls over the suggestion, short nails scratching idly at his wrist as he thinks.

Dabi. Out of those three, Dabi is the most suitable choice, Tomura decides, since his workload is currently the lightest.

But Dabi fights him tooth and nail on the subject; he isn’t here to be some glorified fucking babysitter for some dumb little girl who miraculously found herself entrenched in this life, too deep to ever leave now. That isn’t his fucking problem.

Except it is, because Tomura’s technically his boss, and Tomura technically pays his paycheque.

You aren’t upset about your new arrangement—in fact, you have to work hard to hide your excitement. Dabi’s always intrigued you—you haven’t spoken to him much, too shy and intimidated by his unconventional beauty, by his very aura, but you’ve always wanted to.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage the first day he drives you to campus. Trembling hands clasped tightly in your lap, you try in earnest to talk to him, stumbling over your words as you ask him about trivial stuff, like his favorite food or what kind of music he listens to.

He answers you exclusively in three-word-sentences or nondescript hums and grunts, making it damn near impossible to hold an actual conversation with him. Thin skin is stretched taut over bony knuckles as he grips the steering wheel and glares at the road ahead of him, not once daring to glance over at you.

Dabi’s always been quiet around you, even though Tomura says he can rarely get the man to shut the fuck up. You’ve noticed, after spending nearly a year around him, that he prefers to watch situations unfold from afar, casually leaning against a wall and throwing in sly quips or clever comments every so often. Maybe it’s different when it’s just him and Tomura. You wouldn’t know.

But he’s never been this hostile before. Maybe it’s the change in atmosphere; maybe he’s more stressed out now—you are Tomura’s most prized possession, after all. Anyone would feel a little on edge to have your life practically in their palms, ordered to guard it and keep it safe.

Nevertheless, you think he’s so cool, and you desperately want him to like you—no matter how mean he is, how sharp his voice is or harsh his glare is, you do not falter in your quest to become friends. The two of you would get along well, you think, if he’d just give you a damn chance.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

Tomura’s never been a patient man. He wants what he wants when he wants it, a result of never being told no in his life.

But he doesn’t care—he gets what he fucking wants, no matter the circumstances.

And he wants to kill Giran. Immediately.

He isn’t hard to track down—despite the nature of his job, Giran is a creature of habit. He frequents the same few coffee shops around his apartment at roughly the same time every morning. Tomura gets lucky and finds the bastard in the first café he tries, takes it as a good sign, as a sign that what he’s doing is right.

Trembling pale hands curl into tight fists, blunt nails pressing deep crescent-shaped indents in the flesh of his palms as he stares at the man through the large front windows. He has half a mind to just stalk into this cheap coffee shop and shoot the motherfucker point blank between the eyes—but he knows that would cause more drama than it’s worth, and he’s already got enough stress to deal with.

Instead, he waits, sitting leisurely on the little wooden bench placed right outside the shop, trying in vain to keep from scraping his nails against his neck. A jolt of sadistic excitement surges through his veins when Giran finally exits, giddiness already beginning to build in his chest.

“Ah, Giran! So glad I caught you here,” he says nonchalantly, hopping up and clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder.

The smile stretched across Tomura’s face is anything but friendly, and Giran knows he’s fucked the moment his eyes meet ruby, shining in the morning sun.

Still, he has his dignity.

“Tomura? What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Tomura says, voice painfully indifferent as his grip on Giran’s shoulder tightens, causing the older man to wince. “We’re just gonna go for a drive,”

Giran comes easily with no resistance—he knows it would be pointless to try and fight back. His cooperation makes Tomura giggle a little, scarlet eyes glinting in anticipation.

Kurogiri starts up the Maybach, parked just around the corner, nodding at Tomura as he slides into the backseat with Giran. They drive for a while, Tomura tapping his slender fingers against his kneecaps, eager and impatient, finally coming to a halt at a deserted beach over an hour later.

The shoreline is littered with trash and other questionable items, Tomura’s nose scrunching up in disgust. It’s windier near the water than it is in the heart of the city, tufts of fluffy silvery-blue hair tickling his cheeks as it whips around in the wind. He keeps a firm hand wrapped around Giran’s bicep as he forces him to walk further from the car.

“On your knees,” Tomura says, nudging the toe of his shoe into the back of Giran’s knee harshly and causing him to collapse.

“I’m sure you know why you’re here,” he says as he walks around the older man’s body, coming to stand in front of him. “I don’t think I have to say anything, do I?”

Giran stares up at him guiltily, shoulders slumped. “Tomura, listen—”

Tomura laughs, a cruel ruthless sound. “Are you fucking serious? You had all that time to try and grovel for your life in the car, to beg and plead and cry for me to spare you, and you’re only doing it now?”

Giran’s frown deepens, tucking his chin into his chest. “I was worried you’d kill me prematurely,” he admits.

Tomura scoffs. “And ruin my white leather? Fuck no,”

“Well, then, look—”

Tomura rolls his eyes, raising a steady, strong arm and pointing the barrel of the gun directly between Giran’s eyes. “You’re boring me,” he says simply before he pulls the trigger, shot ringing out and causing a few seagulls to scatter.

He watches as Giran’s body falls to the sand with a dull thud, blood beginning to seep out of the bullet hole in his forehead and soak into the sand, staining the pristine white with dark crimson.

“Ew,” Tomura’s mouth screws up in repulsion. It’s messy, but a sleazebag like Giran won’t be missed—Tomura will be surprised if he’s even reported missing at all. He looks up and nods at Kurogiri, who returns the action in affirmation before getting to work on the cleanup.

Truthfully, Tomura wishes he had the opportunity to torture the poor bastard—it’s what he deserves for even thinking of putting your life in danger—but he’s short on time these days.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

Dabi’s beyond annoyed to find out that you’re not nearly as sensitive as you look. Your extreme persistence is beginning to get under his skin, and he hates the way that, most of the time, you have valid points. You’re both into the same type of movies, fans of the same indie director, possess the same kind of twisted humour (you would have to, he thinks, to be dating Tomura)—and, truth be told, Dabi’s never been more thankful for the ink covering his cheeks, because he most definitely does not blush when you begin gushing over his favourite golden age sci-fi authors, geeking out with him over Asimov and Clarke.

Still, he fights it as hard as he possibly can. He tells you just how much he can’t fucking stand you on the daily. He insults you relentlessly, calls you stupid, a dumb bitch, spits out the word princess in the most patronizing voice you’ve ever heard.

It comes out most often as a snarl or a sneer hurled at you, but you can’t but respond with cute little giggles or a roll of your eyes.

“Why are you laughing?” he eventually asks, curiosity getting the better of him. You smirk, not looking up from your notebook.

 “Because anything you’ve said to me so far is nothing compared to some of the stuff Tomura’s said to me” Why are you with him? He wants to ask, the question tickling on the tip of his tongue, but he knows you hate being asked, so he swallows it. He knows your love for Tomura is genuine; he sees it in the way you lay his head in your lap, carding gentle fingers through silvery-blue tufts of hair when he’s coming down particularly hard, sees it in the way your tiny hands tenderly and inconspicuously pull his fingers away from his neck or wrist, intertwining them your fingers instead, not saying a word.

“You really are a brat, y’know that?” he says instead, clearing his throat.

“Mm,” you hum affirmatively. “So Tomura tells me,”

And while Dabi may be irritated at being assigned such a demeaning job, he isn’t fucking blind. He knows how hot you are, and he can’t lie; he does love those cute little dresses Tomura buys you, just an inch too short to be considered decent. He can see your ass cheeks when you bend over, can see the beginnings of the adorable frills and lace that line your cute panties. You must be doing it on purpose—you want him to look, right? Why else would you bend over like that, or wear such pretty undies, if not to be ogled at by him?

But the more time he spends with you, the more he begins to understand why Tomura keeps you around, aside from the fact that you probably give amazing head. Girls like you are rare. So precious, just begging for someone to take advantage of them. They need someone to take care of them, to protect them, to give them purpose. They need someone to serve. And although it isn’t a normal day unless Dabi’s asked you if you’re ‘fucking stupid’ at least three times, it is wearing you down, just a bit. Yes, Tomura’s said much worse to you, but those moments are infrequent. This is unforgiving, everyday, constant abuse—it would wear out even the emotionally strongest person.

But you know you’re wearing him down, too, when you begin to pull reactions other than glares from him. When you get him to smile, or chuckle, or speak more than a few words. So you persevere—really, what else are you supposed to do? You see him more than Tomura at this point, and that fact makes your chest ache.

 Sometimes you hold hands. Sometimes he lets you snuggle up against him after your readings are done, often falling asleep before Tomura gets home. He keeps an arm thrown around your shoulders or a hand splayed on the small of your back when your out in public, always keeping you close. He tells himself that it’s just his job; he’s just doing his fucking job when he lets you lay your head in his lap after a long day, when he pets your hair and traces nonsensical patterns on the skin of your arm, that’s all.

 But, Christ.

Dabi’s furious that you’re able to evoke such strong emotion in him without seemingly trying—emotion he’s never felt before, emotion he doesn’t have a name for, emotion that rages out of his control almost immediately. He feels like he’s killing himself every time he tries to reign it back in, fighting against himself beginning to prove to be more effort than it’s worth.

He can’t stand feeling this powerless, this uncharacteristic lack of command over his own body he’s experiencing a stark contrast to the precision and authority he’s used to.

And alright, sure, it takes you longer to break than Dabi originally thought it would, but you do break, eventually.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s always the tiny things that seem to do it, that end up being the last straw. The things that slip out subconsciously, the things that are undoubtedly raw and honest, not the insults so carefully crafted and purposefully hurled at you.

The two of you are walking towards Dabi’s gleaming Audi after your last class of the day. Dabi’s eyes are burning from lack of sleep, his skin crawling from being unable to smoke on school premises, his ears ringing from sitting in on all of your lectures, way at the back in a hoodie and sunglasses, listening to professors drone on about things he already fucking knows and staring at the back of your head. You chatter on animatedly, oblivious to Dabi’s sour mood.

He’s only half listening to you, really. But your high pitched voice and your shy, cute giggles peppered between your words as you recount the spectacularly romantic weekend you had with Tomura grates on his nerves in just the right way, forcing the frustration that’s been bubbling up in his chest all day to erupt.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t have the energy to pretend to like you today,”

It kind of just…slips out of his mouth. He isn’t even thinking about it, about the words he’s actually saying, about the sharp, cold tone he uses, coated in acidic jealousy.

Your voice cuts off the moment the words leave his mouth, and your feet stutter a little, causing you to trip and stop in your tracks. You open your mouth with the intention of questioning him, but a soft, hurt sound is all you can seem to manage.

He turns towards you, heaving a sigh. He can see the tears building in your eyes, casting a thick gleaming shield across them. You swallow hard, jaw clenching as you struggle to hold them back.

Dabi opens his mouth with the intention to apologize, but he can’t seem to find the words either. You’ve just about reached the car; a few more steps and you would’ve been there.

Dabi doesn’t know what to say—despite the fact that his heart feels like it’s crumbling to ash in his chest with each of your tiny, quiet sniffles—so he juts his chin out, looking away, and says monotonously, “Get in the car.”

You stare at him for another second, like you’re having trouble processing the situation that’s currently unfolding. Dabi doesn’t want to make a scene, but the unfamiliar, inexplicable, and quite frankly, annoying feeling in his chest gives way to more anger, and he snaps at you.

“Are you deaf or just stupid? Get in the car,”

That does it. You hiccup a little, blinking in astonishment at the unbelievable audacity, and the tears finally escape your eyes, rolling down your cheeks in pairs. Your chest hitches, and you clench your jaw again, ducking your head and pushing past Dabi roughly to yank the car door open and then slam it shut.

To his utter infuriation, Dabi’s little outburst does fuck all to relieve any of the tension in his chest. Instead, it makes it worse.

Dabi spends the drive home biting the skin on the inside of his cheek and sneaking glances at you, curled up in the passenger’s seat facing away from him, your phone cradled in your small hands, thumbs flying over the buttons.

Dread floods his body as his mind races with all of the possible texts you could be sending, and who you could be sending them to.

You cry the entire way home, mostly silent tears with the occasional soft sob getting caught in your throat. You’re out of the vehicle the moment Dabi pulls into his designated parking spot, stumbling a little and not bothering to try and close the door behind you, barreling straight into Tomura’s waiting arms.

“Fuck,” Dabi groans, head tipping back against the seat and squeezing his eyes shut. He can already feel a headache beginning to form at his temples, anticipating the hefty lecture awaiting him.  

Tomura catches you easily, concerned eyes searching you face quickly as you wail, “D-Daddy!”

“What is it?” his large hands rub up and down your arms comfortingly, deep frown etched into his face. “What’s got my baby so upset?”

You try to say it, to force that bastard’s name out of your mouth, but all you’re able to emit are more soft sobs. Tomura coos, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you against his chest. Little fingers curl in the material of his cotton dress shirt and pull, needing him closer. He hushes you gently as you nuzzle your face into his chest, hiccupping a little while a hand rubs soothing circles into your back.

Tomura had received your texts, all jumbled together and barely coherent. They had sent him into a frenzied panic, resulting in his pacing next to his parking spot in the garage, anxiously awaiting your return.

He glares at Dabi over your shoulder, brows pushing together and eyes narrowing. Dabi stares back at him blankly, still sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, the passenger door still wide open.

“Alright, alright, shh,” he tightens his hold on you just a little. “I’m here, princess, I’ve got you,”

Dabi watches as the two of you walk away, staring at your back for an unnecessarily long amount of time, waiting until you disappear behind a corner, then slamming his head back against the headrest.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters to himself, eyes slipping shut.

He thinks he’s really done it this time. You are Tomura’s baby, his perfect little princess, and he would fight the devil himself with his bare hands to keep you happy, to keep you safe, to keep you his.

And now, for whatever inexplicable reason, you’re on the verge of a total mental meltdown, or something. Dabi doesn’t understand how, out of all things, this is the one that finally breaks you. It doesn’t make sense to him, hurts his head to think about it too much, feeling like his mind has been overstuffed with ideas, speculations, and questions—all white noise at this point, staticky and incoherent.

It’s back—the feeling of his chest being ignited with fire while his lungs simultaneously fill with water—and he quickly searches through his pockets for those little blue pills that’ll make it stop. A few moments later, his phone buzzes with a text from Tomura, instructing him to come up to the penthouse and wait.

 Tomura doesn’t get the chance to interrogate Dabi about the incident until you’re fast asleep, tucked into his plush bed with one of your favourite plushies hugged against your chest.

“What the hell happened?” Tomura asks slowly, voice calm and even as he stops a few feet away from Dabi, who’s sitting by the massive marble fireplace with his phone in his hand.

He sighs, keeping his gaze on the fire as he speaks.

“I said something I shouldn’t have, I guess,”

Tomura’s eyebrows knit, his eyes narrowing. “The fuck did you say?”

Dabi’s sharp jaw clenches once at Tomura’s tone, but he keeps his voice cool and composure collected. “I told her I didn’t have the energy to pretend to like her today,” he finally looks over at his boss, flickering orange flames casting dancing shadows on his face. “I didn’t expect her to take it so fucking personally, though,”

“Of course she took it personally!” Tomura explodes, marching towards the couch and placing both hands on the arm, leaning forward to sneer. “You know how sensitive she is,”

“She’s a baby,” Dabi rolls his eyes.

“She is a baby—my fucking baby,” Tomura growls. “And I expect you to treat her with respect, not to be a goddamn asshole,”

“I didn’t join this organization to babysit your fucktoy,” Dabi snarls, standing up.

“You’ll do whatever the hell I tell you to do, because I am the fucking boss of this organization,”

Dabi glares at him, exhaling harshly through flared nostrils. Tomura stares back, raising an eyebrow in question, a silent inquiry daring Dabi to test him.

Sapphire burns into ruby, and a tense silence settles between them. Tomura smirks when Dabi finally breaks away with a huff, and it takes every ounce of his self control not to punch that smug grin off of his boss’ face.

“I’ll apologize tomorrow,” he says flatly, eyes darting back to Tomura’s face for a moment.

“You better find a way to make it up to her before her class at noon,” he says matter-of-factly, tone casual despite the threat.

Dabi’s molars grind together, but he nods once; just a quick, sharp motion of his head, before exiting the penthouse.

Dabi tries hard not to think about why his simple words upset you so much, but the thoughts creep up into the back of his mind as he lays in bed, glaring up at the ceiling. Surely you don’t feel that deeply for him, do you? He’s scum, his opinion shouldn’t even matter to a perfect little princess like you.

So why did you get so offended? Why did you cry the entire way back to the penthouse? Why are you so angry with him, enough to not even want to see him, let alone speak to him?

He drifts off with these questions circling his mind, jumbling together into one giant question mark that sparks the tiniest hint of hope in his chest.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

It only gets worse from there. That teeny, tiny spark he forgot to snuff out, to vehemently crush with the toe of his boot, begins to grow, and soon it’s a raging fire in his chest, alighting his entire body, spreading fire blazing through his veins.

And he has no authority over it. For a while, he doesn’t even know what it is.

He tries to ignore it, he tries to stay as far away from you as he can even when you’re stuck in the same room, to keep interaction to the bare minimum, but it only seems to make this—this thing—hungrier, to viciously aggravate it.

It quickly becomes overwhelming; Dabi doesn’t have the patience to deal with this, and he’s going to accidentally off himself soon if he doesn’t find a way to cure this insatiability because—because it breaks through the drugs, rips its claws straight through his high, invades his mind with a vengeance and fills it with thoughts of you.

Because he’s popping pills like they’re fucking candy now—so high he can’t move, breathing slow and shallow, barely able to keep his head up or his eyes open, which has resultingly thrown you into a bit of a panic more than once, pushing at his shoulders to loll his head back, straddling his lap and holding his face between your tiny hands, then slapping his cheek a few times and asking him what he took. He knows it’s gotta stop when he overhears you tearfully begging Tomura to do something, damn it!, your pleads peppered with cute little hiccups. He knows it’s actually serious when Tomura decks him in the jaw hard enough to dislocate it, once for making you cry and then again for being a fucking idiot. Tomura threatens to cut him off if he can’t do his job right; he doesn’t care when or how Dabi gets high, but he at least has to be functional enough to protect you if anything were to happen. Begrudgingly, Dabi knows he’s right.

He’s furious when he finally comes to terms with his true feelings. He’s pissed off at himself, for even allowing this to happen, and he’s pissed off at you, for being the sole cause.

But it hits him slowly, a lazy build up of emotions he ignores until it’s too much, until it demands his attention, until it’s engulfed his entire being and he physically can’t neglect it anymore. It isn’t like the movies, or those trashy romance novels. It isn’t after some sort of big, significant moment shared between the two of you. It isn’t a sudden onslaught of feelings, hitting him like a bus or a ton of bricks.

No.

It’s a dawning realization that creeps up on him in the middle of the night, while he’s laying alone in bed, when he can’t get your stupidly pretty face out of his head, harassing him every time he closes his eyes. It’s an awful, terrifying feeling in his chest, when he finally decides to face it head on, instead of deferring it with pretty little blue pills and white powder.

It’s panic that claws up his throat as he realizes that he can’t—he can’t control it. He has no control over it. He’s had no control over it, this entire time it was growing inside him, festering and feeding off of his sanity like some fucking parasite.

It’s a weight on his chest, pressing down slowly, a little more each time you run into his arms, until its crushing his lungs, until he can’t fucking breathe, until he’s gasping for air and clutching at his own sheets in the dead of night, alone.

It’s nausea, it’s a toxic mixture of bile and acid rising in his throat, choking him, it’s his eyes burning as he desperately presses his thumbs into them until he’s seeing stars, his chest hiccuping silently.

The nights are the worst. At least when he spends them with you, this demon you’ve sprouted inside of him stays relatively dormant. It’s sated when you’re around, your very presence calming it down. He feels like he can breathe again when it’s just the two of you, and it’s fucking pathetic.

He hates it. He hates you, for creating it, for controlling it without having a goddamn clue that you do.  

But sometimes, at three in the morning when the city’s quiet and the winter winds howl down vacant streets and Tomura’s working especially late, Dabi becomes marginally softer, he slips up. He lets you drag your fingertips over his scarred skin, idly tracing the magnificent ink staining his arms. He gazes at you with this odd look in his eyes—something you can’t quite describe properly, something you don’t seem to have the words for—that makes your heart flutter a little. He’s so pretty, with cobalt eyes and a permanent smug smirk, long delicate eyelashes and high cheekbones, a sharp jaw and inky hair that contrasts starkly against smooth milky skin.

He laughs when you tell him, a husky, quiet little chuckle that makes your stomach drop.

“You’re one to talk, princess,”

You find yourself thinking about those words, about this moment, a lot. His voice was the gentlest you had ever heard it, and when you sleepily attempted to press for more, he denied you softly, telling you it was time to go to bed while carding his fingers through your hair. You have half a mind to wonder if you dreamt it—there’s no way he actually said that to you, right?

But you know, deep down in the pit of your stomach, that it happened. You almost wish it were a dream—it would definitely make dealing with the weird, inexplicable feelings it always stirs up in your chest a hell of a lot easier.

And yet, you’re blissfully unaware of the power you hold over him, the authority, the will to make the monster inside bend at your every beck and call. You’re fucking oblivious.

But Tomura isn’t.

Tomura’s known Dabi for too long, knows Dabi better than Dabi thinks he does.

Tomura may be a selfish brat with anger issues, but he isn’t fucking stupid. He’d have to be blind to miss the way Dabi’s eyes soften when he looks at you, when you call his name or giggle innocently at something he said.

And as much as Dabi would like to say he isn’t, he’s a creature of habit. Tomura knows his behaviour, all of his mannerisms, inside and out. So of course he’s going to notice when they change, even if it’s slow, subtle, gradual.

But when Dabi’s voice softens as he bids you goodbye, a gentle ‘princess’ slipping from his lips as he responds to your goodnight—well, Tomura sees red.

Tomura was already pissed off about the nickname, hated the way Dabi used it in such a disrespectful, mocking way, but the first time he hears it fall from Dabi’s lips in an almost tender manner, a stark contrast to his usual sharp tone—God, he’s fucking furious.

“Have a good night, Dabi!” you’re saying as you pull open the door, giving him a cute little wave.

“Yeah, sleep well, princess,” How dare he.

The moment the door shuts you find yourself slammed up against it, wincing as your head bounces off the thick wood.

“D-Daddy?”

He answers by crushing his lips against yours, trapping you between his body and the door as rough hands slide up your thighs, taking your dress with them.

The kiss is anything but romantic—it’s fierce and fervent and it borders on vicious. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and pull, ripping a surprised cry from your throat.

“I need these off. Now.” He’s growling against your lips as his fingers push through the flimsy, delicate lace of your panties, creating holes big enough to hook his fingers through and tugging harshly. The material yields to him easily and the elastics snap, then he’s quite literally tearing them off your body.

He discards them, dropping them on the floor carelessly in a little heap of ruined white lace, while his free hand shoves itself between your thighs, two fingers pushing into you without any warning.

“Tomura!” You gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the burning sensation as your little cunt struggles with the sudden intrusion. He growls in response, pumping his fingers a few times before pulling away completely.

You’re about to ask what the hell he’s doing when you hear the telltale clank of his belt buckle.

“Wait—”

“No.”

He doesn’t have time for fucking prep—he’s too impatient, knows you can take it, needs to feel your pussy stretching around his cock now.

You squeal and wiggle a little against the door, trying to get away as he pushes the head of his cock in, convinced he’s going to positively rip you in half at this rate.

“Ah, st-stop,” you whimper, squirming and pushing on his shoulders. “It hurts,”

“Shut up,” he spits at you, not once halting his actions. “Don’t act like you don’t love the pain,”

You cry out sharply as he bottoms out, little hole pulsing as it tries to accommodate his girth. You feel full—so full, too full, and you whimper out the word, head coming to fall against his shoulder, eyes shut tightly.

“Yeah?” he breathes, beginning to move his hips. “Only daddy can stuff you this full with his cock,”

“Yes,” you whisper, nodding in agreement.

He sets a brutal, bruising pace almost immediately, only stopping to pick you up and allow you to wrap your legs around his waist so he can get deeper.

“My little whore, pretending that you don’t fucking love it when my cock stretches your little cunt,” he grunts. “Already so wet for me, soaking my cock,”

You moan—soft breathy sounds that get caught in the back of your throat with each one of his harsh thrusts—and nuzzle your face in his neck, embarrassed by the obscene squelching.

“Y’know, it’s not nice to lie to daddy like that,” his voice is strained now. “Good little girls don’t lie to their daddies,” he punctuates his words with deep, hard thrusts, the head of his cock nudging against your cervix each time, drawing out pained little gasps and whimpers from your lips.

“Didn’t lie,” you whine, muffled by his shoulder. “Promise. It did hurt,”

“But you fucking love it,” he repeats. “Gushing so shamelessly all over my cock,”

Heat floods your cheeks and you whimper and nod.

“Tell me,” he demands in a hoarse growl, hips beginning to pick up speed again. “Be a big girl and use your words,”

“Yes, I love it,” your eyes are beginning to roll back in your head, breath hitching in time with each sharp snap of his hips. “I-I love it s-so much,” you gasp out as teeth sink into your neck, pussy clenching around him as he breaks the skin.

He bites hard enough to draw blood, sucking harshly at the wound as he cums.

Christ, he’d tattoo his name all over your fucking body if you’d let him. But he has to settle for hickeys sucked into your dainty collarbone and bruises in the shape of his hands and fingertips. They fade way too quickly, but God does he love giving them to you. And you, his perfect little baby, love receiving them, even if you whine a little.

You’ve barely caught your breath when he’s carrying you to the bedroom, tossing you on the bed and ordering you to shed the rest of your clothing before climbing on top of you.

Settling between your thighs, he sits back on his heels, using his knees to spread your legs open wider. Strands of silver-blue hair stick to his forehead and his neck, his large hands firmly gripping your hips and pulling you towards him, forcing you to sit up and straddle his thighs.

Reaching between your bodies, his hand grips your pussy, still leaking with his cum.

“Who does this belong to?” his voice is low, crimson eyes dark as they search your face.

“You,”

His hand squeezes, a small broken whine sounding deep in your throat. “That’s right. This,” he squeezes again. “This is mine, do you hear me?”

“Yes,” you moan, rolling your hips into his hand, greedily grinding your clit against his palm. “Yours, forever,”

His eyes hold yours for a moment, chest still heaving a little with his labored breathing. “Mine,” he whispers before crashing his lips against yours, needy and desperate, a mess of teeth and tongues.

He alternates between fucking you hard and fast, cockhead slamming against your cervix; and burying himself to the hilt, grinding his hips slowly against yours, sharp hipbones digging into the silky skin of your inner thighs.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he pants out in encouragement after you emit a particularly loud squeal of his name. “I want the whole fucking world to know who’s making you feel this good, I want—” a deep, guttural grunt interrupts him. “I want the whole fucking world to know who you belong to,”

He wants that bastard to hear you—he’s sure Dabi can, living only a floor below the penthouse, in the building Tomura owns. He wants his ears to ring with the sounds of your wanton moans of Tomura’s name, from your high-pitched cries and breathy little whines.

He counts it as a win when, around four in the morning, the front door below the penthouse slams shut so hard it shakes the walls.

But he doesn’t stop then. No, he wants him to come back to the sound of you still being fucked out of your mind, crying for Tomura’s cock, crying because of Tomura’s cock.

He’s absolutely ruthless. He fucks you until you’re both trembling messes covered in sweat and saliva and cum, until you’re sobbing into the pillow, little fingers curling in the sheets so tightly your skin is stretched taut over your knuckles, until your throat’s raw from the sounds he’s now forcing out of you, until you’re on the verge of passing out, vision fading in and out of focus.  

“I want you to tell me that—” a low breathy moan cuts him off. “That no one could fuck you better than I can,”

You’re so fucked out you can barely comprehend what he’s saying, but then a hand tangles in your hair and pulls harshly, yanking your head back, and you gasp.

“Tell me,” he says, and although it’s a command, his voice is quivering as if he needs to hear this, needs to hear you utter those little words or he’s going to fall apart at the very seams.

“N-No one could ever—ah—ever f-fuck me better than you do,” you manage to stutter out, intoxicated by intense pleasure and pain, your brain going numb.

“You’re goddamn right no one can,” he growls in your ear, panting a little. “Never fucking forget that,”

He thrusts once, twice, and then he’s spilling himself into you, filling your little pussy to the fucking brim with hot cum. You cry out, eyes rolling back at the sensation, whining out little yeses as he pulses inside of you, as he forces a final orgasm from you.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

He’s in love with you.

It isn’t right, but Dabi’s never been one for the rules—he isn’t concerned with the relative morality of the situation (if he were, he’d be able to convince himself that he’s better for you—would treat you better, love you better, fuck you better). It’s more that he doesn’t have the patience to deal with the hassle it’ll cause; Tomura’s already ridiculously protective over you, and if Dabi were to present himself as competition, well…It’s more work than it’s worth and, anyway, it’s not like he has a chance in hell with you.

But he’s sick of these feelings driving him up the fucking wall. He genuinely considers quitting, weighing his options, the pros and cons, for a solid hour or so before arriving at the conclusion that it wouldn’t be worth it. As much as he can’t stand the brat—or, more accurately, can’t stand the feelings you evoke in him—the perks and paycheque are too good to give up over something so childish and trivial.

He exhales deeply, raking both hands through his hair. Fighting himself has proved to be exhausting and an absolute waste of time, so he decides he’ll just have to fucking deal with it. To learn to live with it

It gets easier with time, to just feel these emotions and let them wash over him passively, working hard to not fixate on them or ignore them—to just let them be.

It is what it is. He’ll always feel like his chest is decaying from the inside out when he watches you skip happily into Tomura’s arms, when he listens to you moan Tomura’s name in the middle of the night and make those pretty little breathy sounds, when he holds you tightly against his body and hushes your sobs after Tomura does something fucking stupid.

But he can’t leave; he can’t leave you alone with this psychopath, wouldn’t be able to even if he wanted to, his very presence inexplicably drawn to yours, attracted—no, addicted—to your very essence much too strongly, an impossible bond to break. He’ll just have to accept it.

[ahfbhdfgdx]

Please | Diluc x f!reader (NSFW)

Summary: diluc tries out some aphrodisiacs on u <3

Warnings: Smut, aphrodisiacs, intoxication, slight dubcon, oral, unprotected sex (lmk if i forgot any!)

Note: First post! If you like my writing, requests for nsfw or sfw are greatly appreciated :)

"Are you sure this is going to work..?" Diluc peered into the little vial that Albedo had bestowed upon him. It was a little bit foggy in there, a light pink tone. "This little of an amount too?"

Albedo nodded in silence, then walked back to his desk. "I think you'll find it actually works quite well. If it doesn't, let me know." He sat down and straightened the loose papers that were strewn across the tabletop. Diluc simply nodded in thanks and scurried out, closing the door behind him.

-xxx-

The sun has long set, nearing about midnight. Diluc stood in the tavern among the last few patrons chugging down their drinks. He wiped glass after glass, occasionally checking the clock. When would you finally be here, he thought to himself, placing another glass away.

"Don't get so worked up over her, Di!" Kaeya laughed, words slurring a little. He was sat at the counter with Rosaria. The rain pounded heavily on roof of the building, sending Diluc into further panic, although he hid it well. Maybe you had gotten caught in the rain? You could catch pneumonia out there! He tossed the rag down and leaned on the counter to catch a breath.

Rosaria glanced at Kaeya, both of them equally intoxicated and giggly, and turned back to Diluc. "Yeah, why are you so tensed up about her? It's not like she needs to abide by tavern hours anyway, she'll get here when she gets here!" She shouted the last line a little, Diluc scoffing at the stupor of these two. The tavern was closing in only half an hour. He could leave it open just for the two of you, it would make it easier anyway.

Suddenly, the door whipped open, and there you were, squeezing out your hair outisde the door. Head to toe, you were dripping wet. The three last people in the tavern turned to look at you as you laughed sheepishly. "I missed the forecast," you shivered and came to the bar counter, leaning over to kiss Diluc on the cheek, much to the delight of Kaeya and Rosaria.

He tensed up looking at you. Even fresh out of the pouring rain and all disheveled, you were still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. You had mentioned being ok with what he was going to do before, so he knew that he wasn't in the wrong, but the feeling of doing something so taboo got him going, especially with you standing right in front of him.

Glancing at the time, 12:30 am, he quickly ushered the drunken Kaeya and Rosaria out of the bar. "Shall I get you a towel to dry off?" He patted your soaked hair as he turned to the stairs. "Nonono," you laughed, "Drink first. Then towel."

He gulped. Now was the time he needed to do it, arousal and nerves swirling around his mind. "As you wish," He breathed out as he poured a glass of dandelion wine, your favourite. While his tall frame was turned against you, he carefully slid the vial out of his pocket, pouring it into the glass. It dissolved quite neatly, save a few sparks that flew out.

He picked up the drink, turning around and placing it hastily down in front of you. Giving him a weird look, you picked up the drink and looked at it for a good few seconds. Shit, I've been caught, he thought as he stared straight into your confused eyes. Shrugging, you took a swig of the wine.

Eyes widening, you looked up at his looming figure, "This is great! Did you put something in it?" You joked and giggled as you took another sip. His heart skipped a beat and shook his head. "I'll go get you that towel," Diluc started climbing the stairs, looking down over the railing to see you take another swig.

Looking down on the glass in front of you, your head started to feel a little floaty. Your wet skin started to feel a little warmer, maybe the warmth of the tavern was helping. That's all you thought, until you started feeling a pulsing feeling. Where's Diluc is all you thought as you took another short sip from the oh so delicious wine.

Diluc came back down the stairs, sneaking up behind you to place the towel over your now damp hair. Whipping around, you grabbed onto his waist and pulled him closer. "Diiiiiiluc.." You groaned into his stomach. "I'm so hot.. and so wet.." Your doe eyes looked up to him, gauging his response. His crimson red eyes looked back down on yours, starting to fill with lust.

He thought whether to just satisfy you now, or let you finish the substance he oh so intensely bargained for. "Don't you want to finish your drink?" In your foggy brain, anything Diluc says goes, so you nodded, still cuddled in his chest. He could get used to this, he thought as he gently grabbed the back of your head.

Bending down to whisper in your ear, "Would you some help with that?" You nodded again, turning your head to try and kiss him. "Yes please, Luc." That set a light inside of him as he picked up your spiked drink, pulling your head back a little. Moving the glass up to your lips, you parted them just enough to latch onto the glass, drinking it thirstily as he tilted the glass further and further, right till the very last drop.

As the wine went down your throat, you felt a sudden jolt of pleasure, moaning into Diluc's arms as he picked you up. It was as if any touch had you off the rails. As Diluc carried you up the steps to the third floor of the tavern, you peppered little kisses and nips all over his neck and cheek. "Where are we going..?" You breathed into his neck as he pushed the top floor door open with his hip.

Diluc placed you down carefully on the guest room bed, then stood back to admire the blank canvas in front of him. How beautiful you were lying there, moaning as you grabbed onto the bedsheets, a hungry expression on your face.

"Diluc, come here," you called out, shaking him out of his trance. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself on top of you, pinning you down. "Yes, my dear?" He cooed, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. You in turn grabbed his collar a bit harsher than you meant to, staring straight into his moonlit eyes. "Fuck me, Diluc." You whispered just close enough for him to hear. "I need it. Please fuck me.." You trailed off, feeling him start to trail his mouth down your neck.

"As you wish," He smirked slightly, unbuttoning your shirt one by one. "You really want it that badly, darling?" You nodded your head vigorously in return, threading your hands in his red locks. "I need you Dilu-" You were cut off by the man biting your hard nipple. Moans escaped your mouth in a steady flow as he licked and sucked it, playing with the other in his hand. "M-More please!!" You cried as the spike really started to set in, causing an unsatiable fire inside of you.

"You're so greedy, you know that?" Diluc growled, pinching your nipple with his hot fingers, it felt like a zap in your system. "I did this to you and no one else," He continued as he bit at you more and more. "By the end of tonight, the only thing that'll still be in your mind is me.." Only half of it registered in your mind, but the sound of his low voice vibrating through your system is all you needed to remember.

"Repeat it, my love.." He raised his face to be inches away from you, slowly reaching his hand down your unbuttoned pants, "Only I can make you feel this way." He toyed his finger at your entrance as you gathered the words in your mind.

"Only you can make me-"

He shoved his fingers inside you deep in, finishing your sentence with a scream. "D-Diluc-!" You huffed out as he started pushing in and out fast, curling at your g-spot. "More! More-" You yelped, bucking your hips, pushing his fingers in further. "Oh you want more?" He licked your jaw, sucking at the rainwater still left over. "Almost.. There-" You prepared to have the orgasm of a lifetime but was stopped short by Diluc pulling his fingers out.

You whimpered as he raised himself back up to your level. You were so cute laying there quivering, he thought. "What do you desire, y/n?" He inquired, toying with your wet hair strands, your face now a mix of rainwater, sweat, and tears of joy. "Give it to me, DIluc," You pushed his head down, craving that sweet release that was stripped from you.

He scoffed at your selfishness as he pulled down you pants and underwear, as if he didn't do this to you. He'll make you understand the manners you need to use for him. His tongue slit against your throbbing clit, sending you back on the ride. as he dined on your clit, his hand found its way back to your sopping entrance, continuing the pace he was going at before.

Your sight was blurry as you looked down, all you could see was the shape of Diluc. Him and the stars that filled your vision. You've never felt like this before, each lick and suck he did felt like its own orgasm. Diluc's doing this. Diluc's the one making you feel like this. Only he can make you feel this way. The words he put in your mind were the only words left at all as he took your brain away piece by piece, he was all that was left.

"Diluc.. Diluc.. Diluc!!" You screamed as you got pushed to the very edge. Suddenly, as if he could tell you were about to fully become his, he pulled himself away again. Tears rolled down your pretty cheeks as you brought your hand down, needing to finish yourself but to no avail. "Tsk," He sat himself up, giving you his fingers to suck off.

"I'm afraid only I can make you cum, my dear.." He peeled your hand away from your clit, and you moaned in defiance, at least as much as you could with his fingers in your mouth. "But you made a vital mistake," He took his fingers out, trailing them gently down your waist. "You didn't say please."

"P-Please Diluc.." You choked out, taking extra time to remember the word please, all you could think of is Diluc. "There you go! Was it that hard?" He tucked your disheveled hair behind your ear as he unbuckled his pants, taking the pants and shirt off. "Now you'll get what you deserve, my love." You pulled his underwear down in a frenzy, positioning his hard cock right at your entrance to take the work off his hands. "Oh how kind you are, y/n, positioning my own cock for me." He smiled a rare gleam as he pushed himself into you, finally getting to moan.

"You're s-so beautiful, so perfect," He complimented you for every deep thrust he blessed you with, "And you're mine." He growled the last one as he sped up his pace. Your head lolled back and all you could see is red in your vision. Not that you were to notice, but all you've been doing is chanting his name as you bounced from his thrusts.

"You come when I come," he pushes the words out with great effort as his pushes got shakier. Your legs were already shaking violently from being edged like you had, and you nodded your head as best as you could. "Ready?" He called out as he thrusted the deepest he could go.

"3... 2... 1..." He came with a loud groan right in your ear as you cried out his name, clawing at his back to get as close as possible. He filled you up to the very brim, burying his head in the crook of your neck as he slowly thrusted, coming down from his high.

Your eyes stayed close as he took himself out, resting on top of you with his hands in your hair.

"I love you darling.." He whispered as he pulled the covers over the two of you, but to silent ears. "Y/n..?" He lifted himself slightly to get a better view of you. There was no way you were going to have any senses for a good day at least. He sighed into a smile, and cuddled up close.

[padfootastic]

Hey!!

I’m a big fan of your blog as I am a fellow James and Sirius apologist. I feel like there aren’t enough people out here that love these two and their bond so finding someone who feels the same is like nothing short of a miracle. Especially one who is active on here. Also, I’m a big fan of your stories you are an amazing writer. ❤️

I was just sitting here thinking about how Sirius could have put an end to Lily’s relationship with James with a snap of his fingers if he felt so inclined. Like James and Lily are “soulmates” in canon but not the same soulmate level these two guys are on you know? I think back to your fic Shovel Talk in regards to this and how Sirius basically tells Lily as much. It just makes me sorta giggle (is that wrong?) because it’s just so true lol. Like James and Sirius were operating on a whole different plane of reality than everyone else I swear. I just I love those two boys so so so much.

If you wouldn’t mind sharing I would love to just read your thoughts on these guys. Like just to read you talking about them and their bond in whatever capacity you want. Weather it be what you think of them, how you see them, who you think they are, how you think they’re perceived by their friends just any and all thoughts you feel like sharing. This is only if you don’t mind. I just live for these two codependent lunatics and love getting to see other people love them. 💛💙

anon there is something in my eye and u might be responsible for it 🥺🥺

i don’t know where i’m getting this prongsfoot attention from as of late but i am absolutely not complaining because it is the best thing ever and i will never tire of talking about my baby boys. thank u so much for liking what i write (and thinking i’m active lol) :”)

also!!! another shovel talk fan!!! listen every time someone references that story, it makes my heart do this giddy little spin because it’s literally one of my favorite fics/hcs and i genuinely thought people wouldn’t like it but they do and it’s amazing.

you’ve given me such free reign that i don’t know where to start lol my mind has suddenly gone blank trying to think of something i haven’t already talked about before

hmmm ok let’s see. i know i skew towards sirius leaning on james a lot but i fully believe it was a relationship of equals. james was equally besotted by and reliant on sirius as the other way around. so i mentioned this in the last ask a bit, but i see james as someone who’s constantly burning bright and it’s…not exactly easy but very possible to snuff that light out completely. and i think lily had the potential for that bc of her sharp tongue & self righteousness. and she wouldnt think to tone herself down for james, either, because she sees what everyone else does—a spoiled, happy go lucky, privileged dude who doesn’t need to be treated with kid gloves. fair, yeah? except. sirius has seen this boy inside out, knows how fucking sensitive he is, and will do anything it takes to make sure james doesn’t shrink himself to fit the world. and this isn’t like—a huge thing, not for sirius. it’s in the little actions—cutting someone off when they might say something hurtful, turning him away from people who don’t like him, casually blocking hexes cast behind his back etc etc. sirius doesn’t have blinkers on, he knows first hand how ugly the world is and he doesn’t want it to touch his james. (sure, that might mean putting up with his big headed ass but he’ll take that any day over a subdued james potter) and we know from swm that he’s not scared or hesitant to go against james if needed so he’s the perfect person to both keep him in check and protect him ykno? (very grumpy one protects the sunshine one of me)

another thing i love thinking about is how unconditionally they love each other!!! james has a mean streak (often powered by ignorance/arrogance) and sirius genuinely has a whole dark side bc of his black heritage (so many thoughts on that ughhhhh) and it means the absolute world to sirius that james accepts all of him. his family doesn’t like him being a ‘muggle loving traitor’ and the people at hogwarts are scared/wary of his name and anger and sometimes he’s seen it even in his friends’ eyes and he’s sick and tired of having to hide parts of himself to be palatable so it’s like a fresh of breath air to be around james who never ever judges him. i’m such a sucker for unconditional acceptance lol both sides of sirius are fundamental to him and he can’t separate them from himself so whenever james steps up to him without hesitation or fear, it heals a part of him.

also, this might seem obvious, but i think they genuinely liked each other in a way that u don’t always see. like, they were each other’s favorite persons at all times, no questions asked. the average person might get sick of spending so much time with one person, even if it’s their best friend (i know i couldn’t lol) but not these two. they happily welcome every opportunity they have to be together. that’s why detentions are fun—hours left alone to goof around while working off their energy? sign them tf up. they genuinely look forward to talking to each time, every single class they share, nighttime when they can crawl into the others’ beds etc etc it’s all horribly codependent and perhaps not the healthiest (definitely not in a non-prongsfoot universe) but it’s james&sirius and even if they were stranded on an island together, they’d be happy about it

wrt to the james/lily/sirius thing—god, yes. sirius *knows* that he only needs to say the word and james would listen to him over lily and that’s so much power and sometimes he’s equal parts terrified and on top of the world bc of what he holds in his hands but it only makes him more determined to not abuse that trust and faith james places in him. i think this would happen with any potential partner, if only a bit harsher w lily bc of their experiences. james will always, always turn to sirius first and that can be a good or a bad thing, depending on how u look at it. u just know that remus and peter were envious of this dynamic but i think, over time, they overcame it and just resigned themselves to it. i can even see them (particularly remus) actually being a bit thankful it’s not them because let’s be honest, a friendship as all encompassing & overwhelming as this? not easy at all. u need to be able to completely open ur heart and soul up, break down even the smallest pretence of barriers, accept that you’ll always be part of a whole and that’s neither simple nor desirable most of the time. and i truly don’t eee remus laying himself bare open like that, not even for j or s. so i think he’s actually a bit relieved that these two tide over their most intense behaviours with each other and you get a more toned down version of them around others lol (does any of that make sense? i’m just rambling here tbh)

i’m gonna stop here bc i have no clue of any of this is even like, coherent. i erased and wrote the whole thing 2-3 times bc it kept growing a mind of its own and Not Cooperating so i hope this draft is,,,okay ykno?