#but most of the time just water and some scrubbing takes care of it! I've noticed my pits get smellier the days following soap use

[spleen9000]

-not everyone needs to use facewash or bodywash on a regular basis. if water is enough for you, it's enough.

-not everyone needs to use moisturizer all the time. if you don't get issues when you don't moisturize, you probably don't need to.

they are just trying to sell us things!!! some people do benefit from these things, but if a wet washcloth or whatever works to keep you clean and comfortable, it works! there's no inherent human need for bodywash and moisturizer and anyone who tries to tell you everyone needs a "basic skin care routine" involving multiple products is either trying to sell you something or has been indoctrinated by those people.

so stop being weirdos and shaming people for not needing the same skin care routine as you!!!

[dissociacrip]

i saw that one disability-related post a while ago about dental care but i can't find it again so i'm gonna mention a few things as a (mild to moderately) mentally & physically disabled person, whose teeth hurt when i eat sweet stuff now + i've had a root canal due to a fall + i'm learning to take care of myself, that may or may not help other folks with their dental routine

note: i am not a dentist & this info is mostly what i've gleaned secondhand from dentists, so yeah, i am not an expert in any capacity

water flossers aren't as effective as regular flossing (doing both is actually what's most effective) but they're better than nothing & helpful in cases where coordination problems or other issues might prevent regular flossing technique (i imagine this also depends on the quality of the water flosser)

if you use one of the plastic pre-made floss picks things, rinse the string off in-between each time you use it to floss one side of a tooth, it's tedious but it mimics moving to a new (clean) part of the thread like you do with regular floss

if you get an automatic toothbrush, get one that does circular rotation rather than just vibrating or whatever, as this mimics the tools they use in a dentist's office + imitates the circular motion you're expected to make with a standard toothbrush (which is also hard with coordination issues), i got one that does this pretty cheap from walmart (it's an oral-b but i forgot the specific type) + it automatically times it for you

if you have white spots on your teeth that are uneven with the shade of the rest of the tooth those are potentially white spot lesions due to demineralization; whitening products can make this worse rather than help it, but some products can help with remineralization such as mi paste topical tooth creme, which contains calcium and phosphate (i have yet to try this myself but it seems to get suggested by a lot of dentists, orthodontists, etc. for white spots on teeth & it's also supposed to help with sensitivity and tooth health in general because the white spots are lesions so it's not purely cosmetic!)

it's advised to not rinse your mouth immediately after brushing as this potentially dilutes & reduces the effects of the flouride (if you use fluoride toothpaste), stuff says to wait at least 15 minutes or so

just giving your teeth a quick scrub (even if it's without toothpaste and just water) is better than not brushing your teeth at all

if you have trouble seeing a dentist for financial reasons, try to see if there are income-based or charity dental services in your area, sometimes dental schools also provide low-cost/free dental care

that's all i can think of for now, i wish i had more advice for people who struggle to be able to brush their teeth at all in general but this is all i got unfortunately :(

additionally - you're not bad, useless, gross, or a failure if you struggle to (or can't) maintain oral hygiene; this stuff is much easier for some people than it is to others & those who take it for granted like to forget that, no one deserves to be mocked or looked down on for being disabled & struggling to/not being able to do """basic""" stuff like this!

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.” 

[rotdistressxox]

Could you do some bath/shower headcanons or scenarios of the kengan boys with their s/o. (Could you please include wakatsuki and agito pls🙏)

OOOOH I've been waiting for this one

Kengan Men: Bathing with their S/O

Content: Fluff, Intimacy

Ohma Tokita

• This man REEKS Escpecially after training. You have to force him to take a shower, there is no other way.

• He's never gotten used to showering, as he used to just bathe in lakes, rivers, and watering holes.

• Prefers cooler showers because of that. Doesn't mind if it's warm, but If it's too hot then he just takes matters into his own hands and turns it down again.

• He can bathe just fine on his own, but he usually drags you in with him just because he can.

• Just seeing his body with water dripping down his sculpted body is MMMMMMM scrumptious. You never miss out on a chance like this.

• Prefers to face you while showering. You usually do your own separate things instead of being all over eachother like washing his hair and back. But sometimes you have to remind him to do things like wash his under his armpits and put conditioner in his hair.

• And he just likes to look at you (oogle at your body nonchalantly). He can get a little handsy at times, but that's because he's curiously admiring you

Lihito / Ichiro Nakata

• He begs you to take a shower with him, or you seduce him into take a shower with you.

• Likes showers on the warmer side. He does work in cold storage, so it makes sense.

• Most of the time it ends it heavy petting and a make out sesh. Or going a little further. It's one of his favorite places to do it anyways....

• "Wash my back for me?" "Is that even a question?"

• Is good at getting the knots out of your hair with his strong fingers. He just really likes how your hair looks and feels when you put conditioner in it.

• Sometimes he just hugs you and holds you in his arms while swaying gently from side to side. You could just fall asleep because of his body AND the water temperature.

• His hair is extremely fluffy when it dries off. He looks like a pomeranian and it's adorable.

Raian Kure

• Prefers to shower alone. That's just how he is. Until you're in the shower alone and he just barges in or sneaks up on you.

• Likes to use the excuse that he's just saving water by showering with you. Like BOY- your dad is paying the bill.

• His showers are HOT, be warned if you ever want to join him in one. Unless you also take hot showers, you're his soulmate then.

• He takes showers when he's angry or upset at something just to let off steam. Sometimes he just drags you in and then [REDACTED]

• Buys you your own shampoo / conditoner / hair oils / etc in his bathroom for you just incase. Until you guys live together that is

• It's the best to cuddle with him right after he showers cause he smells like coconuts and aloe. You can't get your nose off of him and he appreciates the attention very much

• He doesn't take baths, but if he walks in on you taking one the clothes are coming off and he's diving in.

Gaolang Wongsawat

• Another Alone shower-er. He considers showering together to be intimate and romantic. It has to come naturally, he has to be in the mood, otherwise no dice.

• Has the best hair washes, to keep his long hair silky and clean. You don't need to ask twice to use them, what's his is yours.

• Cold showers. But will turn up the temp when you're in there with him.

• Can take care of himself and also take care of you while showering with him. Your back pressed into his chest. Him slowly and sensually scrubbing your skin with a cloth as he kisses your neck.

• Likes to massage your scalp with shampoo, seeing you sigh in bliss as his fingers gently rub and knead your hair.

• Neither of you have to say a word, just look at eachother passionately and feel the water on your skin. My god this man with wet hair is such a turn on.

• Date Night baths. Reserved only for date nights. No other times will he take a bath.

Saw Paing Yoroizuka

• Is also used to bathing in watering holes / lakes as he did in Burma and his village. So you have to teach him shower etiquette. He prefers baths to showers anyways.

• He's always excited for bath time, and will always ask you to join him for one. Makes a pouty face if you say no.

• Warm baths all the way. Cause he's always all fired up anyways.

• Usually talks your ear off, but in a quieter tone of voice instead of his usual yelling. He usually sits on one side while you sit on the other.

• If he's feeling extra cuddly he'll pull you into his back. Maybe give you a back rub as you tend to your hair.

• Onces he's in, he never wants to leave. Same with showers, so you have to figure how to coerce him to come back out.

• Maybe some sweet talking will do the trick, he's like a puppy when it comes to that stuff.

Kanoh Agito

• It is very rare that you'll ever shower with him. Ever. He is very strict when it comes to his whole shower routine. But when that rare chance comes, it comes.

• If you ever shower with him, that means he's feeling extra vulnerable...and I guess you could say passionate.

• When showering with him, he likes to show his companionship to you by washing your body, shampooing and conditioning your hair. Hell he'll even shave your legs, the man is skilled with a razor.

• Showers, then soaks in the tub for maybe 15 minutes. He likes both pretty hot, not as scalding as Raians though.

• Sometimes gets the hot and cold faucets mixed up. The look on his face when cold water rains down on him is *chefs kiss*

• Don't expect anything else to happen though. Shower time is for showering, and bath time is for bathing

• You come out feeling sleepy and relaxed. Like you just had a day at the spa. You fall asleep as soon as you hit the bed, which Agito finds to be fascinating yet attractive.

Wakatsuki Takeshi

• Will either ask you straight up if you want to shower with him. OR make sure you get the hint that he wants you to join him by walking past you in only a towel.

• Nothing makes him more happy than his s/o, naked, and willing to spend time with him even in the shower.

• Shower temp depends on his mood, but let's you decide anyways.

• Takes every ounce of his will not to put his hands all over you. He absolutely adores your body and wants to worship every inch of it.

• Can't take baths in a normal tub because of his muscle mass / density. As soon as he sits down in one the water rises and the floor is flooded.

• Let's you shave his face for him once you're done with everything else. Sits you on his lap and let's you gently scrape away the stubble. Will not let you shave his goatee though. Attacks you with kisses afterwards.

• Draws messages on the steamy mirror for you. Sometimes they're sweet, sometimes they're dirty.

BONUS

[atimeofyourlife]

Sharing a night in a shitty apartment

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: only one bed | rating: t | wc: 756 | tags: pre-steddie Steve offered to let Eddie stay at his place in the aftermath of Vecna. But forgets to mention its a shitty apartment with only one bed.

For the first time since moving, Steve was thankful that the communal areas of the apartment block were poorly lit. It was something that he, and his neighbors, had raised to the landlord multiple times, but it never got fixed. But now, the darkness gave the perfect cover for him to smuggle Eddie into his apartment, for a place to lay low until Dr Owens and his band of government goons swept into town to clean up the mess caused by the Upside Down. Something that didn't help, was that they were both injured and he had a fourth floor walk up.

He fumbled for his keys to unlock the door, and they both made their way in to collapse on the couch, not even caring that they hadn't changed since coming out of the Upside Down. When Steve could think a little more clearly, he would be happy that he had an old and ugly couch that he kept covered with a blanket.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, it's really cool of you to let me stay with you. But when you said I could hide out at your place, I thought you meant Loch Nora. Not this... cozy set up you have with far too many fucking stairs." Eddie said after he'd had a chance to catch his breath.

"My parents sold up the place in Loch Nora, five, six months ago. And didn't extend an offer for me to move with them. This is what I could get on short notice, and on my Family Video salary." Steve explained.

"Shit, your parents suck." Eddie replied, stretching out. "Any chance of a shower, I feel gross after a week on the run."

"Yeah. Bathroom's over there, the door on the left. Just try not to take too long, the hot water is temperamental, and I need to shower off the Upside Down too."

"I get it, dude. I live in a trailer. Sometimes we're lucky if we get five minutes before the hot water shuts off." Eddie said, pulling himself to his feet. "At least the bats didn't get me as much as they could have."

"Let me just wash the dirt off my hands, and I'll find you a towel and some clothes." Steve went into the bathroom first, spending much longer than usual scrubbing his hands clean. Once he was done, he pulled a towel out of the closet. "Feel free to use any of the soap and shampoo and conditioner. I'll leave some clothes outside for you. Just don't lock the door, it sticks."

Steve went into his bedroom, pulling out sweatpants, t-shirts, and underwear for each of them. He knocked on the bathroom door as the shower cut out. "Eddie, I've got some clothes for you."

A few seconds later, the door opened and Eddie stuck his hand out. "Thanks Harrington."

Once Eddie was done with the bathroom, Steve took his chance to shower off the Upside Down. He then gathered their clothes, towels, and the blanket off the couch into a pile, ready to take to the laundromat. Or burn, maybe.

He found Eddie in the bedroom, trying to look like he hadn't just been snooping.

"I think I'm going to turn in. The most sleep I've got this week was in an armchair in the Wheeler's basement. I doubt you feel much better." Steve said as he pulled back the covers on his bed.

"Yeah. Um, do you have a spare pillow and blanket or something? I can go set up on the couch." Eddie offered, looking uncomfortable.

"Oh, shit. No, you're not sleeping on the couch. It's way too small and uncomfortable. We can share the bed, as long as you don't steal the covers." Steve replied, patting the space next to him.

Eddie looked at him hesitantly for a long moment, before climbing in next to Steve.

The next morning, Steve woke to Eddie practically on top of him. Something about the weight was calming to him, holding off the state of panic he usually found himself in for weeks after an encounter with the Upside Down. And he'd slept much better too, the nightmares that he always got in the aftermath not making their appearance yet. He knew they should get up, to be ready to regroup and face whatever happened next. But he felt too at peace to let the world bother him in the moment. So, instead, he snuggled deeper into Eddie's embrace, and allowed himself to doze back off.

[gloomwitchwrites]

*stumbles breathless through your door*

I SAW YOU'RE ASKING FOR STORY REQUESTS!!

*fixes the Caps button*

Sowwy!!

Anyway!!

Please can I ask for:

1. Lord of the Rings

2. Bathing (innocent)

3. Thranduil

4. I leave free hand to you. Just some nice relaxing bath with his love (can he his new queen or soon to be) some pampering with hair and skin care, something along those lines. Fem!elf!reader if I may ask that!

xoxo Firelight

That entrance into my ask box is a solid 10/10. No notes. Just perfect.

Technically, I’m not taking story requests, but I am taking headcanon requests for all the fandoms I write for. So, this will fall into the “what are Thranduil’s bathing habits” realm. So like, what he does alone and with a partner. But it’s obviously on the innocent/fluffy/romantic side of things.

Personally, I’m all about a soft Thranduil who knows how to pamper himself and his partner. I've kept this one on the gender neutral side.

Word Count: 585

1k Follower Event Rules

ao3 // taglist // 1k follower event masterlist // main masterlist

Thranduil’s bathing habits when he’s alone:

A bath is Thranduil’s reset. There is no one that attends him during this time. It’s a chance for him to slow down and to let go of the pressures of the day. When I mean that no one attends him, I mean no one. It is he that fills the tub with water. Not one of his subjects. Thranduil uses that time to disconnect and to think only of the task at hand. He is always making choices, giving orders, and overseeing the wellbeing of all. Filling the bath is a moment of peace. There are no responsibilities here.

Thranduil soaks before he scrubs or washes his hair. He will close his eyes, tip his head back, and rest. This could take a few minutes or even ten before he opens his eyes again and begins the process of lathering up some soap.

Thranduil washes his body first before his hair. The soaps and scrubs he uses are always made from ingredients that are found within the Woodland Realm. He is resourceful in that regard. That same goes for his hair. Anything and everything are sourced from the forest, if possible.

Thranduil reads in the bath (if it’s just him).

Usually doesn’t eat but might have a snack. There will always be wine. That’s nonnegotiable.

Doesn’t remove himself from the tub until the water has gone cold. He likes to stay in as long as possible.

Loves a warm towel afterward.

Thranduil’s bathing habits when he’s with a partner:

Similar to how he draws the bath from himself, Thranduil will do the same for his partner. It’s an act of service, but also a way he shows affection. He wants to do it, and he always makes sure to have it done before they can arrive to bathe themselves. He might seek help from an attendant to prepare other items like candles or fetching wine and food, but Thranduil likes to do most of it himself.

Because of who he is and all the things he must do in a day, a bath is his time to reconnect with his partner. During this time, they are alone, and are unlikely to be interrupted. Truly, this is the only time for Thranduil to spend time with his partner since most of his day is spent taking care of his people.

Whoever Thranduil is with, they are not to lift a finger. This is about them, not him, and he goes to great lengths to make that happen. His favorite thing to do is recline in the tub with his partner leaning against him. This way, Thanduil can cuddle them but also take care of them. It’s the best position to wash their body and their hair.

He is prone to gentle touches, almost an absent-minded sort of motion. He does it without having to think about it. Skin against skin is usually what he needs and not in the physical sense of need. Connection is more important here.

Thranduil enjoys conversation but it is not a requirement. Sometimes just being in each other’s presence is enough.

Thranduil will not allow his partner to do anything for themselves while in the bath. Won’t get angry about it but he might have a twinge of attitude if they keep resisting. Thranduil just wants to take care of them.

Will make sure his partner removes themselves from the bath before they grow cold.

Thranduil will insist on drying them himself.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot

@firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth

@miaraei @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @therealbloom @ninman82

@thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[pandalorian36]

Azriel x reader

A night in a shared hotel room leads to confessions of love.

Word count:2260 Warnings: possessive Azriel, some suggestivness at the end

(Stunning night court divider by @tsunami-of-tears)

I joined the night court long ago, I don't really remember what happened but I was only just an adult when Rhys, Azriel and Cassian found me stumbling about in the snow with no memory of how I got there. They took me in and I found good friends among the court as they became my family. Finding my own magic and skills. I am fast and strong able to beat most in a fight. People learn the hard way not to underestimate me.

Groaning I follow Az into the battered inn shaking the snow from my clothes and feathery wings. The fluffy flakes have stuck to some of the feathers meaning I have to manually brush them off. Azriel stomps back over a singular key dangling from his hand "They only have one room." I shrug shivering "Long as its warm I don't care."

He huffs slightly and starts up the stairs having to stoop under the doorway. The room itself is tiny Az taking up a shocking amount of space, it consists of a small bathroom and a small double bed squashed against the wall and a dresser with a rickety looking chair but its clean and relatively warm.

I am too tired to argue about anything and drop my bag on the dresser peeking into the bathroom there is no way I can fit in the bath with my wings let alone Azriel who is significantly taller. I remove my jacket and begin to fill the sink with no hot water I make it quick scrubbing the dirt from my hands an arms before leaving the bathroom for Azriel.

I hear the water start followed by a large bout of swearing. I bite my lip to stop my laugh I forgot to warn him about the hot water situation. Minutes later he emereges hair dripping and shirtless. "Little cold?" he glares but light shines in his eyes so there is no malice behind it. I tuck my wings in and sit on the edge of the bed "I don't mind sharing. The floor is far too cold."

Az doesn't respond so I turn onto my side getting as close to the wall as I can so he has plenty of space. The bed is not built for those with wings let alone someone of Az's size, the bed dips significantly under his weight making me laugh as I slide into his side "Hello." he rolls his eyes slightly and adjusts his weight so the mattress evens out once more allowing me to move back to where I was.

The room is freezing the thin blanket offering little warmth. I fall into a light sleep exhaustion winning over. Before I fully wake I feel a sense of warmth and content moving closer to the source of heat I find its difficult to move a weight on one of my wings.

Blinking I find I am facing Azriels chest, it takes a moment to fully comprehend our position. One of his wings is under my side another draped over the top while my own almost mirror wrapping around him. His shadows are also wrapped around the both of us twining our limbs together. Azriel grunts slightly his whole body stretching out and I freeze terrified of moving. I'm trapped until he moves his weight.

I look up and find Azriel already awake staring straight back his face bright red. I think its the first time I've ever seen him blush. We both try and pull apart in a tangle of limbs failing completly when he ends up on his back with you sprawled on his chest faces inches apart. Blushing furiously you scrambled up managing to free yourself and fall onto the floor. Knowing how much he struggles with physical contact you stand "Az I'm sorry I didn't. I don't."

He stands combing a hand through his hair still visibly blushing"Its fine." His shadows are dancing around the room wrapping around my legs and arms chuckling slightly I glance down heat instantly rushing to my face as I notice Azriel's situation. Quickly I return my gaze to his face "I'm going to change." Hurridly I enter the bathroom filling the basin with water to splash on my face.

Its true you I have always harboured a crush on the stoic illyrian. He is handsome, kind and though people rarely see it has a wonderful sense of humour. Everything about him draws me in but I have never said anything not wanting to ruin our friendship. It took Azriel longer than the others to trust you but I spent a lot of time proving yourself to him.

Taking a deep breath I exit the bathroom finding Azriel fully clothed and surrounded in shadows. "Bathroom is free." he nods not saying a word as he finishes packing. I pack my own bag slowly and officantly putting my two short swords into place finished by the time Azriel reappears shaking water from his hair I smile slightly "Looks like the storm has passed we should be back in Velaris by this evening."

He nods and grabs his bag remaining silent. I put it down to embarrasment and don't pry following him silently out the room and out into the woods. There is a clean blanket of snow over everything the tiny ice crystals blinking in the sunlight. I smile brightly and expand my wings taking off into the early morning sky the soft flakes fluttering slightly as I move.

Az joins me in the sky the two of us heading towards Velaris. Cassian is first to greet us at the house of wind grinning broadly "Welcome home." before either of us can react he has thrown a snowball hitting Az square in the face. I bite my lip coughing to hide a laugh as Azriel wipes the snow from his face scowling at his brother. A shadow whips out wrapping around his ankle sending Cassian crashing too the floor.

Mor and Rhys walk into the room Rhys shaking his head looking dissapointed "You are back less than five minutes and already fighting?" Cassian grins standing up "I couldn't resist." Mor rolls her eyes "Didn't you get it all out your system last week?" Rhys chuckles "Cas is still sore that he lost. Az, Y/N anything to report?"

We both shake our heads and he nods "Excellent I still want a written report for tomorrow though." Cassian grins "Get caught in the storm last night?" I smile "We stayed at an inn. Didn't want to risk flying in it." he nods solemnly "Very wise." I roll my eyes at him shooting a smile at Azriel "I'm going home I'll send my report this evening. Bye Cass."

Cassian waves flopping down on one of the sofas while I fly home and sink into the bathtub glad for the warm water and space. Changing into comfortable trousers and shirt I sit at my desk and write out my report sending it directly to the house of wind by magic.

Azriel seems to be avoiding me over the coming days at training, dinners always finding excuses to leave the room when I enter. After a week the others begin to catch on Cass and Rhys cornering me after a dinner "What is going on?" I stare up at them confused "Sorry?" Rhys sighs "With Azriel."

I sigh rubbing my forehead "I have no idea. Every time I try and talk to him he finds an excuse to leave. Believe me if I knew what I had done I would apologise for it."

Cassian raises a brow "So hes ignoring you for no reason?" I sigh "I don't know he's been ignorning me since the inn..." Cassian gasps "Did something happen with you two?" I shake my head "No, nothing really. There was only one room left so we ended up sharing a bed but nothing happened."

Rhys grins sharing a look with his brother before leaving I watch them leave confused before shaking my head and heading home. Unlocking the door I remove all jewlery and kick my shoes off to the side jumping when there is a knock at the door.

I open it slowly finding Az his shadows dancing around him as he fidgets with his hands "Azriel?" I cross my arms sighing "Ready to explain why you've been ignoring me? Look if I did anything to offend you I'm sorry. I..."

"You haven't done anything." I must look shocked as he sighs deeply "I'm sorry. May I come in?" I step back allowing him in before shutting the door leaning against it. Az looks uncomfortable his shadows constantly moving around as he shifts his weight.

"Az what is going on you've been ignorning me since the Inn." he sighs taking a step closer "I didn't handle it well I'm sorry. I feel very strongly about you but never wished to pressure you into anything. I know you don't feel the same way..."

"Don't feel the same way," I laugh "Az I'm crazy about you." his face blanks and I take a step closer "Is that why you've been avoiding me? You thought I didn't like you?" He shrugs his shadows winding closer and I can sense there is something else he isn't telling me. I step closer taking one of his hands in mine slowly tracing the scars.

I look up meeting his gaze, he leans down slowly almost nervous as his lips brush against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck his sliding around my waist deepening the kiss. Heat floods through my body electricity shooting through my veins as something inside clicks into place something that feels like home, like a piece I've been missing. I don't know how I missed it my mind becomes clearer Azriel filling every gap.

My whole body sings mate. Azrael wraps his hands under my thighs pulling me up, I wrap my legs around his waist every fibre of my body wanting him, needing him. He pulls away pupils blown growling low "Mate." both of our chests are heaving as he leans in kissing me again moaning against my lips. "Mine."

I moan in response pulling away for air brushing hair out of his face his shadows twining around my arms tickling my skin, I frown kissing him gently this time "You knew didn't you?"

He nods grip tightening on my thighs as he backs me into the nearest wall "I knew from the moment we first met." he presses a kiss on my jaw working his way along speaking between kisses "I have loved you for years never knowing how you felt."

"I never told anyone." I run my fingers through his hair pressing kisses along his cheeks "You kept it to yourself all this time?" he locks his gaze with mine shadows playing with my hair "When you didn't react to the bond I thought I was wrong. But the longer I spent around you I knew I was correct. When ever you weren't around I missed you, when ever Rhys sent you on a mission I worried. I felt drawn to you at every moment wanting too kill any male who got too close."

He runs his hands up my sides "I wanted to tell you. I didn't know how." He kisses my cheeks "I'm shouldn't have kept it from you. I understand if you're mad." I smile blinking back tears "I'm not mad Az. I love you. Have loved you for years."

He tilts his head to the side "Why didn't you say anything? I thought you where ignorning our bond its why I never acted on it." I shake my head tighting my grip on him "No. Az I had no idea. You really thought I was ignoring you?" I sniff willing the tears not to fall "I could never do that to you. I promise you I didn't know. I think it something to do with my memory loss but I don't know. All I know is that you are mine. My mate and I love you with every fibre of my being."

Smiling softly he leans his forehead against mine shutting his eyes "My soul belongs to you Y/N L/N. Every part of me is yours." I cup his face bringing his lips to mine in a soft kiss pouring every ounce of my love into it before pulling away grinning "I believe I owe you a meal." he shakes his head slightly peppering kisses down my throat "Later."

I smirk pushing him away "No we are going to do this properly. You can control yourself for a little longer spy master." I nip at his ear making him growl while you jump to the floor walking through to your kitchen. Azriel slinks after you his shadows wrapped tightly around me waist carassing every inch of skin that is visible while I try and focus on what I am doing.

"Y/N you are testing my patience." I chuckle and turn around an apple in hand "And I thought patience was your strong suit. Do not fret spymaster I have no desire on making you wait." he glowers but takes the apple I offer biting into it and chewing painfully slowly.

He doesn't bother with the rest placing it on the counter smirking "Now I have waited long enough mate." his voice drops dangerously low as he backs me into the counter giving you a look that makes you weak in the knees "You are all mine." ...

[eepybubble]

tell me about stained glass

yay!! it's so fun i can't wait to do it again i'm gonna tell you the whole process

so first you need to pick out your pattern/draw the design, make sure there's no weak points (lines directly through the entire piece etc)

once that's set you get to pick out your glass :D some glass is thicker than others but it doesn't matter too much unless you want it to be all the same, there's lots of different textures as well whcih can look really cool

next step is to trace the pattern into the pieces, you wanna go for the edge of the glass to save as much as possible for future projects, and if it's too opaque you need to either use a light box or cut out that part of the pattern

when it's all traced you're gonna start cutting. so get your little tool, make sure you're standing in order to get the pressure and right angle

this is the glass cutter ^^

now you gotta smooth that shit down so here's this guy

he's a glass grinder he sands down the sides into the right shape and makes sure you don't cut yourself as much. the bit is in the middle and you hold the glass with ur fingers and press it into the bit to grind it down

next is foiling but before that is cleaning bc the grinder has water in it and it mixes with the glass particles and makes it all icky so get some glass cleaner and wipe it down with a cloth

now time for foiling

this is copper foil, it comes in rolls with different thicknesses. generally one size fits most glass but thicker ones need thicker foil so it covers the side and equally on the front and back of the glass

i tend to start near a corner, then you're going to wrap it around being careful that the glass goes in the middle of the foil. once it's wrapped around once make sure it overlaps with the beginning about 1/4-1/2 inch, here you cut it

press the foil down on the sides and top and bottom of the glass, then get some kind of tool (can be anything tbh even a pencil or ruler) and rub the foil into the glass so it is fully pressed down

(random piece i found on the internet with foiled glass)

onto soldering :D

once it's foiled you're going to put the pieces together how you want them to lay in the final product. first is tacking, aka putting a small amount of solder on the intersections of glass. before soldering anything you need to put flux on the section you are soldering. (btw solder only sticks to foil not glass) flux basically is a liquid that prevents oxidation on the copper foil, making the solder stick.

there's lead free and leaded solder, i've only worked with lead free but many professional stained glass artists use leaded. it acts a bit differently when soldering but works just as well.

after tacking is the actual soldering. basically you take a stick of solder and a soldering iron and hold the solder right behind the iron so it melts and sort of drips down the edge of the iron onto the foil as you bring your iron across the foil. once you solder one side, flip it over and do the other, then the sides which is a bit different, with more tacking

after soldering you gotta clean it cuz it's dirty again so head to the sink and get some soap and a brush and scrub that shit off

then if you want you can add patina which can make the solder black or other colors i think

then there's polishing which you just scrub on with a cotton pad, you can buff it after this with just a cloth to make it extra shiny but yeah that itttt

ty for letting me rant about this if you have any more questions lemme know <3

[thats-sir-dyke-to-you]

When it comes to hygiene tasks and self care with disability and chronic illness, its pretty much a constant case of: don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.

Basically: it's better to do something, than to do nothing at all.

TLDR: Just because you can't do something "properly" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it at all. Do it half-way. Do it shitty. Do it barely. Do it on a technicality. But do what you can. Just try, because doing something will help you.

If you don't have the energy to scrub your body with a sponge, just rub soap over your skin with your hands.

If you don't have the energy to wash your whole body with soap, just hit the places where sweat accumulates, or where you're smelliest.

If you don't have the energy to wash with soap AT ALL, just sitting in water is better than nothing. It will wash away dirt and oils.

If you can't bathe or shower at all, a warm wash cloth is your new best friend. If that's too much, then try bath wipes. They're a bit bigger than regular wet wipes, and a bit more heavy duty. They're designed to help keep bed ridden patients clean in hospitals.

If you don't have the energy to dry yourself after a bath or a shower, just put on a bathrobe and get into bed. If you don't have the energy to get dressed afterwards, just don't. It can wait until you can.

If you don't have energy to brush your teeth for two minutes, honestly, just a cursory scrub is better than not doing anything.

If you can't brush your teeth twice a day, brush in the evenings. It will help take away the build up of food from the day.

If you don't have the energy to brush AT ALL, honestly, just take a cloth and wipe the plaque off your teeth. Rinse with mouth wash after if you'd like. Something is always better than nothing.

If you can't floss twice a day. Try once. If that's too much, try a few times a week. If that's too much, try setting aside a day once a week as a goal. If you can't keep a schedule, do it when you're able to. Hell, I keep some floss next to my bed so that if I forget and don't have the energy to go get it, I can just reach over.

If you can't iron your clothes, don't bother. Wrinkles are fine. Wear jumpers over wrinkly t-shirts. No one will know, and honestly, most people won't even care. If it's really wrinkly and it's A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Ironed, here's my life hack. Step 1: take a spray bottle, and spritz the item of clothing (while you're wearing it is easiest) until it's lightly damp. Step 2: use a hair-dryer on the clothes until they're dry. It gets rid of creases like nobody's business, it's easier than lugging out the iron and ironing board, and you get to have nice toasty warm clothes afterwards.

If you can't fold your clothes, try just hanging them up. It's less commitment. It's quicker to do. Granted, you need to have the space in order to do this, but it is also good at helping you downsize, and lets you visualise exactly what you have.

If you can't put your clothes away, invest in a couple of laundry baskets, and then just keep your clean clothes in the baskets. You can then separate washed clothes into underwear, pants, and shirts baskets. You can just leave them like that. I'm giving you permission to never fold your laundry again if you can't. Just leave it unfolded. Who's going to care? Something is better than nothing. If you can, try to put those baskets into your closet so that you can keep the clutter out of sight, and give yourself a more restful environment.

If you can't separate your clothing out into different categories and wash them "properly" (whites, warm tones, cool tones, darks, delicates / switching between hot & cold washes / paying attention to laundry instructions on the label) then just don't worry about it. If you cold wash your clothes, colours won't bleed. Maybe gradually over the course of dozens of washes there'll be some changes in hue, but it's really not as high stakes as the One Red Sock In The Whites Turns Them Pink trope makes it out to be.

I've pretty much come to the point in my life where if a piece of clothing can't survive the washer and dryer, then it's just not meant to be. I colour separate my clothes, and if I have the energy/remember I'll take my bras and jumpers out of the washing machine to drip dry. But otherwise, I leave it to the universe.

If you can't separate out your recycling, then don't. If you have a large amount of rubbish you need to get rid of but the idea of separating it out properly is stopping you from doing so, then just don't worry about it. I know it's not ideal, but if you have garbage in your room/house and you need to get rid of it, please just get rid of it. Don't let the problem get bigger and harder to deal with. Don't let "doing something properly" get in the way of keeping your living spaces clean. Please. Give yourself understanding.

If you can't wash your dishes, get paper plates. Obviously, it's not ideal, but it is better that you eat food than skipping meals. It is better that you have a clean kitchen, rather than having dishes piling up and making it harder to look after yourself.

If you can't prepare meals for yourself keep making the tasks easier and easier. If you can't do recipes, then simplify. Use pasta sauce from the jar instead of making it. Eat canned soup. Buy food you can just stick in the oven. If you eat fish fingers and microwave veggies every night, it's better than not eating anything at all. It's better than having to fork out money on take-out. If you need ready-made meals, then get them. If you're literally just eating a raw cauliflower for dinner; 1) I see you, 2) me too, sis, 3) something is better than nothing.

These are the basic things you need to do every day to function as a person. They are your activities of daily living. Brushing your teeth. Bathing or showering. Using the bathroom. Getting dressed. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Keeping your environment clean. You don't need to do these things perfectly, but they need to happen in order for you to have a decent quality of life.

And it breaks my heart, because I know that so many disabled people can't do these things every day. I'm not saying this to guilt or judge, I'm saying that these are basic needs; you deserve these things. These things bring dignity. If a disabled person is unable to do these things, it diminishes their quality of life. It robs them of dignity.

If you need help to do these things, Its okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. But if you can't get that help and you have to do these things by yourself -- or you just plain want to be independent and do it without help-- then don't hold yourself to standards you can't meet.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it's not perfect. Even if it's not done well. Do what you can.

[rendy-a]

Event teaser 2

I've decided to post little "getting ready" fics to lead up into my 500 follower event. I'll put up the event when I get to 500. Here is the first one!

Preparing for guests with the First Years

You sneezed for what felt like the millionth time today.  All this dust was playing havoc with your sinuses but, even so, you had no desire to cease.  Every student at NRC was diligently cleaning the campus to prepare for guests.  Royal Sword Academy would be attending the goodwill dance being held on campus “to foster close bonds between budding mages” or at least that is Crowley’s claim.  You privately thought it was some piece in a game he had to one-up Ambrose, Headmage at RSA.  But that wasn’t all.

Rook pops his head in the room, dressed in the black of his ceremonial robes and holding a feather duster.  The students were down to the wire but refused to stop cleaning until the very stones sparkled; no RSA snob is going to look down on their campus!  Reminding you very much of a French maid, he exclaims, “There’s a girl in the castle!” before scampering off.  So, they were finally here: the students of the all-female Fair Maiden Academy.  It was both exhilarating and frightening for it cemented the reality of the coming event: a co-ed dance. 

Not that you were worried, parish the thought!  I mean, you might not have a date…or an outfit…or like any real plans for that night at all but you weren’t worried.  So what if your school now had like a million more people in it for competition?  That didn’t worry you.  No, why would it?  You psych yourself up by reminding yourself that all those extra students are also an opportunity to be your date.  After all, why shouldn’t you just go up and ask out an Idol like Neige or that blond with total princess vibes from FMA.  There are like 8 princes and princesses between the three academies but only one student from another world; you are one of a kind, who wouldn’t want to go to the dance with you?

“Prefect, stop spacing out and help us here!” Ace shouts at you.  “Come on Ace, give the Prefect a break,” Deuce says while laying a comforting hand on your shoulder, “It must be so much harder for them to clean without magic.”  You shake your head in agreement, glad that you could count on Deuce to have your back.  “Whatever, this better get done by dinner or someone is getting their pillow covered in cold water tonight,” Grim says from the corner.  You smile at your friends and get back to scrubbing tables in the classroom.  It was assigned to the first years to clean the campus as the Housewardens and Vice Wardens were greeting the guests at the gates. 

“IF YOU CHILDREN ARE DONE COMPLAINING, WE HAVE WORK TO FINISH HERE!” Sebek interrupts your friendly banter.  Ace gets a sly look on his face and he looks at you from the corner of his eye and winks.  “Oh yeah?  Well, I guess if we are children that must make you an adult then?” he prods carefully.  Sebek scoffs and answers pridefully, “Its clear that I’m the most mature one here.  With my intensive training, it could hardly be otherwise.”  Sensing that he had him where he wanted him, Ace smiles and then asks mockingly, “Then a super mature guy like you must have already found a date for the dance.”  Sebek blanches and starts stammering, “Wha.What are you suggesting.  Of course, I…I mean.” Then he blushes and turns away quickly.  Ace slides up and sets a hand across his shoulder, “Oh, did you hear that Prefect, Sebek has a date.  Why don’t you give us some tips on how to pick up a date?  Come on Casanova, regale us with a tale.”  Sebek looks between you, wide-eyed and speechless.

“Hey, stop fooling around,” Jack sighs from the corner.  It was decided that Sebek and Jack, being the most physically fit among the year, would take care of moving the furniture so it could be cleaned around.  Deuce looks over at his track club teammate and asks, “Have you ever taken someone to a dance before, Jack?”  Jack looks over and smiles, “Sure have.  Plenty of times.”  Ace goes wide eyed, “Wha?  No way!”  Jack pats the back of his head sheepishly and elaborates, “My sisters are always asking me to come to these Father-Daughter type dances back home.  I know my pops should be going instead but they insist they want me to come.”  Now Ace is angrily yelling, “Oi, oi, oi!  That’s not the same thing!”

You are laughing when Epel comes storming into the room, looking like he is about to rip something or someone apart.  “Dagnabbit!” he shouts before grinding his teeth in a deep scowl.  He scans the area, and you privately wonder if he was looking for something to vent his anger on, like your buckets of cleaning water or the trashcan.  Maybe it’s better if you attempt to mediate this situation.  “Hey, what’s up Epel?  Something happen?”  He looks over at you furiously and declares, “I’m not cute and I’m not a girl!”  The guys hold back a snort but Ace, ever the instigator can’t leave it alone, “Did one of the RSA guys ask you to the dance, Princess?”  The effect is immediate as Epel leaps over a table at Ace and a scrap begins.

“My sensors detect elevated levels of sound coming from this classroom,” a robotic voice echoes from the door.  “Come on guys, let’s not fight in front of Ortho!” you say.  You know that he is technically not a small child but it’s hard to avoid treating him like one when he had such a small stature and adorably innocent face.  Your fellows appear to agree because Epel released Ace’s collar with a mild snarl before standing up and dusting off his jacket.  “Next time Ace,” warns Epel, “I’m going to wipe that laughter right off yer face!”  Ortho’s eyes crinkly in excitement, “Oh!  Are we telling jokes in here?  I can access a database of popular comedic routines for you, if you’d like!” 

You hastily wave aside his offer, “No, no no.  We were just discussing the, um, difficulties we were having with the students at RSA.”  Epel tosses his head back wildly, “Difficulties my boot!  I’d like to toss a rotten apple right in there faces!”  Suddenly, a highly mischievous look comes over Ortho’s face, “Oh ho, so its pranks you are looking for?” he says while raising a hand to his robotic mouth.  “I can suggest several pranks from highly rated high school animes.”  You gaze at your fellows, feeling like you probably should decline this suggestion like the prior one…only…” But when you finished sweeping the room, no one would meet you eye.  Even the rule abiding Jack seemed hard pressed to dismiss the suggestion.  So, you decided, why not? 

That day, you and the first year crew spent the morning cleaning the classrooms and the afternoon pelting wayward RSA students with water balloons containing colorful pigments and alchemically created scents.  Which, of course, led to you spending the evening wiping up a colorful and horrible smelling courtyard as punishment.  As you clean up a neon blue puddle with Deuce that smelled suspiciously like rotten bananas, you asked him, “Are you worried that you won’t find a date to the dance?”  He looks over at you and replies, “Not really.  The last school dance I was able to attend, I didn’t have a date or friends.”  He looks down, perhaps recalling his delinquent past, “If I end up just going with my buddies, well, that’s fine by me.”  Finally, you feel the tension you’d been holding in the pit of your stomach relax.  Yeah, that was fine.  If you got a date, great but, if you didn’t, you’d still have the first-year crew to keep you company.  And with friends like these, what more excitement did you need?

[painfulrant]

Could I get a JJ fic based of diet mountain dew by Lana del ray <3

Thank uuu

Here you are, love! I hope you enjoy. ❤️

Diet Mountain Dew by Lana Del Rey

JJ maybank x Reader

Angst!!!!

Requested ❤️

You’re no good for me

Baby, you’re no good for me

You’re no good for me

But baby, I want you, I want…

The shadows, it seemed lately, have been the only consistent thing much like the light the sun generously gifts us. Yet with each ray and with each shadow, you found yourself barely surviving. Sitting alone at a table that used to be the both of yours, you stirred the diet mountain dew sitting in front of you. You haven’t touched it… tasted it. You just simply sat, stirring lost to your own memories.

Diet Mountain Dew, baby, New York City

Never was there ever a girl so pretty

Do you think we’ll be in love forever?

Do you think we’ll be in love?

You allowed yourself a small miserable smile while you pondered whether the love you held for him would ever leave. It certainly didn’t feel like it. You weren’t sad… nor were you angry. You were empty and somehow, in some way, that was worse than any other feelings. The break up was still fresh in your mind.

Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City

Can we hit it now low down and gritty?

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love?

The feeling of his hands and lips against your skin seemed to be constantly there. No matter how often you wash. No matter how many times you sat in the bath or stood in the shower, sobbing and trying to scrub his scent… his touch away. He didn’t love you anymore and the idea that you were even carrying one part of him with you when he obviously wasn’t made you nauseous with sorrow and grief. Yet, even as you lay broken in the water that ran over your skin, almost as though it were trying to sooth you, you knew you carried a love for him that no one could take. Not even yourself.

Baby, put on heart shaped sunglasses

'Cause we gonna take a ride

I'm not gonna listen to what the past says

I've been waiting up all night

Your thoughts were soon interrupted by someone who sat across from you. The way her eyes were shielded and basically held heart in them, you knew that she was taken and she was very happy to be taken. She gently pushed your diet mountain dew closer to you with a sad smile, having known with one look that you now experienced what both of you were dreading. Offering a small smile, you sipped the diet mountain dew trying to ignore the past whispering and playing in your head. You haven’t slept well in weeks and last night wasn’t the first night that you just decided to give up on sleep.

Take another drag turn me to ashes

Ready for another lie?

Says he's gonna teach me just what fast is

Say it's gonna be alright

When you were half way done with the diet mountain dew, you heard the chime of someone entering the nearly empty wreck. Glancing up, you felt your heart turn to ashes, everything becoming numb when you saw him with her. JJ and Kiara stood in front of you, having not noticed you yet. You knew without a doubt that this wasn’t new… but you weren’t ready for the pretty lies he would surely offer if he did indeed spot you. The last words he muttered to you brought a shocking humorous laugh to your lips. You suppose he really did teach you what fast was, for he seemed to move on pretty d*mn quickly.

“It’s gonna be alright, kotes.” Sierra muttered from across the table, staring at you as though she felt and shared the pain that was threatening to blow the ashes to your burned out heart away.

Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City

Never was there ever a girl so pretty

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love?

Slowly sipping on the diet mountain dew, you didn’t try to stop the nauseating feeling from emerging once more. Unbeknown to you, every man in the room kept his eyes on you, whether it be because they cared or because they truly thought you were the most beautiful women they’ve seen. Yet the one person you truly wanted and loved, did not want or love you back. You stood and moved to walk to the bathroom, the churning growing worse with the sudden movements.

Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City

Can we hit it now low down and gritty

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love?

You paused upon seeing the same lips that had touched every part of your body, kissing the women who you had thought was your best friend. The sickness increased and that was when you realized that for the first time since the breakup, the tears were surely flowing. Lord knows you held all the pain and tears inside, letting it rot you from the inside out. Letting it fester into a nothing void that filled your chest and made it impossible to cry… until now. You found yourself asking if you’d truly ever be able to get over him or if this love you carried would always be with you.

Let's take Jesus off the dashboard

Got enough on his mindㅤ

We both know just what we're here for

Saved too many times

You ripped the cross necklace off, letting the sobs rack your body, not caring if anyone heard. You knew he couldn’t hear it but even if he could, he has enough on his mind that he wouldn’t give two glances towards the painful choking sounds leaving his last love. We both knew we were here to forget the pain he caused you and him to be able to move on and be with her happily. Part of you wished he’d swoop in and save the day as you had allowed him to too many times before. The other part of you whispered to you that he never would again and that you were wasting tears and emotion on someone undeserving of either.

Maybe I like this roller coaster

Maybe it keeps me high

Maybe the speed it brings me closer

I could sparkle up your eye

However, that’s when the nausea heightened to a new unbearable level, almost as though you were on a roller coaster. One you seemed to like, nonetheless. It allowed you to feel. To feel disgust and hurt. Maybe this was the only way to keep feelings, almost as though you were on an emotion high that you could only get from having your heart shredded, burned, crushed, and blown away in the wind. All by the same male. The wind would make beautiful colors, no doubt and you knew it would resemble the happiness you once felt.

Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City

Never was there ever a girl so pretty

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love?

Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City

Can we hit it now low down and gritty?

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love?

After having emptied your already pretty empty stomach, you sat against the cool wall and let yourself cry until you had no tears left. Until the aching in your chest dulled down to a study rhythm of painful throbs. Until your tear stained cheek had dried enough that it wouldn’t make your face break out. Until you felt your mind finally ease with the exhaustion that laid upon it.

You're no good for me

Baby, you're no good for me

You're no good for me

But baby, I want you, I want you

You're no good for me

Baby, you're no good for me

You're no good for me

But baby, I want you, I want you, I want you

You wouldn’t admit out loud that you still wished he was here. That you still wished he were yours. You would let yourself think it through. You would let yourself feel before you had to put on the mask of happiness and have to put on your big girl pants. You’d admit to yourself that you still so desperately wanted and missed him. That every second without him, you felt your heart detach more and more from reality, your sanity slowly slipping away while you tried to convince everyone of something you didn’t want to convince them of. That you were okay. That you weren’t slowly and surely falling apart and that you didn’t fall in a hole so deep and dark, you weren’t sure if you could claw your way back out.

Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City

Never was there ever a girl so pretty

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love?

Baby, stoppin' at 7-Eleven

There in his white Pontiac heaven

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love?

Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City

Never was there ever a girl so pretty

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love?

Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City

Can we hit it now low down and gritty?

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love?

After a while, you just sat there staring blankly at the wall, feeling nothing at all but the exhaustion that threatened to make your eyelids finally fall. You felt a weird sense of calmness… one that brought nothing but allowed you to finally breathe. You would be okay.

You're no good for me

Baby, you're no good for me

You're no good for me

But baby, I want you, I want

You're no good for me

Baby, you're no good for me

You're no good for me

But baby, I want you, I want

You're no good for me

Baby, you're no good for me

You're no good for me

But baby, I want you, I want

You would be okay because all though you wanted the only man to ever break your heart in more ways than you knew were possible, you knew that he wouldn’t and could never love you in that sense again. You knew that you would be okay because when you look around you, you realize there were still people who cared. People you couldn’t let down. You knew you’d be okay because you didn’t have any other option then to be okay. So you smiled softly, stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror. You didn’t recognize yourself but the calmness you felt gave you enough confidence to smile once more to the mirror. To the women inside it. Finally, you turned and headed back out to finish your diet mountain dew, paying the waitress for the extra wait and allowing Sierra to lead you out the door without looking back once. Even when your heart screamed and pleaded with you to turn around and go to him. It would be alright. You would be okay.

[bunnakit]

man last twilight hit me particularly hard today and i'm still crying after finishing the episode.

i spent a good chunk of my day at my specialist today and it wasn't great. my disease is getting worse. my weekly shots aren't enough anymore. i'm so tired and i can't stop fucking crying.

my immune system is fucked up, i produce too many white blood cells and those white blood cells have chosen to attack my skin. it leaves me with holes across my body - some of my wounds are now over a year old. when they heal they leave atrophic scarring - but they aren't even healing anymore.

the specialist gasped at the sight of me today. (i'd never seen her before, my state of being was new to her.)

"you're bleeding."

"i know."

"you're bleeding like, a lot."

"i know. i take iron supplements, it's okay."

"it's going to get all over your pants."

"it's okay."

"are you in pain?"

"yes. i'm used to it."

"are you in a lot of pain?"

"yes. it's okay."

she was so concerned, so alarmed, and i couldn't help but just smile and laugh it off. if i don't i'll end up like i am now, sobbing at my desk hidden away from my family because there's nothing they can do for me, they'll just hug me and say they're so sorry, they wish there was something they could do. but there's nothing anyone can do, this is just my life now.

"how often do you take your shots?"

"every friday."

"the recommended schedule for that medicine is once every two weeks"

"yes, they increased the frequency for me because i'm stage 3"

"and you never miss a dose?"

"no, i take it on schedule every week."

"i don't think it's working anymore."

i try to be strong about it, most of the time i am - this is just my life now, wallowing about it isn't going to fix it. i'm stage 3, the only thing that will fix it is a cure, but that doesn't exist yet.

i recently had to buy those washable period underwear because one of my year old wounds just won't stop bleeding and i'm so tired of washing the blood out of my pants. i've gotten so good at preventing bloodstains. (a mix of dawn dish soap, water, and baking soda as a pre-soak works wonders)

i bought an antimicrobial soap in bulk last week to prevent infection. it dries out my skin, but it's not as bad as the diluted bleach baths. i have to start using 10% benzoyl peroxide as a body wash. "do you have a fever?"

"no, i check regularly."

"your wounds are really deep, we're worried about you potentially going septic."

"i'm very careful and keep them clean."

i buy bandages and tape in bulk. my allergic reaction to the tape adhesives are the lesser of two evils. sometimes they get so bad i bleed, but it's just an abrasion. it's okay.

and now i have to take another round of antibiotics that make me nauseous.

and they're changing my medication. i'm 'lucky,' a new medication was approved by the FDA recently that shows good results in reducing the symptoms of my disease. but how long will it be before i don't respond to that anymore?

it's another biologic, an immunosuppressant shot, and i'm sure just like last time it's going to make me so, so sick. adjusting to biologics is so hard, it's not totally unlike low dose chemo (obviously there are differences) and last time it made me sick for weeks.

i don't want to be sick. i don't want to take these antibiotics that make me nauseous. i don't want to keep scrubbing the blood out of my pants. i don't want to use the soap that dries out my skin. i don't want to wear perfume to cover up the smell of my dying flesh. i can't even have sex with my husband. we recently went a year without having sex and i know he understands, he gets it, but i can't help but think part of him resents me. we got together when i was 22, when my symptoms were still mild, i got my diagnosis at 25. i quit my office job and lost my insurance. we eloped at 27 so he could add me to his insurance and i could afford my treatment. his family spent the next year asking why we were in such a rush to get married, we didn't know how to explain to them it was because my doctor was preparing to declare me completely disabled.

i don't want to be in pain anymore. it's been almost 10 years.

i'm okay, i'll feel better tomorrow, maybe even in a few hours, but i can see why people kill themselves over this. i'm so tired. i'm so defeated. i have to hope there will be a cure someday, something better than just pushing down the symptoms.

if you read this far thank you. like i said, i'm fine. i just wanted to get my thoughts and feelings out and i'm bad about talking to my family - they worry too much, pity me too much.

[incubusnero]

Tales from the Little Black Book + 1 / ?

A couple years ago For the most part the entire trip has been rather uneventful. While there were a few people in the Tiber Bay that caught my eye, the moment I spoke to them I knew it wasn't meant to be. There's so many men who see the sea and adventure from below deck but claim to be these wild pirates and everyone can see right through them. I'm not here to slum with someone scrubbing the galley.

I decided to skip the isles and bothered Nari into taking me to Caribella and I truly owe her a favor for doing so. Because I met him. An actual pirate, a local to Caribella with his sunkissed skin and his curls. He laughs like he doesn't have a care in the world and it's so different from anyone I've met around Eterna. I will have to tell Eridani that she has won our bet, she was right, I did actually find a pirate to sigh dreamily at. It's hard not to when he's animatedly talking about his travels, the ways of the sea, this captain of his. Anyways, so we first went down for a walk down by the docks after a few pints, he showed me a spot the locals loved and .... And then the inn hallway... Over a barrel of wine... The hammock situation was new to me though. On the beach, tied between two trees a sheet big enough to sprawl out in. Secluded enough to feel private because again, Robin knew a spot. It's one of the few times I've wondered how many other people he's taken here. Bit hypocritical. Anyways... We laid there together afterwards just talking about nothing, my fingers drawing patterns on his skin, connecting freckles. I was going to miss it. So things do not go as planned. I didn't think they would, I don't think I could spend an entire three months with one person. But he makes me want to and I might be a fool but I am not foolish enough to think I could ever replace a ship and the open water. And so... It just keeps happening, us running into each other, spending time. I don't even care for sailing but we make a day of it, the two of us. It's been maybe a month of this and it feels too easy. There's shades to him that are darker, I know laughter to disguise pain when I see it. Two more weeks were spent together, making it six weeks I spent making moon eyes at a singular man. A new record, probably, I'll have to go back and reread to be certain. He can keep his soul and his smile, I won't indulge further, I can't compete with the sea. I sail back to Eterna tomorrow. I told him maybe he'd see me again some day. I left him a cologne.

Robin Top notes - Rose petals, lemon Middles note - salt, lime Base note - musk, actual sea water Smells like the breeze coming off of the ocean

[happyk44]

Having written yet another Percicobeth drabble (or ficlet? Probably? Like the difference is in word count, right? And I'm idk how long that one was but feels long-ish), I'm thinking about comments I've gotten (and ignored) on my other Percicobeth stuff, people complaining that Nico is gay so he can't be in a relationship with Annabeth and ofc my first instinct is to go "I was here long before Nico was gay, and shipped this ship, I'm not gonna abandon it just because the owner of the boats made up something new. I've been in this boat for over a decade. You think I give a shit if the owner suddenly says my boat isn't made for the deep waters I've been taking her into this whole time?"

And that of course is totally valid. I don't think people need to give up ships or headcanons or whatever else they've had for a long time just because something changed or became official in canon. But I also don't think it matters what people ship, irrespective of canon anyway. Like, yeah, in the heydays of fandom, shipping canon gay characters with female characters was really frowned upon because there were so little canon gay characters, it was annoying to see them scrubbed out for a m/f ship, but it's not really like that anymore. But also, tbh, as annoying as it was, I never really gave too much of a shit because fandom is fandom. People like what they like. And most of the time they retconned them to be bi, not straight so who gives a shit 🤷‍♂️ just block that person if you want and move along

But that also reminds me that I did get a comment complaining that by making Nico "bi", other people will feel like it's okay to make him straight, which a) that's not how that works and b) I'm not making him bisexual, I'm saying Annabeth is his exception.

In all my years of being in the PJO fandom, the only two girls I've ever shipped Nico with was Thalia (whooo, go early days PJO!) and Annabeth. And Thalia/Nico was never a big ship to me tbh. I think I may have actively shipped it for like a few months, and even then I didn't really seek it out. If I did read it, it was usually because they were a secondary relationship in a fic with a really fascinating plot. Like the only two fics I can remember reading with them as a pairing was a time travel kidfic, and this fic where the gods faded due to lack of belief so the kids had to take their spot as gods. And both fics had an ensemble cast and a plot I wish I remembered more.

So basically - it's really just Annabeth.

And truly and honestly, and this is just for me, I don't care how you guys approach it, but I never write Percicobeth with intention of Nico being bisexual. Even in the way back, when canon gay Nico was just a dream, I always just saw Percicobeth as "Nico is really gay, but Annabeth is hot so it doesn't matter for her". And I think a lot of people saw the ship that way too.

And for all that people talk about sexuality being fluid, it's really baffling to me that some people can't wrap their minds around a fictional relationship where a gay male character hooks up with a girl he really likes, but otherwise isn't attracted to other girls.

It happens in couples where a person transitions but their partner stays with them because they love them too much. Would they look at that gender on other people with the same vibrant romantic/sexual attraction? No. But on their partner it looks good, and that's all that matters. And all the jokes about gay men kissing twinks that turn out to be lesbians thinking they were kissing another lesbian.

Also I swear when I was, like, thirteen or so, people used to use the label homoflexible/heteroflexible, which basically meant "I'm gay/straight, but if you're hot enough, I might be interested". I wonder what happened to it 🤔 but yeah, anyway - sexuality is fluid, people kiss and date and fuck who they want, and sometimes who they want is not always what their label says, and it's really up to them if they want to change it.

So in summation. Yeah, I know Nico is gay. But I've shipped Percicobeth for over a decade, and I'm gonna keep shipping it because it makes me happy. And when I write the ship, Nico is still gay, but either Annabeth is hot enough that he doesn't care, or they end up having a really deep connection and friendship outside of their relationship to Percy, that they end up hooking up anyway.

Also sometimes I write Percicobeth as "she fucks Percy and he fucks Percy, but they don't fuck each other, they just scheme together different ways to fuck with Percy", because sometimes that's what polyamory is! Sometimes it's "I'm dating X, and X is dating me and Y, but I'm just good friends with Y, and Y is just good friends with me" and that's okay too. It doesn't always have to be everyone is in love and dating each other.

The world contains multitudes.

And at the end of the day, I write what I want.

[palestporn]

Karkat: let him see the fear

You don't answer, but Gamzee must see some of your resignation in your face. When you snatch up a rag and start wiping angrily at one of his cheeks he just lets you, watching you placidly. His pupils are dilated enough to eat up most of the purple in his eyes.

He says, "You're hurting."

"I hit my head, and I've got some--scratches," you say, because apparently that purrbeast has escaped the shapeless containment device. "I'm fine. I told you I'd take care of everything, and I meant it."

Gamzee considers that while you wipe his face. There's a split in his lip, when you scrub the paint away, and a bruise on his jaw.

He says, "I mean, yeah, but. You're working up some shit in your thinkpan, is what I mean. You're hammering that shit down in, hard-shell little snipbeast like you are. Look at all these prickly-ass walls you're putting up."

"I'm not putting up walls," you snap, and wipe away a smear of paint, harder than you mean to. "I'm the very goddamn picture of professional transparency."

"I'm not a motherfucking professional," says Gamzee, and frowns at you, a slow shift like a moonrise, disapproval that's worse for how he seems to be discovering it as it happens. "And if you've got no walls, motherfucker, no hurt you're hiding from me, how come you're in ablutions with your motherfucking moirail and you got your whole shiny snipbeast shell on still?"

You look down at yourself, soaking uniform, water on your armor, and feel abruptly like a complete idiot. "That's--just," you start, and then growl and drop the rag on the seating shelf next to him to peel at your wet armor, tugging it away from cuts and scrapes and kicking it defiantly away into the corner of the ablutions chamber. Then you spread your arms like fuck you, here it all is, take a good fucking look. "Happy now?"

"Happier," says Gamzee, and yawns hugely, a wide stretch of fangs. "You're hurting still. You gotta just let go sometimes, best friend. You gotta stop doing the job and just motherfucking trust."

"I'm not going to stop doing my job," you snap, and he blinks at you through the water, slow and hazy, hardly together enough to move. You don't mean to raise your voice, but you're--you can't just stop taking care of him. You can't. The fear is a naked, ugly thing, turning your hands clumsy and your voice loud and harsh. "My job is to be what you need me to be, dipshit! I know you've got pretty lights and honking horns where your thinkpan should be, but you should know this by now--it's my job to keep you steady! It's my job to make you safe, you absolute fucking moron, and you can barely stand up right now, what do you mean, let go?!"

"I mean I'm pretty fuckin' steady now, best friend," he says, and lifts up a hand, slow and wavering, to take yours and pull it away from his face. The paint and blood are gone, and he looks like a different person without them. Thinner, and sadder, and younger and older both at the same time. "I mean, you told me we were already safe. And what you're showing me right now's a whole lotta scared and fucked up, like you think we're gonna get jumped on if you let me touch you kind. You tellin' me you said me some bullshit? We're not so motherfucking safe?"

"I-- Wh-- No, but--"

"So it's safe if you rest easy, too. If you didn't lie."

It's never fair when Gamzee suddenly manages to do something smart. All of a sudden sometimes that mild look closes on you like a trap on a squeakbeast, and he's got you coming and going. Well, fuck him. You're resolved in your mission, and letting him touch you a little isn't going to change that. You can take it, if it'll get him to stop looking at you like that.

Karkat: Give ground

==> Let him have your horns ==> Let him have your body ==> Let him have your thinkpan

[Start Over]

[ezithemuse]

Cupid’s Punk!

1- so it feels real

There is both terror and freedom in restarting your life. Not in a cosmic sense, but in the moving-across-the-country-and-leaving-everyone-you-knew-on-the-opposite-coast sense. That is where Scarlet found herself this morning. Eyes red from her jetlag, hair a mess from the uncomfortable seats, and a puffy-eyed death stare meeting her from the scratched bathroom mirror. Even with her fresh start, the fresh apartment, she was not ready for her first day at a new job in this new, unfamiliar city. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to forget. She wanted to go back to her home with—a pang of heartbreak through her chest interrupted the thought. That home was no longer there, and no one was waiting for her to come home. Instead, Scarlet let out a dejected sigh, opened the cardboard moving box that contained the toiletries that were not in her carry-on, and got in the shower. She was up far earlier than she realistically needed to be, to make sure she could wash her hair, shave her legs, and still have plenty of time for makeup and a relaxed cab ride to work. The pipes whined and hot water splashed her face as the new-ish utilities sprung to life. She focused on getting the sleep out of her eyes.

 She resented her own anxious, over-prepare-until-exhausted tendencies. Yet Scarlet knew that on mornings where she didn’t do this, she was late. It was part of why she’d lost her last position as a Library clerk. God, that feels like a lifetime ago. If I started taking those then…what if... Scarlet let the thought drift up with the steam, and focused on the rigorous maintenance that her curly, shoulder-length bob required. The rest of the shower went likewise. She would move on to some other form of self-grooming, only for another intrusive thought to appear, and she would do her best to let it roll off of her. By the time she was done, dripping into a towel and stepping out, she had gotten most of the self loathing scrubbed off. Scarlet turned to face the same mirror. She wiped the fogged glass with one pale hand, and the same dead-eyed look greeted her. Scarlet forced a smile, hollow but just enough to come across as courteous and eager, rather than like a retail worker who was dead inside. She had plenty of practice masking in this way. 

Her breakfast was a microwaved cup of coffee and protein bar, the leftovers from her flight. She’d have to go to the grocery after work. She ate just enough to then turn to her prescriptions, the small, resentful white triangles tasting bitter and frustrating, her knowing that it was a 50/50 on whether she would be vomiting before lunch. The three small blue estrogen pills had to melt sublingually, and wouldn’t upset her stomach. They did, however, taste like minty asshole as they dissolved under her tongue while she started her makeup routine. It went quickly, Scarlet’s old “professional” looks still in her head after years of rushed mornings where her mediocre nutrition and makeup routine battled for time. Her hands danced; brushing, patting, dabbing, blending, and setting at a quick but deliberate pace. This wasn’t Scarlet’s first time working places that made her tone down her looks and cover her smattering of artsy tattoos that criss crossed her arms. Her new boss had assured her however, that so long as she wore at least business casual and none of the tattoos visible were profane, no one would care. Simple enough to cover the guillotine on her shoulder blade or the shoddy stick and poke of her highschool bff’s band “The Fart Coffins” on the opposite blade. She only sometimes regretted that one out of any of the designs on her body.  She finished with a modest amount of very neutral blush, and got up to dress in the outfit she had laid out the night before. A simple white blouse and black skirt, black tie, black flats. Should show a good first impression for a secretary of a legal office. She couldn’t help but roll the sleeves partially, however, showing hints and edges of her ink. 

 Scarlet made sure her hair was dry, shook her head as a jolt of the last taste of estrogen left her mouth, and called for her cab. Just before leaving, she packed her purse, and heard an unfamiliar jingling at the bottom. Fishing through the myriad receipts, dust bunnies and half finished chapsticks, she finally found the culprit, and her heart dropped. A simple gold ring, with an inscription inside; Futile – the winds –/ To a Heart in port –The singular band was heavy in her hand, and Scarlet felt the heartbreak all over again. She wanted nothing more than to scream. She wanted to sob until her throat was hoarse, to wail in pain. She wanted to call her. Instead, she tenderly wiped the welling tear in one eye to preserve her mascara, roughly threw open the drawer to toss the precious bomb in with a clatter. The front door slammed and locked behind her.  The cab hummed quietly as it rode down the dense city streets, and Scarlet focused on taking in the sites of tree leaves slowly changing color through the cab window. She was headed further downtown from her new apartment, and even still there were beautiful trees she wasn’t familiar with. This is exactly what I thought the East Coast to look like, and yet it’s even more beautiful than I could have imagined, she mused to herself. She was used to her hometown in the Bay, the palms and pines of the San Francisco and Oakland areas all she had made friends with until now. The trees were dotted in front of the tall downtown shops, looking like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. She took a picture every now and again, killing time until her quiet cab driver pulled over to a sidewalk. Scarlet smoothed her skirt, handed the man his fare and a tip, and stepped out in front of a small office building. Her flats echoed against the shiny, reflective tile as she followed signs and elevator directories to Kane Arbitration & Mediation Legal Services.  The interior of the elevator shined, polished enough that Scarlet could see her own reflection.

 She took a moment as she rode to the fourth floor, using the reflection to adjust her skirt. She was so tall that no matter what she wore, it always eventually turned into a skirt shorter than intended, and that was the last thing she wanted to project on her first day.  Once the soft fabric was in place, better resting on her hips and covering much of her long thighs, she noticed she had arrived. Scarlet swallowed, her nerves making it louder than she had wanted, and exited as the doors parted. 

Kane Legal was one of the only offices on this floor, and it didn’t take her long to find, but she paused outside the door anyway. She took solace in the fact her new employer wouldn’t be able to see her through the doors frosted glass. Scarlet had a moment to steady the shaking in her hands. 

There’s nothing left for you back there. This has to work. You have no other option. The thought was supposed to be comforting. 

She opened the door and recalled all the times that thought would light a fire in her—to ignite the contrarian and spiteful nature she had to anyone that doubted her. A year ago, this would have made her unstoppable…but the last year was harder than she could have ever predicted. The reception area of the office was nicely decorated, looking like the kind you’d see on a mid-budget daytime law drama. No one was at the desk that she assumed would be hers, so she tried to peer around a corner leading to what she assumed would be Miss Kane’s proper office. Sure enough, a door at the end of the hall was open and revealed a head of deep black hair peaking just over the top of a large computer monitor. Scarlet took a moment for them to notice her.  

In another life, Scarlet would have confidently marched into the office, head held high, with enough swagger to convince anyone that she owned this office. Now the poor girl stood there, shivering as her future awaited. The Scarlet of a year ago would have left this newer Scarlet behind, just like the one she cared about the most. She prayed this wasn’t some kind of test. 

“Excuse me?” She called out, causing the head to twitch, “I’m looking for Miss Kane?”

The top of the head rose for a pair of eyes to see just over the top, and then a hand brusquely slid the monitor on a pivoting stand out of the way. Scarlet recognized her now, the telltale hazel, almost golden eyes and a striking streak of platinum blonde to one side having stuck with her since their video interview. “And you have found her.” Her voice merrily sang, reverberating down the tiled hall. She stood. “You must be Ms. Finch. I am so glad to finally get you out here. May I be the first to properly welcome you to Caulfield Valley, I hope your flight was smooth?” Scarlet was immediately put off balance, having to look up at someone for once. Even if Emilia Kane hadn’t been in imposing black heels, she would easily have three inches on the six feet even Scarlet. She effortlessly glided down the hall towards Scarlet, her hand outstretched. Scarlet met her, returning her’s for a handshake. The taller woman’s hands were so soft.

“Ah, t-thank you, Ma’am.” She politely smiled, and decided to rest her hands on the strap of her purse so as to not fidget. “I appreciate that, it was a long flight.” She wanted to divulge how exhausted and sore she was, but held back. 

“That is such a shame.” Emilia twisted her mouth into a concerned frown for a moment, a hand grabbing her chin in thought. “If you ever need to fly for me again, I can make sure you have better accommodations. Thankfully, your first day probably will not be too demanding. I am hoping to simply get you familiar with the way I organize best and have you operating at full speed before my next big meeting in…,” She checked the date on her phone, pulling it from the breast pocket of her dark green suit, “-three days. Does all that sound good?” Scarlet sighed in relief. “More than good, Ma’am, I’m sure I can be up to snuff by the end of the day.” She was a tiny bit surprised by how confident she sounded. “Oh please, Ma’am makes me feel old.” She waved a hand as if shooing the notion away, “I know to most it is respectful, but I prefer ‘Miss’ or just Emilia if it is all the same to you.” She rested the same hand now on her hips, which Scarlet noted were surprisingly accented in this type of suit. She nodded in response, and Emilia gestured for her to sit in the chair behind the receptionist desk. 

The woman looked like she was off a runway, the two piece suit and platinum jewelry complimenting her intense eyes and the vibrant streak of silver- no, platinum blonde in her hair. The hazel of her eyes became almost amber-gold as the light from the windows caught them. When her new employer wasn’t looking, she shook her head to erase the thoughts. Scarlet couldn’t exactly be thinking about how attractive her boss was if she didn’t want to risk her new living situation. 

“—and your last employer said you were familiar with all of these programs, is that right?” The question snapped Scarlet back to reality as Emilia motioned to the open windows of the computer. 

“That’s right. All of this is right in my wheelhouse.” Scarlet affirmed, grateful that the job didn’t seem to have any sudden surprises. “And this looks like a pretty standard inter-office set up on the phones as well. Would you prefer a call or a ping on your computer when you have a call or a client?” She hoped the question would help make her seem competent and ‘a go-getter,’ something her father had told her once upon a time about starting a new job. “A call is fine unless I am already with a client. If I do not respond, you may call regardless.” Emilia said, a small smile of approval spreading across her red lips. “On the topic of clients, occasionally you are to sit in for meetings and you will be taking notes. These are legal matters and meet the standard of attorney-client-privilege. So it is vitally important you understand that anything you hear or write down in those meetings are confidential, but could end up under scrutiny if we were ever to be sued or subpoenaed. Are you comfortable with that?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Scarlet nodded, “To be clear, any notes I take are private between you and I unless that happens right? Like—” she kicked herself for her valleygirl filler word, and tried to recover, “a doctor? For example, I wouldn’t talk about this with anyone except you or the client, even during off hours?” Scarlet couldn’t lie to herself and say that didn’t make her anxious. Her understanding of the legal system told her there were a million and one ways to mess up proceedings if everyone didn’t know them ahead of time. The clarity would help alleviate that anxiety. 

“Exactly. We can talk about it informally outside of the office but we must use discretion. God forbid  you run into a client at a bar, make sure neither of you are shouting without realizing. However you got the most important part. Good job.”  Something inside Scarlet warmed at her new boss’s approval. Emilia’s phone lit up and began ringing in her hand. She rolled her eyes. “I have to take this,” she explained, grabbing a small packet from the top drawer of the desk, “Just answer the phone if any calls come in and start filling this out with your info so I can make payments and records and such. It will only take a moment!” Emilia walked back up the hall, closing the door of her office. Scarlet could hear her talking in a tone that sounded professional and even, but couldn’t make out anything specific. 

When Scarlet realized she could not eavesdrop, no matter how hard she tried to focus, she instead grabbed a pen from the desk and focused on the forms. They were typical of starting with any new employer: tax info, new address, signing agreements. Scarlet was sorely missing the over-designed packets she would receive on her first day at each of the oversized chain stores she had grown up working at. The kind that tries to convince the reader that “we’re a family here,” isn’t the same as “your boss will not give a single shit about you if you think for yourself.” They were always a riot to laugh at with her fellow cashiers, clerks, and baristas. 

Everything was astonishingly professional, and felt tailored to the tiny law office. The forms were of course up to every standard Scarlet was aware of, but everything appeared handwritten and then copied from a master document. The young woman marveled at the curves and loops that seemed so practiced, so official. Calligraphy as a hobby?

Scarlet’s daydream was broken as the phone rang. Her arm sprung to life, grabbing the phone and bringing it to her ear. “Hello, Legal Offices of Miss Kane, how can I help you?” Her mind auto piloted the greeting, a tactic she’d learned as a young adult to perform before any social anxiety made her hesitate to answer. 

There was a silent beat, broken only by soft background hum from the receiver. A deeper voice finally spoke. “Oh, is Miss Kane not in?”

“I’m sorry, she’s stepped away for another call. I’m the new secretary.” The professional mask came back to her like a second skin, despite over a year of disuse. “Can I take a message for you?”  Scarlet offered.

“Er,” The voice stammered for a moment, then clarified, “Yeah. Actually, you can tell her that I have to back out of Friday’s meeting, I won’t be rescheduling. She can keep the deposit. Goodbye.” Scarlet busied herself scribbling the note down. 

“Wait, I’ll need to tell her your name.” She tried to catch the man before he disconnected.

It was too late, the line went dead. Scarlet took a confused look at the receiver before returning it to the cradle. She tried to imagine what would have someone behaving this way, but even her previous customer support and retail work did not track here. Scarlet merely blinked in confusion and returned to filling her new employment forms. She could hear the muffled speech of her new boss, not able to pick distinct words, only cadence. The forms were dull and simple enough, and before too long Emilia’s office door clicked open. 

Scarlet was finishing the bottom lines of the last page, hoping quietly to impress the imposing woman, as childish as that want may be. Emilia’s heels marked her approach down the hall, and Scarlet spun gracefully in her swivel chair to face her. “Did I hear a call come in while I was gone?”

“You did, and I've got a message,” Scarlet tried her best to sound professional yet nonchalant, “your Friday meeting canceled, said to keep his deposit.” She looked up to Emilia to gauge her superior’s reaction. Emilia gave nothing but a solitary eyebrow twitch. “He didn’t leave a name and hung up…is that normal?” 

“Whether it’s normal or not, we get to keep the deposit for my time, and that’s what matters to me.” Emilia said, too hurried to be as casual. Scarlet decided to just let that slip.There was something going on here, but she would catch the intricacies of the client relationships soon enough. 

Emilia very pointedly avoided her gaze to check the time, and excused herself again. The rest of the day moved slowly, save for asking Scarlet for a coffee run in the afternoon, which turned into buying a cafe scone for Scarlet’s lunch as well. 

She busied herself with memorizing the upcoming schedule, the program, and the routine expected of her. She tried not to fidget as the caffeine had its way with her later in the day. The bouncing of her leg coincided with an increase in worry. Would she have another reaction to this medication like her last, and be unable to sleep? Would Emilia be angry that she wasn’t being proactive in some way? How was she supposed to know? She paused, trying to stop ruminating. She lifted her hands away from the keyboard. They were shaking, and she squeezed her eyes closed. When Scarlet opened them, they focused through her fingers, at the sticky note she had written down the message, and the smaller coffee order beneath it. Sighing, she wrote down the coffee order on her phone and on her desktop notepad. If she could do nothing, she would be constructive and prepared for the future. 

Her hands kept shaking for the remainder of the shift. Scarlet wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety, the caffeine, or her meds. She’d been so isolated until moving she hadn’t noticed if the shaking started then. Just past five, Emilia’s heels clicked down the hall, a smart designer purse over one shoulder. “Now, is there anything I can clarify before we leave?” Her voice sang again and the hall reverberated in tune with her voice like Brian Eno was behind it. Scarlet shook her head, smiling with her mask back on as she spun to face Emilia again. 

“Thank you so much, but I don’t think I’ve got any questions yet.” Scarlet wanted to be sincere in thanking her, drop the facade and business-casual tone. Speaking without rehearsal tended to bite her in the ass lately.  She squeezed her hands between her thighs to try and avoid any probing questions. Scarlet could only imagine suspicious and overbearing concern at best if her new boss thought there was something wrong with her medically. 

“Is there anything else I can help with? I’ve just been organizing your schedule and getting used to the layout in here all day.” She desperately wanted to get her groceries before it was too dark. 

“No thank you, Scarlet. You’ve already helped me enormously, you have no idea.” Emilia ushered Scarlet out the door, and locked it behind her. 

*  *

If one thing in the world could be counted on, it was chain stores being identical on the inside. Scarlet pushed an identically squeaky cart up identically packed aisles among indistinguishable brands. The only difference really seemed to be the accents. She approached bulk rice bags, hesitated, and drew out her phone with dread. Her meager bank account balance confirmed her fears, and she begrudgingly went for the generic. Other staples like cheap instant ramen and pasta followed suit. The sole splurge was the cheapest, sweetest, garbage brand of red wine she could find. 

Her cab ride was identical, save for the setting sun behind her. Purples and oranges and cotton-candy-clouds danced behind her, out of view, as she slowly sank her head against the cool glass of the window. At least the trees are still pretty. She raised her phone again to try and take a picture, but the camera went grainy in the growing dark. 

Her new apartment greeted her with the same lonely  tone as when she first received the keys. It was cold, it was empty, the furnishings were bland and picked by the property management company. Nothing here was hers yet, save the stacked boxes of cardboard. Her tired arms carried the groceries to their appropriate resting places, and she cracked open the wine before settling on the couch. Out of habit she reached for her remote, only to remember she didn’t have a TV yet. Sold for the moving expenses. 

Scarlet was so tired of sighing. She took a swig of wine, an old comfort that was basically a juicebox and rubbing alcohol that reminded her of being broke in college. She opened her phone, wishing for any stimulation. Her friends, (rather former friends)  were still posting stories, still sharing their bad takes and inane jokes. She considered getting off the couch to do the same. It was all performative anyway, right? But the energy wouldn’t come when she called out for it. Another sip, and she swapped apps. Scarlet noticed the singular blink of darkness on her phone’s screen.

“Please, you piece of shit. I really can’t afford you to die right now.”  Her worries seemed unfounded, as the brilliant screen returned and the malfunction wasn’t replicated for the rest of the night. What was strange, however, were the kinds of new accounts she was being recommended as she scrolled her timeline. 

Now, Scarlet was no prude. She enjoyed fucking and her alone time as much as anyone. Estrogen and Progesterone even maybe had her hornier than the average. But her timeline wasn’t  full of this much smut. She had friends in the sex work game, but she didn’t exactly like, share, favorite, reblog, or any other influencer verb their content. Another website breaking their algorithm again?  

Even if Dani did porn, she didn’t do this kind of porn. Morbid curiosity, and a slight increase in her pulse, beckoned Scarlet onward. 

Drawings, videos, and staged photos of women in things she’d only seen in racy HBO content. She didn’t even know what to call the more intricate…props…but felt herself linger on a clip of a woman riding a…pleasure machine plugged into the wall behind her. Scarlet’s face matched her namesake and she scrolled on. A woman sitting at a home office, the quintessential framing of every vlog you’ve ever watched. Finally somebody is fucking sane in this world. She clicked the video without even reading the caption, and the perky eyed labrador retriever of a woman began to speak.

“Hi everybody! This is the Channel of O. SO!” The blonde clapped for emphasis. “You’re trying to learn about BDSM, and you have no idea where to start.” Scarlet’s eyes went wide, she took another sip, and watched the woman jumpcut and explain through terrible jokes. It was a trainwreck, steam engines exploding in her mind. It made her hot in the crotch. Scarlet finished her glass, finished the video, and poured herself another while going deeper to the woman’s personal channel. More videos, more introductory guides. Scarlet polished the second glass, and was too engrossed despite the initial impulse to cringe to even pour another. 

Her alarm rang to remind her to take the rest of her medication, pulling her out of her trance.How long had she been zoned out? It was eight thirty. Losing track of time like that wasn’t uncommon for her and this diversion was welcome. She resigned herself and went to go take another dose of bitter antidepressants and her dose of Progesterone. Once the poison was administered, she looked across her kitchen to the counter where she left her phone. It lay there, like a metal megalith, imposing despite being a little plastic rectangle. Scarlet had to gather her nerve just to walk across the room and lift the damn thing. Once it was back in her hand, she used shaking hands to unlock it. The Channel of O was still smiling up at her, and she felt her cheeks getting redder. 

Her glass of wine was forgotten as she brought her phone to her bedroom. She unboxed her duvet, and sat on the soft material as the video resumed. Scarlet was enthralled, soaking in every bit of knowledge she could. 

“There’s all kinds of different dynamics! You’re probably familiar with a ‘master/slave’ dynamic,” The blonde woman began, “but there’s also pets and owners, and even daddies, mommies,—” Scarlet’s pulse quickened,”—or more generically caregivers and littles! Sometimes that’s called ABDL if it involves diapers.”  Scarlet felt her breath catch in her throat. Her fingers flew into a flurry, and a private internet search later, her phone was filled with images that made her heartbeat accelerate. 

Videos, drawings, and many, many depictions of adult women, with all their curves and freckles and other parts that excited Scarlet, in thick diapers. They ranged across all body types, and the infantile garb varied from plain white plastic to over the top patterns to evoke baby diapers. 

Scarlet continued to scroll, eyes wide in wonder and excitement. She finally stopped, a thumbnail capturing her attention like a punch to the gut and clicked the video. Scarlet’s mouth went wide, and felt herself starting to leak into her panties. 

A gorgeous, curvaceous woman was lying on her back,  supple lips wrapped around the nipples of another woman, in nothing but a pastel colored diaper and delicate, lacy lingerie top. The tender moment evoked  breastfeeding, save for the “mother” holding a massive vibrator against the woman’s…diaper. 

The “baby” of the couple was moaning, growing louder, and Scarlet felt a tent growing under her skirt. Eventually, the “baby” was screaming, thrusting her hips into the massive sex toy, in time with cries of “Mommy!”

Mommy’s smile was intoxicating. She was very clearly getting off just as much as her baby, her face painted a combination of maternal nurturing, hedonistic pleasure, ecstatic elation, and sadistic control as she began thrusting the enormous vibrator in time with her partner’s thrusts. 

It was obviously acting on the merit of pornography, but Scarlet couldn’t tear herself away. She allowed her hand to snake up to a nipple poking through her top. Scarlet realized her own arousal, and in embarrassment, closed the tab, flinging her phone to the edge of the bed like it was a dangerous spider. 

She flung the covers off, racing to the bathroom for a cold shower.