#cw: toxic relationship

[bleedingoptimism]

Calling Eddie on the phone that first time, when he’d panicked about Tarja’s cold, was like opening a dam. They start talking on the phone all the time. At first, it’s always about Tarja, photos of her drawings, a story about school, questions of whether she forgot her plushie in Steve’s car again or not.

But then it’s just them chatting, asking about their day, showing each other what they are working on, or sharing a meme. Soon, they start wishing each other goodnight and Steve knows he’s stepping into deep water with both feet at the same time but he can’t stop.

He likes Eddie, a lot. He’s in too deep already. He was already halfway in love with him when he realized he liked him as much more than a friend… That he liked him much more than he liked his own boyfriend. That he doesn't even like his boyfriend…

But if Steve was dreading breaking up with Tommy not to lose Tarja… now that he has double the people to lose… There’s no way.  Thinking about not seeing them again makes him feel like he’ll never be able to take a full breath of fresh air again. 

They are hanging out at the park the day Steve completely loses control of the situation. He’d promised Tarja he’d take her there last week and Tarja had begged Eddie to join them so now, they are sitting side by side on a bench watching Tarja build sand castles with another kid in the playground.

The comfortable silence gets interrupted by Steve’s phone going off and, checking his messages, he sighs, already bothered by seeing it’s from Tommy.

‘get your big pretty ass home soon. i have guests tonight’

‘Big? Shit. Is my ass too big?’ He thinks as he frowns at his phone.

“Everything ok?�� Eddie asks, looking at him curious.  

“We need to get back, it’s Tommy” is all Steve says, shaking his phone in explanation. He can’t help but pull a face of exasperation trying to make light of the situation but Eddie frowns.

“Steve, about Tommy… If he’s not good to yo-” 

“You sound like Robin” Steve interrupts, he’s talked to Eddie about his best friend before, but he never mentioned Robin is always telling him to break up with Tommy. 

“Well, then I’m not that far off am I?” Eddie presses kindly, ducking his head to try and catch Steve’s eyes.

But Steve keeps them fixed on his shoes. There’s a stain on the tip of his left one. 

Eddie takes his silence as agreement and keeps going, “Why haven’t you broken up with him, then?”

Why does Eddie want him to break up with Tommy? Is he trying to get rid of him? Does he not like him around? No, it’s not that. Eddie is his friend, he’s kind and lovely and has never once been mean or rude to him and Steve needs to stop projecting.

But, he can’t answer that or tell Eddie the truth, he thinks. And then, his eyes betray him, drifting from the floor to Tarja, who is now…being buried in the sand with the help of the other kid. Her little feet kick up as she giggles delighted. He smiles to himself a little. That kid, she’s a menace.

Eddie gasps and Steve realizes his mistake. He looks at him and Eddie is looking back, eyes huge,

“Steve… don’t tell me, it’s-”

Steve shakes his head no frantically, “No, it's not- there’s a lot of reasons! It’s not- Ugh fine, it’s not only because of her but, she’s one of the reasons…” he struggles to say.

And then he shrugs, like ‘What can you do? Hehe’ Because he’s an idiot.

Eddie stares at him for a long time, unblinking and with his mouth half open, “You’d do that for her?” he whispers and it sounds so… raw.

Steve just looks at him, not knowing what to say and trying really hard not to get distracted by Eddie’s beautiful lips.

He suddenly turns to face him properly and takes Steve’s hand with both of his, “Fuck, Steve…” he says and then closes his mouth shut and opens it again. Steve leans a little closer eager to hear whatever Eddie wants to say but then his phone rings and he jumps off his seat, startled.

Looking at the caller ID, he curses, “It’s Tommy”

He picks up the call and starts walking in a big circle, he can never sit still while on the phone,

“Hey,”

“Hey dummy, you didn’t answer. Is everything ok?” Tommy asks like he’s actually worried and not just impatient.

‘Dummy’... it’s supposed to be affectionate but every time Tommy calls him that it feels like he’s sticking a needle in his heart.

“Yeah, we are at the park, we’ll be right there. I’m-” But Tommy hangs up before he can finish the sentence. 

“Asshole,” Steve murmurs to himself and looks back to see Eddie has already collected Tarja and is waiting for him.

Seeing both of them holding hands and smiling up at him makes Steve want to cry and scream at how much he needs them. He’s so fucked.

🧸

A week later, he’s at a dinner with Tommy and Tommy’s coworkers. 

Because Tommy doesn’t have friends, he has coworkers. Because friends are for children.

Or so Tommy says… Fuck Tommy.

He’s bored out of his mind and pushing his food around on his plate. Lost his appetite after Tommy looked at him funny for ordering fries instead of a salad. 

He can’t stop thinking about Eddie, about him asking why he hadn’t broken up with Tommy yet, and about whatever it was that Eddie didn’t say that day.

And then, as if it were fate or something, he gets a message from Eddie, he looks at it under the table when he sees it’s a photo. Not that Eddie would send him a nude or something he just doesn’t want anyone else to see.

However, he might’ve been wrong about the nude because Eddie is shirtless in the photo he sent, Steve notices with burning cheeks.

But the photo is not sensual at all. Instead, it’s the cutest, loveliest thing he’s ever seen in his life. It’s Eddie and Tarja standing in front of the big mirror in Eddie’s hallway with big smiles, identical dimples on their right cheeks. Both their curly hairs are bundled up on top of their heads and they are covered in paint. 

All of Eddie’s tattoos are colored in bright colors, his demon skull, the sword, the dragon, the goat, the vines that adorn his top scars, everything. The colors don’t respect the lines and the paint is dripping a little, clearly Tarja’s work. Meanwhile, she has cute skulls, bats, and roses drawn on her arms, and her freckles are now every color of the rainbow. They are fucking beautiful.

The text below says ‘she forgot toothless at tommy’s. im trying to distract her’

Steve bites his lip to hide a big smile and sends at least a hundred heart eyes emojis and then answers he’ll bring it back later.

“Are we boring you, Steve?” One of Tommy’s coworkers asks. He can hear the venom in her voice.

‘Yes’

“No, not at all. Just answering a text,” he says with a closed-lip smile.

“Oh! Let me guess, from your ‘job’” she laughs, doing air quotes with her claws, and then whines, putting on a voice, “Help me, Steve! I can’t decide what to wear to a party” 

They all laugh, Tommy included and Steve just glares at her unsure if he should rise to the bait or not. 

“Aww, don’t be mad Stevie,” she coos at him, “I’m just messing with ya!” she smirks and then looks at her nails as if she were a disney villain or something, “I wished I’d gone to college for something as simple as fashion. You are very lucky to be so successful,” And they laugh again. Only one of them has the decency of looking uncertain about it and Steve is seething.

Lucky?! He’s worked his ass off to get to- whatever- he takes a deep breath and smiles at her.

God, fuck his people. They are so… miserable.

Making other people feel bad about themselves just because there’s no joy in their own lives. He feels sorry for them.

But Tommy laughing alongside them makes him feel sick to his stomach.

After, when they are going back to his place, Tommy takes one hand off the wheel and puts it on Steve’s thigh slowly going up. Steve briefly considers opening the door and jumping out of the car in motion but ends up just slapping Tommy’s hand off of him aggressively.

Tommy scoffs but he doesn’t say anything and keeps his hands to himself the rest of the way. And when they get home, he confronts Steve, “What’s got your panties in a bunch now, uh? Steve, we haven’t fucked in weeks!”

Steve swirls around and laughs, “Are you shitting me right now?! You want me to let you touch me!? After how you just laughed at the way Carol talked to me?” he says.

“Uhg, not this again! Did you get your feelings hurt again, princess?” Tommy mocks him and Steve rolls his eyes so hard he wishes he could do a backflip to accompany them. Hell, he probably could.

He doesn’t even bother answering Tommy, too sick of his shit, and just walks past him on his way to the door.

“Oh c’mon, Stevie! We were just kidding!” Tommy says, changing his tune completely and trying to sound nice. Then doing another 180 when Steve just keeps getting ready to leave, “Why are you so fucking sensitive. Are you seriously leaving right now?!”

Steve doesn't stop, doesn’t even look at him and Tommy follows him to the door, “Good! Fine! Leave! Run back to your Robin. You’ll be back!” he tells him, and Steve hates that he’s said it before and had been right. But when he’s closing the door as Steve is walking towards his car Tommy yells one more thing that completely breaks him, “You are too much work, Steve! You are not worth this much trouble!”

Steve slams the door of his car and drives away but ends up pulling over a few blocks later because he can’t see through the tears.

He whales and heaves, shaking while he rubs his eyes over and over again. All he can hear in his head is ‘you are not worth it. you are not worth it. you are not worth it. you are not worth it.’

Fuck Tommy.

He takes a deep breath trying to calm himself and rests his head against the headrest, rolling it from right to left and massaging his scalp but when he looks to the left, something in his passenger seat makes him gasp. As if it were fate or something… Toothless, Tarja’s plushie is sitting right beside him.

☝️first part

👈previous part

👉 next part

☕🥐💕?

[bg3scenarios]

Durge: Every day I wake up thinking about killing you

Gortash: I know

Durge: I could kill you right now if I wanted to

Gortash: I know

Durge: Hells, why do you let me in your bed every night?!

Gortash: I love you

Gortash: And I never want to live without you

Gortash: If you stay with me, I get my wish

Gortash: And if you kill me, I get my wish too

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 26

PLEASEEEEEE NOTE: this is a Maturity rating chapter. heed the content warnings below etc etc

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

this one was supposed to be merged with chap 25 but it was getting long and i felt like this motive reveal chapter should be isolated anyways

one day i will write a full thing about fucking nasty style and post that online without the 25 chapters of leadup

ty @digitaldollsworld for the peer review and validating me specifically :)

Content warning tags: blood, physical violence/roughhousing, biting, making out (while bloodied. mild bloodplay?), mildly dubious consent becoming unspoken consent given enthusiastically becoming dubious consent again, coitus interruptus, mild (nonsexual) breathplay, murder plot suggestion, unhealthy relationship dynamics...Please let me know if there's anything I'm missing

< previous - from start - next >

To his surprise, they don’t continue on the same path together.

Instead, they split, with Kirigiri walking towards the stairs, and Makoto in the opposite direction. Without exchanging words, or even a glance.

It gives him pause for a moment, but the choice is ultimately easy. Kirigiri, for all her mysteriousness, does not seem like the kind to be swayed by money, or most other things for that matter, and would certainly not hesitate to point out his current state. He goes after Makoto instead, trailing him some steps behind into the supply room.

The place is the same as ever - stacked with materials, shelves crammed snug with crates of all sizes, and with the air disconcertingly clean and free of dust, as if Monokuma vacuumed every day - and the overhead lights hum and buzz, glowing with an insufficient yellow light. Makoto is crouched near the far wall, over a box on a bottom shelf. Byakuya approaches, making no effort to conceal himself.

For a moment, neither of them say a word. Makoto continues to rummage, and Byakuya simply watches, arms crossed, waiting patiently as the silence stretches to minutes. 

Finally, Makoto turns over his shoulder. “Uh…hi?” He doesn’t sound startled or surprised by Byakuya’s presence, but more bewildered by it than anything. “Do you need something?”

Somehow, it doesn’t sound sarcastic or spiteful. On the other hand, he sounds so genuine that it dissipates any tension that might’ve been in the air. Byakuya sighs, a little exasperated, but less bothered than he thought he should be.

He was going to ask what Makoto’s feelings were about the motive reveal, but suddenly the atmosphere is all wrong for it, and such a conversation feels too exhausting to have now. “What are you doing?” He asks instead.

“I’m…” Makoto trails off, turning back to look into the box. “...Looking for something.”

“Yes, I gathered that much.” He rolls his eyes, and steps nearer. Even standing right behind him, it was impossible to determine the exact contents of the box just by looking, and he didn’t remember the exact locations where all the products were stored either. “I’m blind, not stupid.”

And he blinks, surprised by what he just said; that hadn’t been the snide remark he wanted to make. It feels like it should have been harder to say, and yet the words had left his mouth easily, like he’d been waiting to finally say it for himself. Makoto startles a bit, just as taken aback by the admission as he.

“I…” Makoto starts, then looks back down. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.” 

The response is so meek it’s annoying, and not the kind of answer he was wanting from someone who had been sneakily butting into his life the past few days, and he scowls. Whatever light-heartedness had been previously present was now slipping quickly away into irritation. “I don’t need your pointless scraping. What are you looking for?”

Makoto doesn’t answer. Rather, he continues to dig through the box, acting as if he hadn’t heard Byakuya’s question at all; a complete reversal from the previous sheepish, meaningless apologizing. It’s almost jarring, if it wasn’t also something entirely infuriating - he couldn’t remember the last time someone had the gall to ignore him, other than his father - and Byakuya childishly aims a kick at his shin. “Answer me.”

“Ow,” He says instead, unconvincingly. “Okay, okay, um. Do you promise not to get mad?”

“I’m going to be even angrier if you keep talking in circles.” He snaps, the last threads of his patience thinning. “I know for a fact that you’re not this wimpish, so speak up.”

Even despite the demand, Makoto is silent a little moment longer, rummaging still. Byakuya is about to kick him again, when he stands up, a tiny, blue box clutched in his hand.

“You, uh…you were shaving this morning, right?” He takes a deep breath, then holds the box out. “You’ve got a little blood here-” And he taps a finger against his cheek, somewhere below his ear; Byakuya mirrors the movement, reaching up to feel that thin line of roughness, the scab tugging at the skin. “And…I remembered my dad gave me this brand of razor, it’s really easy to use-”

Byakuya smacks the thing out of his hands before he can even finish speaking, sending it spinning across the floor, beneath some other shelf.

For a moment, the two of them stand there, stock still. Byakuya can feel his pulse thrumming in his ears, throbbing against his eardrums; he’s not sure which of them is more shocked, to be honest. Makoto’s hand is still partially outstretched, now empty.

Then: “What the hell is your problem?!” Makoto demands, instantaneous and loud and cracked with a slight note of hysteria. The sound bounces tinnily between the metal shelving units, before being swallowed into the wooden surfaces of the crates.

“What is your problem?” Byakuya shoots back, just as furious. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want your pity?”

“It’s not pity if I’m trying to keep you alive,” Makoto grabs his arm, shoving it upwards. His hand is nowhere big enough to wrap around it, but the grip is tight anyways, fingers digging into the hollow junction of his wrist. “You barely eat, you don’t talk to anyone-”

“I’m trying to keep myself safe-”

“That’s shit, that’s bullshit. You look,” He breaks to breathe, to laugh, and his grip tightens, grinding the bones. “You look like such shit, and it’s not even hard to tell. It’s so obvious that you’re trying to hide it but you can’t, and everyone can see that you’re falling apart and it’s so pathetic but you won’t let anyone get close enough to tell you that -” He’s shaking, or maybe that’s Byakuya himself. “Just-”

And falls silent - no, not entirely silent. Byakuya can hear his uneven breathing, the quiet squeaks in his throat. Stifling the sound of his crying, still only just audible over the hum and clanks of the building’s internals, and the ring in his own ears.

Why was he crying? The thought is fleeting, and should have just been a blip in everything else. “I am not,” He starts, and the latter half of that sentence never even becomes coherent in his own mind.

Instead, he tries to wrench his hand backwards and away from Makoto’s grip, and Makoto just follows him, pushing him, until his back meets the hard, uneven edges of a shelving unit, digging into his shoulders.

“You are, you so are,” Makoto wheezes. His hand shakes violently, but Byakuya still can’t break out of it; his wrist is being pinned to the metal frame, the cold surface a shock against his skin. “You - fuck, you can’t even take care of yourself. You try to act so cool but you’re so helpless it’s lame. You’re trying so hard to predict where the next threat is coming from but your biggest threat is yourself. You can’t even see what’s happening around you, so you don’t even try to find out - I just -”

And he stops, taking another deep, shaky breath, head dipping down until his forehead rests against Byakuya’s collarbone. His other hand is bracing the edge of a shelf, next to Byakuya’s hip, and Byakuya can feel it by sheer proximity, the warmth bleeding impossibly through the layers of Makoto’s jacket and his own thin shirt.

He-

should say something. Anger and indignation boils in his gut, how dare Makoto say such things? Who gave him the right? Didn’t he know who Byakuya was?

But-

what can he say, when it feels like he’s suddenly been struck stupid. Like he’s a child again facing his first real defeat at the hand of one of his siblings’s lackeys, kneeling with scraped knees weeping blood into his pants as he’s being taunted, the words hysteric and victorious. Like he’s trying to argue with Kirigiri, but she’s already had the last word and is simply walking away.

So he resorts to the same answer he had the first time he was forced to concede to one of his siblings, and kicks Makoto in the shin.

It’s not a very strong blow. Caged in against the shelf as he is, he doesn’t have enough space to pull back very far; but it makes Makoto grunt, surprised, and his hold loosens. Byakuya shoves him backwards, and glances to his side, where the white light spilling from the open door marks the exit.

He could leave. He doubts Makoto could catch him if he ran seriously. But his legs refuse to move; it would feel too much like conceding. He’s been losing too much these past few days to forfeit again, now.

Makoto is standing in front of him, the overhead lights above providing just enough illumination for Byakuya to make out the location of his nose, the curve of his brow, and in the split second before he can do anything Byakuya reaches out. One hand snags fingertips into Makoto’s hood. The other grabs his face, slotting his chin almost tenderly into the space between forefinger and thumb.

The effect is instantaneous, Makoto’s cheeks heating beneath his fingertips. “Hey, wh-”

Byakuya feels his face pull, an undignified baring of teeth that’s barely reminiscent of a smile, before he drags Makoto forward and knees him in the gut.

He prefers more dignified solutions to things, but violence is the most universally understood language, and he can admit to its usefulness when the need calls. Like now, as Makoto wheezes, bent over, his hands clutching unsteadily in Byakuya’s shirt to keep himself upright.

This is how it should be, he thinks, as he looks down at the crown of Makoto’s head with a twisted sense of triumph. It hardly lasts long before Makoto’s moving again with an animalistic growl, fingers twisting so tightly Byakuya can feel some threads snap in his shirt, before he’s shoved backwards with a rattling clang against the shelves.

It’s hardly enough to stun him, but he winces anyway, at the metal frame digging between his shoulder blades. Far more effective, is what comes next - Makoto sways, resting his forehead against Byakuya’s chest - before surging upwards, colliding the top of head against his nose.

The taste of copper is an afterthought to the sharp, explosive burst of pain. Byakuya screams - snarls - with it, blood tracking a hot line down his upper lip, stinging against raw skin. He sinks his hands into Makoto’s hair, and yanks roughly, trying to drag him off.

It’s unsuccessful. He doesn’t have the strength in his arms to move the weight of another teenage male, but it’s not wholly ineffective either. He hears a sharp intake of breath, and he’s managed to drag Makoto’s head backwards enough to see his face.

A face that, even in the dim yellow light of the supply room, is flushed darker than usual. And with eyes that are blown wide, the blotted shape of iris-pupils very, very dark against the whites.

It takes a moment for him to put together what that means through the haze, before Makoto’s hands are resituating themselves in Byakuya’s shirt collar, and yanking him down to - kiss him.

He freezes for a moment, mind once again going utterly blank. It’s nothing more than a hard press of lips, almost far too innocent compared to their previous state. Makoto’s lips are warm and slightly chapped, and sliding slightly against his as he smears the blood over his mouth.

It continues for a long moment, the two of them frozen in place, until Byakuya realizes that Makoto was beginning to pull away, his hold loosening; willingly seceding control over, meek again, and anger works its way up in Byakuya’s skull, spiking sharp and precise through the delirium.

He twists his hands, fingers tightening in the locks of Makoto’s hair, and forces him still, bowing his head down to bite at the seam of Makoto’s mouth with all the composure of a starving dog, smearing blood, tongue and teeth snagging in the cracked skin of his lips.

He pulls away just enough to grin, savagely, at the sight of Makoto with a vividly dark slice staining across his mouth. “That is how you kiss someone,” He whispers, with something dark and self-satisfied curling in his gut.

The only response Makoto gives is a low, almost inhuman sound, before he’s being yanked down again.

There’s nothing chaste about it this time. Rather, it’s more like a continuation of their fight, biting, clacking teeth, hands scrabbling and grasping for purchase. Makoto matches his every move with the same exact vigor, and Byakuya tastes salt and hot metal and the over-sweet sourness of energy drinks and laughs into the kiss, breathless and triumphant at Makoto’s desperation, the feeling of hands dragging down his sides, even as he claws back, trying to drag him nearer, nails raking across the thick fabric of his blazer, down his back, over his arms. In turn, Makoto licks into his mouth, tonguing hotly over his canines, the soft roof of his palate.

Disgusting. Byakuya shudders, and lets his jaw slacken just a little more.

He feels his back beginning to slide, uncomfortably, down the frame. It’s both an annoyance and a relief - the previous angle was killing his neck - but then Makoto leans forward, weight pressing against him, sandwiching him there, and digging his spine painfully against the hard juts of the shelves.

Byakuya half-thinks to scold him for that, but at the same time, Makoto is sliding his leg between his thighs, propping him up, and the reprimand turns into a groan instead, breathy and desperate and far too loud in the solitude of the supply room.

He jerks back, suddenly self-aware again, face flushed to burning. This was - he feels his head swimming, self-appalled, rivaling the temptation to sink down a little lower, lean into the hands that are now feeling clumsily up his ribcage - utterly unbecoming of him. To give into such base temptations-

Ever persistent and apparently undeterred by the absence of his mouth, Makoto leans forward and presses his teeth to the side of Byakuya’s neck instead, and the rest of Byakuya’s coherent thoughts try to fly out with those thin, pinprick-sharp flares of pain.

“Idiot,” He still manages to hiss, even as he gives in and grinds down, against a sweet pressure that makes everything feel so - indescribably - “Bastard, you pathetic little-”

Talking was getting troublesome. He presses his hands against Makoto’s cheeks, feeling a small thrill of victory when he feels his thumbs brush the corner of his lips on the first try, and kisses him again, feeling dizzy with it.

His hands shift, seeking out better purchase in Makoto’s hood, knuckles pressing against the warm, jumping muscles in his neck, the other sinking into his hair again. This time more to keep himself upright as Makoto was apparently trying to bite his tongue off - and that thought really shouldn’t be doing anything for Byakuya, and yet -

Tap, tap. Tap.

“Makoto,” He gasps, whines, managing to pull himself away once more. This time grabbing onto Makoto’s face and pushing him backwards like an undisciplined, overeager dog - the other boy struggles for a moment, pushing back against his hands - “Wait, just - calm down, you - do you hear that?”

It takes a moment for Makoto to respond. “Wh-huh?” He manages, somewhat incoherently, which Byakuya…supposes, is reasonable. They’re still pressed against each other, and Byakuya can still feel something pressing against his thigh, which he tries very hard to ignore, in favor of concentrating hard.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It doesn’t sound like it was coming from the hallways. But it couldn’t be the heating or piping in the walls either; it was too soft, and…too dynamic, too purposeful, for that. He cranes his head over his shoulder, but the only thing behind him was the shelf, some boxes, and the flat, gray expanse of the wall.

Tap. Tap, tap, taptaptap-

The sound rises to a sudden crescendo, speeding behind him. Almost reflexively, he shoves away from the shelf, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Makoto lands on his back with a grunt, and Byakuya lands nearly on top of him, before scrabbling backwards until his back meets the shelf, self-awareness shattering his earlier insanity.

Makoto is staring at him, face still flushed and dazed. “Hey, what was-?”

“Awahwahwah!? Kyahh!!”

They jerk their heads in unison, turning to find a short, round, oblong shape standing in the doorway. Monokuma stands there with face covered by paws, squealing. “C-c-could this be?! The fabled, mythical, super-ultra-sexy-secret-rendezvous I heard about from the headmaster’s handbook?! Wah! My eyes!! My untainted, honest, adorable teddy-button eyes!!!”

“Shut up!” Byakuya snaps, voice far too high-pitched to not be damning, despite his best attempts to calm down. He surreptitiously turns away from the door, and can see Makoto doing something similar out of the corner of his eye, tucking his knees up close to his chest. Monokuma shakes, either from laughter or phony horror.

“Oh, there’s no need to worry, Young Master Byakuya. I’m a very progressive bear, after all!” It nods emphatically, and Byakuya grits his teeth at the derisive use of the title. “After all, I am your headmaster, and I want this place to be all sweet and accepting of all my students! You can talk to your classmates about it at this seminar I’m planning-”

“Get out of here.” Makoto rasps, voice still rough and a little unsteady. He sounds downright furious, more so than Byakuya remembers ever hearing him. “It wasn’t- It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh-ho? T’wasn’t it?” Monokuma tilts its head, and toddles over with squeaky footsteps. “Well then, what did happen? Because it certainly looked to me like I just blue-beared you two!” And it cackles hysterically at its own joke, the sound grating and echoing between the shelves.

“He-” Makoto’s sneakers scrape against the floor as he shifts, hesitating. “He was- trying to…trying to kill me.”

And even through the rising haze of fury, panic, and nauseating shame, Byakuya’s thoughts grind to a sudden halt.

“What?” He says aloud, at the same time as Monokuma squeals with apparent delight, drowning him out entirely.

“Oh, oh! Is that so?” And it rounds on him, all of a sudden far too close for comfort, his vision divided white and black. “Tell me, is this true? What was the weapon? What was the plan? Oh, it’s a shame I interrupted, so now I gotta make up for the lost opportunity! Spill the deets!”

So none of it had meant anything. Their pathetic, awkward fumbling in the dark, his brief delusion of control, had only amounted to this. Back to being humiliated and shamed by a grinning, faceless mastermind, and with no more authority over himself as he did before, as Makoto was trying to save him. Again.

He kicks Monokuma away, sending it spinning with a yelp into one of the shelves, and bolts from the room. Makoto is shouting after him, and soon there are footsteps dogging at his heels, but he makes it all the way back to his bedroom before Makoto catches up to him as he’s trying to unlock the door.

He narrowly makes it inside, tries to swing the door shut but it bounces off of Makoto’s shoe, jammed in just in time - and he’d wince in sympathy, or mull in the dejá vu of it, if he wasn’t currently trying to tamp down his own swell of emotions, nearing to breaking through his thinly held-together composure.

“Why did you say that,” He spits through clenched teeth. Too exhausted to try and force him out, too angry to just ignore him. “Of all the stupid, useless lies to come up with, you had to choose one that made me look even more pathetic?!”

“What were you going to say, then,” Makoto shoots back, just as irritated. “Was there anything more plausible that would’ve been better for you than ‘we were making out in the closet’?!”

He doesn’t bother to reply. Because no, that was the most believable thing Makoto could have said, which was why he was so furious now. There was the logical setting, an established motive - the set-up for a cheap, impassioned crime, with no thought or grace behind it. 

If he had said it himself, he might have barely been able to salvage his own pride. But having to be defended by his own so-called ‘victim’, having to be saved by Makoto again-

He sits down heavily on the bed, rubbing his temples. “Just leave, Makoto.” He sighs, eyes screwed shut. He’s too tired for this, and would rather try and sleep and forget it all. Or break down, which was beginning to feel like a very real possibility, which he’d rather do in the privacy of his own room anyways.

But instead of leaving, Makoto drops down to the floor with a thump, directly in front of him. “I’m not leaving until you go eat something.” He says, stubbornly, apparently recalling his entire original purpose of trying to bully him into codependency.

I was hoping he would’ve forgotten that. Byakuya feels a pulse throb beneath his fingertips, exasperation pushing through the rising fog of panic. “Must we do this now?”

“If I don’t, you’re going to ignore and avoid me and everyone else again, right?” He could almost hear the teasing smile tugging at the corner of Makoto’s mouth. “But, um. I mean. If you don’t want to talk, we could…you know…”

It takes a moment to identify exactly what he’s suggesting, but the disbelieving laugh that escapes Byakuya’s mouth is entirely unintentional, the panic miraculously dissipating in the same breath. “You can’t be serious.”

“I-I mean-! I’m totally okay if you don’t want to, I just thought…” Makoto trails off with a cough. “I…it was kind of a joke. Um- but you were enjoying it too, right?” There’s a thin note of hesitance in his voice.

Byakuya sighs. “...Yes. Unfortunately so.” Enough that if he thinks too much on it, he’ll become aware of the buzzing still lingering in his lips and the feeling of warmth beneath his hands, the low throb in his nose where the bleeding had only just stopped, and there was no good way that particular thought process was going to end. He’d almost prefer the impending anxiety attack to this.

“O-oh, okay. Cool. That’s cool.” Makoto rocks a little bit. “So…”

“I’m not having sex with you right now.” He deadpans, and Makoto has the gall to blush sheepishly, as if he weren’t the one making the suggestion in the first place.

“Right. Yeah, of course.” He scratches his head with a quiet laugh. “We…kinda took it a little fast, huh?”

That was an understatement. And he raises a hand over his face, trying to hide the heat rising beneath his fingers…much of what had happened was mostly due to his own actions. “Well, it’s not like we are in a situation where we could have a normal progression of things.”

“I don’t know, we have a pretty good kitchen. I would’ve liked to make you dinner first, or something.”

“How romantic. Forgive me if the idea of a school cafeteria meal doesn’t sweep me off my feet.”

“You won’t know if you don’t try it. I can make a pretty good omelet on a good day…if you’re okay with that.” The lilting invitation is clear, and Byakuya snorts.

“I should’ve murdered you in front of Monokuma.” He deadpans back.

Now it was Makoto’s turn to chuckle, a soft, surprised ‘ha!’ that makes Byakuya smile wholly inadvertently.

“Yeah, probably,” He agrees. “Did you want to?”

The smile slides off his face instantly. It sounds like Makoto is joking, but - it’s hard to tell. So hard to tell without being able to see if he’s smiling, if the easy tone of his voice matches his face.

“Do you want to?” He asks again, voice softer, serious.

Probably not a joke, then. He laces his fingers tightly, tight enough for his joints to ache, pressing the knuckles to his chin. “It hadn’t…crossed my mind.” Not seriously, at least. And not since the last trial.

But he could. There was no deal to uphold, not anymore. And Makoto - 

“Why are you asking?” He looks up for the first time, at Makoto, sitting cross-legged on his carpet. Staring back at him. “Surely you don’t want to die?”

Makoto doesn’t reply, his face still curiously, infuriatingly blank.

Everything that had been previously cleared comes rushing back, fury and disbelief and - anxiety, of all things, a painful, welling lump of it rising up his gullet - and before he knows it, he’s on the ground, kneeling across from Makoto with his hands around his neck.

The skin is warm. Shockingly soft, slightly tacky with sweat. The pressure isn’t enough to cut off airflow - his hands are only just resting against his throat - but Byakuya flexes his thumbs lightly, feeling the shape of his Adam’s apple beneath his fingers, his pulse beneath his palms.

And the whole time, Makoto makes no move to push him off. He had twitched, maybe, surprised at first, but that was all, now frozen stock-still - no, he was relaxing into the touch, muscles going purposefully slack as his shoulders slump.

“...What are you doing.” He whispers. Tenses his fingers, feels the breath hitch. “I could kill you right now. Why aren’t you stopping me?” Takes a deep, shuddering breath as he feels his voice begin to break. “Don’t tell me you actually want to die here!”

Makoto’s mouth is a dark cavern as he opens it to respond. “I don’t. Of course I don’t.” His voice wheezes slightly. “But if it’s you… I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

Byakuya feels his hands shake. This was too much, all of it too much - he hadn’t even concluded how he felt about Makoto yet, not coherently - and apparently, in the time he’d spent in self-isolation, something had become twisted. The most mundane person here had become wholly insane. For his sake.

I must be insane too, he thinks, for the tiny, irrational thrill of joy that runs through him at that realization.

He jerks when he feels hands resting over his, fingers tracing delicately over the fine lines of his knuckles, the hollow of his wrist. Keeping his grip steady.

“I don’t think you will, though,” Makoto continues. “You don’t really want to kill anyone. You would’ve done it already if you did.”

“Don’t act like you know me.” He grits, grip spasming, torn between removing himself from Makoto and throttling him to shut him up. “You know perfectly well there’s a difference between intent and capabilities.”

Makoto takes a shaky, raspy breath. A slash of white pulls across his face. “Then are you gonna prove me wrong?”

Byakuya hesitates for too long. In that time, the hands that rest over his pull and then press, and he flinches as his palms fully meet Makoto’s neck, almost icily cool against the clamminess of his own skin. He yanks them backwards like he’d been burned, too shocked to even scold him for - for any of it. Too flustered to wonder if he even could.

His hands shake, still, even when he clenches them into fists with his nails biting into his palms, pressing into his knees.

Makoto coughs once, massaging his neck, before he stands up slowly.

“Let’s go,” He says, still smiling as he offers up a hand. “I’ll make you an omelet.”

< previous - from start - next >

[kadetheradio]

Since so many people have a fanmade weird route variant, might as well join.

It's called SugarSong/Forced Friendship.

It's a K_K-centric route because I like tormenting my comfort characters. SCC are siblings in this AU.

To start the route, Ignore every NPC except K_K. You don't have to buy his CD bagels, you just aren't allowed to buy them from Cap'n. You can't talk to anyone who isn't K_K, so ignore the other NPCs as well, You MUST talk to K_K every time you see him. Next, when you get to the battle, have Susie constantly use rude buster on both Sweet and Cap'n. Doing this about 4 times(2 on each) will end the battle, causing this interaction:

Sweet: "I don't feel to good..."

Cap'n: "Same here man, battles done."

K_K: "Oh no! Yes, let's go home!"

Once this happens, continue as normal(Without talking to NPCs. Scripted events don't affect this.) up until you reach Sweet Cap'n Cakes shop. Enter the shop. Everything is normal aside from the fact that the Auto Axe is replaced with a new item, the DigiScarf(They don't wanna sell an Axe to a girl who beat them up with one not to long ago.). Go to the talk section and click on the new dialogue option simply labeled "Cakes," Although dialogue implys that Kris is saying "K_K is my favorite." K_K reacts very positively towards this, thanking Kris while beaming. Sweet and Cap'n, despite seeming a bit jealous, simply talk about how K_K is pretty cool, not pushing any further. Leave. afterwards everything will continue as normal until you fall into the garbage dump. There you see K_K humming a quiet tune to themself and smiling. Talking to him, he will mention how he decided to go for a walk, but now he's a little lost. Ralsei will invite him to stick with the $!$! squad(Or whatever name you picked for your team in chapter 1, I just used that because picked it.), to which K_K agrees, as he likes how kind Kris was to them back in the field. K_K will always appear in the garbage dump, but will decline the offer if you didn't follow the exact instructions. Once K_K is in your party, he gets unique dialogue when interacting certain things. Such as laughing when you interact with the Egg plant that looks like a trash bag, feeling bad for trashy when Susie and Ralsei ignore him, and stuttering when meeting Nubert(He's starstruck OK?), Etc. When Susie and Ralsei leave, K_K stays behind. "Don't worry! I'll stay! We're friends, aren't we?:)"

Some important battle info:

Default Armor: Golden Bracelet

Default Weapon: NewCD

K_K has multiple spells:

K-Action: How K_K ACTs by himself, like with all Characters. Does not cost TP.

SilkMilk: Heals the entire party. costs 16% TP, 8% with BrokenCD

RockABye: Puts TIRED enemies to sleep, similar to Pacify & SleepMist. Costs 50% TP, 25% with BrokenCD

TastyBeats: K_K's equivalent of IceShock, killing/paralyzing enemies using powerful sound waves. costs 16% TP, 8% with BrokenCD.

SugarSong: K_K's Equivalent of Snowgrave . Fatal towards target, Causes user immense physical pain while being used. Costs 200% TP, 100% with BrokenCD.

Anyways, Now that we've heard that, let's continue with the route.

Continue with K_K, using TastyBeats to kill enemies. During this, K_K's smile seems to falter. After killing 10 enemies, K_K asks Kris a question

"...Why are we doing this again?"

After the question, you are given 2 responses. "Self Defense" & "We're friends, Right?" You must click the second one to progress through the route. Upon asking that, K_K says yes, and you are given 2 more choices. "I thought so" & "Friends do what friends want." You must click the second option once again. K_K look hesitant, but agrees. The only friends he ever had were his brothers, and they always listened to him. Surely it's a normal thing. Surely friends always listen to each other. Continue killing enemies until you reach the Addison from Snowgrave. They'll mention how they have a great gift for a pair of friends. This is the CentreCD. It will always be $1 more than the party has. Consistently pressure K_K into stealing it, until he stops protesting. The screen blacks out and you get the flavor text "the music sounds uneasy." shows on screen. When the screen lights up, the CentreCD is in the inventory and the Addison is gone. The front of the shop looks like it had been burnt. K_K looks uneasy, and when the CentreCD is equipped, he's silent. Continue through the route like normal, killing all enemies you encounter. K_K is no longer smiling and walking a lot slower. His battle sprite is now almost completely still and he rarely talks. Upon killing enough enemies, walk back. The boxes where Sweet Cap'n Cakes are in the normal game is replaced by an empty room with a broken CD. Equipping this for K_K will lower his HP down to 55 and he responds will a verbal "Ow" and an uncomfortable buzzing sound. Then walk back, killing every enemy you may have missed until you get to the room where the Berdly encounter would normally happen. This time however, it's Cap'n and Sweet. The beginning of the encounter goes something like this:

Cap'n: "K_K! There you are!"

Sweet: "We've been lookin' all over for man! We need to get home.

Cap'n: "Yeah, some psycho is going 'round and killin' everyone!"

K_K: "..."

Sweet: "Hey, uhm, everything alright man?"

Kris/Player: "Friends do what Friends want."

K_K: "...What?..."

The player repeats the sentence, with K_K becoming more shaken and desperate each time. Eventually Sweet and Cap'n butt in.

Sweet: "Look... We don't know what's going on but,"

Cap'n: "No one, messes with K_K like that."

Afterwards, a battle starts, with K_K becoming panicked. Like in regular Snowgrave, you need to max out your TP to use their new ability, SugarSong. K_K will not do anything during the battle. Not listening to anyone. He's in too much pain from the CD and too much distress with the current situation. Once your TP is maxed out, click on it. K_K will look at the ground in distress. The interaction goes like this.

SugarSong

"What?..."

SugarSong

"...N-No, not them..."

SugarSong

"I don't wanna hurt them..."

SugarSong

"..."

SugarSong

"..."

Friends do what Friends want.

K_K looks at the ground, before casting the spell. The Screen blacks out and the Flavor text reads "And suddenly, there was silence."

When you can see again, Sweet and Cap'n are nothing but piles of scrap metal and K_K is down(Reread the description of SugarSong). Interacting with K_K says "Put the scrap away?" You must select yes. The screen fades out and back in, now with K_K gone. Checking your items shows an unnamed object with the description "A friend. Fast asleep."

The rest of the route continues like a normal route, mainly due to the fact that there's no reason for any major changes. A few lines will be different but most things stay the same.

In the lightworld, there is a cassette player and speaker lying on the ground. interacting with them says "Broken beyond repair."

Back in castle town, Sweet Cap'n Cakes place won't be there, for obvious reason's, but entering Kris' room, K_K will be curled up in the corner, asleep. Interacting with him says "Goodnight Scrap friend"

[chaosvelvox]

thoughts on yandere! itzy? ps love your yandere! chaeryeong work

cw: mentions of killing, mental abuse, manipulation, and other forms of torture.

hehe yandere! itzy my fave topic

yandere! yeji would be like chaeryeong, she'd be sweet, charismatic, and everyone loves her but unlike yandere! chaer she'll lock you up. why risk losing you to someone when she could simply keep you to herself. she won't torture you but mentally manipulate you into loving her. talk about stockholm syndrome.

yandere! lia is the gentlest person there is, she won't physically hurt anyone but mentally abuse and manipulate every single person into hating you and you hating them that you'll end up in her arms. the small details is where its at, destroying your self confidence until you're crawling back to her.

yandere! ryujin, this girl is the violent one. when i say violent, she doesn't take things slow like chaeryeong and torturing them till they're begging. this girl would straight up have a torture room and in a day or so they'd be gone. she believes in the whole "it's you and me against the world". she won't hesitate to off you if ever you try to go against her.

yandere! chaeryeong, my lovely manipulative sweet girl that loves to torture people till they're begging to be offed cause they can't last another second being skinned, stabbed, or torched. she'd do anything to keep you within her arms reach and that would mean torturing the people who would step too close to the sun.

yandere! yuna, the perfect balance of mental manipulation and physical abuse. you can't run away even if you want to like there's a part of you that's already bounded to her and you just end up back in her arms despite the bruises and mental gymnastics that she's done to you.

but they're also masochists when it comes to fucking you. probably because that's the only time you could let your frustrations out on them while getting the pleasure of it.

[asha-mage]

Kristoph Gavin / Phoenix Wright, prompt: vacation

 [Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]

           “Italy.” Kristoph said one night night while they were having their usual weekly dinner at the Borscht Bowl Club. Smoke hung heavily in the air, making the whole place reek of tobacco and sweat in a way that seemed to soak into everything, even in the flavor of the wine and the food. The bottle Kristoph had ordered sat between them, half drained, the liquid appearing more black then red in the low light of the club’s gas lamps.

            “Italy?” Phoneix repeated, staring down into his empty glass as if trying to remember why drinking more would be a bad idea. Trucy wasn’t at the Club tonight- she was preforming at the Wunder Bar under Gumshoe’s supervision. Phoenix always made an effort to make sure his daughter wasn’t around when he met with Kristoph. But that also meant the only reason he had left to check his drinking habbit wasn’t around either.

            “I am going to rent a villa in the countryside.” Kristoph continued, swirling his own cup of wine. He never had more then two as a personal rule. “I am going to take two, maybe three weeks to myself. With a few close friends of course- including my brother, if he can find a break in his tour.”

            Phoenix kept his smile still on his face. He had perfected it well over the last few years: a little vague, a little spacey, guileless and sad. The smile of a broken wreck of a man. Kristoph never guessed it was a mask. It was the sort of deception he would never suspect. His world view was to binary for that. People where broken or they were whole. They where dangerous or they where safe. They where threats or they where not. Kristoph’s world did not make allowance for half way states, or in betweens, or for multiple things being true.

            It was the fatal flaw of Kristoph’s cynicism. No different from Pheonix’s idealism really. And one day, it would deliver Kristoph his fall, and Phoenix his satisfaction, just as the reverse had done.

But not tonight.

            “That sounds fun.” Phoenix said tilting his head to one side, like a bird spotting a safe place to shelter from the storm. He had thought a lot about these last few years. “Trucy would love to see Italy and-“

            As Phoenix knew he would, Kristoph’s smile turned sad, without every touching his eyes. The obvious trap snapped it’s jaws shut around his leg.

            “Oh, oh no my friend.” Kristoph said pleasantly, quirking his head. “I didn’t mean you and your daughter of course. I’m afraid I’m expecting…higher caliber company. The sort that wouldn’t want to mingle with you any longer.” The words, casually tossed out, with that maddening half smile, where calculated to hurt, to bite at the never healing wounds of his pride. There was time when Phoenix would have felt the sting of them, when he had been more raw, more open hearted. Not any longer. But still he had a part to play.

            Phoenix dropped his eyes and muttered in embarrassment a half apology and lifted his wine glass to his lips as if he and forgotten it was empty. Kristoph accepted with a shrug and waved hand. As if the matter where nothing important, and he picked up the bottle to pour Phoenix another glass.

            “Maybe another time my friend.” Kristoph said cheerily, all the false sympathy shedding from his voice like a snakeskin. “If you can make it worth my while that is.” He added, and for just a moment. Phoenix felt the warmth of a hand pressed against his thigh, as Kristoph drew back to his seat.

            One day I will destroy you, Phoenix thought, without ever letting the dopey slightly bashful smile fall from his face, I will make you pay for what you’ve done to me all these years. I swear it.

            Instead Phoenix looked away as if embarrassed to meet Kristoph’s eyes and shrugged with even lower mumble of “I guess we’ll see.”

[kaladinsspear]

TLDR: my ex wanted me to be a fantasy, fuck that, I’m a person.

So I just started reading That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming and I forgot how much I love the romance genera! This book is playing with some of my favorite tropes and I am thriving!

I think I stopped reading romance because with my ex, she wanted me to BE the mail lead in a romance novel. She wanted that decisiveness, that power, that burning focus and intensity. She wanted me to be dominant, but she didn’t want to get bogged down with things like setting and maintaining her own boundaries, or giving me feedback on what’s working for her and what isn’t, or sitting down with my neurodivergent ass and having a frank discussion about exactly what she wants from me so I can ask questions about the edge cases and clarify expectations and come up with defaults for when I don’t know what she wants. None of that boring stuff, I was suppose to just be.

I think I stopped reading romance because it reminded me of all the things I’m not, and made me feel like the strain of the relationship was my fault because I couldn’t be good enough. If I was more confident, more assertive, more aggressive, more powerful more, more, more, more then I could be the man that she deserved and she wouldn’t have to settle for weak, placid, little me.

You know what, though? Fuck that. Romance novels are a delightful fantasy, but they are a fantasy and the personality traits that make for a hot vampire king do not make for a well adjusted member of society.

No, I will not push you up against the wall and kiss you, because you have given me no explicit and indication that you want me to. If I’m that aggressive with you when you’re not in the mood and ready for it, I could hurt you. I don’t care if it’s hot in the books, being manhandled in real life when you aren’t in the mood for it is frightening and humiliating and you already have ptsd from military service. I’m not going to potentially trigger your fight or flight without a very clear and unambiguous ‘yes’. I don’t care if we are teasing and clearly headed toward the bedroom, even if you told me you wanted me to pin you against the wall when we talked about it yesterday, if I take that step when you don’t want it, that’s not an ‘oops, I’m sorry’ kind of thing. That’s domestic violence. I’m gonna need a clear and in the moment ‘yes.’

I’m reading romance again and actually enjoying it because I’m allowed to see it for the fantasy and story that it is. This isn’t an example that I need to live up to. I am a pool tech and a student. I don’t have the time or spoons to do what it would take to get washboard abs. If I lost that much body fat, I probably wouldn’t be able handle the endurance work that my job requires. I’m training to be a programmer and I live in a world of disinformation. I don’t need to be able to make snap decisions with confidence, I need to think strategically and adapt to new information.

I think my ex also made it worse. I couldn’t trust her to enforce her boundaries, which means that I had very little guidance on how to avoid crossing them. It made me extra carful around her, always hedging and bending to her whims. I knew that if I crossed a boundary, I would find out about it from her betrayed tears.

The more distance I get, the more relieved I am to be out of that marriage. I know she will tell anybody that will listen that I’m an abusive asshole who took advantage of her dependence on me, but that’s fine. She can tell anyone she wants about how horrible I am. How weak, cowardly, manipulative, dishonest, unreliable, and lazy I am. They will probably believe her. But it’s a price I’m happy to pay to be allowed to be who I am, and to stop trying to be an impossible fantasy.

[boxx-sama]

This is my revamped cover of I Love You!

If you like powerful vocals, be sure to check my channel out <3

Also feel free to send your comments my way! I love reading em!

[dirty-bosmer]

Hello! Random question that floated to my mind... Early in The Illusionist part 2 Nim is just going about her life, generally avoiding Lucien, but he is completely obsessed with her anyway. Do you think there is anything she could have done to put him off?😆 Is there any way he could have got bored and moved his attention to someone else?

Eeeeeheeeheee, thank you for asking 😈 I don't often talk about their relationship dynamics publicly beyond the occasional shit-post I add to their Lucien/Nim tag because they embarrass me LMAO I used to fear I would be shunned for how gross-nasty and unredeemable they are, so what a pleasant surprise that I have found a handful of like-minded individuals who are willing to indulge in this awful, messy disaster-ship with me 💕

Now to get to your question: you're very right, even before the Sheogorath madness kicks Lucien in the rump, he is a very foul flavor of unhinged. I can't really see it having gone another way for Nim because she's a try-hard lol but probably the most obvious way she could have avoided becoming the object of his obsession would be if she had been a worse assassin.

Lucien doesn't strike me as the type to suffer fools, and despite her indifference toward their covenant, he quite admires her skill. At some point in the fic, Vicente mentions that Nim is not at all Lucien's type primarily because she doesn't give a shit about Sithis and finds the DB lame, and I think if she sucked at her job, he would have written her off completely as a waste of his time.

So maybe if she had shirked her contracts and said, "the Night Mother sucks and Sithis smells," earlier on, he would have been incredibly put off. Also she could have, you know... stopped killing people after the first few times 😅 I wonder if the DB is open to their newbies being like, "hmm you know what, not for me." Maybe they could have parted ways amicably.

Anything else she could have done... hmmm. As I've written Lucien, he is not a man capable of Love™️ beyond his very twisted definition of it. He gets very bored when his affections are actually returned, and if Nim had pined after him the way his previous Silencer and Antoinetta did, he would have lost interest extremely quickly. Man is a predator through and through; he lives for the hunt. No challenge, no fun.

But even after they first sleep together, he has to try so damn hard to get her attention, and despite his best efforts, she really can't care less about his nasty dungeon-dwelling ass 😭 Nim is always pining after someone else, and Lucien is not used to being rejected. If anything, it only further fueled his desire to win her over, and he was super into the novelty of Nim disregarding him as an insufferable sex-pest. I guess they both share a streak of masochism in that sense (also he really leaned into the role, huh. I guess he got what he wanted, but at what cost 👀)

So if their first fuck hadn't been fueled by bloodlust and hatred, maybe he would have been like, "eh."

This reminds me though— I have a bunch of scraps written about Lucien and Elianna that never fit into the fic. It basically documented Lucien getting sick of what his life with Nim had devolved into. The toxic cycle of him abusing his power over his Silencer's repeats, but it doesn't even bring him the old satisfaction because he's too busy being mad that Nim isn't even jealous 😠

Oh my god, just typing that out makes me feel absolutely INSANE. These two are RANCID. Unfortunately, I love it and will be playing my part in adding to the toxic murder relationship pool.

Thank you again my friend for this opportunity to rant about my most beloathed couple <3

[piperslovebot]

Getting closer and closer to the good stuff!

Tagging: @tht70sblog @disneymbti @randomwriter23

[crashandswirl]

MUSE INFO

Name: Tiffany Valentine

Tiffany comes from the 1998 film Bride of Chucky, also appearing in Seed of Chucky, Curse of Chucky, and Cult of Chucky in the same series. Some influence from the 2021 TV show Chucky. When interacting with her, there might be violence, blood, injury, gore, murder, death, torture, and toxic relationships. Except for violence, all of these things will be tagged as cw: [subject] when applicable.

Eyes: Dark brown (human form); green (doll form)

Hair: Dark brown; dyed blonde

Face claim: Jennifer Tilly

Pronouns: She/her

Age:

Thirty-one in Bride of Chucky

Thirty-seven in Seed of Chucky

Forty-six in Curse of Chucky

Fifty in Cult of Chucky

Height: 5'7"/170 cm (human form); 2'6"/76 cm (doll form)

Sexual/Romantic orientation: Demisexual/biromantic

Occupation: None. If Tiff needs money, she just takes it from the people she kills.

Personality: If Tiffany is anything, it's passionate and inconsistent. When she sets her heart on a goal, she throws herself at it completely. However, her goals have a good chance of quickly changing if something goes wrong. She gives as good as she gets.

She started killing for the fun and the thrill. In her own words, it's an addiction for her. She can also be likely to murder (or enact some other form of over-the-top revenge) when she feels she's been abandoned or betrayed, though. If you come away with your life and "clean up your act"/make it up to her, she'll be happy to forgive and forget.

Tiffany is borderline unable to grasp the true severity of her crimes. She did it for your own good! Why are you so mad? That murder was just a little slip-up! It's okay, everyone has those! Why are you freaking out so much?

Tiffany had fantasized about murder for a while, but she didn't commit her first one until she met her boyfriend, Charles "Chucky" Lee Ray, the Lakeshore Strangler, during a hookup. He intended to stab her to death, but when Tiffany grinned and encouraged him to do it, he ended up stabbing the other woman in the room instead. He asked Tiffany if she wanted to join the fun, which she gleefully did.

The two of them entered a relationship that became rocky before long. Eventually, Tiffany grew fed up with the fact that Chucky no longer seemed like he wanted to kill with her, and she tipped off the police about a place he was heading to. She has a low opinion of the cops and figured the most they'd do was give Chucky a good scare and/or injury, but a detective ended up killing him. Right before he died, Chucky transferred his soul into a doll.

News about claims of a haunted doll from one of Chucky's victims, Andy Barclay, floated around and Tiffany followed them for years. In 1998, she successfully found the remains of Chucky's doll body and brought him back to life. However, upon finding out he didn't intend to propose to her like she thought, she locked him up. Thoroughly pissed off, Chucky broke free, scared her in the bath, and she ended up being electrocuted to death when her TV got knocked into the tub. Chucky transferred her soul into a doll, leaving her trapped in it until she could find a suitable replacement.

Verses:

I've been keeping busy. (Pre-Bride) – Tiffany has accidentally gotten Chucky killed. She's living on her own in a trailer park.

Living dead girl. (Bride of Chucky) – Thanks to Cbucky, Tiffany's human body is done for and her soul is in a doll. Can follow the events of the film or change up after the switch.

I wanna be a star... (Seed of Chucky) – Tiffany doesn't remember, but before she died a second time, she had a child... Well, children, but the twins share one body here. Glen and Glenda. It's confusing. Glen mistakes the animatronic movie versions of their parents as the real deal and travels to Hollywood to find them, unwittingly reciting the chant that resurrects Tiffany and/or Chucky.

I've got a package to send. (Curse/Cult) – Follows what Tiffany was up to during the events of Curse of Chucky and Cult of Chucky. She's been living as Jennifer Tilly for years now and aids Chucky as he decides to eliminate the Pierce family.

This is like heaven! (Dead By Daylight) – Tiffany and Chucky have both been claimed by the fog, chosen by the Entity to become its newest killers.

Wanna have some fun? (Crossovers) – A generic verse for crossovers.

Thread tag: Muse: Tiffany Valentine

Visage tag: Barbie, eat your heart out.

HC/Info tag: It's like my mother always used to say...

Relationship tags:

I've been a prisoner of my love for you. – w/Charles "Chucky" Lee Ray, love interest, ex, love inter—

Miscellaneous:

I always default to using human Tiffany when replying to asks/tags, so if you'd like to interact with her doll form, please specify!

Tiffany's preferred murder weapon is her metal nail file, which she often keeps in her bra. When she's looking to get things done quickly, her go-to is to slit throats from behind.

[redley-of-many-noodles]

I only like about half of Ellise’s stuff but the other half I’m in love with. This, Sandman, and Keep It To Myself most notably.

[grendel-menz]

A navigation of some adult relationships

[tacticalprincess]

messy blowjobs with mean, older boyfriend könig. because as much as he loves your innocence and lack of experience, he can't help but shame you for it, if only to see the way you pout and feign off tears at his harsh words and patronizing tone. he'll nitpick everything you do; if you're too eager, he'll scold you for being greedy (you might accidentally bite him!) and if you're too hesitant, he'll taunt you for being afraid to handle his size, or guilt trip you for not wanting to pleasure him.

he works you up and teases you with his words and cock for what seems like hours at a time, until you're frustrated and sniffling back your embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to please him correctly. and only then, when you’re nearly choking on your drool and tears, will he loosen the reigns. pity lacing the way he cards through your hair, but his eyes are glazed over with desire as he watches you lick and suck around his girthy, meaty cock, your movements so unpracticed and genuinely curious. sweet little thing, barely concealing a whine when he pulls out to give you a few lovetaps on your cheek and tongue, dirtying your cute face with a mix of your spit and his precum.

"there you go. see? you just need a firm hand, maus. it's the only way you'll learn."

alternatively — ‘throat training’, where he gives you no warning before he’s trying to force himself down your virgin throat, shushing the panicked whimpers that muffle around your sudden mouthful. relishes in the way you gag on his girth, your gummy throat constricting around his dick and creating the perfect suction.

“don’t fight it, little one, you can take it. be good and swallow what i give you, ja?”

apologizes for his brute behavior by kissing your mascara soaked cheeks and holding you close, after you make him cum, of course.

it’s rare nowadays, for a man to be so willing to put up with this degree of naivety and inexperience, the least you can do to show you appreciate his patience by relaxing your throat and warming his cock properly.

[aakeysmash]

cw: toxic relationship. sukuna x f!reader. angst. suggestive. no happy ending. unedited because i can't be bothered.

it’s been years since you last heard his name.

it happens randomly. it's cold outside, your breath forming little clouds near your mouth, making you look like a smoker. you're walking inside a cafè after a long day, trying to warm up your hands and face, when, suddenly, you hear it.

a couple just exited from the door you were about to enter in. you don’t know why you stop to look at them, but you do. they're a bit awkward, averting their gazes, and you don't think the cold is the reason why their cheeks are reddening. fingers fidgeting, mouth gaping before closing suddenly.

"i had a really nice day," murmurs the girl. one of her hands is scratching her ear, the other beside her mouth to warm it up. "wanna do it again?"

"i work tomorrow," responds the guy. a wince. a glance to her lips. a subtle half step to get closer to her.

"oh," her face falls. she retreats on herself.

“but we can still see each other,” he rushes out.

a hopeful look. another subtle half step, from her this time. "where do you work?"

"sukuna's corporations, you know, down the street?"

sukuna. your eyes widen. your breath stops. a chill runs down your spine.

the outlines of the couple and of the café blur. suddenly, you're thrown back in time. you see your face in front of you, but you look weird. younger. innocent.

you’re ten. books are all scattered around you, a big red imprint of a hand on your cheek. your mother is high, tumbling over her words and tripping over her feet, screaming at you in the library. everyone is watching, but you don’t shed a tear. you’re so used to this. security comes, just like last week, and the one before that. a boy a little older than you pushes your mother away, offers you a hand to get up from the floor. you notice him: smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, pink hair, black inked bands on his outstretched wrist, probably done by himself without any parental agreement. let’s get you out of here. i’m sukuna.

the scene changes. you’re sixteen. your left ear is bleeding, but a hand reaches out to dab a cotton piece on it. a whisper. an attempt to comfort you from behind you. you try to turn around but you seem to be unable to. it's okay, baby, you look so much hotter like this, i promise. his voice is all around you. condescending, like he always was. more mature than the last scene, almost as if he developed. he’s eighteen, of course he developed.

the scene changes again. you’re outside of a club, he’s coughing blood. he just got out of a fight, you think. you’re crouching to give him a napkin, your hand on his back to reassure him. he grins up at you, red staining his usually pearly white teeth. your breath gets caught again. did his eyes always look so void? i love you, baby, you know that, don’t you? a lie. a smile. a kiss that tastes like iron.

then, the scenes in front of your eyes blur, like a massive sped up version of your last decade.

a cat on the street, you scratching its furry chin, looking up at the man behind you. it reminds me of you when it purrs, sukuna. a bored look. your smile dropping. a fake smirk, his fake kiss on your cheek. you're so cute, i love it. another lie.

his first car, you in the passenger seat, his hand on your thigh, a song playing in the background. i feel like this is our song, baby. a laugh. a kiss. you two fucking in said car, his breath on your ear, your moans in his. never cum like this for anyone else, do you understand? a nod. i love you, sukuna. he doesn't answer.

him moving in with you, buying you flowers every monday, because you told him you love flowers. you're everything, sukuna. tongues swirling. one of his hands grabbing your left boob. i'll always care about you, baby. a bite on your neck. insincere words floating too high for you to see them.

drinking coffee on a snowy morning, him working on his computer, getting snappy when you ask what he's doing for the third time. i'll be big some day. not like you. your gasp. his indifference.

you and him on a jog, him forgetting you’re there, flirting with a girl that passes by. your hurt look. a sorry, whispered on your lips with a flower behind your ear ten minutes later. i only have eyes for you. your faith in him. his averting gaze.

a man groping your ass. his fist colliding with the man's jaw. never touch my fucking girl again. happiness on your face. his arm draped over your shoulder. him massaging your calfs when you get home. you're mine only. forever. don't forget that. his kisses. his possessive hold on your hips when you sink on his cock.

him wiping your tears. him making you cry. him making you laugh about something stupid on his phone. more tears. love letters on your kitchen counter, signed with his name. glasses rimmed with lipstick in the sink, but you don't own that color. messy sheets after you fuck like animals on his birthday. the house empty on yours. his things gone. no texts. no calls. no signs that tell you he's been living inside your house, your head, your heart for 15 years. your fingers frantically pressing his phone number on your keypad for a month straight, going to voicemail. can you come home? did i do something wrong? please, sukuna, i'll be better. i'll never complain about anything ever again. i promise. just come back to me. you're all i want... you're all i have. i'll be whoever you want. whatever you want. please.

your gaze focuses on the café in front of you again. the couple isn't there anymore, and it makes you wonder how much time you spent out here, freezing. it looks like he made it, at the end. you ignore the poster with his company's name near the street you came from.

it happens randomly.

you put your feet one after the other, entering the café.

randomly.

[dante-mightdie]

I’m really stuck on my toxic!price stuff today

something about him telling you about the date he’s got tomorrow as you’re snuggled up to his chest, mindlessly tracing the scars on his chest as he puffs on a cigar

pats your ass and tells you to help him get the stress of his recent deployment out his system so he can behave around her tomorrow night :(