#he’s literally so perfect and imperfect and perfect again

[obaewankenope]

It’s wild because The Narrative was constantly all “Sam is demon-coded and Dean is Angel-coded also Dean is usually right”. Meanwhile Sam is mostly normal like 90% of the time and in the background Dean is stabbing the shit out of passerby like some kind of DnD-style murderhobo. Like, I’m supposed to believe SAM is the one constantly tempted by evil in this family? Because I sure as fuck don’t.

Fjdkrtkot anon I am HOWLING right now because YEAH THAT'S KINDA IT ISN'T IT omfg

The narrative, especially from s4, centred on Sam having 'demon blood' and being judged by the Angels as that, somehow, being The Worst Thing Ever when it wasn't even something Sam CONSENTED TO IN THE FIRST PLACE and he only 'embraced' the changes forced upon him in order to get Dean back (or just get revenge because, honestly, Sam is 10000% incapable of giving a fuck about his own life when Dean died for him and is reckless af) because Sam's whole life has been defined by him being Dean's 'little brother' and Sam is Lost™ without Dean in the world.

And then we get Dean being the 'righteous man' narrative which... If Dean is a righteous man then the moment he broke in Hell he stopped being that and instead chose to be unrighteous (which is somehow completely ignored and glossed over and yeah but he's got an Angel who favours him which means Dean is obviously the Good Brother right???? W R O N G) so, by the same metric that Sam is measured by, Dean is just as 'evil' as his little brother.

Except, of course, we THEN get the whole 'vessels' concept shoved in and for that, then Sam and Dean MUST conform to the Angels they are the vessels for.

Dean must be righteous, good, the perfect son who honours his father and is Noble.

Sam must be capricious, stubborn, disrespectful of his father, the imperfect son, the challenger, the one who will lie and manipulate and arrogantly self-assured and Wrong.

Which then makes the Free Will narrative so much fucking worse imho because Sam... Sam Sam Sam...

Sam does what he's told, follows the Plan set out by his 'father' (because Sam and Lucifer have so many parallels and struggling to submit to the commands of a father they don't understand is literally central to them both) and then wrestles control enough to RUIN EVERYTHING because Sam loves his brother, just like Lucifer loves his own siblings, but where Lucifer will still kill his own, Sam REFUSES TO.

Sam accepts the plan, finally obeys his father, but he again shows that any obedience he performs, any acceptance of his 'place' as according to others means FUCK ALL when situated against the life of Dean.

Sam loves his brother above all else, including himself, and that makes him better than any Angel, any Demon, any being because Sam has no qualms about destroying himself for his big brother.

The narrative gives us these two brothers who grew up together, raising each other, protecting one another, and trying to love and support each other in an imperfect, harsh world where their father was more absent than present. It gave us this and then presented us with a narrative foil in the form of the entire apocalypse and the Angels and God and it showed us that Sam and Dean are exactly what we should strive to be.

It throws at us the question: what matters to you more: adhering to the Will of God or loving that which is your life?

Sam and Dean are each others world. They are life to each other. One cannot exist without the other. And the show, the narrative, gives us this amazing gift of showing us that loving those who love us matters most and then it fuckin tramples on it.

Dean faces several moral quandries throughout the show, quandries that Sam faced in different ways and different scenarios, and it does Dean such a disservice because it constantly throws Dean back to the metaphorical Square One.

Dean, as the elder brother, is presented as being dutiful, as the obedient one who listens to their father and does what John expected of them. Dean is the one that, eventually, John expected to take Sam out if John wasn't there to (and isn't that fucked up, to expect a son to kill his brother and to always be both his protector and potential killer, what a way to fuck up a kid) and that sort of... expectation, that exceptionally painful obligation and duty is a horrible, cruel thing to levy upon an elder brother that loves his younger brother.

The narrative gives us that and it makes us look at it and at what John expected and it, rightly, makes us as uncomfortable as it did Dean. Then it throws some characters, like fuckin Gordon, to try and... soothe it? The whole "if our sibling becomes a monster, we have no choice, it's the merciful thing to do" when, ya know, it isn't really because, as the show then points out later: FREE WILL.

Except. Except the growth that Dean gets to experience in the narrative is shoved backwards again and again. He gets to take steps forward, to being able to exist outside the confines of what John raised him to be (a soldier, John raised a soldier, not a son, a general like Michael, a brother who he expected to be able to kill his sibling like Cain) but that growth is set in a juxtaposition with the Angels and apocalypse storyline that tries to shove Sam and Dean into the narrow constraints that the Angels have for the vessels of the two major players in Gods 'plan'.

Dean gets thrown back over and over to the starting point, to season 1 Dean who still does what dad taught 'em, thinks like dad conditioned 'em, and re-enacts how dad raised' em, because the Dean back then at least had some illusion of agency. He thought he had some control, some free will that wasn't curtailed by other, more powerful things.

The Dean of season 1 had faith in his dad and love for his brother.

Season 1 Dean was comfortable hunting monsters and ganking them because back then, it really was that simple. Monster hunts humans? Bad. Something isn't human? Monster. Simple.

As easy as basic addition.

Except.

Except it's not that simple anymore. Not after season 4. Not when Angels — the supposed good guys, the pinnacle of morality and righteousness and goodness — are shown to be flawed, damaged, even evil. Dean doesn't have an unbroken faith in his father — burned into him by the One Time he didn't listen and Sammy nearly died and sorry dad, I'll do better next time, I'll listen, I'm sorry, Sammy I'm so sorry! — and everything is messy and complicated and getting more and more complicated the longer it goes on.

So Dean falls back to a time when it wasn't complicated. When things could be and were simply black-and-white to him.

Hunting monsters. Protecting people. The family business.

And because of this, the show and the narrative make Sam and Dean look... So, so different.

Season 6 Sam, the soulless Sam, is the one that (ironically) was most like Dean and it's horrifying. It's monstrous. Because that Sam didn't care about morality, didn't care about nuance, didn't care for shades of grey. That Sam is exactly the Sam that John Winchester feared (and likely secretly wished for at times because Sam's compassion made it harder for John, and eventually Dean, to possibly 'put him down' if needed).

We get to see Dean who tries to go back to the past, to when things seemed so much simpler to him, with a Sam that emulates the things Dean wishes for and we are shown — and so is Dean — that it's not that easy. That to go back to the beginning mentality is, in itself, the most monstrous thing of all.

And then- then we get Sam with a soul back. We get Dean losing Cas who he came to care for, love, trust, have faith in because Cas is there for Dean in ways Sam can't be. And the trade off is... Messy. It's unfair. And for Dean it's harder still.

He gets his brother back and loses Cas. It's an unfair trade off and it's out of Dean's control.

So, he doubles down on trying to find control again. He does what he knows best and the softness in him, the vulnerability that only Sam — and later Cas, in his own way — was able to draw out gets locked up in a cage more secure than the one in hell. Dean makes himself colder and harsher and lets pain and trauma and grief cloak him just like their father.

Eventually, he literally gets demonified which is a hysterical bit of role-reversal for the brothers (and I'd have loved to see Sam get angelified as an extra bit of 'fuck you' because it'd have been even more poetic imho) and we see how much closer to a demon Dean has always been.

Because... Sam. Sam will do horrible things for those he loves and he'll own the consequences. He'll destroy himself for those he loves and for Dean most of all. Sam will do monstrous things and will become a monster because of his great capacity to love. It, in an ironic way, is closer to the way Angels love than anything else we see in the show because Sam extends compassion, kindness, and forgiveness to everyone (even when he doesn't personally want to). He gives so many chances to people. Heck, he even gave Lilth a choice, a chance, and although she didn't take it, he still offered it.

Dean, in contrast, is more selective and selfish in how he loves and who. He hoards his loved ones close, but he also can be so so cruel and toxic to them because he wants to keep them close and control everything so nothing can harm them. He is exacting and dictatorial in a variety of ways because Dean's love is just as bountiful as Sam's but it makes him selfish. Dean will condemn the world to avoid hurting Sam. He won't say yes no matter what because he will not be the one who kills Sam (not like that, not that way).

Dean and Sam both show how powerful love is and how, in different ways, it is also destructive.

Dean always falls back on what he knows works, time-tested, familiar patterns of behaviour and emotional expression, drilled into him by John. John who was damaged and broken by grief and rage and loss and the thirst for vengeance, revenge, and the need to understand. John who, whilst loving both his sons, resented the youngest because his wife died because of him. Logically John may have known it wasn't ever Sam's fault (and in fact, we later learn it was Mary and John's fault really, the deal that led to everything), but logic is not emotion. And that emotion absolutely affected the dynamics of their family.

Dean was Sam's pseudo-parent because John couldn't be Sam's dad the same way he was Dean's because emotionally, John couldn't move past the loss Sam's existence led to (Mary). It affected all of them and it's why, in a way, the behaviour we see from Dean post s4 is so... painful.

Because Dean starts to emulate their dad and the way John behaved and it is disgustingly obvious how toxic that behaviour was when the one doing it is Dean. And, because the show is a fuckin mess, the behaviour never really stops. Dean is so damaged, so traumatised by everything he's gone through, that he falls back on the behaviour that he grew up with and that behaviour held Sam at a distance.

It's why Sam seems so well-adjusted compared to Dean — which, tbf, Sam got to socialise with 'normal' people for a while at Stanford and Dean also raised Sam to have as many 'normal' interactions and opportunities as possible so yeah, Sam is more well-adjusted compared to Dean but it's a kinda low bar tbqh — and is partly what makes Dean reverting back to the black-and-white 'gank all monsters' mentality of John Winchester and s1 Dean so... tragic.

The show tried to portray Sam and Dean as two sides of the same coin — Sam as the rebellious, tainted younger brother: Dean as the dutiful, righteous elder brother — but the narrative itself kind of wrecked that dynamic and instead gives us two very, very damaged young men who are never given the chance to breathe, to think, to try and really heal from any of the seemingly endless amount of emotional, psychological, and spiritual wounds they gain over the duration of the sow.

The narrative, if anything, shows us that Dean was always the one most at risk of becoming a 'monster' because Dean carried upon his shoulders so much expectation, duty, and obligation, so much responsibility, that the moment he stumbled it crushed him.

Sam, in comparison, is shown to be the one who carries his own weights and shame, the guilt and the knowledge that he is the 'perfect' vessel for the devil, and who keeps shouldering more and more like Atlas because Sam... Sam is stronger than Dean. Sam is stronger because Dean put his faith in their father and had it shaken to the core of him, where Sam put his faith in Dean's love for Sam which, even at the worst points in their lives, is something Sam has always had to bolster himself with.

It's also why Dean is the only one who can (and has) hurt Sam so deeply as to leave him feeling broken. Because Sam is a little brother and all Sam ever really wanted was his big brother's approval and love — which, ironically, is what makes Sam and Lucifer perfect mirrors of each other, because Lucifer wanted the same and didn't want to be be made to love anything else more than his family, and Sam cannot love anything more than he loves Dean and doesn't pretend to, but where Sam can still love others to an endless degree, Lucifer's ability to love is a finite thing and it's why Sam, in the end, could wrestle control from a frickin archangel and throw himself into the cage because Sam loves his brother most of all.

The narrative tried so hard to make us see Sam as the dangerous one, the monster-in-waiting and Dean as the one who would do as duty demands but it failed so hard because it, as you say, made Dean seem the most unhinged of the two of them.

Ironically, if it intended to that, it did it brilliantly, but I doubt the writers were thinking that far ahead (unfortunately).

[hiyori-ii]

the pinch of his face ! the way he tenses and then relaxes into her touch !! THE WAY HE GRABS HER LEG AND PULLS IT UP OVER THE CREASE OF HIS ARM !!!

so fuckin excited to hear Jinshi whimper in tomorrow's episode <3

[galactikburzt]

Hello guys i am once again watching my ocs rotate inside my thoughts

[acid-ixx]

You mention in the first story that the Batfam finally realizes where we are because jon showed Damian our picture while calling us his parent- so I was wondering about how Damian reacted to that? Like did he realize we’d left at that point or did he just get hit in the face with that info?

— related post !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated

a/n: y'all i have clogged nose and i hate it LMAO. anyways, i'm gonna write smth about this soon but damian's character for both the series again & again and this series is genuinely one of the more complicated to write because of how he's raised but it really goes like this—

"jon... what do you mean? that's my—"

he cuts himself off before he could continue running his mouth off. damian ignores the slight raise of jon's eyebrow, his thoughts running a mile every second.

his parent? no, never once in his life has damian considered you his parent, pushing you away whenever you try to bond with him. whatever gifts you gave him, no matter how small, or big, expensive, or inexpensive they are, he always makes a show of ripping them away right in front of you.

he told you himself. you are not his parent, never will be his parent, you'll never replace talia's standing, and there will never be a time where damian will see you as one. dick, jason, tim, literally anyone can consider you as theirs, but damian is a product of two genetically perfect individuals— you are imperfect, and it's not your business to coddle him just because you are merely married to his father in paper.

no matter how much you softly gaze at him with loving eyes, invite him with welcoming arms, praise his passion for drawing; all you'll do is weaken him and damian hates feeling weak, hates how you tempt him into melting into a puddle. that automatically makes you a burden in his book.

he hates you, and he should've been glad you disappeared off of the face of the manor.

yet the record stands still: why are you with jon? why do you hold him like he is the world in the picture? what does he mean by "sorry, damian, but me and my parents are gonna go to the carnival later!"? you, as in, bruce's spouse? why are you with them, of all people?

... why does jon get to have fun, with you? and he doesn't...?

and yet he couldn't reply to him, not when his friend babbles on for longer about his... parent. about how you, make him feel so complete. that you'll be the one helping him with his science fare project, how you two spent the night yesterday building a volcano, how you treat him with ice cream every time he achieves a good enough grade for a subject, how you, you, you always spoil jon, always comfort him, read him bedtime stories, matched bracelets, sung karaoke together, played board games with each other, picked him up from school, help him with assignments—

the more jon goes on, the more damian wants to rip his hair out. he doesn't know, doesn't know why he's suddenly pissed. is it because jon can never shut up, or because he couldn't shut up about you? about how perfect you are apparently? how you're the ideal parent he never once bat an eye on? the domestic life jon seems to brag about, it's something damian secretly wanted, and it's all ripped away from him.

it makes damian wonder, would you have done the same for him?

he knows it in himself, that if he hadn't pushed you away, he might've been in jon's place.

[mesetacadre]

how do you feel about a heavy portion of communists being ableist? sending disabled people to prison for being physically unable to work and then acting like that didn't happen doesn't make disabled people confident that communism won't hurt them just as bad as capitalism (I'm not saying billions of trillions dies from communism I'm just saying ''those who won't work won't eat'' is fucking evil especially when I see that rhetoric in modern day! You can say 'oh a wheelchair user can do teaching or archiving' but that ignores how many disabled people are bedbound or fully paralyzed!)

ARTICLE 12. In the U.S.S.R. work is a duty and a matter of honour for every able-bodied citizen, in accordance with the principle: "He who does not work, neither shall he eat."

The principle applied in the U.S.S.R. is that of socialism : "From each according to his ability, to each according to his work."

[...]

ARTICLE 120. Citizens of the U.S.S.R. have the right to maintenance in old age and also in the case of sickness or loss of capacity to work.

This right is ensured by the extensive development of social insurance of workers and employees at state expense, free medical service for the working people and the provision of a wide network of health resorts for the use of the working people.

This is the USSR's 1936 consistution, emphasis mine. Not a perfect constitution by any means, but this is very clearly antithetical to what you believe happened. Disabled people in my own country today have less rights and even less guarantees of those rights being respected. Again, the USSR was not perfect and I'm not saying it was. But you're ascribing willful malice that is embedded in marxism to circumstances that were not easily circumvented. The USSR was an imperfect state lacking in sufficient social protections, which came from times of feudalism without any kind of protection in any aspects save for the nobility, and whose collapse led to unparalleled misery and war. "He who does not work shall not eat" never included disabled people. It's a slogan, and slogans are not nuanced. What the USSR never did was enshrine that slogan into law literally, it always explicitly addressed able-bodied people.

Let's also look at a more modern constitution, Cuba's, from 2019

ARTICLE 42. All people are equal before the law, recieve the same protection and treatment from authorities and enjoy the same rights, freedoms and opportunities, without discrimination on the basis of sex, gender, sexual orientation, gender identity, age, ethnic origin, skin color, religious faith, disability, national or territorial origin, or any other condition or personal circumstance that implies a harmful distinction before human dignity.

All have the right to enjoy the same public spaces and establishments.

Likewise, receive the same salary for the same work, without any discrimination.

The violation of the principle of equality is outlawed and is sanctioned by law.

[...]

ARTICLE 64. The right to work is recognized. The person in condition to work has a right to obtain dignified employment, corresponding to their selection, qualification, aptitude, and economic and societal requirements.

ARTICLE 65. Every person has a right for their work to be compensated as a function of its quality and quantity, expression of the socialist principle "from each according to their capacity, to each according to their work".

[...]

ARTICLE 68. The person who works has a right to social security. The State, through the system of social security, guarantees their adequate protection when they are unable to work because of age, maternity, paternity, disability, or illness.

[...]

ARTICLE 70. The State, through social assistance, protects the people without resources or refuge, not capable of working, who lack family members able to bring them help; and to families who, due to the insufficient income they recieve, if they so choose, in accordance with the law

I don't see anywhere a part that says all disabled people are jailed. Cuba definitely does have effective and real protections for all kinds of disabled people, and just like the USSR, the principle of the duty to work is not applied directly to disabled people. It's hard still to find information on the practical application of disability protection that's not funded by Radio Free Whatever, but here's an article about Cuba's:

[dark-and-kawaii]

bg3 men of your choosing and kinks?

Notes: Yummy!!! I got you dear anon xoxo

⟡ Characters: Halsin - Gale - Zevlor - Haarlep - Raphael - Wyll - Rolan

⟡ Content: NSFW - Kinks - Lots Of Kinks

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Zevlor loves a good creampie. Like, please let this old man cum deep within you!!! It will literally make him go insane, his tail thrashing around behind him as he fills you so full of his seed. Especially if you let me do it after only just meeting. It’s been so long since he’s felt such warmth envelop his cock. Gods, and when he sees the way his white milky substance leaks out of you afterwards… it’s enough to keep him hard and wanting to go at it again. Maybe it’s part of the breeding kink he has, the dire need- of wanting a family to call his own. And you just look so pretty like this- with your legs spread and his cum spilling out.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Haarlep is an incubus, a demon- a chaotic being so of course dacryphilia. Whether you’re crying from his cock stretching you or crying from the way this creature overstimulates you- he relishes in it. Haarlep adores taunting you, always adding a hint of mockery to his coos, “Awh my little Dove, does it hurt?” Before leaning down to lick away the tears running down that pretty face of yours he loves so much. “Or is it simply too much for your mortal body to endure?” As he lets out a wicked laugh, flashing you his infamous smirk.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Rolan not only enjoys overstimulating you, but also craves being overstimulated himself. This grumpy tiefling wizard has more depth than meets the eye. He’s so pent up from studying and perfecting new spells that when he finally gets his hands on you he’s using your body as a means of release. He unleashes all his frustrations on your tight little fuck hole, pounding you relentlessly with his cock. Bullying that body of yours until you’re nothing more than a babbling mess with your tongue lolled out, until his body gives up on him, collapsing on top of you, gasping for breath. The slightest touch sending his body into shock.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Raphael is a cocky bastard, and everyone knows this. Gets off on denying you your orgasm. Loves being in control of your body, mind, and soul- the devil will wait until you’re begging for him to give you your release- begging for his cock acknowledging that only he can bring you such intense pleasure. Telling him that no one- nor anything matters, only him. Once you’ve pleaded enough, he’ll express how satisfied he is with your obedience and will hint at granting you that long awaited release.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Wyll adores praising you, worshipping you in your intimate moments. He genuinely worshiped every aspect of you, even finding all your imperfections incredibly beautiful. Especially if you have a scar, no matter how small or large, he’ll lovingly kiss along it. And he takes such delight in receiving the same level of adoration from you, as you worship his cock, the very cock that causes your toes to curl and your body to writhe beneath him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Listen, Halsin sometimes involuntarily shifts into a bear, and he always apologizes for it. But if you accept him for who he truly is, Gods he’ll be utterly smitten with you. As things start to get a bit more steamy his body begins to glow as he transforms into his bear shape. But, if you playfully giggle at him and start to run, enticing him to chase you by wiggling your finger, oh yes, it will not only arouse him further to chase you, but also show him you’re open to some unconventional foreplay. Being a bear he’ll eventually catch up to you and pounce on you as gently as he can. It’s so endearing to him how you softly plead, “oh no~ plllleeeease~ someone help~” as your fingers run through his fur.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Gale is so cute, he just absolutely craves the sensation of your fingers tugging at his hair while you ride his face. He always smiles while probing you with his tongue when he feels your nails digging into his scalp as his stubble tickles between your thighs. And when it comes to your hair, well you best believe this man takes joy in giving a gentle tug here and there. Not too rough, but enough to crane your neck back so that he can lock eyes with you before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

[noctiva]

Flesh + Blood

toby rogers x f!reader [NSFW!]

—

—

WC: 10.1k

Summary: toby usually tries to keep the more violent aspects of his life out of your line of sight, but after a mission gone awry you get a taste of his true self. literally.

CW: 18+ content, filthy dirty nasty shit, descriptions of violence and gore, rough handling, masochistic tendencies + just masochism in general, heavy sadism, biting, blood kink!!!, marking, dead dove don’t come at me, explicit sexual content, unsafe sex, creampie, hair pulling, degradation but also praise (kinky ver. of hurt/comfort), rough oral sex, dirty talk, dacryphilia, CNC if you squint, toby being mean in a hot way, reader is a fuhREAK

Reminder to separate reality from fiction! Some of the acts written here are definitely not recommended to imitate. Be safe!

[also, if you can speak german I’m sorry lmao I used google translate ε-(´∀｀; ) if you can’t speak it just highlight then hit translate!]

—

NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

—

You had known Toby had a bad day before he even walked through the door.

The morning, had been like any other. Your boyfriend waking you up with soft, sleepy kisses against your neck, your limbs tangled with his beneath the covers. His soft hair tickled your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin as the morning sun shone through the window of the cabin you called home.

"Gotta g-go out today." He had murmured, voice thick with sleep and gravelly - his stubble scratching gently against your jaw. "Boss's orders."

His hands had slid up your body, under the loose t-shirt you had worn to bed - his calloused palms a soothing abrasiveness that quickly smoothed over any disgruntled thoughts about him leaving for the day. Up your stomach, over your ribs, resting just under the swell of your breast to feel your heart beat beneath his touch. "Don't worry, it's an e-easy job. Should only be gone f-for an hour or two."

You had reached up, threading your fingers through his messy, chestnut brown hair - knotted with bedhead, but still so soft as the strands slipped through the gaps. You nodded softly, pulling him in closer, murmuring a gentle 'be safe' next to his ear before pressing a kiss to the lobe.

And Toby had laughed, a sweet, honey-like sound before he lifted his head to look at you proper through his half-lidded eyes. "You-You're sayin' that t-to me?" He had chuckled, a cocky, yet boyish grin stretching across his lips.

God, that smile. It did something to you every single time. How his eyes crinkled up at the corners, and that one dimple that sunk into his unmarred cheek. His teeth, crooked and chipped from too many blows to the face, had a unique quality to them that left you charmed. Every imperfection on Toby, was perfection to you. Even the left half of his face, mangled and scarred, flesh torn from gums to leave his back molars on display at all times.

Grotesque, to most, but to you it was simply captivating. Just another special quirk in the sea of things that made up the man you loved. "You fuh- forget who you're t-talkin' to?" He had chastised you lightly, raising an eyebrow. "Baby, I am the danger. You- You know that."

You did know. But it was so easy to forget, when he was so sweet on you.

"Yeah, I know." You had hummed back to him. "I just forget sometimes, because you're so nice to me."

A little snort of a laugh left Toby, and he rolled his eyes, just before leaning down again to press a gentle kiss between your eyebrows.

"Remind me to j-jog your memory sometime." He had huffed softly. "I'm p-plenty scary."

That had been at just past eleven this morning, and now as you stood in the kitchen - with one of Toby's shirts hanging oversized over your body - it was nearly six. The mid-October sun has already started dipping under the horizon line, filtering in streaks of pink and gold through the window while you busied yourself.

If you didn't, you knew you'd just start to worry - despite the fact that you knew Toby would just make fun of you for doing so.

A paring knife in your hands, you were peeling potatoes whilst humming softly to yourself, a pot of stew simmering on the stove next to you. If he had been out this long, you were sure he must've worked up an appetite, and needed something warm to ward off the chill accumulated in his bones.

Besides, you liked doting on Toby. Liked to see the way his eyes shone when you did something for him just out of the good or your heart - because you loved him. You wanted him to always know that fact, never doubt the love you kept harboured in your heart just for him and him alone. It was more little gestures than big ones; scrubbing bloodstains out of his clothes and patching up holes, tending to wounds he didn't notice he acquired, or cooking dinner like right now.

None of these things felt like chores, they were almost therapeutic. And so as you stood by the stove, chopping potatoes into little cubes, you were blissfully calm despite your boyfriend's extended absence. The television was on in the living room, playing some old rerun movie you had only picked for background noise. The fireplace below it crackled, though it was dying because it had been a little too long since you had thrown in a new log.

Was this domestic bliss? It sure felt like it. Maybe as close to it as you would come, with a literal axe murderer as your chosen partner.

And like a tulpa born straight from your thoughts, the moment your mind wandered back to Toby - the man himself was making an entrance like a freight train.

The front door burst open, so quickly slicing through the soft and cozy atmosphere you had been shrouded in. You couldn't see him, not yet, because the entryway to your home was behind a rounded corner - but you should sure as hell hear him.

The door creaking before it slammed shut. Heavy boots knocking against wood floor. The metallic clang of something hitting the ground (presumably his hatchets), and soft grumbled curses spilling from his lips.

You had been right. You knew there was something off about today.

"Toby?" You call to him, your voice soft and gentle. Not wanting to poke the bear even more than it already had been. Setting the knife down on the cutting board, you quickly shut off the stove and move the pot to a cold burner. Then, with your feet moving faster than your mind was, you make your way out of the kitchen and through the living room. "Are you o-"

The words die on your tongue the moment you round the corner. Now, you were well aware of what Toby did when he left home. Though he hid the gory details from you more often than not, his stained clothes were all of the confirmation you really needed. He was a killer, a good one at that, judging from the little snippets of what he had told you.

But right now, he looked like more than that. He looked like a butcher.

The amount of blood almost didn't look real. Like something out of some gorefest slasher film rather than the authentic remains of a real human being. Toby was coated in it. It was matting in his hair, smeared across the goggles that were pushed up onto his forehead. It was clinging to his eyelashes, dripping down his cheeks and off of his chin. His sweater was drenched, splattered with crimson and torn at the hems - like the fabric had been snagged by the forest brush as he trudged through it.

There was a handprint on his chest, just below his shoulder - smeared and frantic, like someone had been trying to shove him off of them, clawing at the fabric in vain.

Then your eyes trail up again, and god. The look in his eyes.. Dark, somehow both simultaneously dead hollow and wildly crazed. It was almost hard to believe this was the same man who had left the house this morning.

"B-Bitch got away." Snapping you out of your stunned stupor, is Toby's voice - gravelly and strained, sounding almost like he had spent the last hour just screaming his lungs out. You blink a few times, feeling as though his very presence has given you whiplash, before squeaking out;

"What?" Your gaze drops down, eyeing the pool of red accumulating beneath his boots, and you have to ask yourself if at least some of it is his, because there's just so much. Also, you're suddenly very happy you chose hardwood over carpets.

"She- fuck! -She got a-away." Toby repeats himself, his shoulders jerking as an involuntary tic wracks his body. You could hear his joints crack and pop as it happened, a noise that you really never got used to, no matter how much you loved him. He takes a step closer, then another, his boots producing a sickening squelch against the floor. "I fuh- fuckin' gutted her like a damn fish, and she g-got away!"

He's looking down at you, wild eyes glinting in the low light of the entryway, and you can't help but shrink a little. You had never seen him like this. Bloodied and bruised, sure, but never drenched in it - body shaking with unspent adrenaline as he recounted what he had done in graphic detail. "Cut her from here-" He poked your belly button through your shirt with a stained finger, the touch making your whole body tense up. "Up to 'er tits, a-and she still got away. F-Fuckin' scooping up her own guts with her hands as she ran." You look up to meet his eyes, and he's already staring dead straight into yours. "C-Can you believe that?"

He goes silent, looking at you expectantly, and it takes you a few moments to realize that he's actually waiting for an answer. You give him a small, jerky shake of your head, and clear your throat.

"No." You manage out, your voice coming out much softer and shakier than you had meant it to. "That... That doesn't make any sense."

Toby lets out a bark of a laugh, hollow and dry - nothing like the warm and soft chuckle that had graced your ears just this morning. It's a chilling sound, almost maniacal in the way he takes in a wheezing breath afterwards, his head tilting backwards as a warped version of a smile stretches across his lips.

"Yeah, n-no shit." He snorts, before stepping around you and stalking into the living room. You follow, because what the hell else are you supposed to do, collecting blood on the soles of your socked feet as you adhere to the gruesome trail he leaves behind. Toby, pays no mind to any of the mess he's creating, too caught up in his own tumultuous mind to realize that it's starting to look like the murder (or, attempted one, you guess) played out here. "Her friends were easy, maybe t-too easy, but I had expected that! S-She wanted to act like she was t-the fuckin' final girl."

He shrugged off the coat he had been wearing over top of his hoodie, the material falling to the ground with a heavy thump before he started trudging over to the couch. You have to bite your tongue. God, was he going to stain that too? "B-But it might be my fault. The first two were so a-agonizingly easy. So buh-boring. Wanted to have a bit of fun with the last one." He flopped back against the couch and, yup, now your sofa is now smeared with blood as well. "Shoulda just lodged my axe between 'er f-fuckin' eyes."

Something about the way he's speaking, so detached from the acts he committed, made your blood run ice cold in your veins. There's a pit in your stomach, and your chest feels tight every time you take in a quivering breath.

His eyes lift to meet yours from where he's sitting on the sofa, and that's when you realize it.

You're scared of him.

Your palms feel clammy, your heart thudding so hard in your chest that it feels like it's bruising your ribs from the inside. You were scared of him. Of Toby. Never, not once in the years you had been by his side, had you ever felt fear run through your veins while in his presence.

Not when you wiped a few little speckles of blood from his face, not when you sat beside him outside as he sharpened his hatchets, not even on one of his bad days when he would get snappy and snide with you.

But right now? Oh, there was no denying the feeling swirling through your veins like a toxin. You were damn near petrified, and oddly - it was exhilarating.

It was hard to explain exactly what avenue your mind went down, but you were pretty sure it went a little something like this: Toby was always so sweet to you, almost sickeningly so, barely letting you get more than a peek into what he did when those orange goggles of his came down over his eyes. He was hardly ever harsh with you, like you were an angel, and he was scared to sully your spotless white wings with his stained hands. Right now, as he sat before you, eyes cold and his skin growing sticky with drying blood, he was the exact opposite of that. Finally, finally, letting you see every part of who he really is, right down to the gory details.

It made something in you stir. Excitement? Awe? You weren't quite sure. All you knew was that the lead in your stomach was moulding into butterflies.

"Well, she's got to be dead." You murmur, approaching him slowly, eyes locked on him as he settles into the couch - legs spread and his head tilting back against the cushions. Fuck. Were you crazy? Why has he never looked hotter? "If what you said is true, she probably didn't make it far before collapsing. Probably died from blood loss, or shock."

You come to stand before him, right between his knees, and the way he stares up at you has your own nearly buckling under the weight of his gaze. "There's no way she lived."

"Y-You'd think, right?" He hums back to you, his voice low as he leans forwards and rests his elbows on his thighs. "And yet I never found her f-fuckin' corpse. She got away after s-socking me in the nose and I just... Never saw her again. Combed that forest for hours." He reached up, pointing a finger at you. "And you know. You know t-that I know those woods like the b-back of my hand. I looked everywhere." You swallow thickly. "Nothin'. No corpse, no blood trail to lead me to her. The bitch went g-ghost."

"She's dead, Toby. She's got to be. There's just no way." You reassure him. Then, slowly, you sink downwards, folding into a kneel on the ground between his thighs. Wanting to be eye-level, but also, wanting to be closer. Despite the blood - because of the blood - you weren't sure. Your mind was a tangled mix of emotions, and all of them were volatile. Toby watches you, his eyes unreadable as his gaze tracks you moving downwards in his line of sight. "I'm sure you got her."

"Yeah, well." He had noticed your shift in demeanour immediately. Through his clouded mind, there was a shred of guilt that had been prodding at him when he caught sight of the fear in your eyes - so sweet and lovely compared to him, like a scared little rabbit cowering before a pack wolf. It was still there, that anxiety, but it was bordered with something else. Something he couldn't quite put a finger on. Or maybe, something he just didn't think was plausible. "I-It's not a job done unless there's a-a body to show for it." He reaches up, wiping away some of the blood that had begun to drip into his eye, smearing it across his skin in consequence. Your heart leaps. "Brian and Tim are pissed. T-Told 'em I could do this one on my own and look what h-happened."

“Well it’s not your fault.” You breathe back to him, holding his gaze as you place a reassuring hand on his knee - looking up at him through your eyelashes. “How were you supposed to know she would practically be immortal?”

Toby laughs dryly and shakes his head, watching you for a moment before he reaches down and pinches your chin between his fingers. You can feel it as the blood smears against your face, and you can smell it - sickly metallic, almost sour. It made your stomach churn.

“Not immortal, just way t-too determined.” His thumb smooths against your cheek, dark brown eyes watching with interest at the stark red mark he leaves against your soft skin. Pretty. He thinks to himself. Real fucking pretty. He really can’t help it when he tightens his grip a little bit, just to feel how soft you are. How fragile you are.

Your eyes widen minutely, and he lets out a soft hum before dragging his hand up the side of your face - painting the canvas that was his pretty girl’s skin. Might even be prettier if it was your own blood. It takes a lot of willpower on his end to squash that thought down.

Toby would never hurt you, he had sworn that to himself on the first day you had met eyes, but he’d be damned if he said he didn’t think about it sometimes. About how your eyes may look, glassy with tears while your face scrunches up in agony. What specific shade of red your blood is. How it tastes. Smells. How it would look smeared across your perfect tits.

Leaving scarlet handprints on your ass, hips, neck, all just to lick you clean afterwards.

He wouldn’t though. He couldn’t. You were far too lovely for that. Far too gentle to be tainted by the likes of someone like him. It was a miracle you hadn’t been already.

It was getting a little difficult to restrain himself though, when you were kneeled before him looking like something pulled straight from a wet dream. So decadently pure, with trails of his sin streaked across your face.

He could fucking eat you whole if you’d let him.

“Toby?” Your voice, soft like spun silk, pulls his thoughts out of the depravity they had been falling into. He tears his eyes away from where his hand met your cheek, and sinks into your irises instead - which might just be a more dangerous route. Wide, like a deer in the headlights you look up at him, with a slight tremble to your bottom lip that makes his stomach feel hot. Makes his whole body feel hot, like you had set him alight with one look.

He doesn’t respond at first, instead just holding your gaze as his hand slips down. Then his eyes are flickering towards the sight of his fingers instead as he presses his thumb to your bottom lip. He swipes across it, smearing blood on your lip like some grotesque form of lipstick - his breathing stuttering when you’re left with the most decadent shade of red against the soft plushness.

“P-Pretty.” Toby can’t stop himself from saying, his voice just above a whisper. As if in a trance, he pushes his thumb past your lips without a second thought, hooking into your jaw and prying your mouth open. You sputter, face immediately scrunching up at the action.

You can taste it, the blood. Somebody else’s blood, drained from some poor victim Toby had incapacitated. It was pungently metallic, just a tad bitter, and it immediately made your stomach twist when it hit your tastebuds. With eyebrows furrowed you pull away from him, watching how a pink-tinged line of spit connects your mouth to his finger before it breaks.

You spit onto the floor beside you, not caring about the mess because there was already so much to clean up. You just needed the taste out of your mouth. Toby though, he had other plans.

There’s still drool dribbling down your chin when his hand seizes your jaw again, tilting your head back to look at him with a force that made goosebumps prickle your skin. “You d-don’t like it?” He asks as he leans forwards a little, wild eyes boring into yours. His fingers dig into your jaw, with a strength he’s never shown on you before, and suddenly you’re wondering just how much he’s been holding back all of this time.

You shake your head once, before clearing your throat.

“Don’t like the taste.” You murmur, trying to ignore the fact that your body was so easily conceding to him. Scared, but still so willing, still so eager. You could feel your skin heating up more and more with each second that ticked by.

Why? You should be pushing him away, right? Shoving him towards the shower and throwing his bloody clothes in the wash. For some reason though, you just couldn’t. You were disgusted by the taste on your tongue, shaking where you kneeled because of the man before you, and yet you couldn’t force yourself to move. Not even out of fear anymore, out of something worse. Something sick and twisted that had been sleeping for a long time, now clawing its way to the surface with jagged nails.

“No?” Toby presses his fingers to your lips again, this time his pointer and middle finger both - watching you with an intensity that made you squeeze your thighs together. You knew what he was doing. He was testing you. Seeing whether you’d take the bait and give in, or stick to your morals and shove him away for the second time.

Right then, you remember what he had said to you earlier that day. ‘Remind me to jog your memory sometime. I’m plenty scary.’

You wanted more proof of that.

And so you meet his eyes, then slowly part your lips. His pupils practically swallow his irises whole, eyes going damn near black before he’s slipping his blood soaked fingers into your mouth.

Again, you get the acrid taste or blood on your tongue, and it makes your stomach turn just like it did the first time. But you don’t push him off this time, you let him push further, further - until you’re gagging when the tips of his fingers hit the back of your throat. “Lügnerin.” He murmurs darkly, watching with a keen interest as you sputter on his fingers - drool pooling at the corners of your lips. “You d-do like it.”

You whimper around the digits, a sound that even you would admit was pathetic, and it just makes Toby’s lips twist into a wicked grin. The rasp of his mother tongue always did something to you, he knew that and he found it so adorable how you just melted for him when he spoke it - even if you didn’t have the slightest clue what he was saying.

This was just like - no, better than - his wildest dreams. You looked so pretty and pitiful. His sweet girl. His angel. Kneeling before him, just begging to be ruined.

How could he ever deny you? “Y-You’re not as innocent as I thought, huh?” He taps his fingers against your tongue, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Lick ‘em clean.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment you completely freeze up - aghast by the command he’d just given you. You couldn’t deny how the low drawl of his voice sent tingles straight down to your gut, leaving you shifting where you sat before him. It was a humiliating thing to realize, but the evidence was there, already dampening your panties.

You were incredibly turned on.

You breathe in a breath through your nose, before closing your lips around his fingers - suctioning to them as you began to gently suck. It was filthy. Your mouth coated with a metallic tang, your tongue scrubbing against his rough callouses. It nearly made you gag, and yet you didn’t stop, you kept going - swirling your tongue around the digits until they were spotless, and you were releasing them with a soft ‘pop’.

“Scheiße..” Toby breathes out, his voice rougher than before as he stares down at you. At his two fingers, now starkly cleaner than the rest of his hand. Your lips are stained even more now, and it’s smeared across your chin and cheek, making you look like such a bloody little mess for him. If you let him go this far, you’d let him push more, right?

He wanted you coated in it. Wanted some of it to be your own. Needed to see what face you made when he broke skin. He knew it would be lovely, every part of you was. “S-Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He murmurs, reaching out to cup the side of your face and squeezing softly. “You really d-do like this.” Toby’s voice sounds almost awestruck, and for good reason. Who would’ve ever guessed you wouldn’t mind, scratch that, you liked seeing him like this? A lot more than you were saying, if the way you keep squirming was anything to go by.

Were you already wet? Dripping slick into your panties just from sucking blood off of his hand? His heart thuds like a drum beat in his chest, and he could feel his cock stir in his jeans just from the thought alone. How much could he push you? Just how far would you let him go?

Hell, even if you stopped him here he thinks he’d be satisfied, because what he had just witnessed was prime jerk off material for fucking years to come - but he couldn’t help but want to push his luck, and see how much he could get from you. “You like s-seeing me like this?” He asks softly. “Like seeing proof of w-what I do?”

His hand trails downwards, tracing the line of your jaw before circling your throat. Not squeezing, just resting there, making its presence known. “Makes y-you realize just how fuh-fuckin’ nice I am to you, hm? C-Could kill you so easy i-if I really wanted to.” Now he squeezes, a gentle yet firm pressure against your throat that has your pulse kicking up a notch. “You’d be d-dead before you even knew w-what happened, baby.”

He tightens his grip a little, enough for you to really feel it, and your breathing stutters because it’s already getting hard to breathe and you know he’s still holding back by a lot. “Or maybe, I’d go slow. J-Just to hear your pretty screams.”

He leans down, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fan against your face, and then he’s asking; “Would you l-let me?” It’s a question that has your heart rate spiking, making goosebumps rise over the entire surface of your skin. It’s enough to render you speechless, and so when you don’t respond, he continues. “Would you let me h-hurt you? I’d never really k-kill you, darlin’. Just wanna see you b-bleed.”

And, fuck. Fuck. Those words seemed to be armed with the intention to go straight to your cunt, and that’s exactly what they do. You can feel it as you just grow wetter, your neglected clit throbbing within the confines of your panties. It was a thin pair, something lacy and sheer (just how Toby liked them) but they still felt like too much. Restrictive. Irritating in the way they were a barrier between you and his bare touch.

Had you always been this much of a freak? Maybe. Maybe that’s why you looked past Toby’s profession so easily. Secretly indulging in the thrill, the danger of sharing a bed with someone like him.

Someone who, as he had just made clear, could end your life on a moment’s notice if he really wanted to. The constant uncertainty of another promised day, the silent wonder of if he’d ever snap on you instead.

You had been wanting this. You just hadn’t fully known it until it was staring you right in the face.

“Yeah.” You end up choking out, the last remnants of your self-respect completely flying out the window. If he wouldn’t actually kill you, maybe this was the safest way to dive into the dark desires growing within you. Maybe you wanted to experience every last thing he had been holding back over the years. What would he do to you? What had he been fantasizing about, unbeknownst to you? The uncertainty of it all, is what was making your blood hot. “If… If you really want to.”

“Oh, I want t-to.” Toby murmured softly as he drags his hand back up to your face, before sliding behind your head and pulling you closer by the nape of your neck. Closer to the crotch of his jeans, which - you had noticed but not commented on - had grown a tent in it since you had begun speaking. He really was into this just as much as you were. You suppose that shouldn’t have been a surprise at all. “D-Do you know?” Closer he draws you in, until your chin is brushing against his fly. “Do you know how many t-times I’ve thought about it? D-Dreamt about it? You screaming for me? Really screaming?”

You swallow down a lump in your throat, and you’re still trembling. Haven’t stopped, ever since you knelt before him. It was intoxicating, how he set your mind and body alight. “Y-You’re just so p-precious. So sweet to me. I never wanted to actually d-do it…” His fingers curl into your hair, gripping the strands tight enough for you to wince. “But if you’re asking me to? I won’t want to stop until you’re b-begging. And even then, I-I might not.”

You might just fucking drool from that warning alone. God, how had you not known he had been restraining himself so heavily around you? You had thought it was in his nature to be gentle and sweet, the acts he committed for the entity he served just being something he had to do. But no. He had been craving this for longer than you could imagine. Probably since the first day you met. Had he always viewed you as prey? “Y-You really want that? I don’t wanna buh-break you.”

He smiles, an expression so sweet it almost feels uncanny for the circumstances. “I love you t-too much for that.”

“I want it.” You say before you can really mill over the thought, pure impulse taking over - the craving too strong. “I want it, Toby. I do.”

He hums softly, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them as he looks you over. You wonder what you look like from his point of view. Bloodied, begging, just centimetres away from his clothed cock. Probably like a feast, and his eyes were flickering like he was just itching to dig in.

“D-Du spielst ein gefährliches spiel, meine Liebe.” And it doesn’t even matter that you don’t know what he’s saying, you can just tell it’s a warning. By the look on his face, how his grip on you tightens to the point of near painful. You know it’s just a taste. He could give you so much more. “Prove it th-then.” He hums softly, finally releasing his hold on you in favour of settling back into the couch cushions once more. He crosses his arms over his chest, cocking an eyebrow as he watches you with an expectant gaze. “Prove that y-you want it, and maybe I-I’ll humour you.”

It was the nonchalance that had you squirming, it was what had your heart racing from the moment you stepped through the door. He wanted this just as much as you did - hell, definitely more than you did - and yet he wasn’t easily cracking like you would’ve expected. It was like he enjoyed the performance of it all, the joy of seeing you sink lower and lower all just to please him. Having his favourite girl beg on her knees for him to paint her crimson? Now isn’t that just a treat.

It takes a moment for you to will your body to move, feeling paralyzed by the sheer potency of dominance radiating off of him. Toby had always been a bit on the commanding side with you in the bedroom, but in a more gentle way.

‘I know you c-can do it for me’.

‘You look so puh-pretty on your knees. Stay just like th-that, okay?”

‘Just a l-little more. You feel so good.”

Tender coaxing. Husky words of encouragement and soft touches to move you how he wanted. You’re realizing though, that may have been a watered down version of how he really wanted to treat you.

You move slowly, your shaking hands raising from your lap to reach for his belt buckle instead. His hips twitch at the action. Eager. Impatient. Your eyes lift to meet his as you start to pull his belt loose, and you feel it as goosebumps raise on the back of your neck - sparking up a chill that travelled all the way down your spine.

Toby was watching you like a hawk, like a predator, tracking each and every movement of yours with a keen interest. It was chilling, really, but the fear just went straight to your core. His belt comes undone, and you don’t even bother pulling it from the loops before you’re popping the button of his jeans.

The fire has died out by now, and the movie you had been playing had finished the ending credits, so it was incredibly silent in the room with him. So much so, that you could hear his every breath. The sound of his zipper being pulled down sounds so incredibly loud. “D-Du bist ein k-krankes kleines ding, nicht wahr?” He’s murmuring right as you’re beginning to tug his briefs down his narrow hips, and he’s normally so cold to the touch - but he’s burning up beneath you right now. “C-Come home c-covered in filth and you j-just drop straight to your knees.”

His cock springs free just inches from your face, and you can’t help but gasp softly. You always felt like you had been blessed when it came to what your boyfriend was endowed with. Long, but not enough to hurt. Thick enough to really feel the stretch. Curved just the right amount, with a vein running up the side and flushed pink at the tip. “Schlampe.” Toby mutters under his breath, right as you feel your mouth start to water.

And you know what that word means. Your eyes dart back up to him immediately, face flushing a deep shade of pink - so perfectly complimenting the blood smeared across your skin.

“I’m not.” You murmur softly as your eyebrows scrunch together, but you close a fist around the base of his length anyway. You hear it when his breathing stutters, and you feel it when his cock jumps at the touch.

“I-I’m not convinced.” He snorts, his eyelids drooping as you pull your hand away to spit into your palm, before returning it to him nice and lubed up. He’s so warm in your hand, already so hard you can feel him throb against your palm. His words make your ears burn, because you know that you’re just proving him right as you lean your head down to lick at the tip.

Toby’s eyes flutter, a satisfied hum rumbling from his chest as you flatten your tongue against him - lapping up all the salty precum that he had already accumulated. God, he tasted good, he always did. Always left you craving more. “D-Du bist eine d-dreckige schlampe.” You’re circling your lips around the head of his cock. “Ich wusste es.”

He’s being mean and you know it, but it just makes you burn hotter as you sink your mouth down onto his length. The drawl to his voice, low and sultry as he spits germanic insults down at you - you can’t help but moan around him as you try to take in more. He’s bumping against the constrictive muscles of your throat, but you can take him if you really put your mind to it. You’ve done it before.

You’re trying to get your throat to relax, breathing in through your nose and getting comfortable - when you suddenly feel a hand on the back of your head. It’s sticky, smearing blood into your soft hair, and then it’s pushing you down.

Immediately your eyes blow open wide as you’re shoved down onto his cock, your throat burning and hot tears immediately springing to your eyes. You gag around him, fingers flying down to dig into his thighs. Your gaze darts up towards him, equal parts bewildered and frantic as you try and blink back the tears. “You were t-taking too long.” He chuckles, his grin wicked and lacking any semblance of remorse. His fingers curl into a fist in your hair, gripping the strands with enough force to make your scalp burn as he pushes you down further - until your nose is bumping against his pelvis. “You wanted this, baby. D-Don’t forget that.”

You can barely breathe, your throat practically convulsing around him as it tries and fails to adjust to the intrusion. Tears cling to your eyelashes before they’re dripping down and landing against Toby’s skin. “Ich liebe es, wenn du weinst.” Even if you squirmed you couldn’t try and get away, the strength of which he’s pushing you down being something you could only dream to fight against. “D-Du siehst so hübsch aus.”

Then he’s yanking you back upwards until just the tip remains between your lips, giving you a second to take in a few gasping breaths through your nose. You try to fill your lungs as much as you can, but it still doesn’t feel like enough when he pulling you down onto him again.

He keeps like that, grip tight on your hair as he bobs your head up and down on his cock, making you taking him to the base each and every time. Your throat feels raw, your ears are fucking ringing, and you can’t see a damn thing through the tears blurring your vision. He’s merciless with it, only giving you seconds at a time to greedily take in air before he’s filling up your throat again.

And yet somehow, you don’t think you’ve ever gotten wetter. Your pussy is throbbing, soaking through your panties and making the fabric cling to your folds. Rubbing your thighs together isn’t even helping, you’re so worked up that it’s nowhere near enough to placate you.

So, as Toby switches to holding your head in place as he bucks his hips up into your drooling mouth, you snake a hand down between your own legs.

Toby, of course, tracks the movement immediately. “Oh, poor baby.” He drawls, his tone dripping with mockery and oh so cruel. “Pussy’s g-gettin’ wet because I’m t-treating you like a wh-whore?” He huffs out, fucking up into your mouth with more vigour and making you let out a strangled whimper. “Du bist so erbärmlich. It’s c-cute.”

You whine around his cock as your fingers slip into your panties, and you waste no time finding your clit and rubbing tight circles against the slick nub. A moan leaves you immediately, vibrating through Toby’s length. He hisses out a curse, his hips stuttering a little at the sensation.

You looked so lovely. Lips stretched around his cock, drool seeping out of the corners of your mouth. Tears streaking your blood smeared skin. Your face flushed a pretty pink shade as you touch yourself almost frantically, brows pinched together in pleasure. It was an image that Toby was sure would be burned into the back of his eyelids for a long time to come.

You were just perfect.

His breathing has grown ragged, heavy huffs of breath leaving his lips each time he fucks deep into your throat. With a hand on each side of your head, your hearing is muffled - the echo chamber of your skull filled with nothing but the obscene ‘schlick, schlick’ of his dick dragging against your tongue.

You’re such a mess that it’s pitiful. There’s a growing pool of your liquids accumulating at the base of his cock and dripping between his thighs - your drool, tears, and even a bit of snot from how brutally he’s been treating your poor face. It’s so filthy, as is the slurping sound you make everytime his length leaves your mouth.

Your fingers pick up the pace - faster, more pressure - chasing the heat brewing low in your gut. Your thighs are shaking, knees aching from kneeling against the hardwood flooring, and it’s so good. So good that you can barely even think anymore, your brain reduced to a puddle of thoughtless mush that sloshed around with each buck of his hips.

Your body feels like it’s on fire. You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before - just a bundle of desperation and need. Shaking from discomfort with an aching jaw, and yet it’s exactly where you wanted to be.

Then suddenly, you’re yanked off of his cock, which hits his stomach with a wet slap. And you’re blinking up at him, fingers stilling as you silently question him on why on earth he’s stopping. You could keep going for hours if he wanted you to, the aches and pains just something that fuelled your desire even more. “G-Get up here.” He huffs out, reaching down to grab at you before you can even process what he’s said. “Ich muss d-dich spüren.”

Your legs are shaky and sore when you rise, but lucky for you, you’re not standing for long. Toby tugs you onto his lap without hesitation, impatient hands clawing at the fabric of the loose shorts hugging your hips. “Ich werde dich zum Schreien b-bringen.” You shift, making it easier for him to tug the shorts off of you along with your soaked panties. With how he’s being, you’re pretty sure he would’ve just ripped them off if you didn’t. “Ich werde dich z-zum Weinen bringen.”

He slides a hand between your legs, a soft growl rumbling from his chest when he feels just how slick and ready you are for him already. “You’re fuh-fuckin’ dripping.” He hisses out, giving no warning before sliding two fingers (the ones you had already sucked clean) into your leaking cunt. You gasp, your pussy fluttering around the digits at the sudden intrusion - hands flying up to grip at the bloodied fabric of his hoodie.

He’s far from gentle, just like how he warned you he’d be, but at least he was stretching you out a little bit. Pumping his fingers into you, curling them in the way he knows you like. Scissoring them wide, impatiently getting you ready to take him all.

And with how you had already gotten yourself so close, it’s a piece of cake for him to finish the job. You let out a whine, eyes screwing shut as the pads of his fingers rub against your gspot, taking you higher and higher until-

“Toby-“ You moan, your head dropping low to rest against his shoulder, the drying blood feeling cold as it smears against your face. You can feel the knot in your gut tying tighter, and when his thumb comes up to play with your already swollen clit - you know you’re done for. “I can’t- I’m gonna-“

“Y-You gonna cum for me?” He rasps out, just doubling his efforts as your lips part in pleasure. His gaze drops down, catching on the way his thumb smears blood against your folds, and his abandoned cock jumps at the sight. “Wunderschön.” He’s breathless when he speaks, even more so when you start to shake in his hold.

Your hips twitch, thighs tremble, and then you’re melting against him as you cum - pressing your face into his neck as a wave of pleasure washes over you from head to toe. It’s so intense that stars dance behind your eyelids, your breath catching in your throat as you choke out a moan against his skin. “T-That’s it.” Toby murmurs. “Schönes Mädchen.”

He pulls his fingers from you, leaving you whimpering at the loss - but it’s not for long. He grabs you by the waist, tugging you close until you’re positioned right over his leaking cock. “Y-You’re so p-perfect for me.” He murmurs as he reaches down to take hold of himself, swiping the tip through your slick and getting it nice and wet. “Ich liebe dich.”

You know that one too. “I love you more.” You breathe back to him, and then your brows are pinching together as he slowly lowers you down onto him. Even with the small amount of prep he’s given you, it’s still a stretch, making your breathing stutter as you sink down inch by inch - swallowing him up with your sopping wet pussy.

“S-So tight.” He hisses out, grip like a vice on your hips as you take everything he gives you. “F-Fuck, you’re a d-dream.”

You squirm a little once you’re fully seated, your thighs meeting his. He’s pressed right up against your gspot, a constant pressure that sends sparks of pleasure up your spine. He’s so perfect, everything you could ever need and then some. You feel filled to the brim, your walls pulsing around him to the time of your heart beat, eyes glazed over as you raise your head from his neck to look at him.

He smiles. Bloody, crooked, and yet somehow so incredibly charming. Toby gives the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen him produce, as if he wasn’t six inches deep in your blood smeared body. “You look so g-good like this.” He hums, trailing his hands up your sides and bringing your shirt with it, before tugging it off of you completely. Braless, your nipples perk up once they’re exposed to the cold air, and it just makes his grin widen before he’s bringing his palms to your chest.

He kneads the soft flesh, leaving streaks and bloody fingerprints against them, and just like that - he thinks he’s fallen in love all over again. “My girl.” He murmurs as he rolls his hips up, pressing into you more. “My baby.”

Calloused palms slide down the expanse of your abdomen, then settling on your hips again and giving a squeeze. You were so soft. So soft, warm, and pretty. And your pussy - so wet and hot around him, your walls clinging to him like they’ve been molded to the shape of his cock. He could drown in you if you’d let him. “Lettin’ me g-get you all buh-bloody.” He drags against your sensitive core as he pulls you upwards, eyes locked on you face - watching each little change of your expression. “Gonna l-let me give you mo-more? I-Ich möchte dich s-schmecken.”

“More, Toby.” You whimper, voice trembling. Whatever he’s willing to give you, you want. Screaming, crying, breathless - you don’t care. You’ll give it all to him.

“D-Du bist reizend.” He breathes out, just seconds before dropping you onto his length. He fills you up again in such a swift movement it nearly knocks the wind out of you completely, but you don’t even have time to catch your breath. The pace he picks up is just as ruthless as the treatment he had given your throat.

Fast snaps of his hips, deep thrusts, fucking up into you like it’s his only mission in life. It feels like he’s punching the moans out of your lungs, hitting so deep on every stroke that it makes your vision blur around the edges. You can do nothing but take it, your cunt drooling all over him as he bounces you on his lap like a doll.

Toby, is absolutely captivated. You are everything right now. Better than his wildest dreams. The most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Mouth dropped open as you cry out and gasp for breath, skin glistening with sweat and streaks of scarlet. Tits bouncing with each thrust, skin rippling in the most enticing way.

He needs to sink his teeth in, and so he does.

With your eyes squeezed shut from pleasure, you don’t even get a warning before he leans forwards and bites down on your neck. Hard.

Immediately, the pain that blossoms from his teeth is something that has your eyes snapping open - momentarily sobering you up and clearing your mind. When he breaks skin, you scream.

A real, genuine, straight from the soul scream. It’s ripped from you, your cunt tightening around him as your whole body tenses up. The feeling of his blunt teeth biting so hard that they tear skin, is something you don’t think you’ll ever forget. It’s a searing pain. The kind that makes your mouth go dry as all the air leaves your lungs.

Instinctively, you reach your hands up to push at his shoulders to free yourself, but he doesn’t budge. If anything, he just bites down harder. Toby moans against you with a mouthful of flesh, snapping his hips up into you harder, his grip tight to keep you right where he wanted you. No amount of struggle or pushback was fazing him. He was so drunk on the taste of you, and the sound of your screams, that every protest was falling on deaf ears.

His jaw finally relaxes, and then he’s pulling away - slowly pulling his teeth from the stark puncture wound now standing out against your previously unmarred neck. He watches as the blood pools in the deepest parts of the wound, then beads up before it drips down - down, over your collarbone, across your chest, sliding down the slope of your breast. Fuck, this is so much better than his dreams.

“Toby-“ You cry as fresh tears well up in your eyes - salty and hot, just like the blood staining Toby’s tongue. Your neck was throbbing, and with how he just kept impaling you on his dick over and over despite your cries, you were beginning to feel a little dizzy. It was a lot for your body to handle, maybe too much. But you’d be damned if you backed down now.

Toby looked feral. You catch his gaze and you swear your heart stops. You’ve seen him in the heat of the moment more times than you could count, but never like this. He looked… Deranged. Absolutely intoxicated by you, and fully sinking into that fact. His pupils were blown wide behind drooping lids, lips smeared with your blood as they stretch into a satisfied smile.

“D-Du schmeckst so s-süß.” His right hand slides downwards, meeting your clit once again with ease. Giving you a few, soothing circles. “I-Ich könnte dich l-lebendig essen.”

Toby seats you back on his dick fully, and then your worldview flips. It’s only once your back hits the couch cushions, that you realize he’s picked you up and pinned you down. “Y-You know how puh-pretty you sound when you scream?” He asks as he shimmies off his jeans fully, staying pressed as deep as possible the entire time. “And those t-tears.. Fuck, y-you’re gorgeous.”

He nuzzles against your neck as he gets comfortable between your legs again, putting a pressure against the bite mark that made you wince. It had just started to settle down from a blinding pain to a dull throb, but it feels like he’s reignited it all over again. “Ich glaube, ich ha-habe vorhin gelogen.” With one hand on your stomach and one on your waist, he’s got your trapped beneath him. “Ich möchte d-dich wirklich b-brechen.”

You feel a tongue against your neck as he begins to rock his hips once more. Gentler this time, finally giving your body a chance to relax. Toby laps up the blood from your neck as he fucks you with slow, shallow strokes, muffling his moans against your skin. Your body arches up into him, your chest meeting his, and you’re gasping right next to his ear. It’s the strangest feeling, having his tongue dip into the pits of the wound he had just made, but the sharp sting is almost welcome. It just feels so… Comforting. Intimate.

Like you’ve never been closer.

Toby pulls his head back, fluffy strands of hair falling against his forehead as he watches you from above. You look like a damn work of art, a sight that makes his breath catch. His gaze travels down to focus on the image of your pretty pussy swallowing him up over and over. Stretching around him. Leaving him glistening with slick everytime he pulled out. Then, his eyes lift, and he’s focusing on the blood smearing your stomach and chest. Higher, his eyes trace the shape of the mark he left on you. Finally, they stop at your face - contorted in pleasure and streaked with tears. “Y-You’re so b-beautiful.” He gasps out, nails sinking into your skin as he starts pulling your body back to meet his thrusts.

Your body shifts and slides against the couch cushions, already damp with sweat and blood. He’s got you taking his whole length again, making sure to bury himself to the hilt on every single stroke - his pelvis bumping against your clit. “I love you.” He moans softly to the melody of his skin hitting yours. His voice is so sweet and gentle, just like in the morning. A reminder that he was still the exact same man.

“I-I love you, Toby.” You choke out, just barely getting the words out between gasps and moans. You were nearing another peak. Could feel it brewing and growing hotter with each snap of Toby’s hips. His hands slip down and around to your ass, large palms splaying against each cheek and keeping you nice and spread open while he gets lost in your heat.

You just barely see it through your hazy vision as he leans down once more, but you notice his lips parting. At least this time, you’re getting a bit of a heads-up.

His teeth meet your skin again, this time your shoulder, and he bites down so quick it takes a moment for the pain to even register. But once it does, it’s even worse than the last one. Again, you yelp, crying and squirming beneath him hopelessly as he sinks his canines deeper into your flesh. Right into the muscle, it feels like, when his jaw locks into you harder.

It’s excruciating. A blinding pain that makes your head feel fuzzy. What you were feeling right now, with Toby latched onto your shoulder while he pounded into you, was something you couldn’t quite understand. Did you hate this, or love it? Did you want to push him away, or draw him in closer? Was it pain or pleasure?

The answer to each question, was a resounding ‘I don’t know’.

Your body seemed to decide before your mind did though, because you find yourself reaching up for him with a trembling hand. Into his hair your fingers thread - not tugging or pulling, just cupping the back of his head. Holding him there as he tears at your flesh. You think you would do the exact same thing even if he started pulling meat from bone.

You feel like you’re melding into him, becoming one as the warmth of your blood drips down into his throat. The pain started to do something funny as he released your shoulder before biting down again just a few inches below. It wasn’t distracting from the pleasure anymore, it was heightening it. Two opposites swirling together to form something new and exhilarating.

Toby notices the moment it happens, feeling how you relaxed so sweetly into his brutal hold. His nails bite into your hips, surely leaving scratches and bruises behind - just a few more marks to add to the collection he’s already given you.

“P-Perfect.” He breathes once he pulls back again, mouth smeared with blood and his teeth stained with it. Toby looked like a rabid beast in your eyes, and you were his willing victim. He wasn’t all violence and ferocity though, you could tell as you looked into his eyes through your blurry vision. His gaze was teeming with nothing but love. A tad obsessive, a little warped, but love nonetheless.

It makes your heart swell. “Y-You’re everything t-to me, you know that?” He tells you softly, rolling his hips deeper as he feels your walls start to flutter around him. Your blood drips down his jaw, glinting in the low light of the living room. You don’t think he’s ever looked more handsome.

Without a thought in your mind, you pull him in with the hand you still have placed on the back of his head - pressing your lips to his in a messy kiss. You can taste your own blood, even more so when he slips his tongue past your parted lips with a groan. It’s sloppy and crude, blood and drool smearing against both of your faces as you drink each other in. “Wenn ich ein b-besserer Mann wäre, würde ich d-dich heiraten.” He gasps against you after pulling away minutely, such filthy noises spilling from his lips and falling straight into yours. “Du verdienst alles.”

Your fingers fist into his hair, now gripping hard enough that you know it would hurt him if he could feel it. But he couldn’t, so you just tug harder as his length slides against your convulsing core.

“Toby-“ You cry in an attempt to warn him of your impending release, but he doesn’t even need you to.

“I-I know, baby. I know.” Toby groans, then leaning in just a little closer again to catch your bottom lip between his teeth. You’re expecting it now before he even spilts it with his canines. You can’t even taste it when blood gushes into your mouth, your tastebuds already completely coated in that metallic tang. “G-Give it to me.” He rasps out once he tears his teeth from the supple flesh.

And you do, you give him everything. One hand pulling his hair until his scalp went raw, and the other one clawing at his bicep - you tumble over the edge for the second time in a flurry of gasps and moans. Your legs lock around his hips, squeezing him tight as your cunt just squeezes harder - pulsing around him, sucking him in like you never wanted to let him go.

You didn’t. You could die like this and be a happy woman. “A-Ah, fuck.” Toby groans out, head dropping low as he fucks into you with even more vigour. Chasing his own release while prolonging yours. With stars in your eyes and ears ringing, your body trembles beneath him as his hips begin to stutter.

And you suppose you should’ve predicted what he did next. Right as you feel him start to throb inside you, he reaches for your hand and yanks it from where it had been gripping his shoulder. Toby seizes your wrist, letting out a gravelly moan just before he presses his lips to your forearm.

Teeth break skin again right as you feel him spill inside you. Hot ropes of his release, pulled in deep by your still convulsing body. Even hotter waves of painful pleasure washing over you like he had cast a spell.

His thrusts go lazy, still pumping into you as his spend gushes out around his softening cock - just adding to the mess you’re already coated in. He pulls out of your body first, then tugs his teeth from your arm second.

When he looks back to you, you feel your joints go gooey. His eyes are so warm and satisfied as he parts his lips, holding your gaze as his tongue darts out to lick at your newest wound. It’s comforting in the strangest way, and it’s the sickest form of sweetness when he’s pressing kisses to it just moments later.

He does that for every single one. Peppering kisses against each tooth shaped indentation, lapping at the blood until you’re left (relatively) clean. Raw, red puncture wounds that had already begun to swell, but each kiss makes the throbbing dull.

“S-Sorry.” He murmurs softly, lips brushing against your sensitive skin. “Y-You don’t even ha-have to say it. I know I-I went too far.”

Your body feels like it’s been drained of all of its energy, weak and sore all over, but you still force yourself to shake your head. Your arms feel like they’re made of lead when you lift them, pain rippling from your neck downwards - but you wrap them around him anyway.

“No you didn’t.” You whisper back, with a throat so raw that your voice comes out hoarse. “I’m alright.”

Toby relaxes a little at your gentle reassurance, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and letting out a shaky sigh.

“Y-You sure?” He asks, just to be certain. You were still trembling, muscles sore and stiff as you held him close. “I-If you hate me now, I wouldn’t buh-blame you.”

You let out a short breath through your nose and shake your head again.

“I could never hate you.”

—————————————————————————☆

the toby brainworms were eating me alive so I started writing this and then just kept writing and writing and ended up with 10k words of pure filth

if my invite request ever gets accepted on ao3 I’ll post it there too but for now this is a tumblr exclusive lols

thanks for reading! ♡

[writesvani]

coming down | teaser

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to- enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): underage use of marijuana and cigars, underage drinking, use of illegal substances, anorexia and obsessive dieting, calorie deficit, mentions of self-destructive behavior, angst, emotional manipulation and trauma, toxic friendship dynamics, self-esteem issues and body image, unresolved romantic tension, past betrayal and unrequited love, sexual harassment (implied in some interactions), foul language and explicit content, derogatory language, including use of "puss" and other insults, toxic romantic relationships and behavior, references to manipulation and control in relationships, most characters are morally gray, flawed, and engage in problematic behavior, complex, imperfect characters who make questionable decisions, characters often act in ways that challenge traditional moral boundaries and ethics. 

THESE CHARACTERS ARE NOT MEANT TO BE PERFECT AND IDOLIZED.

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST

— next chapter

wc: 2,4k // date: 4th of March 2025

TEASER — Wicked Games; proceed with caution...

AN: OKAY OKAY OKAY WOW HERE SHE IS. i don’t know what the hell I’m writing - i mean i do but i don’t if that makes sense - this, this fanfic is literally gonna be my baby. it’s inspired by a lot of people i know, it’s partly inspired by my life as well - not gonna tell you which bits of it tho haha. but i’m so excited. honestly this isn’t even chapter one - i’m thinking more of it as a teaser for what’s about to come and when i tell you a lot is coming you better believe it. but this is going to be a part of me - something raw and something real and i know this won’t be an easy read - as you can see by the triggers but i truly, really hope you guys will like it as much as I enjoy writing it. because i’m obsessed. i just got sucked in by y/n and gojo’s dynamic of hatred and toxicity, they’re on my mind 24/7.

i love them.

i hate them.

i wanna be them and i’d hate it if i ended up becoming them at the same time.

love, vani 🩷

"No, I’m not going."

"Yes, you totally are."

"No, I’m not, Yumi. I’m dead serious."

"Y/n, for the love of Christ, I love you, but if you don’t stop bitching about it right now, there will be consequences. Now, get your ass up and get ready," Yumi huffed, arms crossed.

You narrowed your eyes before rolling them—more dramatically than you intended. Not your most mature moment, but being forced to go to that party, in that house, didn’t exactly put you in a good mood.

"Look, Yu, I don’t care about that stupid party your—what’s his name again?—boyfriend is throwing for us. Truthfully, I’d rather be buried alive in that creepy graveyard we smoke pot in. Alone. No pot. You get my point."

"His name is Nanami," she deadpanned. "And he’s throwing us a party for our birthday, which we share. It’s not like I have the option to skip it, you know. Besides, we always celebrate our birthday together."

Yumi’s voice softened as she tilted her head, giving you that look—the one she knew you couldn’t resist. "Please, please, please. Let’s just go, smoke some weed, listen to those weird-ass tunes you play when you get too baked, wait for midnight, blow out the candles, and leave. Bonus points if Nanami fucks me tonight."

She smirked before adding, "Plus, Gojo’s gonna be there, and everyone knows about your little crush on him."

You scowled. As if that could make this stupid party any better.

But again… she wasn’t wrong.

Somehow, in the middle of a crowded classroom filled with acne-scarred faces and nervous energy, you and Yumi ended up sitting together. two total strangers. two tangled-up disasters shoved into plastic chairs, thrown together by sheer chance or some kind of cosmic joke.

She was tall and slim, chain-smoking weird American cigars in the school’s piss-scented bathroom stalls during five-minute breaks.

You liked her immediately.

She liked cigs.

You liked pot.

She liked Arctic Monkeys or any other type of music that ended up overplayed by overdramatic tumblr girls at midnight.

You listened to Trilogy like it was gospel.

She didn’t give a shit about school. Skipped class constantly to drink cheap coffee at some run-down café that reeked of nargila and regret.

You somehow pulled good grades—yet skipped with her anyway, so she wouldn’t feel lonely.

And then, the kicker.

You shared the same birthday.

Same day. Same year. Two hours apart. What were the odds? Some kind of cruel cosmic irony, maybe. A glitch in the universe where it spat out two unhinged messes at the same time, doomed to find each other.

You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that Yumi was fucked up.

She didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Just smoked.

Cigs and all.

Pot and all.

You, on the other hand, slept too much. Ate just enough—tracking every bite to make sure it fit inside your carefully calculated calorie deficit, of course.

And yeah, you were fucked up too.

But at least you weren’t alone.

You were fucked up together, and somehow, that made perfect sense.

And now, after years of being two walking disasters—two mistakes of nature (and probably your parents' biggest regrets)—you are finally in college.

What you didn’t expect was Yumi getting a boyfriend. And sticking to him. Yumi didn’t do relationships. they were too much, she once told you.

Too heavy.

You understood. Why let anyone waste their time trying to fix something that wasn’t fixable? Why let anyone peel back the layers when there was nothing to find? no deep-seated trauma, no unspeakable tragedy, no emotional constipation. just plain, old you—coasting through life on gold marlboro touch and iceberg salad.

You assumed Yumi felt the same. you used to get each other.

But now? Yumi had a boyfriend. And not just any boyfriend—some weirdly handsome senior that got every girl on campus tripping over themselves. A guy who, for some unknown reason, had decided to settle down with the second-year that half the school had definitely jacked off to.

And you?

You were still there, of course.

“You know what? Fine,” you finally huffed, shoving your hands in your pockets. “We’re going. But—” you held up a finger, “The shit he’s getting better be good or i’m out. And—” another finger, “Btw, how is The Weeknd ‘weird girl’ music? The best music to get high is literally from an artist who made it while high. like, really?”

Yumi just raised an eyebrow, already knowing she’d won.

“And—” your third and final finger shot up—“One condition. No Gojo. Np looking at him, no talking about him, and god forbid, talking to him, okay?”

Yumi grinned like the little devil she was. She knew she had you.

And she loved it.

You’re going. and somehow, somehow, you already know Yumi’s going to break the Gojo rule. And you already hate yourself for saying yes.

Gojo, Gojo, Gojo. That foxy, smirking little minx you’ve somehow tucked away in a small, stupid pocket of your heart. Nanami's best friend.

Stupid hot and wicked smart.

One look from Gojo Satoru and half the campus is already on their knees, mouths open, waiting for the tip to slide in. one touch, and you’re pretty sure girls would be cumming fully clothed.

Truthfully? You get it.

Gojo has that whole walking sexual fantasy turned nonchalant icy prince thing going for him. you would’ve hitched your skirt up and let him fuck you senseless too—if he asked.

Would’ve.

But Gojo Satoru did something no other man had ever dared to do.

He bruised your ego.

You’d never admit it, of course. Not out loud. Not even to yourself. But the way his offhanded you’re not my type had clutched at your chest, had sunk deep into the tenderest, most pathetic part of you—yeah. It stung.

Who the hell was he to say you weren’t his type?

Yes, fine, he was hot. really, really hot.

But so were you.

You’ve got that thing going for you—the great student, everyone loves me act, while secretly (well, not so secretly, except to your oblivious teachers) getting high and fucking emotionally unavailable men on the weekends.

Your favorite trope, honestly.

You’ve got those pretty—as guys love to say—puppy eyes and that lethal eyelashes combo that makes people practically eat from the palm of your hand.

So why the hell would he say you weren’t his type?

For fuck’s sake, Gojo Satoru fucks anything with two legs and a vagina.

And the cherry on top? He didn't even say it to your face. No, he just let those humiliating little words slip at some party you weren’t even at.

Thank god for that. You’re pretty sure you would’ve died right then and there if you had to hear those ridiculous words fall from his pretty pink lips in real time.

But of course, Yumi—your second-in-command, your ever-dutiful bringer of bad news—had called you immediately.

Campus sex god gojo satoru, not finding you attractive enough?

The scandal.

To make things even worse, you’re pretty sure everyone knows you’d totally give it to Gojo Satoru.

You may have drunkenly admitted it—once, before the whole “not his type” fiasco—to some random girl in a club bathroom who smelled way too much like puke and way too little like vanilla.

And of course, of fucking course, the gossip spread through campus like wildfire before you could even try to kill it.

So yeah. going to your own birthday party?

Humiliating.

Annoying.

Absolutely a horrible idea.

But still… there’s this slow burn inside of you, this creeping anticipation.

The kind that tells you tonight might just be interesting.

And a little drama never hurt anyone, right?

…Right?

—

Nanami's house is not what you expected.

You don’t even know what you expected, but definitely not this.

Yumi did mention he doesn’t live on campus—he’s one of those guys, apparently. Still lives with his parents or something.

Lame. Booo. Throwing tomatoes.

Because seriously—what twenty-something man still lives with his parents?

But you definitely didn’t expect nanami’s house to be this posh.

Or this proper.

Or this… fucking expensive.

Because, what the actual fuck—nanami is rich.

Like, could-buy-you-off-the-dark-web rich.

Probably in exchange for the mahogany table you’re currently pouring tequila shots on.

Or maybe just for that obnoxiously huge, icy couch stretching across the living room.

or, hell, even for his kitchen alone.

What. The. Fuck.

But then—on that same absurdly expensive couch—something else catches your eye.

Legs sprawled out in the kind of lazy man-spread that screams confidence, scrolling through his phone like he owns the place, is a man.

Dark.

Tall.

And very, very hot.

Something dark and thrilling rushes through you at the thought of dragging him into Nanami’s parents’ bedroom and riding him until he can’t take it anymore.

But before you can act on it—

“Geto Suguru.”

Yumi’s voice is in your ear, a warning.

“He has a girlfriend, so don’t even try.”

Her fingers tug at your elbow. You retaliate immediately, poking her ribs in response.

He looks up.

His shadowy eyes roam over you—slow, deliberate.

A half-smile, half-smirk tugs at his lips.

Ha.

There he is.

Good boy.

He wants it.

He wants you.

"Well, I don’t see her here, do I?"

Your voice is a whisper, teasing, as you throw a smirk at Yumi before stepping forward—gracefully, leg before leg, closing the space between you and him.

He’s still sitting.

You don’t even have to look at his face to know he’s already watching you.

Slowly, your eyes travel downward.

The soft material of his white polo stretches taut over the sculpted lines of his stomach, the fabric clinging in all the right places. Your gaze lingers, just a second too long, before moving up—finally settling on his lips.

For a moment, there’s silence.

Then, just as the tension starts to settle, he shifts—fumbling with the left pocket of his jeans.

You blink.

…Okay.

Not so hot anymore.

What the hell is he doing?

But then—

but then—

he pulls something out.

A white tissue—crumpled, worn.

You almost scoff, about to ask if this is some weird, half-assed magic trick—until you see it.

Tiny specks of green peek through the folds.

Your breath catches.

Weed.

A lot of weed.

Holy fucking shit.

You swear your mouth waters.

It’s tucked inside that questionably old tissue—and you pray, dear God, that he didn’t blow his nose in it.

Then, in that slow, deep voice—smooth like velvet, laced with a promise—he finally speaks.

"Five grams. Homemade."

He speaks for the first time, and in that moment, you're absolutely sure you're about to get high off his pot—and then, well, he's going to be the one getting high off you.

"Heard you smoke. Thought you’d want to."

Geto’s voice is low, his words soft, but the way his arm brushes your hip bone—effortlessly, casually—sends a spark through your veins.

Some might say it’s a coincidence.

But you know better.

Nothing, nothing, is ever a coincidence when it comes to men like him.

And now, now, you want it even more.

Before you can say anything, someone else interrupts.

“Yo, Suguru, I’ve been watching you all night, man. Why the fuck you sitting in the living room like some NPC loser?”

You scoff, catching the teasing tone of the voice.

"Satoru, you’re stepping on my last nerve again. Let me chill for a bit. I wanna mentally prepare before rolling with all you incompetent losers," Geto responds, his voice still calm, but there's a hidden edge to it that makes you think he doesn't mind the banter.

"There, there, boy. I just missed my best friend so much I had to see why you left the billiard room, you know? Just love spending time with you, bestie."

"You know, licking my ass won’t make me give you some of this before I try it myself. Plus, I’ve got company, as you can see." Geto’s voice drips with annoyance, cutting through the otherwise tense air in Nanami’s living room.

You don’t need to turn around to know exactly who’s standing behind you. His presence is undeniable, his scent suffocating in the best way, and that energy—God, that energy—that pulses in any room he steps into.

And then, of course, there’s the voice. That annoyingly attractive, rough drawl that always gets under your skin.

“I can see that, but I still don’t approve of you ditching your homies for some cheap pussy,” Gojo says, the mockery clear in his voice.

And that’s when you finally, finally, decide to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

What the fuck?

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Sure, being told you weren’t his type stung—but this? Calling you cheap? Who the hell does this guy think he is? What gives him the audacity to insult you to your face—well, more like to your back, but still, it stings all the same.

A chuckle rumbles through the room. You don’t stop yourself in time. You hear your own voice, but it doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

How dare he. After everything—after all the hurt he’s caused you.

Again. And again.

You tell yourself it doesn’t bother you, yet the words slip out before you even realize what’s happening.

As if you could have stopped them. As if you could have ever stopped anything with him.

After all, Gojo Satoru always had a knack for pushing your buttons exactly the way he wanted.

“Cheap, but could make your dick hard by one high school kiss in your mom’s closet. Could make you whimper out my name in your favorite teacher’s classroom. Could make you cum down your uniform just by biting your lip. We’re a little past being cheap, don’t you think Sato?” 

Because before all of this—before the "not his type" catastrophe, and your drunken confessions—there was you.

And there was Gojo.

Best friends since birth. A bond that was never supposed to break. But then came senior year—the year everything changed.

You made a mistake. The terrible, stupid, earth-shattering mistake of letting things blur into something more. You slept together. Multiple times. You told yourself it was just a phase. Just a mistake. But deep down, you both knew it was more than that.

But no. There was an even worse mistake than all of this.

Falling in love.

And then, the biggest tragedy of all: letting each other down.

You weren’t supposed to end up here. But somehow, here you are. Caught in the wreckage of a love that never really had a chance.

[soggyriceee]

girl, let’s be so fr—your readers are feral for König begging. Like, we want that man on his knees, sweating, whimpering, looking up like we’re his last damn meal. We EAT that shit up, no crumbs left.

WE NEED PART 2 CHOCOLATE AFRODISIAC, STAT!

same plot as the first one, except he’s giving you the chocolate. side note i went back and re read the first part and realized i wrote it the opposite way the reader wanted it in so sorry literally blow my house up it’s ok

konig learned very quickly where you got that chocolate from. and he wasted no time getting himself some. he enjoyed that time, and wanted to recreate it again.

tonight was you guys’ 4 year anniversary. long time to be just boyfriend and girlfriend sure, but Konig wanted to be the husband who was around. he was gone too much, to even give you a proper wedding and honeymoon. he promised he’d settle down and find a job that didn’t require him to be away for up to a year.

but anyways, the day was perfect. you woke up to the tall man between your legs, fucking his tongue into you like he’d never get to again. not that this was much different than how you woke up usually, but this time it was filled with more. love.

lunch was at home, homemade chicken sandwiches and fries. the first meal you both made together when you moved in with him. a nap was defiently had and then it was time for dinner.

he took you to a very fancy, seaside reasturant. it was beautiful, one of the reasturants you’d sent him in fact.

you were oblivious to the chocolate covered strawberries konig made while cleaning up lunch, even more oblivious to what was IN the chocolate. konig was excited, already feeling himself pulse in his pants as he drove you both home.

you were already tipsy, the two cups of wine already getting you in a mood. konig looked so handsome driving, his muscles outlines against his shirt. his eyes, so glossy and big. he was hard to look away from, in a good way. but that of course made him nervous.

when you both got home, konig insisted on eating some chocolate before showering. “come on.. by the time you get out you’ll be too tired. i worked hard on them.” he pouted, hoping out the tray. they did look nice, the white chocolate drizzled on. you couldn’t say no.

you ate about 5, caught up in the convo. the wine didn’t help either. by the time you both had reached the last two, you began to feel a bit off. but, a good off. you quickly picked up on what was potentially happening, but you chose to play dumb.

the dumb act didn’t play long tho. by the time you both got to the showers konig was bulging out his pants. he was rubbing all on you, punching your nipples through your silk dress.

you’d lean into his touch, biting your lip as your habds ran up and down under his shirt. you felt every scar, ever burn. what he was once saw as an imperfection, you made a perfection.

“you.. drugged me, huh” you slurred, looking up at him. his hands made their way under your dress, biting his lip as he slid your panties down your legs. “maybe.. what would you do if i did?” he asked, cupping your ass.

you smiled up at him, tapping your chin with your finger. “might have to call the cops..” you answered, giggling. “oh really?”

he kicked your legs apart, your hands gripping the counter behind you. he dropped to his knees, a deep sigh coming from him as he pushed the skirt of your dress up to your hip. you instinctively put your foot on his shoulder, leaning back.

he disappeared under your dress, kissing your pussy gently while holding the back of your thighs. he hummed as his tongue trailed up and through your folds, eyes shut closed. “so wet already.. i don’t even have to do much maus..” hed say from under your dress, a pathetic whine coming from you.

your head pressed against the mirror, eyes closed as you pulled your bottom lip through your teeth. your fingers worked on nipples, squeezing and pulling the sensitive nubs.

“need.. need more Koni please~” you’d whine, pushing his head away. he was doing great of course, but the chocolates and wine were working quick and you wanted to feel him stretch you out more than anything right now.

“come on libe i wanna taste you some more.. make sure your really ready for me..” his finger would slide through your folds, chuckling at how your hips jerked back.

his fingers would slide into your hole, hissing at the filthy squelch that came from you. he bit his bottom lip, watching as his finger got coated in your juices. “gosh you’re so easy mause..”

youd huff at his comment, pulling his fingers away from you before pushing him back so he rested against the wall. he watched as you sat in his lap, taking his belt and undoing his pants. his cock would spring right up, tip bright red and oozing pre cum.

his hands found their way to your hips, licking his lips in anticipation. as much as you wanted to tease him, make him look like the easy one, you were desperate and didn’t have too much of a care. you needed him stretching you out, and you didn’t plan on waitinf much longer.

your hips would rise, his tip sliding through your sticky folds. “mm.. come on libe push it in for me..” hed say softly, one hand sliding up and down your spine.

your hands would grip onto his shoulders, holding eye contact as his tip first made its way in. your eyes would unfortunately squeeze shut, breaking eye contact, and halting your hips. “oh come on you know you can take it libe.”

he’d grip onto your hips, pushing himself up into you. of course you could take it, but it would take a minuet. he forgets the girth and length of himself sometimes, but he never does it on purpose!

your nails would dig into his shoulders, a painful cry escaping your plump lips. “konig please- y-you know it.. hurts for a bit.”

he’d roll his eyes tho, pulling you into his chest before guiding your hips up and down with ease. he’d press his head to the wall behind him, feeling how your cunt pulsed around him. it was so sexy how he moved you how he wanted, like you weighed nothing. you were his own personal fleshlight every time you both had sex, except he always made sure you creamed on him first before he got his release.

“just like that baby.. you got it..” hed pant, watching you with hooded eyes. he’d take one hand, cupping your boob and playing with your sensitive nubs. your hips moved on their own, the pain slowly fading into pleasure. “i.. i’m already so close.” you’d gasp, opening your eyes to look at his dark ones.

“yea?… go ahead baby.” hed nod, pinching your nipple. his other hand made its way to your clit, rubbing gentle circles against that bundle of nerves.

his tip would push right up against your cervix, making your toes curl. the eye contact between the both of you was intense, his dilated pupils never leaving your equally dilated ones.

your lips pressed against his roughly, bouncing slower on him as you felt your orgasm begin to take control over your body. “that’s it baby that’s it.. keep going im so close.” hed coo, watching as you came undone above him.

but your hips couldn’t keep up, your body was going numb. he’d grunt before holding you against his chest, and laying you on the cold bathroom floor. his hands would find their place on your hips before thrusting himself in and out of you.

boy how he loved what those chocolate strawberries and wine was doing to you. he loved how eager you were to fuck him, how wet and slimy your pussy was right now. he didn’t want it to stop at all. “k-konig it hurts.” you cried from below, habds pressing on his chest.

but konig didn’t care. he’d look down at you, at your pussy. his cock was covered in your cum, a mess all over the floor and his pelvis. he’d mutter curses in german, squeezing his eyes closed as he tried to make this feeling last. “i’m hurting you? this pussy hurts huh?” he asked, getting off on the idea that his cock was hurting you.

you’d nod frantically, trying to push his body away. “p-please it’s too much!” you’d cry, your pussy pulsating violently arouns him.

a deep growl would come from the man, his hand finding its way to your throat. “fuck i love hurting you libe.. makes me wanna.. wanna cum so.. fuck-“

he couldn’t even hold it anymore, shooting his ropes deep into your cunt. it took him by surprise, a pathetic whine leaving his lips.

his arms would tense besides you, as his legs shook besides your legs. you pretended not to notice, for the sake of his own embarrassment. his eyes remained shut, panting above you as he pulsed inside you.

maybe, you just needed a few seconds of rest, because the sight of such a burly man above you, physically weak because of you made your pussy pulsate all over.

“koni..” you’d say so innocently. “let’s get in the shower now.. i need more.”

he quickly began to rethink your sex drive, and just how much those chocolates may have increased it

bae i’m so sorry this took so long, i refused to post another work until my master list was up to date

[vaguely-concerned]

To the ‘themes I am picking up on in Veilguard’ list, let's go ahead and add what I have a sneaking suspicion will actually turn out to be The theme:

— the world has changed and can never be as it was again.

— I have been changed and can never be who I was again.

— in this simple unavoidable truth there is endless grief and endless hope.

And I… may be getting a bit emotional about it haha. Let me show my work a bit: 

if da:o is a game about people who are already dead or half ghosts in some form (through societal forces, psychologically, functionally, literally, in body, through the joining etc.) coming together anyway to save the world from being swallowed by total nihilism and despair (symbolized by the blight) through the power of love and friendship and also this sword/potential heroic sacrifice that I found, da2 is a game about people who have lost their homes and been set adrift finding and building new homes in each other (while completely failing to save the world. also through the power of love and friendship. as well as years of petty bickering <3 we must imagine kirkwall if not happy then worth having been because the love was there the love was there and that's the only sanctifying force we can ever have in this doomed world and city of ours), and da:i is a game about old stabilizing-but-unjust comfortable lies vs. disruptive but potentially liberating uncomfortable truths, and the power of friendship to help us distinguish the one from the other and navigate through them...

folks… I'm starting to think that veilguard might be a game specifically about moving towards recovery and acceptance after trauma — about how even in this flawed, severed, scarred state, what is here right now is worth loving and worth caring for. even in an imperfect and impermanent world and self, there is worth and joy. and of course the first real tragedy — and threat — of Solas is that he just cannot find it in himself to accept this and move on, to let go of what was, the regret won’t let him go or he won’t let go of it. which means that even though on the surface it’s Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain (and the will to subjugate and violate they represent) who are the main villains, the real antagonistic force in this story beneath that is the Dread Wolf’s despair. A despair Rook must make an answer to by the end of the game, one way or another, compassionately or with righteous fury, triumphant or pyrrhic.

The world will change again and again and so will you — BUT the crucial element is that so will everyone else who exists along with you, you are fundamentally not alone in this existential truth. all we’ll ever have is each other and my god that is plenty, my god that is enough!!! Which is the second thing Solas just can’t accept, he keeps himself separate and completely alone out of an awful mix of fear and pride and feeling himself unworthy of anything else. Rook and the player want to save the world of Thedas because it’s where everyone we love lives, Solas wants to go back to the past because that’s the only neighbourhood where he can still visit those he loved — and the person he himself was, before. A very sympathetic and human instinct/trap to fall into when touched by trauma, I think, if only it wasn’t backed by godlike power, a fundamentally oppositional personality, and a catastrophic lack of therapy to make it literally everyone else’s problem too lol. It’s varric and solas’ banter about the man on the island and where meaning in a life comes from all over again, writ large and with detail work — and the added idea of ‘what if there are also other islands out there, though. With other people on them that you could find if you reach for each other’. Rook with the best of intentions has to make choices to which there are no perfect outcomes and live with what happens — and not cut themselves off from everyone else around them even when there is regret or shame. You get back up every day and you make a life with other people doing the same and you do your best, and that’s the only victory this world will give you. In the end, that is more than enough, that is essential. And I um. I love that. So much. It’s why some of the writing clumsiness on top can’t hurt me because this thematic spine is so solid and so beautiful to me. It’s DA2 all over again that way for me personally — I forgive this story for what it isn’t and couldn’t be, and I love it with my whole stupid open heart for what it actually is. Thank you for coming to my TED-talk and goodbye etc.      

(For my fellow TLT heads out there — you know what this story is reminding me of most of all, actually? It has some big Nona the Ninth vibes down there in the deep. It’s about… the horror and unspeakable beauty that can only be found in liminality, and the role of love in making that basic fact of existence bearable. And also even more unbearable at the same time. I'm so sorry.)

[noobsoconfusing]

‘pothead? more like pot no head!’ hamzahthefantastic

summary: hamzah and you get high together very often, however this time is different, as you both take too much and end up greening out in different ways.

warnings: awkwardness, inexperienced hamzah and reader, cum, cringe.

>_<

“holy shit! holy f-fuck!” hamzah rubbed his heavy eyes, staring half lidded at your limp body passed out on his lap.

damn, he felt so overstimulated. his senses failing on him, per usual.

the smoke surrounding the living room –and yourselves– felt thick, almost like he could munch on it if he wanted to, and each time he breathed in he felt even more zooted.

and ow, fuck! you looked so beautiful. the light freckles, almost invisible, surrounding specific areas of your face, and then some imperfections that hamzah considered perfect on you –the same he considered ugly on him– you had dark circles under your eyes, and messy hair that covered your face almost entirely, but still he was able to peek at your flushed cheeks.

‘no! hamzah, stop! she could be fucking dead!’ –he thought to himself, regaining an ounce of consciousness through the warm haze that filled his brain and body.

“hey…” he shook your body, trying to keep his eyes off of your torso, though it was almost impossible for him. hamzah’s eyes drifted down, sheepishly admiring how the oversized shirt you were wearing –that yeah, in fact was his– rode up..

but as he kept shaking your body with his bigger hands, he realised you were far gone. that, of course, scared him shitless.

“oh my god..!” hamzah considered calling martin, but it was roughly 4 am, he wouldn’t be awake.

hamzah felt like he was losing the ability to breathe properly. his heart was beating so fast and blood going to every single direction inside of his body.

literally every single direction. fuck. oh no.

“y/n, are you… are you awake?” hamzah saw double lines, so fucking high. “oh god she’s dead, she’s fucking dead…” he felt like crying he was so fucking panicked.

and the scene was quite funny, tense even. how was he going to tell the police that you guys got super high that you probably had a heart attack? even worse! how was he going to explain the stupid fucking hard-on he had been resisting to beat since the fucking weed settled on him?

crying with a stupid hard-on was pathetic. crying stoned out of his damn head, with his possibly dead roomie laying next to him was dumb.

everything was dumb! nothing made sense to him at that moment, ugh, so confusing!

crying next to the girl he yearned for, the girl he liked since he first saw in that roommate application was beyond pathetic. and you were both high.

“oh god, please!” he yelled so fucking loud, which made you scramble out of your slumber. “i know you hate me! doesn’t matter cause you’re uh, like, you’re dead, but oh god! i like you.. so much and.. man i just…wanted to smoke with you… maybe make out… maybe even dip it! but y/n please don’t, uh, don’t kill me in my sleep too! oh my fucking god!” he rambled as he slurred his words from how high he was.

hamzah had this problem. one of many. where he would overthink and panick and talk his brain off as if his body had no power over him, only his thoughts. that maximised when he was zooted.

due to his extreme yapping, you found yourself awake on the couch, but you couldn’t move or speak. your limbs felt floaty and numb and your body felt so lightweight that you wondered if you were human still.

but hamzah’s greened out voice was getting on your stoned nerves

“mmm…” you slowly opened your eyes, red as fuck. “hamzah, a-are you tweaking?” your voice groggy after smoking only turned him on even more, and he felt so bad for thinking lewd stuff about you.

his eyes blew up wide, like two round red leds. he threw himself into your smaller frame, engulfing you in a big hug. he groaned out of satisfaction.

groaned again when he felt your body so close to his. so warm. so soft.

“holy fuck! you’re not dead! oh shit, y/n i fucking love you, i love you i love you, god i was scared shitless..” as high as he was, he meant it, he had been wanting to admit that for such a long time but sober he didn’t have the balls to.

you gave into the embrace and snuggled closer to his warmth. his words vague, though you cherished them and how sincere he sounded, it was almost impossible to concentrate in that state of mind. all you could do was enjoy the proximity.

so comfortable, so nice, and..

“im sorry im hard..!” hamzah pulled away from the hug to look down at his almost unbearable boner. his eyes wide and glossy like marbles looked at you like a kicked dog asking for help.

you see, in his right mind he wouldn’t even mention it, he wouldn’t even look at its direction. but he was definitely not in his right mind, right?

he surely knew how to silence a room.

“huh?” you stared at him confused and rubbing your right eye, pouting. looking like a fucking goddess. so cute. so beautiful it made hamzah wanna just explode.

here comes the world vomit. high trait of his.

“im sorry i have a boner. like, okay, it’s so painfully hard that i feel sorry because weed, well, weed makes me super fucking horny and on top of that you’re here and i think you’re so pretty and i love you so oddly much… im sorry i got a boner,” he swallowed the knot inside his throat. “i am sorry, so sorry. i love you though? is that weird? do you think it’s weird?..”

seconds that felt like hours passed and you would just switch stares between hamzah’s reddened face and the notorious bulge inside his grey sweats.

he felt like dying. and you were just sitting there, looking fuckable and so pretty, and he was just melting there waiting for a reaction from you, trying not to burst like a teen.

hamzah almost felt as if the high was gone from how nervous he got, but feeling sober was way worse.

you got closer, but it was like you were being pushed by an invisible force. like a magnet attracting you to hamzah’s shivering body.

your hands trembled badly.

no, you did not know what possessed you to crawl over him and caress his face, he was sweating cold, and his eyes far gone intoxicated.

“w-what are you…?” you laughed at how he pronounced the sentence, your giggles almost like a whisper.

tension so dense it could be cut with a knife

the eye contact was stupidly intense, both of your gazes drowsy and tired, eyes heavy and itchy from the smoke around you.

when your hand moved south, hamzah’s eyebrows knitted together and his mouth fell open wide, choking a whine. it was extremely weird how a little touch could make him feel so excited, and got him even harder, if it was even possible…

“dude, you’re bricked…” you said, feeling him up through the grey sweats.

he subconsciously thrusted his hips upwards to your hand, which you quickly moved away, earning a pathetic moan from him.

“nooo, owww!” he pouted, eyes teary.

it was funny.

“no! hey!..” he pleaded, grabbing your hand and trying to place it over his boner again, but you giggled at his impatience and swatted his bigger palm away. “y/n! p-please, h-hey, you can’t just..” he shrieked desperately. “please?”

hamzah was willing to jerk off right then and there, not minding your presence. even better for him, he would cum to your image, to your feel, to your sight.

that would totally cross the roommate line, wouldn’t it?

neither of you were experienced though, and as fucked up as you were, you also didn’t wanna ruin it, ruin whatever was going on between you two.

you got too nervous. nervous at the sight of him so fucked out over nothing. you never had a guy like that, never so desperate for you. or a guy at all. hamzah made you feel so stupid, so weird inside. so warm.

oh, so nervous…

“uh, do you want another hit?” suddenly, you got up looking for the rest of the blunt. too lightheaded to function. too nervous to continue. a good excuse.

hamzah stared at you in disbelief. then down at his pants. then at you again. he smiled, but it was such a hot smile. he looked so good, so fucked up.

“we are pretty cooked though, don’t you think?”

you shrugged. “whats the worst that could happen?”

so you grabbed the special blunt on the night table, and the lighter too. slid it into your mouth and lighted the pre rolled, you inhaled and swallowed the smoke in, turning over to hamzah and then blowing out the smoke on his face.

he stared at you with his mouth wide open, trying to take some of you in. so drunk on you.

and so, the worst thing that could happen, happened.

hamzah felt like he lost balance, his eyes rolled back into his skull and tried to reach for your hand to hold while a gutural moan erupted from the back of his throat, just as he emptied himself in his sweats..

came untouched. just at the sight of you blowing smoke out on his face.

“f-fuck, im so so so sorry, i didn’t… i- i just, i don’t know… you’re so pretty and…” he started rambling yet again and you felt so silly.

your gaze softened on him, and hamzah felt less embarrassed when he realised you weren’t angry or grossed out. your soft eyes felt gentle and he knew you weren’t judging him.

“it’s fine… i guess.” you avoided staring at the wet puddle forming inside his pants, and he giggled nervously too.

time passed by, maybe not really. you felt as time flew by too slowly, and found yourself lost in hamzah’s big eyes again. both of you staring at each other while sitting on the couch, the blunt consuming itself far forgotten but still creating smoke.

hamzah cleared his throat. “i feel sticky.”

“i bet you do.” you replied.

“have you ever…” he started but you quickly interrupted him.

“no head, hamzah!”

>_<

yay first small fanfic here ^_^ unbelievably cringe though, might have to kms.

[ariesprincesss]

Super Random Astro Observations Pt. III

view more astro observations here🔽

Super Random Astro Observations

Super Random Astro Observations Pt II

( i am not an astrologer just a silly girl that knows a lot about astrology🤓)

˚✧ lowkey though in my astrology journey ive learned to lower expectations for how you think something can go even if given the “perfect” synastry aspects or soulmate indicators. any of it honestly. lunar return charts do not work perfectly for every month. sometimes even transits aren’t even really felt strongly. what i’m trying to say is see things as opportunities not finalities.

˚✧ this man i know is a leo rising & i swear he looks like this 🦁

˚✧ progressed moon conjuct jupiter when i had a life altering event!

˚✧ transit 8h Northnode conjucted my chart ruler , trine my natal pluto, transit 8h chiron conjuncted my natal sun sun, transit 1h mercury square natal 4h pluto- When I had another life altering event that essentially changed dynamics within how i relate to others in my family.

˚✧ vertex in 8th house in my lunar return chart when i lost my virginity☠️

˚✧ currently have the sun & moon in my 12th house lunar return chart & am absolutely going through it😭😭😭 edit: also going through a mental breakthrough tho which might have something to do with 1h pluto in that same chart so…🙏

˚✧ transit chiron conjuct my natal sun when i was in just the most terrible mood imaginable…

˚✧ transit venus conjuct my natal jupiter the day i met a romantic partner!!

˚✧ i also had vertex ,chiron ,& north node in my 7h lunar return chart when i met them too!

˚✧ okay but the month i had north node and both saturn & neptune retrograding in my 7th house i could not stop thinking ab my ex & eventually ended up texting him😭

˚✧ this is random but is in my head bc ive been watching bob ross videos lately LOL. but i was wondering why he had so much success and after looking at his chart, i feel like like it could possibly be linked to his libra stellium. he had libra mercury, neptune ,& mars. It definitely feels like he would have an ambition for beauty , making something beautiful, an “eye” for beautiful things , or speaking in a beautiful way.

˚✧ i can also say that with south node currently transiting my 1st house as a virgo rising starting literally yesterday i already feel like this weight of feeling like i have to be perfect and appear as such is fading 100%. big on embracing imperfection….🤔

˚✧ so another instance where i had a partners moon square my mercury (their moon was in my 5h) he was like super lovey with me to the point of love bombing , but it just made me feel kind of smothered/awkward when he would make like grand romantic gestures. (his natal moon was also in 7h🫢)

˚✧ a transformative relationship came to me when the asc dc angles were in my natal 1st/7th houses in my lunar return chart!!

˚✧ i definitely recommend doing “solar return synastry charts” between you and those close to you as i think it provides valuable insight on what events occur between you or others in that year! A chart between me and my best friend showed her jupiter in the 10th house squaring my 12h moon, 6h venus ,& 6h saturn in the src.It showed how she has started to work more hours thus having less time to talk to me everyday or as consistently as possible making me feel kind of like :/ bc i want to talk to my bff!!! This showed up 3 months before my birthday so i def agree with solar return energy showing up early.

˚✧ ive said it before but i will say it again when you meet someone of your rising sign they are essentially mirroring you BADDD. especially if you share placements together.

[trulyy-yourzz]

Unknown Affection

Billie eilish x female reader !

Summary: Your best friend finally expresses her affection for you after finding out your boyfriend cheated.

Warnings: Tiniest bit of angst and a little smut towards the end

First ever fic, praying you guys like it!! Notes at the end.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You and billie were best friends. Joined at the hip since you met in middle school, 7th grade, a moment you'd never forget. She was popular amongst all the other kids at school, and you were quiet. You only had about a few friends to talk to, but that was all. You never really cared about that kind of stuff.

It took you by surprise, and you almost couldn't believe it when she started talking to you during one of the classes you shared together. "Hi, I'm billie." You just nodded your head and smiled. You weren't much of a socializer, so you didn't really know what to say.

"Not much of a talker? I get that." Once again, you nodded and smiled. You were nervous, scared you might say the wrong thing. She tilted her head and gave you a warm smile. "You're very pretty." Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked at her, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. It was something you were never used to. Amused by your reaction, she just laughed. And immediately after that, you and billie were friends.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Fast forward a few years later, you and billie were in her fancy little apartment. Now in college. And here you were, talking up a storm as she just sat there and listened. Her head rested on the palm of her hand, pretty much admiring how beautiful you were. You never really understood why she thought you were "so gorgeous" when she was literally the definition of it.

Billie was perfect, not a single imperfection in sight. You kept talking and noticed she wasn't really paying attention. "Billie? Are you listening?" She chuckled. "Of course I am. I'm just a little distracted, love, that's all." You shook your head and nudged her shoulder. "Well, as I was saying, I caught him cheating, AGAIN. And he just sat there, denying it... i swear he's just so -" You looked at her, realizing she wasn't listening again. "Okay whatever. Never mind."

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your coffee. She just laughed and sat up, looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I keep telling you to break up with him..." She said, looking at you with a bit of disappointment in her eyes. You circled your finger around the rim of your cup and sighed. "I know, but... he was my first love billie. I'm just confused."

Billie looked at you. She could tell you were genuinely hurting, but it was really starting to get on her nerves. That little boyfriend of yours always rubbed Billie in the wrong way. He was always googly eyeing her and trying to always talk to her. Billie knew he was just using you. She scoffed and crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch. "I just wish you would drop him already. Seriously, you've been at this for how long already? It's tiring." You looked at her and just blinked, a bit taken aback from the aggression in her voice. "Okay bils...I get it. There's no need to be rude."

You grabbed your cup and got up, walking to the kitchen. Doing anything to get away from the awkward situation. She blows raspberries and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly, realizing she was out of place and was definitely a bit rude. This wasn't like her. She stood up and walked over to you, grabbing your arm as she spun you around to face her. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just... you deserve better love. Way better."

You looked down at the hand that held onto yours, then back up at her. She's right. You did deserve better. Your boyfriend is an asshole and just uses you to get close to billie, but you didn't want to admit it. This kind of thing happened all the time. People always used you to get close to her, and it was bothering you.

You looked down at your feet, biting your lip to try and prevent the tears from forming in your eyes. You failed. You clenched your jaw as the tears fell from your eyes. Billie noticed and lifted your chin with her hand, gently wiping the tears away with her thumb as she cupped your cheek in the process. "Hey, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. And if he can't realize that, then he's a dick that doesn't deserve either you or your love. Forget about him."

You looked into her eyes. She leaned in closer, and you felt your heart start to race. What was she doing? You grabbed onto her arm gently and closed your eyes. She smirked and stopped, only a few inches away from your lips. She could feel your heavy breath. It was tempting...so tempting. She cupped your chin and lifted it higher as she gently placed her lips on yours and smiled as she felt your grip on her arm tighten.

She waited until you parted your lips, a sign that you gave her permission to continue. She snaked her hands around your waist, pulling you so close that she could feel your heartbeat on her chest. She hummed into the kiss, noticing your hands trembling as they held onto her arms for support.

Billie licked the bottom of your lips before lifting you up into her arms and placing you gently onto the kitchen counter. Her lips snaked down to your neck. Licking. Biting. Completely devouring you. Your head fell back, and you moaned. She smirked. You looked so beautiful beneath her, so helpless and weak to her touch. Billie always had a thing for you. Compelled to tell you the truth. But never wanted to make a move, worried she'd make you uncomfortable... until now.

Billie moved her hand from your waist to under your shirt. When she realized you hadn't been wearing a bra this entire time, it had only turned her on even more. She cupped your breast in her hand, circling your perked up nipple with her thumb, and you moaned again. You grabbed onto her shoulders, nails digging into her skin as she pinched down on your nipple. Causing your eyes to flutter shut from the stimulation. "Mmn... Billie-"

This was your best friend. You had thoughts about situations like this, maybe once or twice, but you always brushed it off. Now that you were experiencing the real thing. You wanted more... needed more. You'd never felt so good in someone's embrace like this before. She made you feel so special.

She licked a stripe up your neck before pulling back and looking at you, only lust and desperation filling her eyes. She licked her lips and smirked, biting down on her bottom lip. Her hand fell down to your ass before pulling you closer. Her head rested on your shoulder, your scent driving her absolutely wild.

"Fuck... you have no clue what you do to me..."

Notes:

I literally had to re-write the whole thing because my phone died, and I didn't press save.💔 But it ended up turning out better than what I initially wrote...

But I hope you enjoyed it! This is just a little something, so I know what I want to do moving on :) 💕

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

Partially as a joke and partially as a for real analysis

My boy was born a dad huh. Like his literal first impulse after chasing Betty is to lecture her? Goodness. What an awkward man.

But also man, I just felt kinda bad for Betty because of course she's gonna apologize. She just got lectured. It's okay. Simon actually gets over his awkwardness and confesses though.

But here's the thing...

What's the difference in saying "by my side" and "by your side"? Note the word choice.

Maybe Simon would've gone on that trip with Betty if he had thought to. But he simply didn't think to. People are like that. They don't always think.

But by saying "by my side", he's not going to "her side". Betty would've stayed. That girl was deadset on him and she only needed a reason. But Simon didn't ask to be with her, he asked her to be with him - right where he's at.

Again, not inherently selfish, but again pointing to an overall clearer picture of their relationship. Betty fell for the guy who would not notice or question the fact that she will drop everything for him.

Like let's take that and compare it with adolescent Bubbline. Two very independent individuals who clashed so often because they were alone for so long that fitting someone else into their lives was hard. Their romance is centered around learning to make that space, to do away with walls.

If a more independent individual was placed in Betty and Simon's role, they would go on that trip and then come back later when they're done. They could balance the priorities between their pursuits and their romantic interests. (If it was Bubblegum, for example, she would pursue her scientific passions and obligations to the point that it became detrimental to her and Marcy. Again, a contrast to the Betty and Simon romance).

But for Simon and Betty, she had that space all set and ready - allowed it to encompass everything. And Simon lacked the understanding or the comprehension of how dearly their relationship desperately needed some walls, some limitations, and yeah, some boundaries.

So, yeah, it's realistic and not a fantasy romance. But it's not realistic in a kind way. It's not fantasy in that he sweeps her off her feet, and jumps on the bus with her. It's realistic in that their relationship wasn't perfect and all the little imperfections grew and compounded as imperections in relationships do.

Simon wouldn't wish for Betty to do this to herself. But neither her or him ever had the chance to know if they would have figured it out eventually. Or if Simon would just keep feeding Betty's habits and inclinations till death do they part.

[stawbeemilk]

⤷ insecurities they think are beautiful; part 2 – hq

✩ characters: various

✩ warnings: none

✩ a/n: i've been super busy with work but i'm finally back! i decided to write a part 2 to this bc i've been feeling pretty down lately. but yeah these are once again all things i personally struggle with or have struggled with in the past ◡��

⭑ bare face

every time he gets the opportunity to see you without makeup, he swears he feels his heart beat twice as fast. of course he appreciates all the time and effort it takes for you to do your makeup, but he just thinks there's something so intimate about seeing you fresh out of the shower, your hair still damp and your face entirely bare. he doesn't miss the way you tend to avoid eye contact, how you shy away from him and subconsciously try to hide your face, and it makes his heart sink because how do you not realise how cute you are? his favourite part of the day is waking up next to you and getting to see your pretty face, imperfections and all— it never fails to make his heart flutter.

⤷ hinata, fukunaga, iwaizumi, tendou, suna, osamu, ennoshita

⭑ messy hair

he thinks your unruly hair is adorable. he knows that it can sometimes make you feel a little self-conscious, worrying that you don't look presentable with your hair a mess and finding yourself becoming frustrated with it because of how long you spend trying to style it in the morning, but he loves the way it sets you apart from everyone else. he might occasionally tease you about it, but it's always intended to be lighthearted and he never means anything by it. likes to ruffle your hair for his own amusement, making it even messier than it is already and enjoying the way you pout at him and try to smooth it down.

⤷ kuroo, tsukishima, matsukawa, yaku, akaashi, daishou, hoshiumi

⭑ beauty marks

he finds himself drawn to the pretty marks on your face, unable to take his eyes off you because you're so beautiful. whenever he goes to kiss you he always starts off by letting his lips trail over the points of your face where your marks reside, before softly pressing them against your own. he loves how unique they make you look, and he thinks they compliment your features perfectly. it makes him so sad when he sees you trying to cover them up with makeup, and the fact that you don't see them the way he does genuinely hurts him. he loves the idea that your beauty marks are where your lover kissed you the most during your past life, and he likes to kiss them in hopes that he'll be leaving those marks on you in your next life too.

⤷ sugawara, kai, oikawa, tanaka, konoha, kita, hirugami, asahi

⭑ cellulite

he loves to randomly grab your thighs at any chance he gets, enjoying the way the supple flesh feels under his palms. he thinks you look amazing in thigh high socks and cute little skirts, and whenever he sees the small amount of pudge at the top of your socks he'll definitely have a hard time keeping his hands to himself. to be honest he probably didn't even realise you had cellulite until you pointed it out to him, too preoccupied with how absolutely gorgeous you look to notice such a small detail. reminds you that it's completely normal and natural, and will reassure you that he thinks it's beautiful as many times as it takes until you start to believe him.

⤷ daichi, bokuto, yamamoto, kyotani, atsumu, nishinoya, meian

⭑ being thin

he honestly can't understand why you don't like your body, because in his eyes you're literally perfect. he knows that you tend to wear baggier clothing most of the time, the loose fabric swallowing up your figure and concealing the parts you dislike the most about yourself, but he would be lying if he said he didn't love those days when it's really hot outside and you opt for something that's a little more revealing than usual. he adores the way tighter clothes look on you, and the way they show off and accentuate your beautiful figure. he thinks you look so pretty and delicate, and the fact you're smaller than him makes him swoon.

⤷ kageyama, kenma, hanamaki, sakusa, yamaguchi, goshiki, kunimi

⤷ please do not repost my works on any other sites!

[tokoyamisstuff]

lmaoo tasteful was the last thing I would've ever imagined to hear about my work. This humble writer is absolutely flattered by your words, thank you! 🫶

gn! Reader I general NSFW warning

Considering the literal centuries of experience this guy has ahead of you, this sure is gonna be an otherworldly experience...in more than one way.

Don't be nervous, though. He's a patient lover and eager to teach you new things. Will start slow and vanilla, taking all the time to look what works out for both of you.

In general the nights you spend with him are very carefree, filled with laughter and pleasant conversation in between or even during the act(s).

This man plays your body like an instrument. His heightened senses make it an easy task to observe every little reaction your body presents him, especially if he's able to give you an immediate gratification through it. Probably knows you better than you do (at least in that sense). Think you can only come once? Think again.

Definetly hypersexual. He'll use literally any opportunity to get it on with you: Sparring, arguments, even during missions he'll find an opportunity for his favourite pastime. Never leaves you unsatisfied, no matter the circumstance or how little time you have.

Prefers long and intimate rendezvous over quickies however, since he takes great pride in indulging you. He's quite the romantic, enjoys preparing the whole package: An amazing date, the perfect atmosphere, and of course a cozy bedroom. Nothing's too much effort if it comes to see your eyes light with wonder...and lust, later on.

Loves variety. I think there's nothing too freaky you could ask of him, he'd at least be willing to try it out. There's nothing really off table, but also nothing he absolutely wants you to do. You'll find a lot of common ground.

I mean did you see his tongue?? His oral game is gonna be insane.

He's not really fond of toys. Being rather possessive in general, he wants to be the direct cause for your pleasure. The only exception are remote controlled ones. It's so fun being able to tease you like that, observing how you try to keep it together during a meeting of the roundtable or similar.

The vampire is obsessed with imperfections. Scars, beauty marks, even extending to dacryphilia. Anything that makes you human is just so fascinating and desireable to him.

He's a biter wow what a surprise. The taste of your blood gives him an intense feeling of ecstasy, but he'd never go overboard with his cravings. In return I figure his abilities have a hypnotizing reaction on your body as well, giving you an overwhelming sensitivity in return.

Sometimes he's unable to keep his form, especially when deep in pleasure. Suddenly you're enveloped by black mist or stared at by a little too many eyes. At first he was very concerned to disgust or scare you away, but once he sees you react with a surprising acceptance - or even affection - he's over the moon.

Those shapeshifting skills could be used to your advantage in more than one way. He can easily adjust his size according to your wish or even fuck you from several directions at once. Really, there's no limits to your fantasies, let them run wild.

To be honest I think he's got a praise kink and is a sub at least in a certain way. Maybe because in every other aspect of his existence he's the peak of evolution, an almost omnipotent eldritch horror, always dominating. So being able to let himself fall like this, showing himself bare and vulnerable and giving himself to you body and soul, is just the greatest thrill he's ever felt.

Alucard's whole motivation is to serve his lover over anything, devoting himself to your worship.