#idc if it's small talk......... leave me the fuck alone................

[i3utterflyeffect]

Cg all cuddling in a blanket? (I hope this prompt doesn't make you uncomfortable)

i didn't feel like drawing a blanket, hope that's okay! fabric is a bit of a headache sometimes and making them all fit under one blanket is hard to figure out sometimes ngl

[wherenymphsroam]

Real dad! Leon coming over to help you with your car.

Something’s wrong with it, so why wouldn’t you call your dad to help you out? He gets there, pops the hood and finds the problem that he starts to fix.

You check on him every ten or so minutes, noticing how maybe he took his jacket off, how his hair is getting messier. He’s more out of breath and a little sweaty. It makes you forget he was even speaking to you, asking for you to go grab him a bottle of water so he can cool down.

And when you do come out with the water, his shirt is off this time. He grins and laughs at you. Maybe he’s a little mean and teases you about it, talking about how you haven’t seen a man like him before ugh omg

The tension would be sooo thick after that. Especially if he stays over for a while, maybe taking a shower in your bathroom. He comes out in a towel, making sure it hangs low to catch your attention since you just loved staring at him earlier

Please please please hear me out

oh I’m hearing you Mel. I’m hearing ya.

“Like mother like daughter”

cw: daddy/daughter incest, leon is your real dad in this, some mixed in religious themes, leon being a cocky douche even in his old age, kitchen counter fucking, slight breath play but it’s only bc Leon’s arm is around readers neck, barely proof read.

a/n: idc im not making this formatting all pretty, I literally blacked out and coughed up 2.5k at two in the morning. straight filth. here you go, eat you little shits.

And up until that point, it’s just that. It’s only that. Tension. Silent, deadly, heavy in the air of your small place.

That is, until he slices right through it, walking out of your bathroom in nothing but that towel.

When you were smaller, he’d never take showers when you were around, making sure to slip them in during the dark hours of the morning or long after you were asleep. And on the occasion that you were around, even into your teen years he’d all but beeline to his bedroom to get changed, only leaving you with a lingering glance at his broad back. That is, when you’d will yourself to look as he strode down the hall. You shouldn’t be looking at your dad in such immodest state, let alone like that.

And yet here you are, dry mouthed and stock still where you stand at your kitchen island. He had strode in, so confident, almost cocky, claiming he forgot his glass of water. As if he couldn’t have grabbed it after he was decent. Because he’s just so thirsty after all that work today, and the kitchen is on the way to your guest bedroom where he was going to change anyway. What would be the point in doubling back?

He’s about to grab his glass and slip back out of the kitchen, content enough to be swift in his appearance. That is, until he notices the look on your face.

“What?” He chuckles, his smile sly. He knew he didn’t look the same as he did when he was twenty something years old. The scars, the soft layers of fat that had cropped up over thick muscles in his pecs and abs, the healthy line of hair that trails underneath his towel — it’s all a reminder of what his body has been through, how it’s matured through the years. Yet, here you were standing there and gawking at him, as if you’d never seen a shirtless man before.

He’s met with silence. Wetting your lips, swallowing thickly, blinking a few times — it’s takes you a beat too long to be deemed appropriate to realize you were staring. Barely holding back the urge to curse under your breath, you cover your obvious gawking with a dry cough, a shake of your head. Waving a dismissive hand at him and rolling your eyes as if suddenly he’s a nuisance.

“Ew,” you snort, turning back to the dishes you had been in the middle of doing. “Go get changed, old man.”

“Ouch,” he hissed, snickering now. Directly defying your playful orders, he leans on the kitchen island now, leaving only the hand on his hip to keep his towel secure around his hips.

“I wasn’t always an old man. Your mom was attracted to me at one point in time, you know,” he hums, teasing, playful. Far more playful than appropriate.

“Obviously,” you mutter, willing yourself not to turn around. Your gaze bores down, practically drilling through the pan you’re scrubbing. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He laughs then, throaty and low, his stomach shaking from the strength of it.

“That you are.”

Footsteps.

Coming towards you, the old tile squeaking softly in specific weak points as he crosses your small kitchen. You don’t notice how your scrubbing slows, subconsciously distracted by his warmth as it settles behind you, looming.

“I asked you a question, you know,” he murmurs, piercing eyes trained on you.

He’s done this in times past. Sometimes when he’s reprimanded you, sometimes in joking passing. Directing your attention back to a voiced inquiry that you decide to oh so conveniently side step, choosing to ignore in favor of your own comfort. And like always, he wasn’t going to let you slide.

“What’s with that look on your face?” he rephrases, tilting his head.

Don’t stop scrubbing.

You don’t. If anything, the movements of your arm grow faster, harder, practically burning your sponge into the surface of a pan that’s been clean for two minutes now.

“What look?” you hum, feigning ignorance, clearly so busy with your task at hand.

Rolling his eyes, he adjusts his towel around his hip, tugging it tighter. The action had the back of his palm brushing into your hip.

“Nope. You don’t get to play dumb with me,” he tuts, low and far too close to the back of your neck. A few inches more, and his breath would fan against the back of your neck.

“When was the last time you went out, anyways? Hell, the last time you told me about a boyfriend?” he snickers, moreso at the mental image of the last loser you brought home to him.

Sighing, your jaw sets, your heart skipping in your chest.

“Dad, we’re not talking about this right now,” you groan, adjusting your craned neck, shifting your weight over your feet as you turn the faucet on. Suds slide off the nonstick surface of the pan, pooling and circling to disappear a moment later down your drain.

“You’re right. We’re not.”

Pausing, your gut twists in a way you haven’t felt in a while. It’s that feeling you get, that tugging that tells you the guy you’re hanging out with wants more. That the guy you’re alone with has intentions driven by hunger, need. That he wants you.

But you’re not alone with just some guy. Not alone with even a guy your age. He’s not a classmate. Not a friend. Not some sleazy tinder date you brought home.

It’s your dad.

A deep breath in. An effort of swallowing and burying that feeling. Of shoving it deep enough in hopes that it wouldn’t crawl back up again.

An exhale through your nose, forcing your movements as you reach for the next dirty dish.

“Then what are we talking about?” you scoff, glad he can’t see your face, your eyes that waver. Taking a tone you typically do during your nitter nattering with him, a tone he would reprimand you for in your teen years.

“The fact that you were eye-fucking your father a minute ago,” he mutters, his tone indecipherable.

“That’s what we’re talking about.”

Was he angry?

Disappointed, maybe?

Uncomfortable?

You can’t tell. Out of all the times you’re able to read your father, quick to pin down his vocal habits, of course it’s right now that you fail to get a read on him. Because admittedly, you haven’t heard him like this before.

Why did you care? Did you want him to be angry? Uncomfortable?

Why aren’t you uncomfortable?

Finally, your pitiful stress scrubbing comes to a halt. It’s as if he just fed an IV of ice water through your veins, his voice resounding through the kitchen as it falls silent around you.

You’re hesitant, slow when you turn your head. Brows knitted, lips parted — something you got from him — you can’t even bring yourself to meet his damn eyes.

“W… What? Dad, I’m not eye-fucking you-“

“Be honest. When was the last time you got laid?” he scoffs, all amusement drained from his voice. Not quite lecturing, nor demanding. But firm.

Glancing up at him, you search his eyes, silently floundering under his hard gaze. It takes all your willpower not to let your own wander down the still damp skin of his neck, his collarbones.

This isn’t appropriate.

When you were younger, he’d physically cringe at the idea of you ever experiencing sex. Would clench his fist, draw his brows at the idea of some insolent little boy getting his hands on you, in you.

“Don’t forget to mention the .45 I keep in my bedside,” he’d not so jokingly quip whenever you’d head out for a date.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it then. Gotta go polish my bat,” he’d make a point of specifying the one time you had a male friend over to study for a big exam.

It was from a place of protectiveness. Of love. Because you were his little girl. Didn’t want you getting hurt. Even if he knew that one day you’d probably end up entangled in the back of some college idiots Honda accord his parents got him, that you’d one day be introduced to the world of true heart break, he wanted, needed to keep you out of the worlds grips for just a little bit longer. For as long as he could control.

And here he is, asking so crudely when you last got laid.

“I asked you a question.”

A beat passes. Another one. Your neck is uncomfortable, half turned over your shoulder like this. But you dare not turn away.

“Never.”

Oh.

Oh.

There it is. All it took was some light prodding and you’re coughing up.

Because he told you to. Because he loves you. Because you’re a good girl. His good girl.

Not some sleazy tinder dates.

Not some broke college boy with a measly Honda accord.

No, no. He really should’ve known better. You have more refined taste than he often wants to give you credit for. Well, that is, until he’s taking credit for you, so quick to remind you it’s him you inherited such trait from.

His little girl was always needier than that. Better than that. Smarter than to so freely give herself to whatever scumbag picked her up some flowers from the grocery store on his way over to the house before a date, smarter than to let some asshole take advantage of any insecurity.

“You were saving it for me weren’t you?”

His voice comes out as a panted snicker into your neck, spoke into the numerous bites and blooming spots of color along your nape. It takes you a moment, lost in the hazy, sickly heated daze the two of your have made of the kitchen air around you. With pots long forgotten, one side of the sink full of cooled water, the sound of the faucet that had been running earlier is replaced with the wet claps of skin against skin.

Sharp, deep, all consuming when his pelvis collides into your ass, the fat of it rippling under each heavy collision. It threatens to steal your sense of coherency from you with each drive.

“H… Huh?”

Your voice is a mess, not too unlike the rest of you. The thick arm he has wrapped around your neck doesn’t really help, seeing as how it only constricts your already dry throat. Speaking proved to be far more difficult than it maybe should be right now.

“Your virginity, sunshine,” he murmurs into your ear, low and hot, brewed with an aftertaste of amusement. As if he didn’t just address you by the nickname he gave you when you were, what, three? As if he wasn’t speaking over the sounds of his body burying him within yours.

“Y’saved it just for me, huh? Knew only your Daddy could take care of you?” he snickers, looking at you oh so intently, adoringly almost. Far too tenderly, given how the thick muscles of his arm ripple with each jerk of your body in his hold.

You were always so pretty. Got it from your mother. Those sweet eyes, the pout of your lips. Even your tears, how they rolled down your cheeks in fat, hot trails of ecstasy matched how your mother would cry for him. How sweet.

And oh, even sweeter, the hitch of your constricted breaths. Your cries, your whimpers, those broken moans that fall so steadily are heavenly, even if what he was committing right now was far from.

Leon had never been a religious man, at least not into his adult life.

What the hell did he care about how wrong this was? God could twist and turn and kick and scream all he wanted, sat up on his high and mighty throne. He could whine and cry all about this was wrong, how he didn’t bless Leon with such a beautiful daughter for him to fuck her.

But right now? Leon doubts that. Hell. Somewhere, hidden deep into the darkest corners and recesses of his mind, Leon hopes that is the reason he was given a daughter. He snickers at the very idea of you being bestowed to him like the damn sacrificial lamb for the slaughter, his own personal sunshine and warm body.

Because why else would you cry like her?

Why else would you sigh and tremble and shudder just like her?

Why else would your voice crack and pitch along the same patterns hers did when he pushed her to her very limits?

Why else would God let his most beloved walk out of his life and leave him with her most beautiful creation, if not to fall in love with her all over again?

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper, like a damn broken record in his arms. With your shorts pooled around your ankles, your shirt shoved up just high enough for him to paw at your pretty tits, you were practically a spitting image.

A growl of satisfaction, of delight reverberates through him and you feel it. It all but shakes you to your core, how his chest rumbles against your back. It’s all consuming, so overwhelmingly delicious how warm, how strong he is. You really couldn’t be to blame for how quickly you deteriorate, stuttering through gasped warnings of impending end.

“Ask me properly,” he mutters into your neck, breaths heavy with exertion and hot with carnal lust as he speaks into the shell of your ear.

“Tell Dad you wanna come.”

“Please, please-“

Coughing, your choke briefly around your own spit, and it takes you a second to recover. But it’s only a moment later that you’re shaking your head to the best of its mobility trapped in the crux of his elbow, eyes hazy as you gaze up at him.

“Dad- Dad lemme come. Wan’ come so bad, please, please Dad-“

Eager. So fucking eager, just like your damn mother. All that spunk, all those sarcastic retorts and matter of fact quips that attempt to keep him at bay, stretched thin and see through around the girth of him. He can’t help but laugh at the irony, even moreso when you only spasm around the sound.

And when he finally utters his permission, he’s not gazing down at you to revel in how your orgasm tears through you. He’s tracking every facial expression; every tear, every wobble of your lip and roll of your eyes, all in search of her.

Because as much as he adored the parts of you that were him. As much as he loved teasing you for your similarities, poking fun at the parts of you that were her, he couldn’t help but come to a compromise then.

That yeah, you were a Daddy’s girl through and through.

But at the end of the day, the saying really should be ‘like mother like daughter’.

[qtboni]

CONSEQUENCES — "He couldn't bring himself to admit it, but the truth was he was terrified. He had fought in countless battles, but nothing had prepared him for this."

With Simon Riley, he and the reader (can be gn/fem idc) have an argument, the first argument. It's not a big deal but Ghost starts to get terrified, he thinks she's going to break up with him. so while he's "If it's the end, please, let me know" she's like "baby i just got mad, i didn't stop wanting you"

pleasee♥️

╰﹒ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 !

┆ ⤿ 💌 ⌗ 1K CELEBRATION ☆ . ࣪ ˖ ࿐

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

CHOSEN DRABBLE: "He couldn't bring himself to admit it, but the truth was he was terrified. He had fought in countless battles, but nothing had prepared him for this."

W/C: 1.5K

"Listen, Simon," You desperately called out his name, trying to break his focus, trying so hard to keep a calm and collected tone, but your voice trembling gave away your worries. "Please just hea-"

"I don't need to hear it from you," He interjected with an uncaring tone, cutting you off mid-sentence. His words cut like a knife, and you felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest. "It's none of your business."

"What?" You squeaked, your voice barely audible. Your heart was pounding, and you felt a lump form in your throat. Your hands were shaking, and you didn't dare to move or make a sound, as if the very act of breathing might anger him more.

"I don't think you get it," He snarled, his voice laced with anger and frustration. Glaring at you with a furious expression, his fist clenched tightly, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I can't tell you everything you want me to say or open or shits like that."

You took a deep breath before speaking again, trying to stay calm and collected despite the hurt you felt. "I know it can be hard for you to talk about your feelings. I really do understand," you began, your voice gentle and understanding. "But when I feel like you're keeping things from me, it hurts." You looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would hear you this time.

"Keeping things from you?!" Simon asked incredulously, his voice increasing in volume and making you flinch. His eyes were wide and intense as he stared you down. The anger and hostility in his voice was palpable, and it left you feeling small and hurt. "Bloody hell, can't you just leave me alone about this? You're the one getting emotional here, not me."

His words felt like a slap in the face, and you recoiled as if he had hit you. You regained your composure quickly, but the pain in your heart was still there. You felt insulted, anger even, and your voice reflected that when you spoke next.

"The fuck, Simon?!" you exclaimed, your voice rising in volume as your emotions boiled over. You felt like he didn't care about your feelings, and it was making you feel unseen and unheard. "I'm trying to find a compromise and you're not listening to me!"

Simon's words had cut deep, and the anger and hurt in your heart only grew as the argument continued. You realized that there was no way of getting through to him, no way of making him understand your emotions and your point of view. But.. you still want to try. So, you took a deep breath.

"Simon, I love you, you know I do," You said gently and he perked up to the sound of your exhausted tone as he sees the anguish written all over your face. He looks at you, trying to read your mind, but all you can do is shake your head as to not let the tears fall. "But I can't keep doing this."

Your words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of years of unresolved conflict and pain. You couldn't keep fighting like this, couldn't keep having these arguments that led nowhere and only caused hurt. Simon's expression crumbles, and he starts to break slowly, unable to contain the emotions that have built up inside him.

It seemed as though all his carefully curated thoughts and words had been reduced to ashes in his tongue, leaving him with nothing but shock and disbelief. As he looked at you, his eyes wide and unblinking, you saw a brief flicker of hurt flash across his expression before settling back into that stoic calm of a mask he always has.

"Alright, I..." His voice trails off as he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again, meeting your gaze with a mix of shame and resignation. He hesitates for a second, the words seeming to get lost in his throat before finally managing to speak. "I'm sorry. Just.. if that's what you want.. I'll move out tomorrow..."

'Huh? Move out?' It was the only thing that crossed your mind as you processed Simon's sudden declaration. Your jaw dropped as he turned and walked away before you even had a chance to understand what he said. Taken aback by his abrupt response, you bolted after him.

As you reached out and placed a hand on Simon's shoulder, you spoke to him from behind as he turned away from you. "No, Simon," your voice choked with emotion, "I didn't mean it like that. I don't want to leave you just because of this. We can... We have so much more time to understand each other. I just..." Your words trailed off for a moment as you took in his tense stance, his head down, shoulders hunched. "I don't want you to leave me out."

It was a moment of tense silence before the sound of quiet sniffling reached your ears, followed by the soft, almost rhythmic shaking of his shoulders. The sound was deafening inside the room, and your chest tightened with a mixture of hurt and pity. You softly called out to him, hoping to break the silence.

Turning him towards you slowly, you felt a lump form in your throat as your eyes locked with his, the pain and anguish etched into his face clear as day. Simon's eyes were red and there were tears slowly streaming down his face, streaking down his cheeks. He was shaking as you gently took his hands in yours, his eyes locked on yours, searching for something, anything, to calm him.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered softly, cradling your cheeks and pulling you close to him. His eyes filled with regret and sadness as he brought you into his arms, and you felt his body tense and shake, the emotion behind his words evident.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper, but you could feel the weight of his guilt and regret. His chest rose and fell with his breaths as he held you close, and you could feel his heart race as he tried to swallow back his emotions.

He looked into your eyes, his gaze soft, filled with both sincerity and a hint of sadness. "I hear you," he whispered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "It's just that-" he paused, his voice trailing off. "It's hard for me," he finally continued, "To be open. But-" his voice was filled with determination, as he took a deep breath before continuing, "But I'm willing to try... to try to be better for you."

"Oh.." you muttered, leaning in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers traced patterns on his skin as you looked into his eyes. The expression on his face was a mix of shock, guilt, and relief.

It was a relief to him to finally be able to say and do something, anything to make things right. And with every gentle stroke of your fingers, he could feel the weight of your love, the compassion in your eyes as you looked at him, and he felt the walls surrounding his heart crumbling, slowly and steadily.

It was a strange, yet welcome feeling, this sense of vulnerability and openness. He closed his eyes as you brought your foreheads together, the silence in the room seeming to stretch on forever.

"Simon.. thank you.." The words fell like snowflakes in the silent room, filling it with warmth and reassurance. It was his reminder of your love in him, the trust you placed in him to make things right again. Even if he was in the wrong. And the sight of tears coming out of your eyes was enough for him to lean in and wrap his arms around you, holding you close.

"It's going to be hard," you whispered, the sincerity in your voice evident. Your eyes met his as you spoke, and you could see the weight of his guilt in them, the strain of his emotions. But you also saw a glimmer of hope, a small spark that told you that there was a chance of making things right. "Just know that I'll be here with you every step of the way, okay?"

This was your way of telling Simon that you were committed to helping him, that you would be his rock, his anchor. 'I don't deserve you.'

Erasing the negative thoughts clouding his mind, Simon leaned in and kissed your lips in response. The kiss was soft and tender, a way of expressing his gratitude for you being there for him in his time of need, for your understanding and support.

"I love you..." His lips lingered on yours for a moment, before he finally pulled away with a look of love and appreciation in his eyes. It was a fresh start for him. "Thank you."

One where he felt as though he had finally found the motivation to make the necessary changes - to open up to you more and this relationship.

A/N: another angst story guys wow 😍☝️‼️ I rlly love torturing yall sm its how i show my love frfr /j

[pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid]

A lil rant about my experience with this god forsaken fandom

I made this blog around 2020 when I was 13 years old. This was my first shot at a dedicated fandom blog and I was pretty excited for it, to make friends, draw fanart, post fun stuff and what not.

All fun right? Right, so tell me why was it that literal 20 years olds felt the need to harass me, a then 13 year old girl with a relatively small blog, for the dumbest reasons possible?

What did I do that subjected me to 2 and a half years worth constant daily threats and harassment? Hmm???

You wanna know my crime? Apparently I showed interest in an antagonist character, which is so awful that grown adults felt the need to bully me. And following those adults came young impressionable people my age, that joined the bandwagon of hate against me.

As if other fandoms don’t have people literally dedicating themselves to a villain, no one bats an eye to that. Why did this fandom have such an issue? I also apparently dared to criticise the main character for a few of his flaws. Such a horrible thing to do right? I need to be burnt at the stake for it right?

I didn’t follow the “fixed” standards of the fandom so I was to be sent de*th/r*pe threats daily?? For not following the “rules” I was to be ostracised?

No please someone explain…I’m but a dumb bitch, I don’t understand what I did so terribly wrong to deserve this? Did I start a war? Did I rip open someone’s plush? Did I bully someone for not having the same ideology as me?

No it was but the fandom itself that for some reason found it so fun to bully a 13 year old, send her de*th and r*pe threats all because of not being of pjo fandom standards…let’s go and bombard her with hate!!

Do you realise how fucking stupid…this all sounds? Do you realise how low this is? Was bullying a child so fun? So trendy at the time?

Then came the victim blaming- I laugh everytime I remember people saying I must have done something really bad to get such harassment, that it’s all for attention. What kid wants to get hate everyday of their life for 2 whole fucking years? Tell me?

You know wanna know what I did wrong? Fight back, call the hate anons out for their bigotry. I was vocal about it, that’s what I did wrong right? Stand my ground? People said to ignore it and I did. But I still got bullied daily even if I didn’t respond. What was all this for?

I can imagine people asking why I didn’t simply leave the fandom? Why the fuck should I? I enjoy the stories, I enjoy the characters, they were my escape from real life struggles. It was the bullying I didn’t enjoy. Everyday I’d log on to enjoy posts and a few minutes later when the bigots found out I was active I was sent an anonymous threat.

Many of my oldest friends had to reduce the amount they interacted with me in fear of receiving harassment themselves. The extent of this is bigotry is beyond my understanding.

I did not deserve this much suffering AND ALL FOR WHAT? A STUPID LITTLE REASON THAT HAS BARELY ANY WEIGHT TO IT. Do people even realise the extent of what happened is beyond me. And Idc if I sound selfish, I want a fucking apology from all those bigots. I want compensation for the 2 and a half years of abuse I endured alone. I just want this bigotry to end, which surprise surprise! Still continues to happen.

Why do I bring this up now that it’s all over you ask? I’ve actually brought it up once before, but it was swept under the rug, (My deepest appreciation to the very few people who supported me when I first talked about it) I’m just finally being more vocal, because this has stuck with me. For all those 4 years this has stuck with me. It doesn’t mean if it’s over for now that all the trauma doesn’t linger. It still affects me to this day.

In fact I’m still being stalked by one of the people who sent me hate anons. One of the hate anons was revealed to be one of my bestest friends, they had admitted this to me and had the nerve to beg me to still remain friends. They were also the person who groomed me. They have left the fandom scene and I’ve rid of them from my life but they still continue to stalk me.

What do I get from ranting about all this? A bit of solace, a bit of weight off my shoulders. But nearly not enough for me to actually fucking heal. I also want people to realise how bigoted some are and how horrible the mentality of “fixed fandom standards/ideologies” is and that we as a fandom need to fucking change. Heck I know this issues in every fandom. But can we at least start with ours for a change for once?

Along side all of this there’s also a lot of racism and trans/homophobia that still actively prevails. Just look at what Leah went through when her casting was announced. Did she deserve all of that?? “Not my annabeth” do you realise how horrible that is to say to a CHILD? She is Annabeth whether you like it or not. And you are very welcome to leave if you wish to stick to your stupid racist nonsense.

I bet there are many others who have probably suffered the same may it not be for the same reasons, but everyone of them deserve their apologies and compensation as well.

Idc if I’ll get hate for this. I said what I said. I’m just so done.

[nectardaddy]

what's your favorite scary movie? | matsukawa issei

cw/notes: lots of sexual humor, language, they're watching scream idc (quotes in bold are taken directly from the og Scream), scream isn't that scary but let's just pretend it is, I was wheezing while writing this, thank you @mollyrolls (GO READ STOP THE CLOCK MOLLY IS COOKING), and "gothic frat boy mattsun" for the brainrot for this man, probably wildly ooc (borderline crack)

pairing: post timeskip!mattsun x fem!reader , written in second person (you, yours), previously established fwb/situationship

word count: 1.2k

It wasn't often you found yourself hunkered down in a mass of blankets on the couch, usually preferring to do so in the comfort of your own room. Cocooning yourself with your legs pulled up to your chest. It also wasn't common for you to watch a horror film - alone. A shot of adrenaline flowing through your veins at the thriller in front of you. Further setting the mood with lights shut off and a single candle lit on the coffee table. The television reflected off your face, deep reds, blues, and greens etching into features that were on edge. 

So deeply engrossed in the movie your brain shut out everything else, eyes transfixed on the screen as you pulled the blanket a bit closer to yourself. But the sharp twang of your phone ringing made you jerk, letting out a small yelp at the sound as it tore you away from the suspense the movie gave. "Fuck-"

Letting out a small breath, you dropped your shoulders in relief as your eyes slid to your phone. Screen lit up with the name "Issei <3" across it, you picked it up and took another small breath before accepting the call. Leaving the movie to still play in the background, you put the phone up to your ear.

"I'm in your walls." His voice shone through with a laugh before you even managed to say hello.

"Whatever happened to hello? How are you?" Questioning as your eyes flickered back the television screen, multitasking as you spoke to him. Exchanging pleasantries, talking about your day, and listening to him ramble on about work. Not realizing the sound of the movie was up high enough for him to hear, you heard him let out a cackle at the movie.

" Listen here you little bitch, you hang up on me again and I'll gut you like a fish, understand? "

"Damn- I wish you would gut me like a fish."

You rolled your eyes at his comment, a small smile pulling at your lips nonetheless. "Shut up, Issei." But you couldn't help but chuckle regardless, biting back a smirk even though you knew he couldn't see it. "That doesn't even make sense."

“I miss you.” An off kilter comment from him that made you pause, tearing your eyes away from the screen and looking down. A situationship at its finest, you and Matsukawa; talking and spending time with one another so much that others thought you were together - not putting a label on it from a fear of commitment. So his words made your heart jump to your throat, a sinking feeling settling in that was worse than the movie that played in the background.

“I miss you too.”

“ What do you want? - To see what your insides look like. ” 

You heard him stifle a laugh, “same.” Whatever ‘moment’ you had, if you really wanted to call it that, was completely dashed. Rolling your eyes at his crudeness that you had become all too accustomed to. It wasn't unusual for the man to make such remarks, to the point where you believed it was simply in his dna. It was in his nature to be a loveable, sarcastic moron.

“Don’t make me regret saying I miss you, dumbass.” Though you couldn’t help but laugh at the comment as well, but before he could respond he heard an audible crash sound from your television, followed by you taking in a sharp inhale of air. Mumbling a small ‘shit’ under your breath that you hoped he didn't hear - he most certainly did.

“You're scared aren't you?” Asking through a shit eating grin, one you could hear through the phone. You closed your eyes and groaned. “You want me to come over?”

“Watching this was not an in for you to come over.”

“It is now,” he chuckled. “So can I?”

A scream echoed off the walls and rang through the living room. You flinched at the sudden sound and gripped the blanket you had wrapped around yourself in temporary fear. The volume turned up all too loud, you didn’t hear the knock at the door of your apartment. But you most definitely heard the door swing open; whipping your head around and breath catching in your throat at the sound. Letting out a scream before covering your mouth in embarrassment once your eyes locked with familiar brown ones. 

"What's your favorite scary movie?” A grin pulling at his lips, a mischievous one filled with debauchery, before he howled in laughter; closing your door behind him. 

“I should have never let you come over, dickhead.” You felt your heart rate drop, being that it skyrocketed just seconds before, and you let out a sigh. 

“Aw, don’t say that. You love it when I come over.” His sly grin never left his lips as he sat next to you, plopping himself down on the couch and slinging his arm around you. You tried to fight the smile that desperately wanted to show itself, ultimately losing as you looked over to him and rolled your eyes. 

“Unfortunately, I do.” You heard him sigh exasperatedly, moving his other hand to his heart. “You’re the pain in my ass I don’t think I have the heart to get rid of.”

“Damn, you really know how to hurt a man’s feelings.”

“Shut up and watch the movie.”

The next hour was spent with your eyes glued to the screen, flinching and gasping every so often at cheap jump scares from the older slasher film. Matsukawa simply couldn’t help himself in reveling in this, holding you closer to him and giving your arm a squeeze after every jump, after every sharp inhale - to him, it really couldn’t get better than this. Joining you amidst your barrage of blankets sometime within him sitting down; his arm still over you and your head rested on his shoulder. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker down to you. Catching your own eyes, to which you quickly averted back to the screen, only for him to smile.  

“ There's always some stupid bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend. ”

“I would never kill you, by the way.”

His comment made you pause a moment, taken aback by the implications. Never knowing if he was truly serious, always toeing the line of frivolity with every word spoken, you simply brushed it off with a chuckle. “Oh wow, thanks, Issei, I was getting worried for a second.” Matching the energy he gave to you with a smile; to which he turned to you, looking over your features before humming. “Does that make me your girlfriend?” The question slipped from your lips before the thought registered in your mind. Internally kicking yourself for asking something so stupid, and outwardly looking down in mortification.

Another pause. One that lasted a bit too long, your heart sinking into your stomach from dread, thinking you said the wrong thing. Looking down at the fuzzy blanket you had draped around you and grasping it into a fist as unease consumed you. 

“Only if you promise not to become one of those girlfriends that leaves their boyfriend to die in horror movies.” 

You looked up at him once more, confusion written on your face that swiftly turned as you chuckled. A silly smile on his lips that was nothing but caring, a juxtaposition to his normal smirk. “Yeah, I guess I can do that.”

Honorable mentions that I couldn't fit in:

“ Number one: you can never have sex. ”

“Well I guess we're fucked.”

“ Number two: you can never drink or do drugs. ”

“Double fucked.”

banner by @/editsnocturne , divider by @/cold--carnage

[illyabata]

scars are A Thing™ with wriothesley and nobody can convince me otherwise, idc if there is zero mention of his scars or their meaning when he comes out idc it’s my permanent headcanon that scars and their stories are simply entangled with his character idc

so now i give you: wriothesley who is fascinated by your scars

tw: discussion of scars lol, but in no way do i indicate their origin unless it’s stretch marks. however if talk of scars at all is triggering to you, dont read!! it’s sweet fluffy stuff, but that doesn’t matter if it will trigger you. please take care :)

sfw, big brainrot under cut

theyre so much smaller than his, more delicate, just like you. doesnt matter if compared to other people you are big or tall, he’s such a big guy that he makes you feel small no matter your size or height. and no matter what your scars look like to you, to him they are beautiful. to him they are delicate.

he’s enamored by all of your scars no matter their origin—stretch marks, however, seem to intrigue him the most of all. he’s absolutely transfixed by them, and you can never understand why. he’s simply mesmerized by the way the blemished skin stretches as he thumbs and presses it, watching the discoloration flatten itself only to bloat back when he leaves it alone. for some reason he just seems so puzzled by the concept of natural scarring of the body; nothing had happened to harm you for these to appear—they’re simply the product of change, your skin either going through rapid periods of expanding or shrinking. he thinks they’re pretty.

he’d spend so long just running his rough fingers over your skin, absorbed in the feeling of the puckered tissue under his own blemished hands. whether the scars are stretch marks or from something else, he loves them, he loves you.

this might sound weird but i just like to imagine you both spend time gently tracing each others’ scars as comfort, like it sounds weird in words but it makes sense i promise. there is something intimate and fascinating about scars, no matter what they’re from; it’s truly like the language of your body’s history, a record of what has occurred. you can resent them or be proud of them, it really depends on the person and situation—but regardless, scars are always a record, and that is a constant no matter the person.

and if you’re not comfortable with that level of touch or that much attention on your scars, that is absolutely okay. he’s not going to make you uncomfortable, he’ll always ask if it’s okay before he looks at or touches them—or touches you at all, really. he never wants to hurt you. and if you say you’d rather he not touch your scars, he’ll understand and just show you he loves you—all of you—in some other way.

like idk about anyone else or if its just me and im fucking insane but sometimes i get lost looking at my own scars; sometimes the human body at work is just kind of fascinating to watch, and even more so in retrospect. it’s like holy fuck you’re looking at its handiwork, you can plainly see how the skin has been so masterfully rebuilt into this little woven bandaid of cells, carefully crafted to not only rebuild but protect. your body has looked after itself, and it will continue to do so. and thats just kind of a fascinating thing to me idk😭

some extra thoughts about scars, not really to do with wrio; red brackets will indicate the end of it if you want to skip: [[ it usually replaces any feeling of disgust i have because instead of focusing on the bad feeling of remembering where they came from or being sad at the way they look im able to think about how cool it is the way my body recovered and made my skin even stronger; it didnt just wipe it all away and give me a clean slate so i could forget, it pieced the cells together again bit by bit until it had not only replaced the wound but enforced it—so instead of forgetting the bad feelings, they were replaced by wonder. sort of like a sign that says “proof that where once there was pain, now there is strength”. it’s kind of like how they say you don’t just try to quit bad habits, you must replace the bad habit with a good one. you can replace the bad feelings associated with your scars with new feelings, whether they are good feelings or neutral feelings or meh feelings. ]]

before you, he understood scars to be an ugly thing—a source of shame, a show for others to marvel at if he left them uncovered, for them to ogle at and whisper about as if trying to guess the origin of the wounds was a sort of entertainment to them. and then in the fortress of meropide, his scars felt much less like a source of shame and more like an intimidation factor (which wasn’t something he necessarily felt good about, but it was something that he benefitted from as the duke). but when you came along and he began to know you, suddenly they were this beautiful, fascinating phenomenon that lead him to view his own scars in a different light.

he’s a powerful, strong man, yes. he’s intimidating and feared, but he is also loved, and all for good reason—he is solid and safe, an image of reliability to others. and sometimes it could weigh him down when he couldn’t seem to let another help carry the burden.

the way you made him feel, though, tracing his big ugly scars like they were rivers, like they weren’t repulsive—it changed him entirely, and it changed the way he saw himself. in the overworld, he was a criminal brute slathered in the proof of his savageness. in the fortress, he was the rock-solid standard for redemption, and he had to uphold his firm reputation. but with you, he was able to be fragile; with you, the walls he had built to protect himself from both sides of fontaine’s society came tumbling down, because he didn’t have to pretend when he was with you.

if such a small, sweet thing like you could see him in such a kind light with so much love in those eyes of yours, perhaps he was not so bad after all.

everyone else in all of teyvat could believe he was truly a bad guy like he sometimes enjoyed playing at—but it wouldn’t matter, because there you were in his bed every night, held fast in his big arms as you mindlessly traced the long, thin writings engraved in his skin, letting the stories they told lull you to sleep.

[numberonestuckyshipper]

I love the Howling Commandos so much, they’re so underrated if you ask me, especially the awesome dynamic they 100% had. I imagine all of them in very specific ways, some things are based off of fics I’ve read, some of it is just me.

Steve Rogers: Steve is the youngest of them all, he’s also the least experienced one and he hasn’t been part of the group nearly as long as the others considering he came into the picture after Kreischberg. He’s really fun to talk to and he’s as much of a little shit as the others are, being the leader of their group he’s in charge of tacking care of talking to superiors and shit, and he often ignores direct orders to do what he thinks is a better option, he also lets his team get away with things regular soldiers wouldn’t be allowed to do and they love him for it. He often gets yelled at by Bucky after doing stupid shit, the other Howlies often jokingly refer to him as “Dad” when it’s just them.

Bucky Barnes: Bucky has the others’ immense respect from the start, because he’s protective and caring as much as he hates to admit it. He is the only one who has negative amount of problems yelling at Steve after he did some stupid shit, he was the most scarred by Kreischberg but never lets it show. He loves music and always has a song stuck in his head and has fun pissing the others off by butchering the songs when it’s safe to be loud. He trusts Steve more than he probably should and goes with his plans, though he often forces him to modify them and cut down the crap. His protectiveness and strictness when Steve’s being a dumbass gets the others to nickname him “Mom” when they’re in private. He ‘hates’ it.

Dum Dum Dugan: Dum Dum was Bucky’s closest friend after Steve, he has a stupid sense of humor and says way too many dad jokes than is good for his teammates’ mental health. He’s always the first to jump at the opportunity to get his hands on some alcohol (no one complains about that) and he and Jim are the primary clowns of the group. He loves to tease the others, especially “Mom” and “Dad”.

Jim Morita: Jim is the one in charge of their immediate medical problems and small tech involved stuff, like Dugan, he has a shit sense of humor and they often get into battles of who can out dad-joke the other.

Gabe Jones: like Dum Dum, Gabe has known Bucky since before Azzano, and is the one in charge of languages, he speaks French and German more fluently than the others do and in the beginning he was usually in charge of dealing with Jacques’ bullshit.

Monty Falsworth: Monty is the only official member of the Howlies who isn’t broke (he is often teased about it). He could be considered the most sane of the Howlies (though not by far) he is the most experienced of the group to talk about strategy and often helps Steve and helps Bucky knock some reason into the little shit. They like to tease him for living up to every British stereotype and is often asked to ‘translate’ what Peggy says. He has a sister named Jaqueline who is a spy for the SOE.

Jacques Dernier: Jacques was a member of the French resistance, he’s from Marseille and is fully fluent in English but refuses to speak it. He understands everything the others tell him but speaks to them in French and lets them deal with it, after over a year of dealing with him all of the Howlies are more or less fluent in French. They call him a fucking pyromaniac because of his love of explosives and his talent with them. He also has a shit sense of humor that rivals with Dum Dum and Jim and is probably the most batshit crazy member of the team (though the others are pretty close behind him).

Howard Stark is considered an honorary member of the Howlies idc about any contradiction: rule n°1 when it comes to Howard Stark; don’t leave him alone with Jacques Dernier. They will set something on fire or worse. He and Monty are often laughed at for having money and they tease back by talking about rich people problems in front of the others. He is called a lot of names by the Howlies such as things like “Gadget”, “Engineer”, “Civilian”, “Civy” and things among those lines making fun of him not technically being a part of the military. He is involved in a lot of the Howlies’ inside jokes including the “Mom” and “Dad” thing.

[wordy-little-witch]

I am now hip deep in the Edge of Midnight campaign from legends of avantris and lemme tell you some shit -

1) I would lay down my life for Jericho Sticks without any hesitation. Torbek and Jericho are my sons now, no takesies backsies.

2) Lethica and Marius are so perfectly aligned to be end game lovers but I personally adore the idea of them being queerplatonic if only bc it's funny to watch people be confused and I think Lethica would adore that.

3) you can pry the concept of Briggsy having a some kind of magical fantasy cellphone equivalent from my cold dead hands - sending stone or smth idfk - and he's been keeping his buddy/boyfriend Torbek updated on all this like "Becky you would not BELIEVE what happened today-" ((listen I know the flirting bit between them in the yuletide one-shot was a feycurse but leave me alone it's funny as fuck))

4) briggsy @ jericho in ep 24 appropos nothing: Jerry, maybe we have to kiss ((sad, silly twinks with Literal Darksides are his type /j))

5) I have a friend-crush on Nikkie and I will never recover

6) I have an unyielding NEED to have Jericho get a final hit on a boss and yell yeehaw

7) I know stylistically Jericho doesn't have "skin" but I personally hc that his clothes aren't effectively his skin, he has a burlap body - and he has "tattoos" in the form of embroidery. It started when he had to stitch up his own cuts and stuff and he just kept it up.

8) Only Yorgrim has any constant sense of cooking in an actual kitchen-like setting. Farryn, Marius, and Briggsy can do journey or on-the-road cooking, but it's never.... great. Lethica burns everything somehow or gets the bright idea to 'experiment', and it's never good - she's fine if she's got clear end goals. Jericho is understandably skittish around fire due to his body and straw, but he is the closest to being able to cook well and do so semi regularly.

9) Virgil is a weird mix of a hater and lowkey overprotective. He does hate being imprisoned, but also he's kinda bound here so he HAS to keep this disaster of a bard safe. He refuses to admit he might have a soft spot. He is Stressed.

10) Farryn doesn't get the appeal of Girls Nights, but Jericho does!!! They join Lethica for some fun relaxation. Briggsy once asked why Jericho was allowed since he's also a dude, and Lethica just responded "he's allowed to be there - on account of him being a scarecrow and not a literal man after all." It's an inside joke which later has to be explained - Jericho is nonbinary but doesn't rightly care about stuff like that.

11) Yorgrim is the group dad, no I will not explain.

12) sometimes after a battle, Lethica and Marius will help stitch up some of Jericho's tears. Farryn may also add in random flowers she finds around because it makes him happy.

13) Briggsy is small but mighty. The only person he has yet to pick up and carry is Yorgrim - he swears that one day that tombstone will be gone and he'll be able to do it. It's all the rock's fault, he's sure of it.

Spoilers under the cut (caught up to present)

OKAY so I am caught up completely and have decided that Canon is not important leave me alone

• Yorgrim did not die - he got wounded heavily but survived.

• Farryn almost got taken but they got to her in time. She is mute for a time due to injuries and trauma - idk if she ever talks again bc we could use more sign language in the world. Maybe it comes and goes, fuck if I know, idk and idc

ONWARDS TO SILLIES

• Lethica strong armed her way into giving Jericho The Talk after he revealed he had no idea what a penis was. Scarecrows cannot blush, but apparently his fiendish glow can ebb and flow and he glows much MUCH brighter when he's embarrassed - she tries so hard not to laugh.

• Adella and Jericho btw are simply besties. His "crush" on her is a friend crush and Phillip just finds it painfully cute. ((Also -> Jericho has mommy issues and Adella always wanted a son/nephew/little brother. Peaceful alignment))

• Dark Mode Marius is a colossal flirt but still a giant dweeb. He's cool and suave until someone flirts back - then he's a mess.

• Briggsy is very happy with his Kannon & makes "shooting my shot" jokes at every and any opportunity

• Yorgrim, with his reward, manages to finally lay many souls tonrest but he still carries the tombstone on journeys - just not constantly now. He still believes he must pay penance, but it's a little easier to share the burden.

• Farryn, with her own reward, has not chosen to activate it yet. Something tells her to wait, to bide her time and remain. She does, however, get a little more at ease with the others. She and Jericho have come to an understanding, too - that being they they are a package deal, no takesies backsies, and they refer to each other as twin, much to the confusion of many, many, many people. WLW and NBLM solidarity.

• Jericho is pining HARD for Marius, but he's absolutely terrified of damaging the friendship so everyone is watching two oblivious dummies look longingly into each other.

• POLYAMORY POLYAMORY POLYAMORY

• Marius grows rather fond of Virgil, and the sentiment is very much NOT reciprocated bc this angry knight vampire is not good enough for his vessel and he's mad about it.

• Yorgrim: I've only had my friends for a few days, but if anything happened to them, I'd kill everyone in Druskenvald and then myself.

• I fully expect for Jericho to somehow befriend an enemy in disguise, not realize, and accidentally fuck up the evil plan with the powers of puns, music and friendship (/j)

• the first time the party sees Jericho presenting more feminine, he's been lended one of Lethica's dresses after his own clothes got torn up and the rest are being washed. Marius has a nosebleed and faints. Briggsy is staring somewhat respectfully. Lethica is trying valiantly not to laugh. Farryn and Yorgrim regret not dying when they had the chance.

• Marius: i cannot have a relationship because I have sworn to follow the duchess of sin

Lillith: whoa hold up, Do Not use me as an excuse to avoid the cutie pie over there. Besides, he has a demon. I'm queen of hell. I can make a small exception.

Marius: shit

• Briggsy Bi Icon: OH if ONLY Jerry here had a DASHING KNIGHT to SAVE THEM from this PERILOUS INCIDENT

Jericho: captain, I'm just getting off of a horse??

Marius: no no Briggsy has a point, no maiden should be unaccompanied or unassisted. Allow me-

Lethica&Farryn: We Know What You Are

• Yorgrim is watching all this inter party flirting and is definitely wondering if he's gonna have to have an aside with everyone about flirting tactics and communication skills. Briggsy is making it worse by enabling everyone.

• Farryn gets some sweet, succulent healing, that is all.

[vitzi9]

Patience is the key to success (2)

Masterlist if you want to read my others things. Part 1 here.

CW/TW: yandere-manipulative-obsessive-stalker-ethan, fem reader, smut, no p in v, depressed reader(but really), suicidal thoughts

i'm trying to post this quick because I crave attention, whatever its insults, compliments, likes or repost, idc. I want ppl to know i'm existing. i have a big oral test tomorrow and im really bad at speaking before someone (hence why im writing instead) so i just need to know im not totally useless in the society and that im, at the very least, making people enjoy my things. sorry for the rant, i have a big headhache, probably gonna die ✌️😚

the smut is really bad btw but like really but im bad at writing them but i need to to improve (26/06/2023) (5226 words)

"Let's just finish watching the movie now." you say and Ethan doesn't make you repeat as he goes straight to the couch.

You felt much better after that little talk. Ethan did not say much but in his words, there was a lot more. He was planning to be with you a long time. He does not want to ruin things. It made you so happy. Every fiber in you was warm thinking of it. You were at peace.

Ethan was calm after that, albeit moving uncomfortably sometimes. (maybe because of his boner?) He was just as cuddly as when you arrived. His head laid flat on your chest, rising up and down with each one of your breath. Your fingers brush his curl slowly as you hear his breathing slacken. You were giddy thinking about him being at peace with you, too.

His arms were closed tightly around your body, never letting you go. The movie was really advanced by now, the end was coming soon. It probably was something towards 11AM. Usually, you would have gone knock at your friend's house but there was no need now as you already saw her earlier.

When the movie fatefully ended, the credits start to roll but none of you moved an inch. Ethan rubs his cheeks against your chest before sighing happily. His eyes were closed. Was he asleep ? No, certainly not. He loves horror movie. He wouldn't fall asleep when one is ongoing.

He was cute here. You were delighted to think he trusted you enough to let his guards down and sleep with you. You were his safeplace. And he was yours. Your fingers trail down on his back where you draw small patterns dreamily. You write things, that cross your mind. You simply scratch him. His sudden speaking startle you. Your hand stopping evey movements.

"Are you sleeping far from here, today ? Every movements of his jaw hitting slightly on your chest. 'today' because he knew about your frequent change of home.

Relaxing, you continue to caress his back lovingly.

-No, not really. But I don't sleep there anymore.

The hotel too was starting to worry you. Like the building was shrieking on you. You don't know what was scarier, to be alone or to never be. And now that you found such a warm place, you don't want to leave. Ever.

-Why ?

-Scare me, s'all.

-You can sleep here tonight, if you want.

-Why ? Your decision was already made; you'd sleep here. You knew it the second he offered you to stay the night. But you wanted to see his arguments to convince you.

"Let me be with you." his sentence made a shiver run down your back.

Did that stalker fucked you up so hard you had chill even thinking about them? It was just a damn sentence. Everyone can say it. For god's sake, it's Ethan saying it of all people. Even if he awoke this uneasy feeling back, you couldn't blame him. He didn't know about the sign the criminal had shown you. You didn't tell him that much detail, only saying they had indeed brought creepy signs but omitting what was written on it. And Ethan said it so prettily, too. Yes, of course you'd be with him.

He told you you never slept here before and that you'd be safe anyway since he's here and don't plan on leaving you. So you accepted. It was really early in the day but the both of you were getting sleepy because of the calm and comfort of the situation. He offered you to go to his room which you accepted. After guiding you to there, he tells you he has to go grab something and that he'd be back really quick.

And he did, in fact, came back really quick.

By then, you were already sprawled out on his bed. You had time to see the mess he had scattered everywhere. The carboard, the books, the drawings, some letters, too. And you even found out about his second phone. The lockscreen was a generic one, the one you have by default, as if he just got it recently. But the phone wasn't new, it seems in contrary really old as it was broken at some area.

Ethan arrives in the room with a small plastic blue square packaging, you don't have time to see what it was that he throws it under the bed. You don't pay it too much attention. Playing mindlessly with his other phone in hand, you take off and put back the phone case of it to entertain yourself.

"You got two phones ? you ask even though you kind of knew the answer already.

-Oh, yes. One is for games only, the other is the one I'm really using. Did you went on it ?

-No, don't worry, I won't frisk into your secret criminal life."

He smiles before taking the phone out of your hand. He places it in the drawer of his nightstand. Ethan falls on top of you, taking your breath away for a moment. You laugh and hit his back for him to get away from you and he just laugh heartly before letting himself fall beside you.

He lays down, setting his head on his arm, looking up at you with stars in eyes. Sometimes, he's so pretty it hurt physically to look at him. Starting to get embarrassed by his insistent look, you find something to say.

-Why do you have so much pieces of cardboard anyway ?

-I make placards out of them.

With a fond smile, Ethan stares straight at your eyes. As if waiting for you to say something. You would have ask questions about his 'placards ' if not for the sudden interest he was displaying in you, which, instead, made you change subject without really noticing it. A nervous laugh escaping you.

-Why are you looking at me like that ? Is there an undertone ? Am I supposed to understand something ?"

He shakes his head negatively, displaying a small mischievous smile. He could be such a goblin at times ! Wanting to make him swallow his pride, you lean towards him and kiss his lips. Ethan smiles and moves his lips with yours.

Your arm set down on his waist and soon the kiss get heated. Ethan's body is burning, his breath is too. You don't let each other breath, as soon as you separate from each other, you plunge back in. Physically needing the contact.

You rise on your knee, arching your back to kiss him still laying flat on the bed. Soon, he joins you by rising as well. Both of you on your knees, face to face, eating each other's face. Ethan's hand are mahandling you to sit on his thights. Then, with his surprising strenght, he starts sliding you on them. Your heating pussy rubbing directly on the fabric of his pant. Your hand instinctivly goes to rub the growing tent in his trousers. The area was hot, when you slide your fingers on it, it would budge.

Ethan whimpers, thrusting his hips against yours. You straddle him completly, framing his his body with your legs. You rub his tent against your clit for some frictions. It was aching and growing more desperate by seconds.

"I... I wanna have sex with you." Ethan says softly.

You kiss his cheek, going for his neck. You answer with a meek 'me too' before sucking the skin of his neck. Ethan backs his head, already out of breath. He gives you full access to his body, still rutting desperatly his hips into yours.

But you were growing impatient. You lift your body from him, making him whine at the contact loss, before sliding your fingers behind the elastic of his pants. You slip it down to his knees before you start salivating at the sight of his hard cock already drooling for you.

He didn't have any underwear. That's why you could feel him so close to your core.

Your hand touch his thight, caressing gently his body. Making sure to avoid the area he need you the most. Ethan try to touch himself, tired of your teasing, but you slap his hand away. He whines and looks up at you with teary eyes. Silently begging you to do something. It was impossible for you to resist him.

Your hand grabs his cock in one motion, you could feel it pulse and its warmth propagate in your hand. It was already so so wet because of all his precum, your hand was sliding so easily you could have thought he came multiple times already. Gently, you start to move your hand on all its lenght slowly. The boy props himself on his elbows and look at the scene before him. Ethan sighs happily, eyes closing and head backing. He's in heaven, he thinks. But not entirely, as he looks at you still clothed.

"Want to... Want to finger you..." he pleas.

In front of a boy so desperate, and being incredibly horny, you slide your pant down, making sure your underwear went with it. Ethan lose every one of his braincells when he sees your bare pussy glistening with your love juice. He wanted to lick it bad. That's the only one fanstam he ever had that help him getting off so hard he can't move for a whole minute. He wants to drown himself in your juice. But you have others projects.

You guide his pointer finger to your lips. Ethan starts caressing it and smear your juice everywhere. His lift up another finger and start passing both of them on your lips.

"Here, you have to touch here." you say, pointing to your clit.

You move briefly to bring your genitals closer. You could feel each other's warmth emanating from your core. Seeing him try to touch you was so hot. He was listening to everything you said.

Soon getting the hang of it, he starts circling your clit, applying different pressure on it to see which one were you reacting the most to. Slowly, you quicken your pace on his hard cock. As if to reward him for being such a good boy. He was in a trance, eyes closing and opening. And when they opened, they were staring with a utmost care at your moving breast throught your shirt. Your nipples were hard and were poking through the fabric.

His eyes were glued to it. Understanding his want, you lift your shirt above your collarbone with your free hand. Ethan can't seem to take off his eyes of you. They're probably the first pair of breasts he sees in real life after all.

"Fuck... You're so pretty, love." you speed up on his shaft at his praise. "Fuck, fuck...

-You can touch baby.

-I can?"

He stops all movements to your pussy, your frown but let him discover his needs. It was his first time, you needed to let him have a little fun. His free hand touch one of your breast, massaging it then weighten it in the palm of his hand. He smiles like an idiot, an idiot so cute you let him do what he wants with you. His other, wet, hand pinch lightly your sensitive bud.

Your free hand slap his arm to make him understand he did it too hard. He sends you an apologatic smile.

"They're like stress ball."

Amused by the weird comparison, your chuckle. Still impatient to come, you guide your hand higher on his cock to caress his tip and rub it. His face contorts in pleasure, browns frows and mouth ajar. His forehead fall on your shoulder while his fingers go back down near your entrance. His hips were thrusting into nothing but your hand. Obscene wet noises were resulted. You were hot, terrribly hot but so was he.

Ethan's small puff of breath sends chill in your body. His whimpers couldn't be replaced with anyone else. Your hand was all wet and sticky, as was his. Ethan decides to enter once again two of his digits in you. Your head falls back and you sigh happily at finally scratching that itch in you.

"Curl your fingers, E." you whisper.

He hums and do as told. Curling his fingers in you, he starts to thrust them in and out at a slow pace, adopting the same sensuality you used to jerk him off. You accelerate, your hand no longer lingering on the entire shaft. Sometimes, you'd stop completly to hear him whine. Your thumb caressing his cock's veins.

"Baby please..." he pleas.

Ethan starts kissing sloppily your shoulder, your neck. You, on the other hand, take his hand to guide the thrust of his fingers, angling them correctly for them to touch that spongy spot inside. His fingers were long and thin, that was a part of him you absolutly loved. You always had a thing for pretty hands and his were beautiful.

"What do you want, love? you ask tenderly.

-Tell me you love me..."

You nudge his hair with your nose and he looks up. Staring at his eyes, you see them wet with tears. You kiss him instantly. Playing with his tongue with yours, your hand moving faster and faster. You stop the kiss to tell him you love him and he bites his lips, eyes closing.

His breath is jerky, uneven. You press his palm against your clit, rubbing it while you push his fingers inside you again. You feel a knot tighten. You won't last long.

"Tell me you love me.

-I love you E, you're doing so good.

-Again..."

You said it as many times as he needed to feel better. His hips stuttters, his cock quivers. His words are slurred to each other, resulting in incomprehensible blabbering. You don't lose the rythm, keeping the same pace until he'd eventually come.

-Love you so..." he whines.

His body tense, his breath stops. You can only hear the wet sounds your hand is producing. He doesn't utter a sound until spurts of cum smear on your hand and belly. Feeling at ease, he moans a last time from relief and breath again.

You're not far behind. Ethan being pratically knocked out, you grind on his hand. You close your thighs around it, ensuring it stay inside. Your legs are shaking, wave of hot and cold invade you. You plunge his fingers inside but, to your surprise, Ethan regains control and start pounding into you to get you to your end.

He kisses your neck while you finally come on his fingers, sweaty and disvesheled. You swear one last time when he withdraws his fingers. You stay here for a while, just hugging , breathing and basking in each other's presence.

After some minutes, you decide to go shower together. You end up finally getting a good night of sleep, cuddled in his strong arms.

The next day, Ethan and you had a stupid satisfied smile on your face. Both happy to be here. You kissed and confessed your love to each other all morning until eventually he had to leave for work. Sadly, you had things to do, too. Ethan offered you to stay and sleep here for a few nights because he wanted to stay close to you.

You liked this idea. Of course you liked it, you love Ethan. And to convince you further, he told you his roomate wouldn't mind. So naturally you accepted. You were embarassed at the idea of bothering his roomate but you decided you would just sleep here, and the day, you'd let the apartment free. It was his too, after all. Not only Ethan's. There is no way you'd let someone feel excluded in their own house.

Grabbing your phone, you click on your friend's number. You call her, the ringing echoes three times and no one answer. Somehow begrudgingly, you resume yourself at simply sending a text. Just for you to instantly forgetting your sorrow as she answers. The discussion was quite simple, she was telling you she was at her grandma right now. She was bored and wanted to know how you were doing.

'I'm going back to my dear haunted apartment, probably gonna die. Wish me luck.' you texted. She put a little more time answering this one. It's possible it triggered something in her. After everything she endured. 'nobody will hurt you as long as i'm alive' she said. She simply changed subjects after that. Asking you about the cute guy you told her about in the letters. And so you explained everything. Every time you tried to offer to call her, she'd decline. You were still sad she didn't want to talk to you but you were telling yourself you needed to be patient.

On a happier note, you decided to leave the place to go to your own apartment.

To one point, you should have known better than be too happy about your improving situation. Of course, it was well too soon for you to consider everything better. But you were probably stupid because the fall hit you much harder than you could've prepared yourself for. Oh, the pain you felt when reality had finally caught you. You thought you were going to die when you came back home to simply grab some clothes. (Ethan told you to do so.)

Your door was ajar. But it wasn't your doing. No, of course it wasn't you. Your apartement terrified you, why would you come here more ofthen than needed ? You felt your body freeze but you quickly overcame the feeling. That's it. You needed it to end. This fucking stalker had ruined you. You and your life. You sent a text to Ethan, telling him that if you do not call him after twenty minutes, he needed to call the cops. He didn't answer. He was at work. It was well past eleven by now.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it was going to collapse on the ground, and you with it. Slowly, aware of every sound around you, you push the door. Your livingroom was as messy as you had left it. At one difference, the wall. Every frame you had put up on the walls were thrown away. Most of them on the ground and broken, with shattered glasses everywhere.

Why would the creep empty the walls ? To write on it. Of course they would write on it. You laugh bitterly for yourself. You couldn't see their stupids fucking signs anymore, so they had to improve. To force you to read their creepy obsessive text. You hear the crushing of a broken piece of glass, as if someone had stepped on it. But it wasn't you.

You're on alert. Every one of your senses on crisis. Was your mind playing tricks on you ? It was possible in this hellish house who did nothing but give you nightmares recently. You don't realize how you stopped breathing. Only calming when three long minutes had gone without another sound to be heard.

Nothing is here. You're alone, you think. Everything is good. You'll just grab your stuff and leave. Regaining your breath, you bring your attention back on the wall. Words were written on it in deep crimson red. Is that blood ? No, it can't be. Probably paint to give a creepy look that'll catch your attention. You approach the wall to better understand the message.

'She's not here anymore'

The need to throw up almost won. A dark feeling in your guts was telling you 'she' was your friend. But you didn't know. She responded to you, after all. You talked to her. So she had to be okay. She had to. You put your hand on your belly to soothe that want to vomit. You take big breath before finally leaving the livingroom. You quickly make your way to your room where you meet your bare bed. Where are your sheets ? What the hell ? But you don't want to stay longer so you throw clothes in your bag in a hurry.

The front door slam shut. And you know it's the end.

You already feel the tears drowning your sight. Trying to stay silent, you hide in your closet almost empty with how many times you came here to grab clothes. Your hand clasp against your mouth to avoid doing any noise.

Slow footsteps can be heard in the empty apartment. With your shaky hands, you fail to unlock your phone. Your vision is blurry, you can't touch the correct keys. The worst is that you can't see where the creep is. If they stay silent, they can enter the room you're in without you even noticing. And this idea is horrifying. But on another side, you'd preferred them to kill you by surprise so you don't have to affront them.

Your cries intensify, in your despair, you drop your phone straight on the ground. The footsteps stops abrutly. Three distincts knocks are echoing on the corridor's wall. They are coming toward you. You're fucked. They're coming ! What do you do ? What did you do ? Why is this happening ?

Kneeling like you could in the closed space, you reach your hand to grab your phone. As soon as your finger grazes it, the phone vibrate and your ringtone start playing for the whole building to hear. No, no, no, no, no ! Ethan. Ethan is calling you. You pick up despite everything but as soon as you do so, the call is cut short. Fuck E, why would you do that !

The criminal's footsteps are louder, quicker, heavier. They're running. They're running here ! You hold the closet door shut with your both hands, praying for your life. You only have knives in your kitchen, but it's too late now. If you go out, they'll see you. You realized at that moment that whatever you were doing, you couldn't win. That you never even stood a chance against them.

Everything was illusion.

Nothing was improving, you knew it, in fact. You were lying to yourself, searching comfort in a man that don't even understand the dept of the problem. Of your problem. And your friend ? You don't want to talk about her. You don't want to open your eyes just yet. You just want to live in your nice little lies you made up for yourself. You're nice with them, in fact, you like them. Nobody wanted to help you anyway. They could have saved you, you and her, but nobody listened.

Now, it's too late.

The closet start to shake. Widening your eyes, you realize that the creep had start to punch it with their bare fist. You don't give a fuck about being heard anymore, you're bailing your eyes out. Begging for them to let you go, screaming, yelling, calling for help. Holding the door for dear life as if it was going to save you, because in your head it was. But the door didn't last long.

A hole is quickly created in the door. You thought you'd see someone's face, wether it be a man, a woman, whatever. But you saw a white plastic mask instead.

Ghostface.

Why was a damn Ghostface chasing after you? Was it all a sick joke from the start ? You swear you were seeing his eyes boring into yours through the mask. You swore you already saw them somewhere. Ghostface tilts their face to the side, as if mocking you. They were telling you that you were stuck, that it was the end. You hoped they'd kill you.

You couldn't live like this anymore.

In the hole of the closet, Ghostface pass his gloved hand. The latter lay on your shaky face, on your cheek to be exact. You feel the fabric against your skin and think of biting his fingers off. No, you'll angry him. If he's going to kill you, that it be in the least painful way.

"Ethan, right ? Does he treat you so well you forgot about me?" his changed voice said. A weird and creepy robotic voice, one you knew you'd never forget.

You were moving your head left to right. You didn't know why. Probably to tell you didn't want to die, probably to avoid looking into his eyes. He laughs, sounding like a rumbling.

"Ending things right now would be such a waste."

No ! You thought you were finally free ! Why would he chases you down for so long without acting on it !? His gloved hand retract and the door slowly open in an acute creaking. The man is finally revealed before you. He was wearing the whole outfit, the big black robe and the hood.

"It was fun. I give you a gift to reward you for these beautiful screams."

And the knife.

He had a knife in hand. And it was tinged red. Something in you told you it was her. Suddenly, the red writings on your wall had a different meaning.

"I hope you like it, I worked extra hard for it."

Out of nowhere, Ghostface takes your hand, force it open, and lay in it something before forcing it closed. He laughs deeply. One of his hand pat your head mockingly before moving up.

"See you later." he said, swinging his knife in a playful manner.

You were absolutely paralyzed. You didn't know what happened. You stayed up without moving for whoever say how long. When your legs finally stopped shaking, you decided to look what the killer had gave you. Slowly opening your hand, your knee buckle and you fall to the ground crying silently at the sight of a nip of your friend's hair.

You curled up on yourself before completly laying down on the ground, tightening the hairs in your hand close to your heart. She was not here anymore. You wanted to fucking die.

Ever since, Ethan was forgotten. He had tried to call you so many times you had blocked his number. You spent the rest of the day crying in your hotel's room. You resented him. So hard. He didn't answer, he was the one calling and giving your position to a fucking criminal, to a murderer! And he didn't answer. He didn't help, like everyone else.

One day later, neighbors complained about a smell coming from an apartment. You didn't cry when they found your friend's dead body. You didn't cry when cops came to interrogate you. The caretaker having told them about you. Your eyes contained so much hatred in them when looking at him the cops had to let him leave to get him away from you. You didn't cry telling the cops how many times you went to see them to ask for help, nor how many times did they reject you. You didn't cry when they told you she was dead for at least a week, and that her boyfriend was missing. You had no tears left in you. It had simply ended you.

All your lies, every single one of them, destroyed. But you needed them. Of course you weren't talking to her by text, you never did. And fuck, you don't even want to know who was answering instead of her. It was so obvious how she never wanted to call, how she was never leaving her house. But the eye you saw at the peephole. The fucking eye...

You don't want to think about it.

Ethan tried to talk to you. He went to your hotel and found you. You didn't bother to move this time as you were done with your life. He fell to his knee and started begging and crying for your forgivness. Did you even love him ? Or were you, are you, just lonely ? Unfortunately, you decided to forgot the anger you had against him when you realized he was the only thing you had. Your only support. The only one knowing you were a victim. You spent the days crying in his arms.

"Shhh, shhh, I'm here, love. It's okay." he reassured you, again.

It was a routine, now. You'd sleep the days away and when you'd wake up, you'd find yourself crying inconsolably. Everything was your fault, you kept repeating in your head. She's fucking dead because of you.

You wanted to end it all but Ethan wanted you alive at every cost. He was brushing your hair, feeding, washing and changing you. You were a lifeless doll. Sometimes, his roomate would come and talk to you. Most of the times, you don't even realize he's talking to you, too lost in your thought to proceed his presence.

"It's okay, everything's okay."

Ethan hugs you firmly. Kissing your hairline. His t-shirt was damped. Your eyes were burning. Every time you closed them, the picture of your friend would come and haunt you, a new nightmare coming. You weren't able to think about something else anymore. But it was your fault. You put her in danger, you got her killed. It was you Ghostface wanted, not her. You got her killed.

"I want to leave..." you whispered in a voice so hoarse, so weak, it didn't sound like yours. His hand goes on the back of your head to pull you towards him.

"No, no my love. It's okay. I'll protect you. You won't be alone anymore." his leg goes over yours and crushes them to prevents you from moving.

Alone.

Have you ever been alone in your life ? No, he was here all along. He was watching you all along. You never were truly alone. He had your adress, your friend's adress, your number and even Ethan's name. No, he's always here. Lurking.

"Just... Stay with me, I'll protect you. Please, don't leave me." he begs.

He looked calm, surprisingly calm being given the situation. But you needed it, in a way. If he doesn't freak out, you don't need to. (you coudn't, even if you wanted to) He probably know what to do. It was too late for you but he could do something. Maybe. His behaviour was slightly comforting. It was dangerous, mostly for him. He probably didn't even know what he was doing, he probably didn't know what he was getting himself into, in fact.

But once, just for once, you wanted to be helped. You wanted someone to listen to your pleas. He was going to die, it was a fact. And yeah, maybe you were selfish, you were condamning him after all.

"I feel like I'm using you. Like I manipulated you. you say, mostly for your own conscience than for his safety.

-Use me, love. I don't care. Manipulate me, whatever. I swore I'd help you. And if I have to risk my life doing it, I'll do it. I love you. You don't know the things I'd do for you.

-Now, you're the one manipulating me...

It was true. He was forcing you to think you had a chance in getting out of this situation when you knew there were none.

-Oh baby, you have no idea how manipulative I can be to obtain what I want.

-If you say so." you whisper, drifting to sleep once again, knowing you'd wake up hours later in the same position, in the same problem and knowing you killed your friend.

[vxsellie]

okokok so ik i JUST posted about hozier, but i have another song to yap about while i'm here

and idc what anybody says bc 'in the woods somewhere' is a literary fucking masterpiece and deserves to be talked about

it's a story of grief and mourning, depicting the narrator learning to live his life again without his lover in it. it's written in a way that's easy to understand, yet still poetic and symbolic, leaving a mark on anyone who takes the time to actually understand what this genius of a man is trying to say

"my head was warm, my skin was soaked, i called your name 'til the fever broke. when i awoke, the moon still hung, the night so black that the darkness hummed."

the first few lines paint a picture of grief as well as the sorrow that follows it. the narrator is lost and in pain because he'd succumbed to a fever that was caused by his own lack of care for himself.

he wakes in the middle of the night, which shows that all this misery that he'd been enduring is all very small in the grand scheme of things. it's one thing to endure all this for days on end. but it's a whole separate thing to go through pain and suffering only to find out its only been a few hours.

"i raised myself, my legs were weak, i prayed my mind be good to me."

this is simply more description on how poorly he's doing. before, it was showing his health in a mental sense. now, however, the song is going on to depict how this ignorance toward himself is effecting his body in a physical sense as well.

"an awful noise filled the air. i heard a scream, in the woods somewhere."

i feel like this bit is self explanatory. he woke in the middle of the night, tormented by memories of whoever he's mourning (the person whose name they were screaming in the beginning) and now we know that he's also in the middle of the woods ???

him being in the woods can be symbolic to his lack of awareness for the world around him amid his time of grief, but it can also be in a literal sense ⎯ which is the one that i'll be diving into

"a woman's voice. i quickly ran, into the trees with empty hands."

this is the HUUUUUGE turning point for the narrator's character.

somebody who is grief stricken would normally sleep their days away and let themselves feel nothing but the pain that they believe they deserve. clearly, the narrator is no acceptation to this. we don't know how long he'd been wasting away ⎯ allowing their fever to get worse and their legs to grow weak. though, if anyone were to guess, it's likely been a long time.

now he suddenly hears somebody scream in the distance. and, without a second thought nor a moment of hesitation, he runs directly into the woods without any weapon or means to protect himself.

i feel like this shows how much he truly doesn't care for his health or his life at all, as most people wouldn't run toward danger so impulsively. or if they were to, they'd at least bring something for defense.

but the fact that our narrator didn't goes to show his lack of interest for his own wellbeing ⎯ which is telling, considering he still clearly cares for others around him (hence him running toward danger simply bc someone screamed & might need his help).

"a fox it was. he shook, afraid, i spoke no words. no sound he made."

mic drop.

he heard a woman's scream and ran towards it despite his fever, his weak legs, and his lack of, well, health in general. he did all this only to learn that it's not a woman. it's a fox.

the two creatures ⎯ man and for ⎯ stare at one another, not a single noise being made by either of them.

i like to think that the narrator is seeing himself in the fox for this verse. the way it's staring at him with scared eyes, shaking with fear. there's no way he's looking at it without at least a little bit of recognition, knowing how it feels to be so lost and alone, seeing as he was in that same boat only moments ago.

"his bone exposed, his hind was lame. i rose a stone, to end his pain."

the narrator now sees how awful the fox's situation is. bone exposed, the song says. this means it's likely covered in blood and nearing it's death. in other words, the animal that the narrator could see himself in? it's dying. quite symbolic if i do say so myself ⎯ the fox acting as a mirror for the man to see himself through the eyes of an outsider. and what's the first thing he does when he sees the pure misery of the fox? seek to put the poor thing out of it.

the awareness of there similarities would normally push someone to treat the animal with kindness ⎯ to at least try to help it live. but our narrator knows better. living on when one doesn't want to is oftentimes worse than dying, because you likely already feel dead.

"what caused the wound? how large the teeth? i saw new eyes were watching me."

this verse shows that he's now not just seeing the animal as a random creature. he's pondering and wondering what hurt it and why.

then, he realizes that the animal that hurt the fox isn't yet gone. it's watching him. this is a simple verse ⎯ wondering why the fox was hurt, then turning and seeing the animal that hurt it.

but nothing by hozier is simple, there's always an underlying message. here, i think the message is that the narrator is the new prey. he's now being put in the position that the fox was just in ⎯ parallel to how the fox is in the pained position that the narrator was just in.

"the creature lunged, i turned and ran, to save a life i didn't have."

okay. now this?

THIS?

this is where it's proven that the narrator is experiencing some character development.

at the beginning, he was rotting away in the soil of some random woods, not caring for his health, wellbeing, or life at all. he didn't give a single fuck whether or not he would die - hence why he's sleeping in the center of the woods with no means of protection on him.

but as soon as this allegedly meaningless life is in danger or put at stake, he now desperately want to save himself. he's trying to save his own life. one that he wasn't sure he even had to begin with.

"deer in the chase, there as i flew. forgot all prayers of joining you."

okay okay okay. bare with me here.

hozier, the man that you are. they could never make me hate you. and this is why.

see, the idea that the narrator was now the prey is confirmed here. he very blatantly compares himself to a deer ⎯ an animal that's known for being prey to those larger than it. he fled the scene like a deer. like prey. like the fox.

"forgot all prayers of joining you" is such an insanely heavy line that i cannot even try and fit it all in here. i could yap forever on it.

we already knew that he wanted to die. we already knew that he nearly killed the thing that he saw as himself [the fox]. we already knew that he was mourning someone.

but here it is, laid out bare and comprehensible.

the narrator had prayed to join his lover, thereby having prayed to die. but now, when it actually comes down to it, he's fighting to live.

"i clutched my life and wished it kept. my dearest love, i'm not done yet."

ASJHDAJSHGDKAHSDHJAS

him clutching his life just shows how painfully desperate he is to live. to not die. he's holding it the way he (should have) held a weapon to defend himself. but due to his previous ignorance for his own life, he now has no way to save this life.

he can do naught but wish. it. kept.

the fact that he's wishing for their life to continue when we just learned that he had wished for it to end??? that's fucking unreal. like. what.

the bolded line is my absolute favorite hozier lyric to exist. there's so many beautiful lyrics that andrew has written and so many that i absolutely adore & could yap about forever, but nothing compares to that line. nothing compares to the first time i registered what it meant and how extremely fucking insane it is.

because. the narrator is not apologizing to his lover, he's simply informing them that he now wishes to live.

but he could have said "i want to live" which would be more simple and much more easy for people to understand. he also could have said "i don't want to die" which, again, would be so much easier to comprehend.

instead, he say "i am not done yet" and i think that wording is so powerfully heavy as it appeals to the idea that more is to come. more bad things are inevitably to present themselves in his life. and, despite that, he wishes to continue.

"how many years i know i'll bear i found something in the woods somewhere."

he then goes on to say that the remaining years of his life will be a burden. he will 'bear' them. he won't live them, because he never said that he wishes to be happy. he simply doesn't wish to die any longer than he already had felt dead.

he says that he found something that day. he found life.

also, this is irrelevant, but i love the fact that the song ended on with the title, but didn't begin with it. because their life started at the end of the song, not at the beginning.

[mossdontknowwhattheydoin]

I once was talking to a friend and I told her I wrote fanfic and she was like "what really about what?" And I was like; 'uhh not a lot just about Minecraft I guess, streamers too'

And I jokingly added; 'about just gay rp lmao in a mc server'

And she was like; "what fr? I thought we left that in 2020 that's weird 😂"

And for like a good while she just wouldn't leave the topic alone- kept semi bullying me

And I just didn't reply but like omfg it made me so unnecessarily pissed, bc, no- fuck you- like idc if it's weird. Bc I genuinely enjoy the interactions I have with ppl who also enjoy the shit I do- and like, I enjoy reading the comments under my fic bc ppl are enjoying what I write- I literally just joined a server dedicated to a ship so many ppl like and it's great- bc ppl r coming together and brainrotting about characters and talking and it's fucking amazing- you know what? Our 'weird' likes brought the server into being and those ppl tg-

Literally been talking and brainrotting with this random person who just dmed me bc we like the same things-

Fuck you nah idc if what I like is weird bc this small lil kinda community is fucking awesome and beautiful and fuck you

[amomentwiser]

The boys will hate my outfit.

They will think it attention-seeking, maybe,

or mock that someone as big as me is wearing something as small as this skirt.

But the older aunties have done that too, brows rising to their hairline when I pass by...

so I don't know.

The girls say they love my style, and my hair.

Some boys look disgusted, some like maybe they want to ask me out?

I don't know. I ignore them both;

Act like I don't see the expression in their eyes or hear it in their voice when I'm talking to them.

I don't like being stared at. Men stare at me when I go out, especially if I wear a crop top.

It's an Indian town I live in, so that's to be expected, I guess.

But now that I think about it, women do too -- the older ones, the conservative aunties.

But their judgy gazes are a different kind of uncomfy than the men's. The aunties' murmurs make me roll my eyes or walk straighter in defiance. The men's makes me wish I had a jacket.

I don't know, though. Maybe I'm just socially anxious.

I try to fake confidence when I go out. I fail.

So instead I choose to glare at everyone, because anger is an easier emotion to summon than self-love or confidence.

I try my best to look menacing even when I'm quite happy inside, because my days of people-pleasing and smiling at people are over and I will not have strangers approach me.

I will be rude and proudly have a resting bitch face so I can be left the fuck alone.

(Seriously, why do strangers talk to me. Like, cute story, grandma in the park, but who the fuck asked.) (Dear reader, please don't hate me for saying this.) (I just really really prefer to be left alone.)

Actually you know what? Hate me all you want. Idc. I will not pretend to like things to win the approval of others.

I will not pretend to like things to win the approval of others.

I will not pretend to like things to win the approval of others.

(When I was 18 my classmate asked if I liked Green Day and I said yes. I don't know why, I had only ever listened to their one popular song. Oh wait, actually, I do know why.)

But it's okay, I'm 22 now and trying to leave my people-pleasing ways behind me.

I heave a sigh at the relief at the solitude of being home.

But I don't know. Maybe good and bad people have always existed in all genders,

Those who cut you down until you're broken

And then laugh at your tears.

But I don't understand why it is so much easier for women to get with the program --

Leave behind the homophobia, sexism, racism etc etc, whether internalised or no --

Than men.

Because while I'm not sure yet what my sexuality is --

I haven't yet felt the urge to kiss or sleep with anyone, of either gender--

I do know I'd have a better experience going home with a stranger girl than a stranger boy.

_________________

idk what i was feeling so instead of trying to make sense of it I just wrote my thoughts as they came. Not trying to offend anyone, so if you are then (i would apologise at this point) (but I'm on a diet from sorrys)

[theuniverseawakens347]

Yal are some fucking children

EVERY FUCKING DAY YOU ANNOY ME W YOUR STUPIDITY AND LIES

LEE CLARITY NEVER HAD MY POLE I ASKED BEFORE I WENT IF I CUD PUT IT IN THE HOUSE - U SAID NO. NO PHONES OR LAPTOPS. ITS ALL MONITORED AND LOCKED AWAY. - SO BAYLEE FOR AND WITH LEE AS VIVICCA MY GOD MOM HOWD MY NUDES AND THE GIRLS PASS THEM AROUND FOR YOU!?

BITCH ASS CUNTS WHO ALL PARTOOK THEN “bitched me out for Baylee but she texting you what dumb shit to tell me so it looks like in front of Brooke cashay WILLINGLY FUCKED BASEL OR HAD SEX IN THE HOUSE W HER EX BF” - NO YOU BITCHES DID WEIRD SHIT - EVERYWHERE I FUCKING GO.

LEE YOU KNOW YOU FID EXTRA DUMB SHIT BEHIND HOWARDS BACK AND HOWARD I HATE YOU “teach her something different “ CAUSE YOU DOING THE MOST - WHEN I CAME OVER NOV 2023 and told you “lee be trying to put her hands on me when YOU walk out the room” you said hands in ur face “that’s NOT her character”

- YOU COVER AND LIE FOR HER EVEN AFTER GETTING EVIDENCE HI CAMERAS IN THE FUCKING HOUSE FROM HEATHERS MURDER AND HOWARD KNOWS - TOM.

Timothy peolko but it’s Lee confessing.

Anyways I DONT NEED TO BLOCK YOU TO LET YOU KNOW I DONT WANT TO TALK TO YOU WHILE YOU BEING CHILDISH TRISTAN. FUCKING RETARDED

I TOLD YOU WHAT I WANT YAL WANT TO BEEF FOR NO FUCKING RESON I DONT WANT TO BE AROUND ANY OF YOU WILLINGLY BEEFING FOR NO FUCKING REASON “it’s a due date” FUCK THE DATE UR RETARDED AND SO IS IT KEEPING ME HOMELESS TILL THEN - EVEN IN A HOMELESS SHELTER IM STILL FUCKING HOMELESS - SERVING FOOD IM NOT GOING TO FUCKING EAT ALLOWING 10 minute showers when I want longer - HELLO FUCKTARD CLARITY AGAIN LEE. FUCK YOU YOU NEED REHAB AND UR PUTTING IT IN ME. - ALL THE BUTCHES YOU HAD FAKE ME INDIA LOVE TO TEXT TRISTAN MY NUDES W THEIR DRUNK DRUG STORIES FOR LEE FUCKTARD GARLINGTON VIVICCA ANGELA BASKET KEKE

DICK WADS.

- I BLOCKED YOU 2020 BOTH LEE AND HOWARD BC UR FUCKING RETARDED W ADDICTION BEHAVIORS BUT CLAIM “sober” but always tell me “ the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome” - U TRYING TO MAKE ME LOOK INSANE CAUSE I WONT TAKE THE HOMELESS SHETLER - ITS INSANITY BO MATTER WHERE I GO AS LONG AS YOU INVOLVED IN MY LIFE - YOU TRYING TO GET TRISTAN TO DO THE DANCE W YOU LIKE HOWARD IN FULL BUT HES MORE ME THAN HOWARD IS - THATS THE SCARY FUCKING PARTS FOR YOU PARTENTS.

YOU SEE UR SELVES IN UR KIDS AND THE PPL YOU WILLINGLY FUCKED OVER AND WONT TURN YOURSELF INTO THE POLICE OR GET FUCKING ACTUAL HELP TO HEAL INSTEAD YOU SITTING THERE STILL POINTING THE FINGER AT SOMEONE ELSE AND TELLING THEM WHAT THEY NEED TO DO AND WORK ON

- LEE YOU WANTED TO BE A PARENT TO A BLACK CHILD .. bitch when YOU GON STOP FAILING ME YOU STUPID FUCKING ASSHOLE - Howard U JUST BE DOING SHIT TO GET BACK AT LEE FOR RUINING UR MARRIAGE W CHEATING ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT DAY IDC AND STEALING MONEY OFF YOU or in ur name marriage etc AND THE BUSINESS YOU WORKED FOR - UR GOAL “she wants a child well make the child like me more than her” - CONGRATS YOU BOTH FUCKING FAILED AT WHAT YOU WANTED EXCEPT SUICIDE. YOU FUCKING IDIOTS.

- GET ME TO MY HOUSE OR A HOTEL WHERE I CAN SHOWER AND NOT BE BOTHERED BY FUCKING POINTLESS PPL DOING SHIT TO TEST ME FOR YOU - IMA GET WHAT I NEED NO MAYTER WHAT I CAN HANG FOR MY RIGHTFUL FAMILY DUE DAY BUT THE ISSUE IS YOU FUCKING COWS BRAIN BITCHES ILL ACTUALLY FORGIVE IMMA WANA BE BY MY SELF 2021 THANK YOU ASSWIPES - NOT WHAT YOU FUCKING WANTED BUT HAD YOU FUCKING TALKED TO ME UPFRONT IN FUCKING FULL WE WOULDN’T FUCKING BE HERE - LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE IMA GRIND HOW I DID 2020 WHEN SHANYCE AND JAMAL LEFT BUT YOU BITCHES PUTTING ME BACK WHERE I WAS COMFTY ALONE DUMBASS - I NEVR WANTED TO BE AROUND YOU THE WAY YOU WANA CODEPENDENCY ON ME.

- GOD GIVING YOU UR FUCKING LIFE PATH TO WALK AND BUILD UR KINGDOM - DROP A JEWL TO GET BACK IN TRACK WHEN YOU GET DISTRACTED…

But you satan ass bitch Lee and Howard w no fucking discipline want me and Tristan AND ALL MY RIGHTFUL FAMILY SMALL REGRESSED N HOMELESS WITHOUT LOVE LIKE YOU CAUSE YOU CANT COMPREHEND LOVE WAS A MATTER OF SELF - ALL MY FAMILY IS ME. YOU FUCKING DUMBASS BITCH .. the ones who AUTHENTICALLY LOOK LIKE ME AND SUPPORTING MAKING A MOCKERY OUT OF YOU.

India love and Coi LERAY a full fucking Lee “but Coi “ yeah bitch U SET ME UP FOR MURDER W THE INTENT TO REALLY FUCKING KILL ME AND BECOME ME - INDIA LOVE RETARTED ASS AND FUCK TARD LEE TO PASS TRISTAN AND FITKINGG ANOTHER BITCH WHO LOOK LIKE ME GOT MY FUCKING STEM CELLS IN THE BOTOX OR DOING CLOSE TO WHAT I DO .. BUT NOT ME.

And you my family Shanyce you really said “fucking cashay bf as her face and bri name over the internet to sell drugs is sooo cool and smart” - AJA MILES THINKING I DONT WANT YOU AROUND ME - OUR ARGUMENT 2021 WHEN YOU TRYING TO GET BACK COOL W ME AND I TOLD YOU FUCK YOU I HATE YOU YOU HAD NO REASON TO DO ANY OF THAT TO ME SO LEAAVE ME FOR GOOD BC YOU REALLY WEIRD MY NIGGA - U MAD AT ME CAUSE I TOOK YOU TO SEE “our homeless crack head mother” - WHAT UR GIVING ME SHANYCE NOT TALKING TO ME BUT ON INSTAGRAM FAKING ACCOUNTS OF ME YOU HATE AND BRI TO SELL AND BUY DRUGS OFF MY “friends” THEN SEND JAMAL YA NUDES KNOWING THAT MY EX WE LIVE WITH YOU STUPID BITCH ..

WHY WOULD YOU THINK THATS OKAY - NOT TALKING TO ME WHEN THE NIGGA WALK IN ON YOU NUDE .. how’s that my fault miss “I’m grown stop treating me like a kid” - FASHI BUT YOU ACTING LIKE A KID SO LEARN THE HARD WAY MISS “I wana move in w you and get our own spot together “ - cool bitch I would LOVE to live w my sister but get a job - Goes drug dealing and prostitution- THATS NOT WHAT I TAUGHT YOU ASSHOLE OR SPOKE TO YOU ABOUT

- I SOLD WEED FOR TRISTAN AND DID THAT SHIT BY MY LONELY BUT COUNTED MY 1/4 IN FRONT OF YOU CAUSE YOU SAID YOU ONLY SMOKE WEED - COOL I WANT MY OWN GROW OP ONE DAY SO LEARN THIS SHIT W ME SHANYCE .. - took you to one or two drop offs ass wipe. OF WEED ONLY.

PICK MY 1/2 lbs UP BY MYSELF. - NOT LETTING YOU HANG AROUND MORGAN ALONE BC YES I LOVE MY BEST FRIENDS BUT THEY BE ON WEIRD FUCKING SHIT WHEN IM NOT AROUND WHY WOULD I LEAVE MY LITTLE SISTER ALONE THAT I GOT LOVE FOR - EVEN IF IM DOING WHAT THEY DOING ON A 1/2 SCALE THEY DOING SOME EXTRA DUMBASS FUCKING SHIT AND IM NOT ABOUT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR YAL DOING THAT

- THE SHOP DROP FOR TRISTAN DALOE TATTOO BUT THE OTHER .. I CAME W SHANYCE MY SISTER UPSTAIRS whoever tattooing and the fat one on the couch Yal already giving me the “let’s fuck her eyes” 1/2 way - show you the weed you not feeling it and I’m not feeling you - U ALSO TESTING ME READING YO MINDS ASS WIPE - “you got anything else” yeah it’s in the car I’ll be back hold on - NEVER COME BACK CAUSE YOURE A WEIRD SET UP BITCH.

Shanyce how you here getting pimped over text - LEE GARLINGTON JAMAL SAME AS ME .. JAMAL HOW YOU POSING AS NIGGAS GETTING NUDES OFF MY SISTER - HI FOSTER CARE ROISIN PORTION OF PAYING HER RENT , huh Brianna “big sister” - NICE CHILD MOLESTATION AND PROSTITUTION- MAE PAYNE. JYNYVY SCOTT.

[obsessed-yan]

a little vent ׂׂׂׂૢ་༘࿐

my "friend" (using quotes cuz honestly idk if i rlly consider him a friend anymore cuz of this coupled w past stuff thats happened) is being a total pos whiney asshole

what happened was, last week i noticed my debit card had transactions on it that i knew for a fact i didnt make. i contacted some1 from my bank to dispute the charges to get my money back; guy walked me thru it n i cancelled my card. few days later i seen a small amount refunded but knew it wasnt the full amount. friend n i had plans to go to target friday n maybe get smthn to eat, well bc of the stuff w my card i decided i just wanted to go into the bank n talk w someone irl so since i was off work early i asked if we cld go there first n hopefully get everything settled (he said ofc n i did for the most part, the charges started all the way back in april of 2023 which is wild to me that i didnt notice it until last week- i got part of my money back right away so thats good). after that we went to eat then to target (i wanted to go cuz of the cute honeypot i kept seeing on my tiktok fyp also got one ver of jungkooks album n a bts book anyway) i got very frustrated while we were at target so after i paid for my stuff there i was ready to go home.

then the next day at work one of my co-workers asked me how my date went n i said i didnt go on a date..? when i got home i msgd him n asked why said co-worker asked me that; it doesnt help that also that day 2 separate customers asked me abt my ex or made a comment abt how i shldntve broken up w my ex, its been almost 6 months get over it. why do u ppl care so much its none of ur business n also i got yelled at n cussed out by 2 other seperate customers but the date thing happened first n was the main thing that ruined my mood.

he said he thought it was one n asked her for advice. i said it wasnt it was just basically running errands n that i thought ive made it perfectly clear im not n nvr will be interested in him in that way, ever. boundaries were re-established as well that night.

then the next day (sunday) right once i get clocked into work one of my managers pulls me into our accting office to talk w me abt friend bc he called off for his shift n was crying. she knows he likes me n is basically obsessed w me but that i dont like him back n she knows weve been friends n hav talked together for a while now at this point but she asked for all the details that day. i told her as much as i cld b4 i was needed up front. she basically said that he was upset that i was upset abt what happened the night b4 n that he was jealous of one of my other friends n is worried for my safety bc of said other friend. my manager said shes worried abt me to but bc of him n said i shldnt talk to him for a while.

i confronted him abt that (not abt the jealousy of other friend part cuz i honestly forgot abt that bit until just now) he claimed that all he did was call off cuz his stomach hurt n he didnt know why our manager talked to me. he showed me some ss between him n the co-worker that asked me abt friday n i said i wasnt mad abt her knowing i was mad cuz she called it a date cuz u told her it was one when it wasnt n that i was also mad from our manager talking to me abt him. i told him not to talk to our manager abt what i told him and what did he do, he asks her abt smthn i said. like are u fucking an idiot wtf!?

then he said his plan was to leave me alone "until things die down" THERES NOTHINF THAT NEEDS TO DIE DOWN FUCKING MAN UP N HAV AN ACTUAL CONVERSATION W ME FOR ONCE WHERE U DONT TRY TO LIE OR PUT BLAME ON SOMEONE ELSE FOR SHIT U OBVIOUSLY DID and stop talking to other ppl abt me its weird!!!

im sick n tired of whenever smthn happens w him i get asked abt it like what happened w him, idfk n frankly idc

i am so fucking done w him n his bs. he can try to make me feel bad or get pity from me all he wants but im seriously just so over all this bullshit. im not talking to him anymore fuck u. last time he stopped talking to ME cuz of how much i liked 🍫 n i wld talk w him abt it cuz i didnt hav any1 else to, plus we were friends i thought it was ok. but he said i was "unsafe" for him to talk to. i told my manager abt that.

its just like, when were talking before like the first time, he did basically the same shit when my friends wld point out bad things hed say or do n he wld deflect then default to being a crybaby abt it. like ur in ur l8 20's at best, learn how to take responsibility for ur actions man!! like are u joking w me rn

think ill hav to cut it short for rn, im getting tired n cant think str8 lmao

[angeldiaries777]

tw. tmi whatever idc vent

i didnt shower/brush my teeth for 4 months straight or leave my bed because of how depressed i was they don't fucking get it. they don't get what its like having to talk yourself off of a ledge everynight since u were 14 they don't get what its like forcing recovery on urself because u know no one else can help you or will ever understand the extent of how bad things got. they don't know what its like being aware of all of the things people think and know and having to stay silent because of how fucking tired and over everything u are. they dont know what its like to be that young and sick. the only reason im alive is because i knew i had potential. i had dreams. i have goals. i had to literally wipe my own tears. cope every night. i had to deal with everything alone since i was 4. do you even know the fucking toll that takes on a small child????? when i say alone i mean alone alone. never had a friend in my life. my family was a toxic cesspool. my anxiety is still so bad that i literally cannot go outside without crying and having a meltdown. i am so fucking broken. i say im different from those types of people and that i will recover from all of it and be happy and sane one day then i have a manic episodes. they dont know what its like waking up with dark circles darker than a black void because u spent every night that week sobbing. they dont know what its like playing the same fucking songs as routine to self soothe. they don't realize how saying shit like " don't be afraid to ask for help" and "everyone goes through their own things" is counterproductive and only makes me more depressed. they just invalidate us because of the people who its a tend for. ive done my best to stay grounded and smart but fuck im so tired of saying how tired i am. im tired of screaming for help into the void. im tired of seeing other people have friends when ive never had a single moment of friendship in my life. im so done with everyone competeing with me for anything and everything. why can't someone be kind to me for the sake of being kind for once. why don't i deserve love when lame and bad people still get love and attention. why doesnt god give me what i ask for. im too good for earth. so sick of being a good person and letting go and recovering i also have been bored of being in my bed for years. i just wish so badly i had an escape because sleep its just the same night terrors and im sick of being this girl when my parents have told me they don't care anymore if i kill myself because they're tired of dealing with me. please. just let me be okay okay cant type because my eyes r shutting as i type this. nap time. gn guys

[giyuji]

NO EAVESDROPPING! — 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚

pairings. dom!shigaraki tomura x sub!fem!reader.

synopsis. overhearing you and dabi presumably talking about his dick size, tomura is more than angry when he hears your referring to it as something small.

cw. 18+ content, established relationship, some fluff as a treat ig, minors do not interact, degradation, throat-fucking, facial, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, cursing (a lot), angry tomu, spitting, one (1) spank, dacryphilia, dubcon (?) reader is confused for a bit but doesn’t want/ask him to stop, this is filthy i’m warning you.

author's note. mimi i know you’re judging me rn but idc, you can pry shigaraki from my cold dead hands >:)

wc. 7.1k.

“It’s just…something small. And I want to try something bigger but I—I don’t know how he’ll react to that.” 

Your quietly spoken words had Tomura freeze in his step. Hiding behind the corner to hear your comments better, he stood with his eyebrows pulled into a frown, and his lips pulled into a small pout. Something small? Something bigger? He didn’t know what you were talking about. Much less what you needed to talk about with Dabi of all people.

Dabi scoffed, and the sound on its own was enough for anger to rise up within him. The mere fact that it was him you were conversing with was more than enough to get him on edge. Why couldn’t that damned defective fireplace take the hint and leave you the fuck alone?

“Knowing Shigaraki, he’ll be sulking all night if you were to go through with that idea,” he noted. From his viewpoint, Tomura could barely make out the way Dabi shifted on his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. He grinned, and he was positive that meant nothing good. “Though, if you do want to go bigger…I could help you out.” 

Since when did Dabi help people? And what would you need him to help with? Was there something you needed in a bigger size? Something from the store? Most importantly—why was that asshole carrying such a cocky grin upon proposing the idea? 

You gasped excitedly, hands clasping together as you looked up at him. “Would you, really?” Tomura didn’t like how elated you sounded; a feeling of jealousy quickly rose up in his stomach, and a snarl found its way to his lips as he watched you take Dabi into an embrace. “Thank you, so, so much. It means a lot.” 

What the fuck? 

Dabi laughed. The bastard laughed. Throaty and huskily as he used one of his fucked-up disgusting hands to pat you on the back. Tomura felt the itch to decay it, to destroy it so no staple could ever put it back together. The need for his destruction grew bigger once he realised Dabi didn’t laugh—ever. 

“It’s alright, doll,” he assured you. “We’ll call it even.” 

Doll. Doll…what the hell was he doing? Calling you doll. No—calling his boss’s girlfriend doll. Calling the girlfriend of Tomura Shigaraki doll. Surely, surely, leather face had a death wish at this point. Would he still dare to call you the nickname if he knew Tomura was listening? 

“Alright,” you mumbled, and pulled back from the embrace. It only lasted two seconds at most, but even those seconds felt way too long to your boyfriend. “But, still, thank you.” 

“Mhm,” Dabi hummed. “How about we keep it as a surprise?” 

You frowned, that cute little crease settling in-between your eyebrows as it always did. Tomura felt the need to even it out with his fingers; the small movement almost a habit by now. He fought the urge, however, and stayed hidden. The conversation you and Dabi shared seemed far from over. 

“A surprise?” You asked, head tilted to the side. The ends of your mouth turned downwards, and you scratched your elbow. “I—I don’t know if that is a good idea. Tomura doesn’t really like surprises, especially one like this, I feel like.” 

“Oh, c’mon,” Dabi responded. He moved to stand eye-to-eye with you, one side of his lips inching upwards into a small smirk. “Surely, he wouldn’t mind you going for something bigger? It’s just this once, after all. We can keep it a secret for now.” 

His head hurt. Searching for the meaning behind Dabi’s words, the context he was missing was tiring—but once he did, that headache made way for something else. Unbridled anger as the words properly settled in. You wanted to try something bigger, and you were choosing Dabi of all people to get it from. Nevermind utterly humiliating him in front of that bastard, now you also chose him to be the person that would help you cheat on him. 

Tomura felt the familiar itch returning; the itch to destroy, to kill, to get rid of all things he didn’t like. An itch that hadn’t made an appearance since you’d gotten together. All things, all people—the source of his rage all pointed towards a single person. And it wasn’t you. No, no, never you. He could never do that to you. For you, he had something else in store. 

“Oh,” he heard you mumble, voice hushed to a whisper. “No…I—that’s not a very good idea, I think.” 

Had he perhaps misread your signs? Were you not satisfied with him?

Each time he took you, you’d twitch underneath him, you’d struggle to take him all the way to the hilt—no matter how much he prepared you for it. Your cute little doe-eyes would look up at him, filling to the brim with tears as you begged him to let you cum, your nails leaving little indents on his shoulder blades as they racked up and down his back. 

And he truly, truly thought he was doing a well enough job in the moments he’d have you crying out his name as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Maybe he was wrong. 

Tomura had heard enough. You were about to continue talking, he could see, but he was in no way in the mood for it. He moved faster than both you or Dabi could comprehend, storming into the room with a deep frown and a clenched jaw. 

“No, it’s not a fucking good idea,” he snarled towards the both of you. Four of his fingers harshly grabbed a hold of your upper arm, pulling you towards him. A startled gasp left you, though you stifled it rather quickly upon noticing the expression he carried. “Come with me.” 

It wasn’t as if you had much choice in the matter. 

“Bro, calm down, we were ju—” 

Dabi’s words fell on deaf ears. Tomura didn’t listen, not to him, and not to you, he instead marched over to your bedroom—only stopping his rough movements and letting go of your arm when he went to lock the door. He threw you against it, ignoring the slight sound of pain that slipped past your lips. With a pout, you rubbed the spot on the back of your head that got hit. 

“What the hell was that for?” 

“Shut up,” he snapped. “Quit acting so fucking stupid.” With one step, he closed the space between the two of you. His slender figure pressed up against yours, tits squishing against his chest as he trapped you between himself and the wooden surface behind you. “You know exactly what the hell that was for.” He mumbled. Due to the close proximity, you felt his breath fanning your face. 

“I—I don’t. Tomura, I—” 

“Shut up!” He repeated. “Just—shut up.” 

One of his hands wrapped around your waist, pushing you tighter against his hips. The other found its way up into your hair, careful at first, delicate as he carded through the locks, then, all at once, he used four of his fingers to harshly tug it downwards. A sharp whine left you at the sting. He looked down at you from this angle, and it send a shiver down your spine.

His breathing was erratic, his chest heaved up and down, and you felt yourself squirm beneath him as he took his sweet time glancing over every inch of your body. Tomura took a peek at your chest, where your tits were sitting so prettily in that tight little shirt, moving up and down as you panted. He looked at your legs, almost fully visible in that skimpy skirt you’d chosen to wear today—almost as if you’d planned to fuck Dabi today. How dare you wear such an outfit for anybody other than him? 

He exhaled; jaw still clenched as he captured your eyes with his again. The red within turned less scarlet by the second, rapidly fading into a deep bordeaux. You gasped when you felt his nose nudging the side of your cheek, swallowing as you watched him lean in towards your ear. His lips grazed your soft skin as he spoke. 

“I’m very angry,” he admitted. “So, be a doll, and do what I say.” 

It felt good to use the nickname like that. Tomura found relief in using it in a derogatory way. The hand he had in your hair carefully slid down, and he used it to put a few of your locks behind your ear as he pulled himself back from you. The smile on his lips unnerved you, and yet excited you at the same time. Never had you seen him this angry, at the very least not at you. 

“O—Okay,” you whispered, captivated by the feral look in his eyes. “Okay. I—I’m sorry, for whatever I—” 

“On your knees.” 

Somewhere, you should’ve known trying to apologise now would be futile. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what you’d done wrong to rile him up so badly. You blinked at him. Stupidly, if you were to ask him. An irritatingly, innocent look on your face. Aren’t you such a pretty little actress, hm? Acting as if you weren’t verbally expressing your desire to walk the path of infidelity. 

Tomura pulled on your hair again; you managed to stifle your whimpers this time around. This little performance of yours was pissing him off—almost as much as it was turning him on. As aggravating as it was, he still felt his pants tighten considerably at those troublesome doe-eyes you were giving him. Fuck you. Fuck you and those stupid eyes. Luckily for him—he was about to. 

“Are you fucking deaf?” He lashed out, nose poking into the skin of your cheek. You shook your head quickly, squeezing your eyes shut. “Then get on your fucking knees.” 

“Okay! Okay!” 

Slowly, almost too slowly, you finally kneeled down to the ground. Your fingers traced alongside his trousers as you went, but one scalding glare from him had you remove them. Of course—he wasn’t in a particularly good mood. Testing him any further was bound to end in tragedy. You released a shaky breath once your knees touched the wooden flooring, withholding a flinch at the cold temperature of it. 

You looked back up at him, waiting, for what—he didn’t know. Tomura scoffed. “You know what to do, don’t you? Been down here plenty of times before,” he huffed. Somehow, him removing his eyes from your figure hurt. 

If anything, your pretend-confusion was fuelling his impatience. For a second he hesitated, entertained the thought of you being genuinely baffled at his behaviour. Then the words you’d given to Dabi fought themselves back into his head, and all previous doubt washed away. Even if they hadn’t—you still reached for his belt buckle despite your so-called confusion. 

You didn’t need to pretend. Tomura was well aware how much you enjoyed sucking him off, almost as much as he did receiving it. You once tried hiding it, but the second he got down to finger you after you’d given him head, to prepare you for him, he was bewildered at the ease in which his fingers slid inside. Since then, you hadn’t tried to hide it. And even if you did, that whorish cunt of yours would betray you any day of the week when it came down to him.

It was one of many things he loved about you. Immediately, he discarded that thought. No—no, he wasn’t going to love you tonight. He was mad, furious even, and he’ll be damn sure to let you know. 

Your nimble fingers hastily made work of the buckle, a soft clinging sound the only sound save for your heavy pants; the rapid tufts of air hit his pelvis as you scrambled to get his dick out from its restraints. Before Tomura could scold you about taking your sweet, sweet time, your hand ducked into his boxers. You earned yourself a hiss at the sudden contact, and, then, a sigh in relief as you started moving up and down, and up and down, setting a steady pace. 

He was about to sputter out a protest when you removed your hand away from him, though he quickly decided against it when he saw you spit into the palm of your hand. Using your saliva and the drops of pre-cum he’d produced as slick to get rid of the friction, he had to withhold a groan as you now started moving again—this time without the slight burn customary of some pesky dryness.

You thumbed his tip, having him stutter. He looked at you again, and he grinned at the way you seemed to lap up the attention. His attention—only his. Four of his fingers pushed against your head. It was clear as day what he wanted you to do, and from the way you bit your bottom lip in anticipation, thighs rubbing together to chase some type of relief—you didn’t mind it at all.

With a newfound vigour, you hastily tucked some escaped strands of your hair back behind your ears. The smile you gave him as he gathered all your locks together into a make-shift ponytail, was almost enough to dwindle his anger. Almost. If you hadn’t tested the waters further, hadn’t continued jerking him off and ignoring his blatant hints, he would’ve lost his fury tight then and there. 

Before he could lash out, however, your plumb lips wrapped around his tip, and all thoughts of scolding were put on the back-burner. You sucked harshly, earning yourself a hiss, and a disapproving glare from above. You grinned, still suckling on the tip only as you swirled around it with your tongue.

Tomura muttered a sound of disagreement. “No, no, no,” he mumbled, one finger tapping on your jaw. “Open.” He instructed. You frowned, eyes narrowing, but complying with his demand regardless. “Further.” He hummed in satisfaction as you listened, and tapped your jaw again. “More.” A devilish grin graced his lips as soon as you did so. “Good.” Then, all at once, he shoved his cock inside your awaiting mouth. 

You spluttered around his length, more than surprised at the sudden intrusion. Before, he would always ease you into it. Never had he taken you so roughly. Certainly not your mouth. Small fists hit his thighs, small in comparison to his frame, and you tried to pull your head back—though, you should’ve known that he wouldn’t let you. He simply let out a low groan, head thrown back as he felt your throat constricting around him when you gagged. 

He didn’t stop. Who cared about your fists continuously hitting his legs? Tomura moved his hips, fucking into your mouth with a newfound ecstasy coursing through him. Fuck—you felt so good. He peeked down through his eyelashes, a sadistic grin forming on his lips as he watched the tears form in your eyes. You gagged again, pushed yourself back, again. Aren’t you a fucking liar. 

Stop squeezing your thighs together. Stop trying to reach a hand down towards your clit. Stop trying to chase your own high. Maybe then he’ll take your word for it, maybe then he’ll believe you’re not thoroughly enjoying getting your throat fucked like a common whore. 

Once again, you spluttered around him. This time he’d purposely sought it out, with the four fingers pressing you down towards his pelvis. “What’s wrong, baby,” he mocked, the coo in his voice the cause of your furiously heated cheeks. “Hm? ‘Thought it wasn’t anything big—fuck—just, shit, just something small. Stop, ngh, stop struggling, then.” 

That cute little frown settled on your forehead again, in-between your brows, and this time he pushed it back down with his index finger. “Shh,” he murmured in response to your muffled whine. “Just take it. Shouldn’t be too difficult, after all.” The last part of his sentence lacked his previous joyful taunting. It didn’t seem you were taking his words to heart; too consumed with his cock in your mouth to focus on anything else. 

Your eyes widened as he slowed his pace, steadily coming to a slow rhythm opposed to the rapid thrust from before. Tomura allowed you to take him inch by inch, pushing more and more of him down your throat until he was fully in again. He let out a guttural moan when he felt your nose nudging his pelvis, your nails scratching into the fabric of his jeans, you constricting around him again. You truly did feel like a blessing when you brought him such bliss.

“Fuck, keep going like that,” he groaned. With his head thrown back, he missed the sight of you looking up at him with tears dripping down the apples of your cheeks. Loud hums left you, used as a signal to tell him that you couldn’t breathe. Of course, he didn’t particularly care right now. “Just a bit more, baby, just a bit—shit, fuck, fuck—” 

Groan after groan left him, weaving a beautiful song together as he chased that high, only so he could throw himself off the edge of it. Tomura pulled you back from his cock, ignoring the way you heaved for air, and switched back to thrusting in your mouth. He went harder, faster, deeper, faster again, until he felt himself nearing the edge. A string of curse words tumbled past his lips, and quickly, before you could properly comprehend it—he pulled out of your mouth. 

You panted as he did so, trying to gather every bit of air you could. The entirety of your forehead was drenched in sweat, baby-hairs sticking to it, and your cheeks were wet with tears, your mouth still connected to his cock by a mixture of saliva and pre-cum. With tired eyes, you looked up at him. 

If you really were to leave him after this….well, then he was for sure going to make the absolute most out of it. 

You’d always been his favourite sight to lay eyes on, but that amplified tenfold as soon as your pretty face was debauched by his release. And so, he painted your face white again. Clutching onto the experience for, perhaps, the last time ever. 

As soon as you caught up to his plans, you’d closed your eyes and opened your mouth. Greedy, hungry to take it all. A thick, heavy rope of his cum landed on your cheek, and another one on your tongue as you hurried to lap it up, another one decorated the bridge of your nose, and fuck—weren’t you gorgeous. 

Tomura’s chest heaved up and down as he looked at you, each gasp of air felt like it wouldn’t be enough to get the rapid beat of his heart to normal. Quickly, he tore his eyes away from you, and towards your bed. Just for a moment. Immediately after, two of his fingers reached out to scoop up his release. He gathered all of the residue from your pretty face, cleaning it up until everything was on his fingers, and then harshly shoved them into your mouth. 

You gurgled around his fingers for a few second, once again surprised at the sudden fill, but it didn’t take long for you to gather your bearings. As soon as you started lapping up the cum around his fingers, sucking the digits clean, he grinned. Such a greedy little whore for him. You always were. Always. All the more reason for him to get angry at your conversation with Dabi. 

Were you just a whore, then? Not his whore, but simply a general one. He wasn’t too sure if he could accept that. 

Tomura leaned down. One of his knees joined yours on the floor. With two of his fingers still in your mouth, he used his other hand to grab your chin. He pulled you towards him, relishing in the way your breath hit his face as you fought to catch your breath. Your eyes locked onto his. 

“On the bed,” he said, nose nudging yours slightly. He cursed under his breath when he felt you suck eagerly on his fingers, the acknowledgement at his words sending his blood straight to his cock again. “All fours, face down, ass up. Think you can do that, hm?” 

You nodded furiously, eyes still damp with tears as you ached for him to finger you, to fuck you, to do something to you. Tomura pulled his fingers out of your mouth with force, enjoying the way you coughed and cleared your throat as a response. As soon as you’d found your composure again, you looked at him. 

You looked at him as if he carried the world on his shoulders. Why ever think of cheating, then? His eyes glazed over again as the words echoed in the back of his mind. Something small, something small, something small. Your whine pulled him out of it, and he blinked as he watched you push yourself closer to him—you were trying to sneak a kiss. 

“No,” he said firmly, almost as if he was bored. Four of his fingers cupped your face, squeezing your cheeks together to halt your movement. You wouldn’t get a kiss from him. Not this time. “No. Get a move on.” 

Your bottom lip wobbled, and he rolled his eyes. If this wasn’t one of the oldest tricks in your book. You knew he’d do anything to prevent you from crying—on usual circumstances, that is. You looked up at him, still on your knees, and a tear fell from your eyes as you blinked. You were waiting for him to change his mind, to give in as he usually would. His hold on your cheeks tightened, and his glare never wavered. 

“Get. Going.” 

There was a small hint of surprise on your face. Of course, your sweet little boyfriend wasn’t in a sweet mood. You really should’ve thought about that before trying to pull out the waterworks to get your way. You cleared your throat, sniffing, and wiping away the tear before you quickly got up and positioned yourself on the mattress. 

The skirt you wore inched up to your back, and you never bothered to adjust it. Instead, you allowed him a full view of your perky ass and thoroughly soiled panties. Were you enjoying this that much? Perhaps you still hadn’t gotten the message. 

No matter—he’ll fuck it into you. 

Your antics annoyed him, but, fuck, if the view you’d given him wasn’t one for sore eyes. The plush skin of your ass was calling out to him, asking, no, begging him to touch it. And he was sure the amount of slick that was dripping down your thighs and wetting your panties, was something he’d never seen before. Supple thighs stained; lacy thong utterly ruined. 

He was trying to be mad at you. Trying to tell you he was. He should’ve known you’d be too much of a slut to see any of this as a punishment.

Before finally laying a hand on your figure, Tomura reached for the gloves he’d thrown off this morning. Leaning down with a groan, an annoyed one, as it was one more step to take before he got to burry himself inside you again, he snatched the gloves from a nearby side-table. As mad as he was at you—he still didn’t want you dead. And in his current state, he wasn’t entirely sure he could trust himself not to accidentally use five fingers. 

Soft footsteps graced your ears, and a quiet yelp left you as you finally felt his fingers touching your skin—three of them, now, as his pinkie and ring finger were covered by the supple leather. 

A low rumble sounded through his chest, and he sighed as he kneaded the flash of your ass between his fingers with one hand, the other being used to rut his dick up into. Tomura cursed under his breath as he glanced down at his ever-hardening cock. He never needed long to get himself going again, not with you. 

A squeak left you when you felt his tip prodding your clothed core, pushing the sullied fabric further into your wetness. Droplets of his pre-cum only adding to the mess between your legs. He wondered what was on your mind right now. And he wondered if you’d caught on to what he was planning, yet. 

Your shaking hand raised from the bed, fingers twitching as you pointed at what was behind him. At the same place he’d just retrieved his gloves from. “Condoms are—are on the side-table,” you managed to get out. 

“Huh?” Tomura mumbled, and turned his head to look at the box he’d purposely left behind. He chuckled, firmly pinching your flesh between his fingers. “Yeah, that’s nice. They look real pretty sitting over there.” Grunting as he tugged your figure backwards, relishing in the feel of your cunt tightly pressed against him. “And they’ll stay pretty. Over there.” 

You couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped; conflicted, turned-on, and impatient. The second of the pair took over as your boyfriend reached for the side of your panties, pushing them aside and letting them snap back against your ass with a loud snap. You flinched at the sound more than at the feel. The hand he had on your hip tightened, fingertips leaving crescent indents into your bare skin as he pushed your skirt further up. This was taking too long. You wanted him—now. The risk of him fucking you raw far less important to you than getting fucked silly. 

It was cold when he pushed your thong aside, the warmth of your pussy much higher than the one of the rooms. You shivered as he brought the tip towards your folds, a strangled groan leaving him as he slid it through your slick. Tomura cursed again, a plethora of colourful words coming out of him as he toyed with your pussy a bit longer—prodding you here and there but never going in fully. 

Once you felt him push the tip in, finally, a sudden rush of panic washed over. Was he really going to take you like this? 

“Wait—are you—are you not gonna gra—Fuck!”

Tomura didn’t give you a second to complain. All at once, and without warning, he bullied his cock through your folds and into that sweet, sweet cunt. The stretch burned, the sudden intrusion hurt, and the only thing that prevented an agonising wail was the slick you’d gathered by sucking him off. 

It still hurt—you both knew. You from the signs your body was giving you, and him from your pitiful whines and pathetic stutters. The thing was, he didn’t seem to care much. And for some reason….neither did you.

When he was fully inside, he leaned down. Never moving, simply positioning himself near your head to answer the question you’d tried to push out. “No,” he whispered, looking at you through his lashes. An unknown look occupied his eyes as he tucked your hair behind your ear. “No, I’m not going to grab one.” 

Again—if you really were to leave him after tonight, Tomura at least wanted to fuck you raw just this once. To fill you up to the brim, to see his cum seeping out of you. Just this once. As a consolation from himself to himself. 

You wanted to make a comment, he knew. Something smart, as you always did. A quip like ‘yes, I’ve gathered that myself, funnily enough,’ but you never got the chance. Instead, a sharp gasp left you, fingers curling into the duvet and cheek getting squished into the mattress as he started moving. He hammered into you, in-out-in-out, pace never faltering and way too quick for your thoughts to stay coherent. 

One of his hands left your waist, and at first Tomura tried putting his shirt between his teeth to allow him a full view of your greedy pussy sucking his cock in so perfectly. Though, he settled on taking it off completely once it kept getting in the way. Not once did he stop his thrusts as he moved, as he discarded the black tee across the room. You kept clenching around him, making that tight feel even more prominent. 

“T—Tomu,” you babbled, a gasp interrupting your sentence. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt his tip prodding a spot that had you keen, toes curling as he continued hitting it. “Please—I, ngh, just—wait—too—too fast.” 

“Shh, you don’t need a second,” he told you, leaving very little room for arguments. A euphoric sigh left him when he thrusted again, the wail you let out music to his ears, the way your ass jiggled with each pump something they should put in the Louvre. “It’s—fuck—it’s just something—small, right?” 

You shook your head no. Fast. Furiously, so. Tears gathered at your waterline, more so from pure bliss rather than pain. The lack of prep burned at the start, it still does, but less so. “No! No! It’s—what are you—” 

“Shut up,” he snapped. One of his palms harshly struck one of your ass cheeks, and his cock twitched at the way you yelped in surprise. Don’t think he missed the way you tightened around him—he didn’t. His hand reached for your throat, abandoning your waist, and he pulled you upwards. With your back against his chest, he brought his mouth next to your ear. “Just shut the fuck up.” 

“O—Okay,” you stuttered, a strangled moan leaving you again as he picked up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin got louder, and louder, and louder; the skin of your ass now a bright red from the way he hit it a few seconds ago. You whined against him, your hand finding the one that was resting on his throat. “F—Fuck, Tomura.” 

He squeezed. “Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” He sneered, and you opened your mouth to apologise. A wrong decision on your part, as he grabbed your jaw to keep your lips apart. Then, before you realised, he spit into your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he watched you swallow it down without even being told to do so. “Fucking whore.” 

Fuck—he’d never called you that with such disdain, such anger, such harshness before. You almost felt ashamed of the way it had your pussy flutter around him. He grunted at the feeling, dick twitching at the way you sucked him in so perfectly. You were so warm, so snug, and so perfectly moulded for him.

For him. And absolutely nobody else. Nobody else—ever again. If Dabi dared to lay a hand on you in such a way, Tomura would kill him. League of Villains be damned. 

An overabundance of groans, mumbles, and moans left him as he pounded away at your cunt. The squelching of your slick the finest tune to ever hit his ears, especially as it started coating his balls as well as your thighs in your juices. So, so wet—but not wet enough. 

He hammered at the spot he knew would have you whimper, and grinned when you did just that. You clawed at his hips; head thrown back against his shoulder. The only thing he did was pull you tighter against him as he moved the hand on your waist towards your front. 

Careful caresses turned to rough squeezes, and you yelped as he took one of your tits into the palm of his hand; squeezing so hard it lingered on the edge of pain. He tweaked your nipple through your shirt, only moving on towards other parts of your body once he saw you getting accustomed to the touch. You whined at the loss, but a gasp interrupted the sound. Two of his fingers toyed with your clit, and you truly, truly hoped he wasn’t angry enough to leave you high and dry. 

“Please,” you heaved; droplets of sweat decorating your forehead. 

Tomura did contemplate not letting you cum at all. Then, he realised ruining you forever would be an infinitely better way to go—ruining you so badly, no other touch would ever compare to his. You can go. You can leave him, by all means. 

But you will be absolutely miserable. 

He grinned at the plan forming in his head. Yes—that was what he would do.

The stimulation of his dick rutting inside you, prodding against your inner walls so roughly and so perfectly, the way his fingers circled your clit, it was almost too much. His pace was relentless, and it was clear he was worked up, unforgiving, as he worked his frustrations out on you. He was both literally and figuratively fucking you raw. 

And it felt so good, to you, and to him. To finally be as close as possible, to no longer have a barrier—to feel all of the other. You could feel every vein, every curve, every throb of his cock, and it was absolutely euphoric. 

The ecstasy coursing through you was conveyed vocally, your moans picking up in pitch as he continued, slight hiccups joining in as tears of ecstasy started cascading down your cheeks. Tomura hummed, and brought the hand around your throat up towards your face. His thumb picked up one of the tears you allowed to fall, and he put it in his mouth, sucking on the salty liquid. After that, his hand found your throat again. 

You clasped your eyes shut. “’m close—‘m close,” you managed to gasp. 

Your reached for him, to hold onto him, feeling your knees starting to give out. He grunted at your declaration, never stopping, never pausing to push your arm away from the back of his neck. If anything, you felt him apply the slightest bit of pressure to your neck again. 

With his fingers tightly around your throat, on your clit, and with his fat cock bullying its way in-and-out of your pussy, you felt your orgasm was long overdue. When it finally, finally hit, you were trembling in his grasp. Strangled gasps and stuttered moans left you, your high washing over you in sharp waves as you clamped down around him. The mere feel of it had him barrelling over the edge after you. 

Tomura moaned as he came—for the first time ever since the two of you got together. Unfiltered, unrestrained, as he allowed himself to fill you up. His seed seeped into you, warm, thick and never-ending. You whimpered at the feeling, one of your hands finding his hair. You’d worry about finding a Plan B pill later. For now, you were savouring the way your cunt was milking him dry. He stuffed you to the brim, riding out both of your orgasms just a tad longer before pulling out abruptly. 

Some of his cum dripped out as soon as he did so, but he didn’t waste a second and immediately used two fingers to scoop it up and finger it back into you. You squeaked at the feeling, still overly sensitive as you came down from your high. The feeling of fullness only fully settled in once he put your panties back in place, paying no mind to the cum oozing out from the sides—it’d do a well-enough job at keeping it inside for now. 

Tomura was done after that. Something he made very well known, as he let go of your body after which caused you to fall back onto the mattress. A feeling of emptiness washed over you, ironic, considering your current situation. You turned around quickly, features carrying nothing but hurt, lips downturned into a pout, as you watched him tuck himself back in his pants. 

He turned his back towards you. Glancing around the room, probably for the shirt he’d discarded, he never once paid any mind to you. As if you weren’t there. As if he wasn’t fucking you stupid a few seconds ago. 

“Tomu?” You called out meekly, voice small and almost reduced to a whisper. You fiddled with the duvet underneath you, glancing between the blanket and your boyfriend who was still giving you the cold shoulder. “Are you—Aren’t you going to…” 

“Going to what?” He snapped; still, he didn’t look at you. Instead, he started focusing on putting his shirt back on. Once his head popped back up from the top, he finally sought you out. The look in his eyes had you frown. “Going to hold you after? Go ask Dabi to do so.” 

“Why would I want Dabi to do so?” 

He laughed. He laughed, but very little of it was genuine. “Oh? So, he’s not enough for a cuddle, but you’re more than eager to try out his something big.” 

You blinked at him. Did he….no, did he sound hurt? You thought you saw anger in his eyes at first, but slowly, now that the sex was over, it started making way for something else to shine through. Something you hadn’t seen on him before.

“What are you talking about?” 

The aggravated sigh he let out scared you, and you leaned backwards slightly when he threw his hands around in the air as an emphasis of his annoyed state. “Don’t act fucking stupid with me! I heard your conversation. Next time just fuckin’ talk to your boyfriend about that shit instead of complaining about it to others, fuck!” His voice sounded raw at the end of the sentence, choked-up. It tugged on your heartstrings. 

He’d heard your conversation…had he—did he think it was about…? 

“I—Oh.” 

It was the only thing you managed to get out. The wrong words, as it seemed, considering Tomura only got more upset. You hadn’t meant for him to overhear, much less think it’s about….that. This was all a huge misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that did, admittedly, delivered you one of the best fuckings of your life (so far). 

“Yes. Oh. Now, do us both a favour, and get out, okay?” 

“No, no, Tomura, that—that wasn’t about you.” You explained, or tried to. He raised an eyebrow, his face displaying a sense of disbelief all-round. Wincing, you hurried up from the bed, discarding how his cum started dripping down your leg as you walked over to him. “I mean it was, but not in the way you think. It…it was for your birthday.” 

Tomura frowned. He was silent for a bit, blinking a couple of times as if it’d help settle the words in faster. “My birthday?” He mumbled after a while, voice quiet and dialled down to a hushed whisper. 

Carefully, your hand reached out for his. Still with the gloves on, he allowed you to tangle them together. It could be that he was too shocked at your words to push you away, or perhaps you’d assured him enough to let you hold his hand for now. You really hoped for it to be the latter. 

“Yes.” You confirmed, giving him a small, sad smile. “You’re turning twenty-one. That’s a big one, so….I thought of swapping our usual celebration for a bigger one. I just….wasn’t sure if that was something you’d be into.” 

Tomura grunted. If he was to be honest, it wouldn’t be something he would be into. And Dabi was, as annoying as he deemed it, right—he would be sulking all night. Which reminded him….

“Then, why the fuck did Dabi offer to help?” 

You chuckled at the scowl on his face, poking a finger at the end of his mouth to push it back down. He swatted your hand away, though never showed any true malice. If you weren’t mistaken, you even saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. 

“He probably knew you were there,” you said. “He gets a kick out of pissing you off.” 

“Yeah, he does,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Fucking asshole.” 

You laughed, airy and light, a complete opposite to the mood a mere thirty seconds ago. Tomura pursed his lips together, the closest you’d get to a smile from him, and squeezed your hand. There was more he wanted to say, you knew there was, but it seemed he wasn’t quite ready, yet. So, you waited, waited, and waited, until he finally took a sharp inhale of breath. 

Turning to look away from you again, hiding the slight colouring of his cheeks from your sight, he cleared his throat. “So…you—you are happy…with me?” 

You smiled, kissing his cheek. “Very happy.” You assured him, your free hand reached up towards his face, tucking a few strands of his hair out of the way so you could get a proper look at him. “…And, we both know you’re far from something small.” 

He grumbled some stuff under his breath, feigning a certain amount of nonchalance. If you hadn’t known him as long as you had, you would’ve believed him—but this time, you knew his signs, and you noticed the way the tips of his ears turned red. You didn’t point it out. Something told you he wouldn’t appreciate it. That didn’t stop you from appreciating it, however, no matter how much he tried to hide his face. Only when he murmured something under his breath, did he pull you out of the daze you were in. 

“We have to go to the pharmacy,” he reminded you, glancing down at your skirt. A heavy blush flowed to your cheeks, and you cleared your throat. “Don’t really feel like being a father to someone.” 

“Right, right, me, neither….” You chuckled, scratching the back of your head as you tried to pass off your current embarrassment. It didn’t work, and he noticed, at least, it seemed that way from the grin tugging at the edge of his lips. “Let me just get changed really qui—” 

“No.” 

You blinked at him, startled at the insinuation he was making. “But—it…it’ll drip, and people, they—they’ll see.” You stammered, feeling the heat once again rise to your face. 

“Better keep it inside then.” Tomura mumbled, gloved hand wrapping around your wrist to tug you along. He didn’t seem to pay much mind to the way you looked at him; widened eyes, open mouth, and raised eyebrows—though, you did catch the smirk on his lips as he unlocked the door again. “Let’s go.” 

….And, well, who were you to say no? You had a pharmacy to go to.