#in relation to the stickers on the laptop

[sunsetcorvid]

struggle.

[s1xseasonsandamov1e]

i love when people pretend that not liking taylor swift is some crazy controversial thing like bitch you know damn well

[st4rbwrry]

𝒜𝑀 𝐼 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴?

✧｡˚ a shy nympho camgirl seeks a partner to help her film content on a dating app. soon, meeting up with a handsome man who's willing to do anything for the pretty girl he chats with.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 14k. pwp, lowercase intended, age gap ꒰ toji is 36, reader is 24 ꒱ submissive reader, pleasure!dom toji, bondage ꒰ belt ꒱, check ins, heavy praise, overstimulation, aftercare, unprotected, videography, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ , squirting + kreaming, spanking, choking, hair pulling, mild degradation, intimacy on high, toji is intimidating, manhandling, masturbation, daddy kink srry not srry, pet names ꒰ baby, girl, pretty, sweetheart, angel ꒱ minors aren't welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

౨ৎ — ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ꒱: this took me so long to finish y'all but im super proud of it. one of my favorite works so far so i hope y’all enjoy. ♡

you hold your notebook in your hands, a bright pink color with numerous doodles sketched onto its cover, your pen on the back of your ear as you slowly cross off a list of things you needed to buy while browsing on your laptop. your room is quiet aside from the soft sound of music playing from your stereo, beyoncé’s cowboy carter album playing from start to finish while you slumped into your soft pink duvet hiding beneath a white canopy slip. the air is crisp how you like, a fresh, chunky strawberry is chewed between teeth, and your skin is freshly scrubbed and moisturized, only covered in a matcha green two piece short and tank set. a laptop sits on your thighs as you cross your legs, twirling your left calf as you bury your back into your mountain of plushies.

this was frustrating. you never realized how hard this would be to find someone to fuck, let alone film content with. you’d made a profile on hinge a week prior to now, and most of the matches weren’t close to peaking your interest. most of the men seemed like creeps, some too old . . . giving very much grim reaper. and others, too young, freshly adults at that. you think you’ve made yourself appealing enough. cute profile with full faced pictures, personality traits, daily interests even . . . but it somehow didn’t attract those you truly wanted.

as your sticker covered macbook’s motherboard screamed for air, warm on your thighs and now sliding on your tummy the further you leaned back. . . you were growing tired. huffing and puffing from literal exhaustion. am i wasting my time? should i just go out and find people like in the movies? but this generation made it so hard to even physically connect anymore. what happened to people running into each other at a coffee shop, a book store, a park? sharing interests and going on dates. granted, what you were looking for was strictly work related. you wouldn’t dare stare a stranger in the eye you bumped into at the farmers market and ask, “hey, wanna fuck me for content?” it’d be tasteless. you have self respect. others may think differently considering your side quests to fund the unfathomable reality of adulthood on top of just being a girl.

“this fucking sucks,” you groan to yourself, thumb aching from how quickly you hit the big ‘x’ on the bottom left corner of your phone screen.

maybe it was time to call it a night. you had an early shift at the salon, about five clients to be exact, booking either re-twists, goddess braids, or a wig install. so you had to save your hand strength. sighing, you shut off your laptop and set it aside on your nightstand, disconnecting the music from your phone before getting up to cut off the light. your fluffy cat that laid on the edge of your bed shooting her head up in alarm, ready to follow at any adventure you pursued.

“relax, mommy’s not going anywhere,” you smile assuredly, knee dipping into the bed as you lean over to smooch her on her tiny head, pointy ears tickling your cheek as you watch her tail sway. “good night, sweet — oh, fuck! i forgot to feed you. i’m so sorry baby.”

the alert in your tone has the black cat stand in attention, cursing to yourself as you slip on your heart printed slippers and make your way towards the kitchen, your studio apartment being on one level making this task easier. you listen to her tiny paws thud on the floor after she jumps off the bed in a hurry, dashing in front of you, damn near tripping you.

“oh my god, you’re so extra,” you shake your head, but couldn’t help but laugh. she meows at you violently, as if you hadn’t fed her in two weeks. rolling your eyes, you reach for her bowl off the floor to clean before opening a fresh can of fancy feast, using one of her plastic spoons to arrange her dinner.

whilst she awaits, you can’t help but glare at the screen of your phone as it suddenly dings, forgetting to turn off your ringer. hovering over it to activate your face i.d, it immediately opens the hinge app, reloading the page to see a new match. the air you inhaled suddenly catches in your throat as you stare wide eyed at your screen, the man in your view is just what you’ve been waiting for.

“oh, holy fuck,” comprehension wasn’t on your radar seeming as you lost the ability of the cat food in your hand, dropping it to the floor and flinching from the mess your fur baby began chowing on. sucking your teeth, you mutter, “goddamit. no, no. stop it.”

flailing your hand gently to get her to stop, you snatch the can and dump the remainder in the deep oval ceramic bowl. you try to ignore the rapid pounding of your heartbeat, unsure why it went so astray. maybe it’s because you’ve never seen a man so fucking fine. deadly fine, foul almost. as if it was such a disrespect to all beings. she’d cleaned up her own mess, so you take the time to grab your phone and lean against the sink to observe this man further. he had matched with you, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so depressed a few minutes ago . . . unless you were waiting for him to like you back.

toji. it’s his name. simple, nice. he only has about three pictures, one of them a huge black cane corso with a gorgeous silky coat. it made sense given the vibe he was giving. dark, intimidating, sexy. jet black hair, slender smoke gray eyes, sharp jaw and a fascinating scar on the side of his mouth. another thing you noticed was how big he was. most of the clothing he wears sticks to his skin like glue. molding the outline of his muscles, the thickness in his arms, the heaviness in his thighs, the brick trail of his abdomen.

a certain feeling burns in your chest, and between your legs as you scroll to see the last image. he’s sitting on a beach chair, thighs spread in black cargo pants, matching tee, a yuengling beer in his hand and a cross dangling around his neck as he takes a sip of his beverage with a hungry look into the camera. it’s cocky, possessive, dominant. the dark brows above his eyes lowered with attentiveness. his shirt is half risen above his abdomen, and you can easily see the dark trail of hair leading into his crotch. it’s full there, clear as day. so it’s easy to tell he carries something serious.

fuck. “fuck,” you feel yourself growing hot, blowing out a breath of air before making your way back to your comfy bed to stare at him more. what a fucking man. honestly, you’d never seen someone so of your standard. exactly your type. before messaging him, you check his profile a bit deeper to make sure you’re not mistaken of anything. find some flaws, though profiles only express so much.

thirty-six, that makes you moan. that’s a twelve year age difference. though that only makes him hotter. not too old, nor young. he’s a . . . gynecologist.

“so he’s good with pussy,” you giggle to yourself. he makes a decent amount of money. he’s into fitness, clearly. cars, politics, sports. seemed like a pretty laid back man to you.

without even realizing, he had already messaged you, your heart dropping to your toes at his first response.

toji

i’ve seen you before.

you blink, fingers typing quickly.

you

mhm, where?

he takes a moment to reply, so you fiddle with your necklace out of anxiousness, laying on your stomach and swaying your feet.

toji

sounds a little embarrassing, but an adult website.

you

sounds about right. does that bother you?

toji

i wouldn’t have matched with you if it had.

you

so you’re saying if i wasn’t a porn streamer you wouldn’t even look my way?

those three dots prolong longer than you wanted, only making you aware he didn’t know what to say.

toji

i matched with you because i find you attractive. whether you want me in that way or not is up to you. i want you.

he’s straightforward. you can’t help but bite the tip of your acrylic, smiling like a stupid teenager, kicking your feet in the air. the attraction being mutual boosting your ego.

“i want you, daddy,” you joke to yourself.

you

i’m assuming you’ve read my bio. i’m looking for someone to film content with! if you’re down for it, we can meet in person and talk about it! i’m not really looking for a relationship. . . right now at least. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

toji

of course, sweetheart. i’m free saturday’s and sunday’s. you don’t seem that far from me. let’s grab italian. my treat.

there’s something blunt and grown about him, you can practically feel his intimidation radiating through your fingertips. he seems just like the kind of man you knew would fuck you stupid. scream his name until the walls bled. until you’re trembling, and the sheets are off the bed, and his sweat is on your back so arched to the point where it’s painfully delicious. biting your lip, you had nothing else to lose. you needed his help, he’s offering lunch, you only live once.

you

you had me at italian. saturday at 2?

toji

saturday at 2. see you then, darling.

              𓇼

the nostalgic scent of blue magic hair grease fills the air of the salon, your fingers working tirelessly to intricate detail into the woman’s scalp you worked on. your last client of the day in fact. you couldn’t wait to clock out and grab a bowl from chipotle, thinking about it your entire shift. fingers entwining artfully as braiding hair flicks from angle to angle, you finish up the final knotless braid with a hard working sigh. you tried to remain optimistic after she’d taken her seat, unfortunately arriving an hour late to her appointment. said she had ‘issues’ with her boyfriend, smelling like weed and partially slurring her words when she came in. but you could care less when you were on a time crunch.

you hated when people wouldn’t respect the clearly listed rules on your account. so, for that, she’d be paying a late fee. after you applied moose and rosemary oil to her scalp, she’d pay you through apple pay and be on her way. you thank her, and when she’s out the door, you instantly turn to your friend and roll your eyes.

“you’re too damn nice for doing her hair. i would’ve told her ass to kick rocks after showing up that damn late,” amethyst speaks, crosslegged and shaking her head as she digs her fork into her chinease platter, filled to the brim with shrimp fried rice and popcorn chicken. the smell alone makes your tummy growl. “did she even tip you?”

“not at all,” you brush off, not even wanting to think about it anymore. “still got my money at the end of the day.“

“hey, you’ve been off the whole day, everything alright?” amethyst proceeds to question, and your shoulders slump as you halt from sweeping up hair off the floor.

aside from tireless appointments, you couldn’t get toji out of your mind, super impatient, even anxious for saturday to come. it’s two days away until you finally meet him. you’ve texted here and there, shared a few updates on life or spoke of relating passions and wanting desires. you had told him your occupation outside of being a camgirl, and how dissatisfied with it you’ve become. this field wasn’t for you anymore. the passion for it is dying, the clients grow irritable, and you just wanted to breathe. you feel like you’ve been working your whole life. in conclusion, since fifteen. started from an early age dealing with responsibilities due to financial constraints within your family. your mother raised you on her own, along with four other children. and being cursed with the older daughter syndrome, you developed faster than you wanted to. barely having time to live your life until you moved out. even then, it’s been all about work. you needed an island getaway.

“this week just burnt me out. i’m just glad it’s almost over,” you reply, not having the energy for a full conversation. she was a sweet girl, albeit very nosey. you try to keep events in your life private, gossip to a minimum.

“awe, bookie,” she pouts. “what’s your plan for tomorrow? me and the girls were gonna check out that new club ‘sin.’”

shaking your head, you disagree. “now you know i’m not big on clubs. have an art piece to work on anyways before the weekend comes. so i’ll be busy.”

amethyst nods. “well, alright then. i guess i’ll just see you whenever you get booked again.”

you don’t know why that felt like a backhanded response. you’re only here three times out of the week, and most of those days you see about five to six clients. everyone else had a bigger following on social media, meaning more attention, more money. you believe because you aren’t so passionate for this major, your ability to promote and put effort only shows in your adult entertainment career. since it’s where most of your income comes from as of four months ago.

“guess i’ll see you.”

after packing your ballerina pink telfar bag with all of your tools, you wave goodbye to everyone before making your way to your white honda civic, interior a vast splash of pink matching the two-piece skims set you wore. shorts since the weather is about seventy-five degrees today. buckling yourself in, your only agenda is to head to chipotle and then home. ordering your delectable signature bowl of barbacoa, fajita veggies, guacamole, pico de gallo, corn, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, and refusing to eat the bowl without their vinaigrette and a side of chips.

it’s around 9pm when you’re finally cleaned off from a hot shower, curly hair pushed back from your face with a hello kitty headband as you finish your skincare, sitting at your vanity while scandal plays in the background. you’d already eaten your food about an hour ago, even taking a thirty minute nap to regenerate for this art piece you needed to finish. in total, you had about three jobs; hair stylist, camgirl, ceramicist. you had an etsy profile where people bought cute little things of yours you liked to sculpt. tea pots, coquette flower pots, plates, heart cake jewelry boxes . . you name it. you had a few orders for mini miffy trinkets you had to ship out by saturday.

saturday. the warmth in your gut swarms at the thought of seeing that man. quite frankly, you’ve been unable to relieve your mind of him. he’s like a poison, hard to get rid of, but desperate to stay bonded with you. and you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his embrace; small and fucked out. since he’s been busy with work, and so have you, there hasn’t been much time to even call and chat. then again, you wanted to wait to see him in person. to feel that magnetism stronger than it already was. two days away and you’re anxious to even hear a hello.

while patting your toner into your face, you gaze through your mirror to see a scene playing from your show where fitz and olivia fight before they fuck for the hundredth time. the way he grabs her, speaks to her, caresses her and worships her. it has you thinking of toji instantly. the burn for him aching more than normal. practically feeling his eyes on you the way he stared into the camera in that one photo, long fingers clasped around the glass bottle, craving for that lock around your throat. wondering how tight he’d make it. would you be able to breathe? would he kiss air into your mouth to help you? tell you it’s okay, to feel it all, to take it all, to cum on his dick till you're milking him dry?

your thighs squeeze together from your imagination, staring at your reflection . . . and it’s all in your eyes. deep arousal, and the harsh clench you currently held your moisturizer in, close to grinding in your seat to ease the buzz of your clit. there’s only one solution for this, and you might as well make money off it. standing to your feet, you think not a second more before retrieving your laptop from your closet, setting it on your vanity desk and logging into the domain of prettyfuckbunnies.com. it seemed to be the main site for growth, given your eight thousand dedicated subscribers. you check yourself in the mirror once more before going live, rolling your chair back a few inches so they could see your entire frame. dressed in nothing but a small red slip dress.

angelbwrry is live!

your subscribers were notified well before others, hundreds of them swarming the chat within seconds. you were a new favorite, a prized star of the platform. admiration from both women and men. people who tipped you just for being pretty. others here for the obvious. applying gloss to your lips, you stare intensely into the camera, the character you play going into affect.

“hi,” you mutter quietly, slowly titling your head to the side as you bite your lip and sink lower into your seat, back arching. “i’m so fucking horny, and i just need someone to watch me fuck myself.”

the black kuromi chair you sat in begins to sway as you gently swing yourself side to side, eyes trained on the chat to witness them praise you, some comments degrading off the rip that you chose to ignore, others demanding you get on with it. for the most part, you tend to be discreet with sharing much about yourself. technically, you weren’t hiding much, your face easily accessible and probably even less hard to track. you’d always pray that there wasn’t a psycho willing to go that far just to find you. role playing was your forte. writing ideas for new personas to please them. and you had fun doing it. you’d never do something you weren’t in to for the satisfaction of others. never took private calls, or meets ups for obvious reasons.

but, you had to talk about him.

“i met this guy i can’t get outta my head,” the softness in your tone making dicks go erect and clits beat, the chat asking questions and growing fond of your way of interaction. “well, maybe not met. we’ve texted, and i meet him in a few days. possibly someone you’ll see on the channel. and . . .”

the tenseness in toji’s neck bothers him as he groans and leans back into his office’s chair, fork in one hand as he chews on his salad from sweetgreen a coworker grabbed for him, reading through emails his secretary confirmed appointments of, needing to add it into his schedule to be aware of what he can fit between. needing to run a few errands this weekend. the white doctors coat clings to his body, one foot raised to rest on the front of his desk, manspreading and jaw shifting as he finishes his food tiredly, knowing he wouldn’t eat a thing once he got home.

“goodnight doctor fushiguro! get some rest tonight, yeah?” a body comes to view of his secretary; a woman with glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, a chunky face and beautiful red hair. she waves enthusiastically.

toji smiles, the older woman trying her best not to swoon. he’s young enough to be her son. “good night, miss thorn. thank you for today. you get home safe and enjoy your trip. i wanna hear all about it when you’re back.”

“you know you’re the first person i’m running to tell!” she chirps, toji chuckling. “i left my keys on the main desk. don’t forget or else you’ll have to break open the drawer for your patients files.”

“i’ll be sure to remember.”

twenty minutes pass and toji’s cutting off lights to his small facility and locking up. twirling the keys on his long finger, starting up the sleek black maserati ghibli gt sitting in the parking lot from his key. a black patent leather messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, doctors coat discarded and now attired in his usual black tee with matching slacks. setting it beside him in the passengers seat, he gets a ding! from his cellphone, resting his shoulders in his seat before checking what it was, perhaps it was miss thorn, she tends to leave things behind.

angelbwrry is going live!

toji raises a brow from the notification, checking the sapphire bulova watch on his wrist for the time. 9:54pm. why were you up so late? forgetting people have other schedules, he’s so used to being asleep around this time, much more having to be done today the only reason he was still in the office way past the hour it closed. part of him grows inquisitive, wondering if he should invade your privacy or what not. though, he’s not new to your escapades. he’s seen every inch of your body, memorizing it quite literally. he’s not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him off a few times these past months. he feels like he knows you on a deeper level now, so itching for that perverted behavior would be indecent to both of you. especially if he’s seeing you in two days . . . for a conversation about what you do and his potential participation.

nothing wrong with just watching, right?

as the engine to his car hums, toji finds himself in a devious act, clicking onto your feed and finding you displayed in your feminine bedroom. the videos on mute momentarily before he’s going full screen and turning his phone sideways. there you were, small and standing tall as the slip that barely clung to your body arose the more you moved. hips wide, thighs full, nipples taut and tits defying gravity. the strap on your right shoulder falls elegantly, your hair hoisted up by a claw clip and your brown skin radiating glow. the man openly groans from the sight, knowing you smelt so good.

“wait, i have an idea!” the cute tone of your voice blares through his phone, a smirk painting his stern features as he watches you scramble for something in your room, your slip riding up your ass. the hourglass shape of your body, to the pudge of your tummy . . he’s enamored.

he, and a thousand other people watch curiously as you lift the seven foot mirror that previously leaned against your closet door and position it on the floor at the edge of your bed. then, you’re digging into your bottom drawer for something else, toji catching a brief glance at the chat raving and thirsting from the view of your perky ass peaking out, a tiny birth mark under the left one. the cellulite in your legs that squish together from size, the stretch marks leading from beneath your ass cheeks down to the backs of your knees. so fucking soft.

“ta-da!” you wave the object in your hand courageously, an evil grin on your face as you show the crowd your confetti designed dildo, the brow on toji’s face raising. he almost wants to chuckle. you’re so silly, he thinks. watching you dance your way back towards the mirror where you hum a tune to yourself, swaying your ass in the air for dramatics before plunging your toy onto the center of the mirror so it sticks, watching it spring for attention.

“gonna pretend this is him, ‘till then. can’t wait any longer,” your hands slowly drift up your thighs to show your audience your bare pussy, hiding between those luscious thighs of yours. he wanted to suffocate his face there badly. what you say almost goes over his head. pretend who’s what?

toji ignores the flow of comments filling the chat, degrading you to some degree which he briefly clenches his jaw from, feeling somewhat protective. others praising you, acting like your cash pigs. pathetic, he thinks. he sees one comment in particular that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

prinxxxspeach

aren’t you seeing him saturday? call him now to come help you girl!!

don’t fucking call me, angel. i’ll nut in my pants right now if i hear you say my name. he’s slightly amused that you spoke of him. is that why you went live so late? thinking about him? so pent up, and impatient, you had to just fuck it out your system? he’d fuck you a lot better than that lousy toy you had, that’s for sure.

you giggle from the comment, contacts still in your sockets so you can read what people are saying from afar.

“he can wait for me. he’s making me wait,” it’s like an old film camera flipping to the next scene, or maybe his mind had gone blank from your response because now, now you’re sinking your tiny pussy onto your toy after coating it with lube, the reflection of your cunt for all to see in the mirror. watching as this toy splits you apart, pretty folds swallowing it deep as you balance yourself on the tips of your toes. fully sitting and rolling your hips to adjust, your mouth falls wide and a whimper escapes.

“nng, s’so deep,” that voice of yours is going to get you in trouble. the broken moans you release as you lift your hips to grind and bounce, face falling forward to look at yourself, seeing someone other than yourself. your imagination begins to run wild, and you forget a cameras watching you, dainty fingers caressing the mirror before laying your palm flat, as if you’re choking him. biting your lip, you occupy your other hand by molding at your chest.

you uphold your balance well, clapping your ass down against the mirror now coated with your slick, pussy squelching ridiculously loud aside from your weak moans and desperate whimpers.

“fuuck,” your breath hikes, sounds broken and almost pleading, eyes rolling back as you collapse to your knees and lazily rock back on your idea of a dick. by this point, toji’s eyes are malicious, and his dick is hard in his slacks. shifting in his seat uncomfortably from what you’ve done.

“lemme see your face,” toji whispers in the air, the heat rushing to his cheeks. the things you do to him truly fascinating.

“g’na cuum, mmph daddy!” a high pitched squeal you let out stuns him, your hips shifting back and forth hurriedly. the flesh of your ass moving like water, and he’s in a trance. daddy? what the fuck are you doing to him? he wonders if you knew he was going to purposely join your live. already talking about him gave it away.

“c’mon, angel. show me,” the blood swells in his cock rapidly, tip damn near dripping with precum, unable to help but palm his heavy hand with it, humming and widening his legs.

“too-jii,” it’s faint the words you falter, a pathetic whimper followed by drool covered lips and a cute squeak. your body trembles from the depth of your orgasm, riding out your high and giggling cutely to yourself. to others, the words were inaudible. but to him, he knew exactly what the fuck you said.

the way you smile at yourself in the mirror, as if you’re looking at his fucked out face, you slowly upturn your head to bring it back to the livestream, a drunken, and dangerous grin on your face. never in his years of life had a woman made him gulp. to fear for what you’d do to him. how bad you’d break him, make him go fucking crazy. yearn for your pussy on his mouth.

you were fucking ethereal.

              𓇼

of-fucking-course you’d be running late. you were supposed to meet toji at two and it’s two thirty. the location of c’est moi exactly twenty five minutes away from where you lived. you were close to the downtown area, not fond of parking down there but you’d drive faster than an uber can. you made sure to make toji aware of your lateness so he’s not getting the idea that you stood him up. never. not after the other day. you don’t know what happened, but your mind took over your body and you couldn’t help yourself. you only pray he didn’t see it, not expecting him to. it’s embarrassing now that you think back on it.

you manage to make it out of the house twenty minutes after, throwing on a simple white pleated cami dress with a ruffled hem, ruched bust, and pairing of olive green sandals that had tea rose shaded orchids clipped onto the forefront. a teri cherry printed coach bag tight on your shoulder after you sped sixty miles per hour towards the restaurant, finding parking and hurriedly making your way inside.

“hi, reservations for fushiguro. i’m extremely late,” as you approach the host, you make out the sight of the man you were here to see outside instantly. sitting alone sipping a cup of coffee. his side profile all you can see, that deep scar carved into the side of his mouth, his veiny hands big as he clutches the mug . . and your throat clogs up.

he’s fucking . . . big. fuck being nervous before, this made you want to run and hide and never show your face. he’s practically hunching over the table, making it appear smaller than it actually is. his hair is midnight black, his broad shoulders and muscles suffocating the sleek gucci button up he wore, a few undone, eyes studying his cellphone, awaiting your call. one thing about being a doctor, he’s learned to be patient. understanding your alarm forgot to go off, or rather you slept through it . . seemingly growing to become impatient. he needed to see your face now.

“right this way.”

your feet follow blindly behind the hostess, trying your best not to trip over your own feet, heart beating drastically against your ribcage. your palms are sweaty, feeling the warm breeze of spring air hit your skin as the hostess leads you outside to the table where toji resides. he sees you before you see him, the sun beaming on your skin not nearly as hot as your cheeks suddenly became when finally making eye contact. your right hand picks at the ends of your dress anxiously, toji taking a stand to welcome you like a gentleman. it’s like slow fucking motion the closer you approach him, and when you’re inches apart, you can see the stillness on his face. he doesn’t smile, his face is almost unreadable. not sure if he’s upset with you for being late, or he’s just not one for emotions.

“hi,” the hairs on your skin stand from the deep baritone of his voice, visibly swallowing as you stare up at him, height difference making you dizzy.

“hi,” you blink like an innocent doe. he’s hovering over you and the waiter whom sets the menu down on the table, his chest almost touching you as he comes around to pull your chair out for you to sit, finally getting so close to the point where he could breathe in your sweet perfume, the peony and white musk scent has him forcing down a groan. he’s staring intently at your backside, dark hair going to the middle of your back in wild curls, a bit frizzy due to the humidity outside.

“can i get you anything to drink, miss?” the waiter addresses you, politely waiting for toji to move out the way.

why is your entire body on fire? no man has ever had this affect on you. his aura exudes something sinister, overtly masculine even. “u-um, yes please. can i just have a frozen sangria?”

“of course, i’ll be back with that while you decide on your meal.”

“thanks,” you smile sweetly, trying your very best to avoid complete eye contact. once the two of you are alone, you build up the courage to look at him again. he’s seated once more, leaning back into his chair with a left arm resting over the back of the chair with his legs comfortably spread. he liked to do that a lot. his eyes are low, head adjusted somewhat to the left as he observes you.

“good to finally see you,” he’s the first to speak, again. that fucking voice of his; raspy and dominant. how are you supposed to carry out a conversation without folding?

“y-yeah,” you clear your throat, sitting up straight after shyly clamping your hands between your legs and trying to hide like a porcupine. “i want to apologize again for running late. out of all days my phone decides to not ring my alarm. i rushed here as soon as possible. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

his lips began to rise into a soft smile, and that eases your nerves. no one would notice you’d rush to get ready. so naturally pretty with your face glowing from rose water and petroleum jelly, hair brushed out, lashes only curled with mascara, lips lined with black liner and smothered with gloss while your prescription glasses sit on the bridge of your nose. too cute.

“sweetheart, no need for the sorry’s. i understand.”

he’s not mad, thank fuck. “kay,” you smile back, tucking pieces of flown hair behind your ear. “did you order yet?”

“was waiting on you,” he replied. “though i kind of lost my appetite. i’m craving something . . . else. so, order anything you’d like.”

that was surely a double meaning. now, you’re not so sure if you had an appetite anymore. you couldn’t bare to eat in front of this man right now. when the waiter came back with your drink, you downed half of it, toji chuckling from your anxiousness. you needed the liquid courage before uttering another word towards the man who watched you with motive, intention. the intimidation brewing from his body is corrupting you. you order a simple caesar salad, nothing too fancy.

“oh! i printed out the document we have to go over.”

toji’s eyes trail to your hands that reach for your purse, acrylic nails painted a peony pink pulling out your notebook stuffed with an arrangement of papers as well as a pen. “guess we can call it like an nda, affidavit . . whatever. i’m sure you’re aware of the obvious on why. um, we can discuss boundaries within the bedroom . . . things we will or will not condone. a safe word is a must. if you don’t feel comfortable showing your face i’d blur it out, but given i do livestreams most of the time that’ll be impossible. so i’d suggest a mask, which i’m actually in to so if that’s something you’re willing to do . . “

toji nods as you continue to ramble, carefully analyzing everything you say, though, his mind begins to drift elsewhere. he still couldn’t get that damn livestream out of his mind. killing himself these past two days just thinking about how fucked out he needed you to be, buried deep and crying underneath him. the cute expressions on your face when you moaned his name so publicly, as if you dared him to see. how desperately you fucked yourself on that pathetic toy of yours from the very thought of him. your whines, the illicit way you stared at your reflection in the mirror beneath your sculpture of a body you rolled seductively. he shifts in his seat, attempting to conceal the stirring of hunger within him as you continue to talk. he doesn’t need a fucking contract. he’d fuck you good and wouldn’t tell a soul.

his expression is firm yet tinged with a hint of something different this time . . anticipation. “why do you film content?”

the unwavering intensity in his gaze causes you to cut your sentence short, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you ponder on his question. was he even listening? “wha—what do you mean?”

toji chuckles. “i mean, why do you film? is it your main source of income? do you enjoy submitting to hundreds of people? does it make you feel confident, make you feel good? why?”

that should’ve been something you prepared yourself to answer. most of the guys you filmed content with didn’t have personal answers to ask, nor did they care. they were simply there to have a good time and go about their lives. you came into this situation thinking that’s what toji wanted as well. now you’re getting a gut feeling it’s more than that. or maybe you’re just an over-thinker. the whole point of making an account on hinge was to find better people to connect with for work, but most of them never got the job done, and you were tired of faking an orgasm and boosting a man’s ego. something about this one though, you can feel that he’s willing to worship you.

“well, i actually have three jobs. hairstylist during the day, which i’m growing to lose passion for. i’m good with pottery so i make little things and sell them. and then as for filming content . . . it’s fast money. the economy is shit right now. minimum wage jobs aren’t cutting it. rent prices are horrifying. i want to fund a new life for myself. to travel more, and just be a girl.”

toji smiles, admiring you.

“bali has been on my mind as a place to reside. it’s always been a dream of mine to be somewhere tropical. less breathing in polluted air and eating foods they pump full of hormones. mexico and puerto rico are also on the list. i really need to dip my feet in some sand or something. i don’t know. it’s also kind of sexually liberating to be in my own bubble and enjoy myself in that way. i do it for no one but myself.”

toji sits up in his seat, taking a piece of ciabatta and smearing softened butter onto the breadpicked up a slice of bread and smeared some butter onto it. “i think that moving to a place like that is a good idea. there’s a lot of bullshit in the world that’s hard to run away from. if you feel like it’s what’s best for your mental and emotional being, then go for it. you seem like you’ve worked real hard your entire life. you deserve a break.”

the heat in your cheeks rise as he leans himself closer, guiding the bread to your lips, waiting for you to take a bite. you smile softly, sitting up a bit in your chair before taking a bite. toji watches intensely as you moan from the taste.

“isn’t it much better when it’s given by someone else?”

“yeah, it’s good. real good,” you swallow, licking your lips to rid the breadcrumbs, reaching for your glass of wine to take another sip. “i have most of my savings in tact, so my plan is to be out of here by next year.”

the unadulterated pull between the two of you threatens to consume him as he stares at you, his body almost painfully yearning for your touch, your taste, your everything. toji can no longer resist. he reaches out and gently cups your chin, his fingers gently yet firmly tilting your face up to meet his smoldering gaze when you dared to look away. “how ‘bout you take me with you.“

the entire scene switches, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of lust and vulnerability makes you fall shamelessly into his trance. you feel your heart patter against your chest, scanning his entire face with small indications of panic, and excitement. you’ve been dying for his touch all week. you pray he’s as good as he looks.

“what’s the catch?” you breathe inordinately.

toji smirks. “we get fake married or something and change our identities.”

you shake your head at his joke. “i need to see a ring first, mister.”

“mhm, you look like a marquise kinda girl,” he tongues his cheek, in deep thought. “go to bali. i pay, you enjoy life.”

pairs of lips are mere inches away, toji ghosting his softly amongst your own, yours parting to follow. you feel like you’re in space, the feeling extraterrestrial. surrounded by depths of nothingness with only the two of you existing.

“i. . no, i can’t let you do that,” you shake your head dismissively.

“you deserve it.”

“you don’t know me.”

“good. that’ll be the perfect occasion for us to spend more time together,” he concludes, softly pecking your lips to coax you into giving him what he needed. you’re stunned, unsure what to say, or to think. so, he doesn’t make you think.

“fuckin’ kiss me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of desire and vulnerability, eyes flickering from the plumpness of your lips to your eyes. “can’t wait any fucking longer.”

the heat of his breath mingles with yours as his lips brush against your own in a hungry, fiery kiss. his mouth devours yours with an intensity that borders on primal, each movement filled with a desperate need to taste and consume everything you have to offer. his tongue slips past your parted lips, eagerly exploring the depths of your mouth as if seeking to memorize every inch of you.

you were drawn in fully now and you didn’t think you’d be able to pull away even if you wanted.

within the moment of your passionate kiss, as toji’s rough hand trailed to grasp your throat, your waiter begins to approach with your salad, eyes widening as he noticed how deeply, and somewhat aggressively your make out session was. practically swallowing each others faces. deciding to mind his business and turn the other way. he’d come back in a few minutes. toji breaks the kiss abruptly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of reluctance.

“damn this table,” he mutters, his gaze shifting towards the barrier separating the two of you. his breathing is ragged, body practically trembling with pent-up need. even so, he manages to pull himself together enough to maintain some semblance of composure.

he’s left you breathless, feeling something in your chest you’d never felt before, this attraction for him otherworldly. your lips are pouted, hands bawled into little fists levitating in front of your chest, as if you were begging for him to come back. when he begins to rise to his feet, you wonder where he’s going, eyes coming into immediate contact at the bulge growing tight in his jeans. you swallow, shifting your gaze up to the tall man that hovers over you possessively.

“go home, send me the address. i gotta handle a few business calls then i’ll be there at eleven.”

you hadn’t noticed the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you give him those damn puppy eyes, as if you’re so fascinated by him, almost scared of him to leave right now. toji grabs the pen resting between your little pink book, signing his signature on the indicated line on the bottom of the page for your gratification. after, he’s fishing for the brown leather wallet in his pocket to place down a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the tab and the waiters tip. then, he leans down, lips gently brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. he lingers just a moment longer, as if reluctant to let go.

“see you later, angel.”

finally, and with that, he steps back, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment before he turns and walks away, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoes in your ears, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a lingering sense of anticipation for the evening to come. starstruck entirely.

𓇼

a rush of arousal burned within you like wildfire as you lay in your empty bed, yearning for the man who's been gone for only a few hours now. caressing your collarbone while chewing on your lip, your phone rests in your palm, excitement brewing for twenty minutes now ever since he texted you to let you know he was on the way. a black baby doll is adorned on your soft skin. ruffle lace details at the neckline and hem with a satin waistband tie at the back into a cute bow. matching mesh g-string panty, and floral patterns along the bust and hip area.

you took the time to curl your hair, reminding yourself to actually put your contacts in this time. also keeping makeup to a minimum with just mascara, a bit of blush, and some strawberry chapstick. skin moisturized in baby oil and spritzed with miss dior. . . waiting. the camera’s set up across from your bed, trying to distract yourself by engaging in conversation with your viewers. the comments were raging about how impatient they were to see something, but how did they think you felt? you could barely walk out of that restaurant without feeling your legs shake.

he intimidated you beyond measure, and god knows what he’s going to do to you when he gets here. it’s a fear and form of greed you’d never felt before.

“my fucking hands are shaking,” you giggle anxiously, smiling to yourself and shaking your hands before dramatically breathing out.

as you waited, you did little things to keep your buyers entertained, showing your ass every now and then as you cleaned your room like a cute maid. call it foreplay. sitting on your knees now become uncomfortable, so you aim for lowering to your tummy and stretching your arms ahead of you, ass raised up. as soon as you get comfortable, your head pops up from the sound of heavy footsteps surrounding the small area of your home. it’s him. you’d hope, leaving the door unlocked so it’d be easier for him to enter.

“oh, fuck—y’all,” the anxiety is even worse now, mentally preparing yourself with steady breaths and shoving your face into the bed to scream happily. the emotions are bipolar. “he’s coming up.”

toji steps closer to your slightly cracked open door, pushing it open wide to see you. his demeanor nothing short of serious when he gets a good look at you, hearing you yap at your camcorder with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. he rests his right shoulder against the frame of the door, staring at you, admiring. his boots hit along the floor the closer he gets to you, and that cute ass you had perched up. the lights in your room are dimly lit, citrus candles spread around and led lights from your vanity illuminating the area. the vibe is nice, he likes it. like he likes you.

you continue to speak to your livestream and pretend he wasn’t there, trying to ignore your heartbeat picking up. the tension is in the air. you tried to steady your breathing as you continue to ramble about nonsense; animal crossing, sims you wanted to recreate and purposely wicked whim them. anything to distract yourself from the sparks shivering through your body. you prod the inside of your cheek trying to bite back a grin when you finally feel his hands on your hips, eyes watching the chat go wild from the brooding man behind you. what makes it all the more hot is that he hasn’t spoken a word, feeling like an intruder. stalking, waiting.

“so yeah, i’m thinking about dying my hair red. i feel like my face is kinda full to have a silk press so i’ll look . . off? maybe p-pin ‘urls,” a wave of pleasure shocks through you when you feel him press the outline of his dick against your cunt, dragging you back to air-fuck you once or twice. a few times. for the tease of it. his fingertips lightly flowing along the curves and contours of your body, your hips being the most sensitive. gasping and twitching from the feel, the thong you wore barely shielding how wet you were.

your breath became heavier, and you found it harder to continue speaking. you felt like moans would slip out of if you continued to react to his touch, the heat between you two rising. you were drawn fully into him. the reaction from him gave you a confidence boost, a slick smile showing on your face. while his body speaks of his own growing need, he remains a silent observer, his intense gaze watching as you maintain, or try, your playful conversation with the camera.

“i gotta admit something,” you smile into your hair that falls angelically around the frame of your face. his form, silhouetted behind you, takes on an ominous yet seductive presence. even though he remains hidden from view, his yearn is palpable, eyes locked on you as if he could consume you with a single glance.

“i fucked myself thinking of him,” a jolt of electricity runs down toji’s spine as he recollects the image. a low, involuntary groan escapes his throat as his grip on you tightens. “those of you who don’t remember. it was really, really good.”

that’s the final trigger. in seconds, a rough palm strikes the flesh of your ass, causing the cutest squeak to emit from you. toji’s wrapping his other fist around the softness of your hair and pulling you back to his hard chest. his cologne is strong, enrapturing even. your hand reaches beside you to catch his wrist in your grip, feeling the coldness of his expensive watch while he’s busy locking your jaw still and pressing his lips beneath your ear.

“really?” the tone is condescending, and as you nod frantically, pushing your ass back to feel him more, all you can hear is the unraveling of his belt. slowly removing it, the sound of the leather rubbing against the buckle and his pants. the anticipation fills you at an alarming pace. “i knew that, angel.”

how? wait, did he fucking watch the live you made that night? your legs nearly go weak at the possibility, sheer embarrassment consuming you. he wasn’t meant to see that. yeah, you told him about it. but him seeing that, then having lunch with you like nothing happened is crazy work. he noticed you’re frozen, chuckling darkly behind you.

“relax, doll. i can pretend i didn’t, ‘n you can show me all over again.”

he grabs your wrists, pining them behind your back with a rush of power fueling him, crossed hands sitting on your ass.

“this okay, baby?” he scans the side of your face for approval, using the smooth leather to bond them together. you hum, lips bitten and nodding obediently.

the look on your face in the camera is so worth the thousands of views from people who were just as desperate as he was to see you submit. your hands wriggle to touch him, laying your head on his shoulder and biting your lip as his teeth graze from your shoulder, to your collarbone, and your neck. your body’s completely on fire, and he makes it worse when he gently shoves you forward to fall on your face, back arched and ass high for his view, and theirs.

toji stared down at you as you remained there, fully surrendering yourself for the taking. his larger body leans over yours, fingers grabbing your chin to force your mouth to open. toji brushes his lips along yours, your desperate mouth sinking into him, feeling that same spark you felt earlier during lunch in your chest. he deepened the kiss to give you what you wanted, easily reading you, his tongue ravaging your mouth with his waist grinding into the shape of your ass. the kiss is so wet it has you mewling like a cat in heat, losing your breath.

“give me a safe word, hm?” toji sucks on his lower lip, the arousal in his eyes ruining you. a heavy hand rubs circles on your ass before hitting it again, another cute sound leaving that pretty mouth you had.

brushing your cheek along your bed set, dark curls dancing around your face and a pout on your lips, you whimper, “strawberry.”

“mhm,” your stomach flips when you felt his hand drift between your inner thigh, toji’s tongue skidding over your lips the same time his fingers apply pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles after he pulls your panties to the side, your babydoll resting pretty on top of the rolls on your back. your fists are balled tightly in your restraints, widening your mouth to suck on his tongue before giving him a deep kiss. the image on your face is pure dizziness. acting like your fucked dumb while barely being fucked. he couldn’t wait to see you crumble.

you squirm under his touch, breath growing short and shaky, toji maintaining eye contact with you dangerously. he’s big on it, and it makes you shy, yet brave enough to endure it.

“you hear yourself, girl?” toji hisses, pecking your lips hard, his fingers coated with your slick the more he rubbed. you whine, arching your ass even closer to his hand. “you’re so needy for me, it’s cute.”

it’s ridiculous that you can’t even speak, him turning you into nothing but a whiny, whimpering sub. “you’re desperate for my touch, for my tongue.” he whispered, his voice growing even rougher as his own need grew.

“mmm, yes. need it so bad,” you pout, mouth gaping after he spanks your clit lightly. “fuck, please eat it, baby.”

“i will good girl.”

he didn’t hesitate for another second, sliding behind you with one knee pressed into the bed and his big hands holding you still, spreading your cheeks further apart and cussing under his breath from how fucking cute your pussy was. fat, and glistening in your juices, clit hiding between your folds giving him something to search for. “g’na fuckin’ kill me, angel. pretty fuckin’ pussy you got.”

you scoot up as much as you can, hands still bound behind your back, wanting to cry from the inability to move, but loving that he had you at his mercy. his hair covers his eyes and he’s submerged into you, pressing his mouth to your pussy in a sweet kiss, like he’s knocking politely, before running his thick, long tongue over you slowly. a groan resounded devilishly, toji lapping at your dripping clit, tongue hot and your toes can do nothing but curl.

he’s slow and deliberate, enjoying the sounds and reactions he was getting out of you as you writhed and quivered under his ministrations. your pussy and his mouth makes up the loudest voice in the room, so fucking sweet and wet he’s salivating over you. spanking you, taking his time to devour you as he swallows your cunt whole, tongue gliding from your clit all the way to your hole. occasionally dipping his tongue into you to fuck you like that. your eyes cross, a broken cry making him lose it.

“keep bouncing that ass back, baby. fuck, fuck my face, angel,” he’s hitting you again, and you can’t take it, shifting your thighs to roll your ass back onto his gorgeous face. you’re panting like an animal, jaw dropping as he keeps his mouth on your clit, sucking it hard and groaning into your cunt, the vibrations traveling up your spine.

“oh . . god, oooh god,” the gasp in your throat became high pitched, toji licking you faster when he sees you giving your utmost effort. continuing his onslaught on your sensitive clit, swollen and satiating his taste buds. his fingers dug into your thighs, lowering himself completely to sit on his knees before you, rocking you back on his face as he eats it, unrelenting. sucking, licking, slurping, drowning his tongue inside of you . . . damn, it’s fucking good.

“c-cumming,” he can barely hear you as you stuff your face into the bed, toji’s head bouncing as you settle your feet on his shoulders and rock back on his face even quicker, groaning. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, babyyy.”

“mhm hmm,” he’s moaning into your pussy, kissing and tonguing you down until you finally burst, your hands in their constraint balling into fists, getting the chance to latch onto his black hair once he pushes you flat on your stomach to bury his face completely between your ass and thighs. “let it out, baby.”

his chin glistened from your juices, toji groaning the rougher you tugged at his scalp, dick jumping in his jeans he needed to unravel soon. when you cum, you do this thing where you squeal and gasp at once, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard. lifting his face, he licks his lips proudly, wiping his chin and patting your ass to watch it shake in his palm. you were a lovely display beneath him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ownership over you.

he reached down and traced a finger along the length of your trembling leg, his dominant presence still overwhelming. he brings his hand to the back of your neck which you arched into his touch, his eyes darkening at your silent plea. “you want more?”

“nn, yea,” a breathless giggle falls from you, toji dragging you to sit at your knees by the grip on your neck and around your chest with his forearm, back hitting his chest again, and your eyes come into contact with the camera, almost forgetting it was there.

“show them what i did to your pussy, angel. let them see how perfect you are,” toji whispers, tapping at your knees to help you sit on your behind.

“okay,” the words are small again, because that’s how he makes you feel. once you sit, you raise your knees to your chest, toji lifting your babydoll to show your soft tummy and the pink lights from your vanity mirror glowing on the angles and curves of your body. you look like the finest art.

it’s liberating seeing yourself like this, a sense of relief washing over you when he begins to unloose the belt, humming elatedly and arching into him, your periwinkle painted toes twinkling in the air playfully. toji laughs at you, your hand coming to your cunt to cover it out of fake shyness, rolling to lay on your side and giggling to yourself. you really did know how to play a role, or maybe you’re just naturally silly.

toji unfastened his button before drifting his zipper down, thick thighs spread and arms bulky as he kept them in fists into the bed, tilting his head in your direction as he sat beside you, body taking up half the bed. you sit on your knees next to him, your hands running across his stomach and lifting up his shirt, toji licking his lips when your nails delicately scratch at his hips. you moan when his hand comes into contact with your hair, your nails digging into the broadness of his thigh.

as he guided your head down, you could feel the heat coming off of his body. you could smell the unique scent of masculinity wafting off of him. the feeling of his fingers running through your hair sent tingles down your spine, his touch tender and affectionate despite his dominating demeanor. your chest fluttered when his thumb touched your lower lip, your breath stuttering and your body quivering, a heat rising in your core all over. you felt the need for him grow stronger, pulling your lip downward. he shifted his fingers and tilted your chin up further, exposing your throat and neck to him. then he leans over, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head as his mouth latches onto your neck. pressing light kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue grazing out and your skin pricks with fire.

“can’t stop tasting you,” he grunts, his lips and tongue on your throat licking hard, driving you insane with need. his hand holding the back of your neck in a possessive manner, keeping you in place as his mouth explored your sensitive skin.

“toji. .” your voice is weak, feeling your inner thighs drown in a puddle of your arousal. “wanna suck it.”

“i’m sorry, what was that?” he hums.

“don’t tease,” you roll your eyes and pout.

“mhm,” he lets out a little grunt as his eyes rake over you, his breath catching slightly as he stares at you. he runs his hand down to your waist, gripping fervently. “so pretty,” he murmurs.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a strong rush of affection for him. “you’re so handsome,” you say, your voice low and tender.

“g’na give it a good kiss, baby? real good?” he hisses, your hand pulling at his jeans to sit lower on his sharp hips, letting his dick free and watching it with a watered mouth as it sat against his tummy. heavy, thick, two veins protruding on either side. you fucking knew he was big. bless your intuition.

“yes, want it,” you plead.

a low growl escaped his throat. “show me you want it then,” he purrs, his eyes growing darker with desire and his grip on your hip tightening.

the salivation in your mouth gave you just what you needed to do the job, widening your mouth to accommodate his size, drooling over his dick as you pull him in as deep as you could to start. half of him enclosed by the warmth of your mouth and instantly toji moans from the feel, your cheek sucking in while you guide your head up and down, keeping your hands to yourself, one on his thigh for balance. your eyes are closed to focus, humming and dragging your mouth slow to make him feel it all. toji catches himself knocking his head back, pulling the sheets between his fingertips and scrunching his brows together, stomach caving in.

he can hear you slurp and suck at him needily, moaning around him and riding the air with your ass, spit gliding down to the base of his dick as your tongue sticks out to drag along the under of his shaft, bobbing your head and licking at him. something about giving him head in specific felt intoxicating. maybe it’s the sounds he makes; guttural yet whiny. the desperation begs to tug at his throat, shifting his hips blindly and cussing under his breath. eventually, his fingers find their way back to your scalp, toji sitting up and entangling both hands into your hair, face curated in pleasure with eyes wired shut and a gaped jaw.

“shit, ꒰♡꒱. that’s fuckin’ good, doll,” toji grunts, your moans around him encompassing him to briefly detangle a hand to spank against your ass in clear indulgence. “damn.”

your hand couldn’t help but travel to touch him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick to stroke your hand according to the pace your mouth drags. that gravitational wave in his abdomen hit, a deep ‘your suckin’ it so good’ fleeing from his mouth followed by another harsh spank and a steady tug at your scalp to push you down only enough to follow your rhythm. when he hits the back of your throat, you force yourself to hold him there for a few seconds, purposely constricting your throat to hear him moan for you again, and again. his sounds addicting.

toji chuckles from how good you’re doing, raising your head to breathe before swallowing only the tip while stroking the remainder, your salvia being enough lubricant to quickly move your wrist. twisting and tugging while keeping it mostly on the head of his cock, the sensitive spot your toy to play with as you give teasing kitty licks, two hands covering him now.

picking your head up momentarily, you stare into his eyes with your siren ones, low and dangerous. pulling at his dick while you bite your lips before kissing him, mewling when he shoves his tongue into your mouth, pulling your body closer by your ass, the other grabbing the side of your face he practically swallowed into his own. the kiss is feverish, something straight out of a movie. he’s highly infatuated with you, tasting himself off of you with the mixture of yourself. toji sucks on your lower lip, and you find yourself positioning your thigh over his to sit and grind on his leg. you had enough of the foreplay, you needed him to fuck you.

“fuck me,” a whimper escapes, pressing your body down harder onto him, hand still stroking at him, that fucking voice of yours driving him mad. he doesn’t think he’ll last if you keep it up. “toji. . . toji.”

“stop begging,” he shuts it down quickly, the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he kicks them off exciting you. of course you couldn’t hide the smile, feening innocence as you pet at his jeans to help him remove them.

he's only in his black shirt now, your eyes following how his muscles swallowed the material, showcasing every sharp cut of his upper body. he made you dizzy, truly. that slit on the side of his mouth curving with his mouth as he smirks at you for getting lost in your cute little dream land.

“focus, love,” toji reels you back in, his hand on your lower back to arch your chest into his, dragging you to straddle him. if he could see the blush on your face he’d see that you were red as a tomato, his dick sitting right beneath you and you can’t help but shudder. “need you to lift your hips, help daddy out.”

“kay,” you nod like a damn bobble head, laying your hands on his shoulders and balancing yourself on your tippy toes, wrapping your arms around his neck for extra security. toji’s large arm his thrown around your waist to keep you locked to him, both of your body heat scorching.

he catches a hold of his dick, pumping it twice before he’s rubbing the fat tip against your drenched opening, collecting your flow before a soft gasp emits past your lips when you feel him gently enter, sinking you down carefully, little by little. the sensation from the stretch is . . like a fantasy. your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling as he removes his hand to balance the two of you on the bed, leaning back somewhat for your comfortability.

when you think he’s fully apart of you, that thought is knocked down the minute he utters, “c‘mon, girl. you gotta lot more to take.”

“oh my god,” the shock is out of, well, shock. he feels really good already, it’s gonna be hell if you handle any more. embedding your nails into his clothing, chin resting between the crook of his neck while you ground your ass back to make it easier for him to slip completely in. the two of you groan in sync, toji’s arm tightening around your waist from how tight you felt.

the more you rock, slow, steady, it fucks the both of you up. holding tightly onto one another while toji lets you take your time, the heavy breathing and hearts beating rapidly is fucking poetic. one might call this act making love. once you drop your ass entirely, that pressure in your sweet spot causes you to scream out softly, losing balance and sitting on your knees, holding onto him with an unexpected whine.

“shit, baby, you alright?” he’s immediately checking in on you, bringing you up and make eye contact, hands holding either side of your face and scanning for signs. pushing away the fact that you’re convulsing around his dick and trying his best not to fuck you hard. yet, at least.

again, you can’t even speak. your mouth is wide open, nodding and breathing heavily, shifting your hips and grind onto him, flexing your ass when you arch your back deeper before lifting halfway and slamming yourself down. toji chokes, face copying yours as he grips onto the sheets and places his arm back around you, helping you lift yourself.

“you feel . . really good, baby. stuffing me full,” you moan, toji grunting and yanking you up and down faster, losing his patience now. it blew out the fucking window the minute he slipped inside you. he fixates on the sound of your pussy sliding and swallowing his dick, the slick making his tongue water for the taste all over. you’re so fucking sweet it’s insane.

“yeah?” he lets out a low, guttural groan and grips your hips even harder, his breaths coming out in deep gasps. “fuck me like you fucked that toy, thinking of me.”

that makes you smile, that insecurity of him seeing that video earlier disappearing as you take both of your small hands and wrap them around his throat, using your weight to push his body so he falls onto his back, his hands cupping the curves under your ass cheeks. toji usually isn’t one for submission, but he’s been thinking for a while about trying new shit, and a pretty girl like you choking and fucking him was only the start. you see the look in his eyes, and you feel heat sweltering inside of you even more, relishing the fact that you are the one in control, applying more pressure to his neck, loving the way his breath hitches.

“you want me to fuck you just like that?” you lick your lips and grind teasingly, the dangerous swirl of your hips making his head sink further into the bed.

“want you to fuck me like that, angel. gimme a show.”

and you won’t deny his wish. positioning yourself back on the tips of your toes, his hands are smoothing underneath your thighs, clutching on either sides as you with his eyes going dark, his hips bucking. he can barely string a thought together, his mind completely consumed by the sensations you’re sending through him. your pussy takes it all while you pounce your body above him, rolling your waist each time you dip your ass down and meet his thighs.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice thick with pleasure, eyes never leaving yours before his voice rasps out, “keep going. fuck me for real. like you want it. it’s yours.”

you let out a strangled gasp, body jerking and mind almost slipping away, the pleasure he’s giving you overwhelming and consuming you completely. his hands on your body clench harder, the warmth from his body on yours killing you.

“just like that,” his hands move at their own possession now, slamming down on your ass repeatedly to bruise your skin, the hits vibrating straight to your clit and it’s making you drunk. your eyes scroll back into your skull, his appraisal driving you to work for it faster.

“t-toji, i’m so wet for you,” you gasp in shock from the slickness between you two. “look what you did to me. you slide in and out so easily.”

“f-fuck, doll. you’re killing me talkin’ like that,” he lets out a strangled gasp at your words, voice ragged and eyes filled with need. “you like it that much, baby?”

“y-yes!” a squeal sounds from you, bouncing heavier than before, your voice getting caught in your throat from the impact. you clutch any part of his skin you can grab, losing yourself in the way he fills you. “i love your dick, baby. makes me feel prettier.”

hazy eyes filled with pleasure admire your features, fucked out already when he still has so much he wanted to do to you. give you what you deserve. a smirk tugs at his lips, sitting up and leaning in close, missing the skin contact. his voice low and rough as he says, “you look prettier when you’re sitting on my dick.”

“yeah,” you drunkenly nod. “s’mine.”

toji raises a brow with amusement. “it can be yours. when you cum on it real hard.”

wanting him even closer to you, you keep only one hand around his neck, placing the other on his forearm and pressing your chest to his entirely as you gyrate your hips and tease his neck, hovering over his skin with your mouth and teeth before you leave little love-bites on his skin. toji guides your hips in a circular motion, the simple switch up making you gasp and whine into his ear, hitting that spot repeatedly.

“god, baby,” you feel his guidance, his grip on your hips firm as he moves you. you ride against him, the friction on your clit making you whimper weakly, his deep voice in your ear making your body shake, feeling another orgasm develop. “i love it. s’fucking me so good.”

“see you movin’ just like you did for me on that mirror,” he wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing firmly. your eyes lock, yours clouded by arousal, his with an agenda. “fuckin’ yourself like that . . ima fuck you real bad for that,” toji hissed, swiping his tongue across his lower lip before aggressively smacking your ass. “i feel that fuckin’ pussy squeezing me tighter. if you’re g’na cum then do it on me. gush all on it.”

the more your body reacts to his praise, and sprinkles of degradation, the faster your orgasm approaches you, washing over you hard as your body spasmes from the intensity of it. your teeth sink into his shoulder as you scream, riding out your high, squeezing hard on his arms. toji kisses your temple, keeping you close as he falls back and lays on his side while turning you to face your camera you’d both forgotten about, still did.

“you did so well,” the kisses continue around your face while your brains on autopilot, his hand clasping around your neck as he presses his hot chest against your back. his kisses are so aggressive it makes you feel small and wanting to obey. you jump when he spanks you, moaning weakly into your shoulder with your arms halfway hanging off the bed.

toji goes lift your right leg to adjust himself behind you, dick achingly hard and covered in your juices, slipping back inside of you fully before angling your knee towards your tummy, keeping a hand locked under the bend of your knee, your skin smooth to the touch. you smell good too. everything about you besotted him. your hand touches his face, tugging it closer to the point where his nose smushed against your cheek, dark hair clouding your eyesight as his big frame overtakes yours.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whisper, eyes focused on each other, a giggle creeping up.

“not you,” he whispered back, rolling his waist back and forth, grinding deeper into you. the plush of your ass molding against his sharp hips. his lips brush on your neck as he kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin. your hands roam over your body, touching and exploring every inch of yourself as his lips trail down your collarbone, darkly watching as your hand presses on your clit. “her.”

as he possessively holds you in place, he’s prepared you enough before he’s fucking you hard, knocking the wind from your throat completely. a hard gasp falls past your lips as toji slams his hips against your ass, knitting his brows together, squeezing his eyes shut while his mouth falls open. the utter silence both of your voices held at the moment was more powerful than the rough interaction of your skin. your eyes a ghost white as he pounds his dick into you hard. when a noise is made, it’s from equal parts, syncing your eager moans.

“ooh, fuck baby. you’re taking it,” he huskily whispers into your ear, his words punctuated by the way he continues to move into you. “sucking me so deep. m’not going nowhere.”

“to-ji,” his name is broken down by the harsh pounds he fucks you with, whining and moaning in his entrapment. your vision gone. “i love the way you fuck me. you fuck me so good.”

he fucks like he’s not letting up, his body pushing you deeper into the mattress, the grip around your neck remains tight, the feeling of his ownership only growing more intense. his body is hovering over yours now, digging deep as he can to fuck you real good, to make himself feel it all. your body remains to the side, only half twisted as he drops your leg and pushes his weight into you so your stomach is close to grazing the bed.

“s’too much, fuck . . i, i—” the words are caught in your throat from the overstimulation. breathing heavy, tears begin to fill your sockets, whining his name loudly in his face like you’d lost your mind for good this time. this pleasure was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s everything you needed and more.

toji shushes you, kissing your nose as he grips your face, big hand almost covering it whole. “you like when daddy takes control? you like when he tells you what to do?”

toji will admit, you’ve got him fucking spent. it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman submit and cry under him, and you do all those things well. the gorgeous image on your face, to the salacious movement of your body. the softness of your skin and the equal relation of your voice. capturing and captivating him. you’d think he was on drugs the way he was talking. high off his ass from your pussy. his lips gently brush over your ear. your eyes flutter, his voice attacking your clit, and you swear it makes it gush even more, soaking the sheets underneath your ass. “when he makes you his? you like being my good girl, pretty?”

he knows you can’t speak anymore, but you’re still interactive with your body language. the slur of your nonexistent words to the way you try to roll your ass back to fuck him back . . but he’s got you trapped. even the tears falling down your face from overwhelming pleasure. he knows you’re okay, asking for a safe word prior for your protection. you’re a big girl, he knows you can handle it.

“nnng,” you can’t stop trembling, gasping for air and sobbing in his face. toji places his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes and nodding, cooing. you are fucked dumbed. toji hisses, hitting your ass and pausing momentarily to look between where you two collide, an ‘oh my god’ faltering out. he’s as gone as you are.

“you so fuckin’ creamy, girl,” toji drags out a frustrated hum, getting annoyed by how good your pussy is. you’re going to become a problem.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying it for. do you need him to stop, do you want more, or are you just completely fucked out you’re saying anything that’s coming to your head? that butterfly feeling is back in your stomach, as well as a foreign one near your clit, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. “toji, m’ g’na c-cummm. oh my god, babyy.”

your hiccups and sobs only urge him to fuck you even harder, loving how the breath literally jumps out of your throat in shock.

“cryin’ on this dick. fuck, you got me going crazy,” he really doesn’t want to cum yet, he needed to fuck you in every way imaginable. but he knows you need a break, to breathe for sure. he wanted to edge himself so that when he finally came, it’d be the best fucking orgasm of his life. your moans are clawing at his soul, so filthy and dulcet. you’re making it really fucking difficult to obtain that.

toji finds himself slamming his palm over your mouth to bury them in a way, but you’re so damn loud it’s getting to him. ‘fuck fuck fuck’ he’s cussing repeatedly in a whispered hush as he fucks you as hard he possibly can. his hand doesn’t even work, because you’re consuming him wholly and the minute he feels that build up, he pulls out to cum and you’ve drenched the sheets as you squirt. an almost blood curdling scream surrounds the room, your body rapidly trembling as your mouth falls open in utter shock, gasping, whining, whimpering, moaning his fucking name while he moaned yours. toji nutting up the entire side of your body, wrist twisting as he holds you body still, mouth drawn open.

his hand reaches over to unclamp your legs, heavy hand rubbing your pussy to stimulate you further, your back arching and head sinking into your pillow, crying out. he watches your hand flail to grip his wrist as your wetness continues to spurt out of you like water.

“strawberry!” toji listens to you weep, choking on your cries and pleads. finally having enough.

“holy s-shit,” you’re laughing while also trying to catch your breath, not believing that just happened. he can tell by the shock in your face that you’ve never had it happen before, or that much.

“damn,” he laughs along with you, smacking your outer thigh before smashing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, gliding your tongues together while his hands massaged every part of your body after allowing you to lay on your back. caressing and soothing you to calm you down. “gonna grab a rag.”

you pout when he goes to stand, already missing the disconnect as you lay empty on your . . messy bed. absolutely disgusting you two, hawk puth! one things for sure, you can’t keep that wide ass smile off your face. he comes back into the room, one of your pink towels wrapped around his midsection covering up that demon of a dick he carried. toji smirks down at you, grabbing your ankle and tugging you down to the edge of the bed before he’s taking a warm rag that smelt of your dove beauty bar to wipe what he painted on you. you swallow your lower lip into your mouth, watching with hooded eyes as he drags the rag sensually along ever part of your skin. you flinch when it comes to contact with your cunt, toji kissing your inner thigh with a ‘sorry’. he admires the curves of your body even more, kissing your ankle adorned with a silver anklet after he finishes.

“how you feeling?” he asks.

“i’m more than perfect.”

he hums. “you’re something else.”

“i was good?” you ask seriously, batting your lashes shyly.

toji stares at you as if you’re deadass. “don’t do that. you know you were. you didn’t hear me? i fuck you deaf?”

that makes you roll your eyes, but not before giggling. “hate you.”

“you won’t after i tell you i got chinese in the kitchen,” he winks, the light in your eyes making his heart swell. “c’mon, sexy.”

you sit up, gasping. “i knew i fucking smelt that shit when you came in. i thought it was outside!”

“nah, i realized i didn’t eat shit at the restaurant earlier so i decided to get us both something. did you even eat your salad?”

“i did, had to after you dropped a whole hundred,” you shake your head. “how’d you know i liked chinese?”

toji blinks. “baby, we literally talked half of this week. for hours. i have good memory.”

that slip of a nickname outside of sex warmed your chest, burying your face in your hair to hide your shyness. “you’re right.”

“don’t hide now, i’ve seen it all,” he chuckles, tickling the bottom of your foot.

“oh, whatever!” you chuck one of your plushies at him, half of them had fallen to the floor. toji gets up to grab your robe he saw hanging on the bathroom door, draping it around you as you stood.

he kisses your forehead and you walk ahead of him into the kitchen, screeching when he hit and gripped your ass, the two of you forgetting about the livestream altogether as you warmed up the food, poured a glass of wine and reminisced about what just happened.

angelbwrry live : 1M viewers.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡ 

[cosmicalily]

'everything is romantic' with stray kids, ot8 headcanons by @cosmicalily

author's note: bad tattoos on leather tanned skin, jesus christ on a plastic sign, fall in love again and again...this is one of my favourite songs on the album (especially the version with caroline polachek!). i kind of love the idea that romance is in everything, from everyday actions to random objects, i think it's such a beautiful philosophy! enjoy this little list of everything that's romantic in my eyes...

everything is romantic...with chris

addressing you in australian slang nicknames. night drives to the beach with the windows down. buying your favourite albums on vinyl. sending screenshots of song lyrics. matching tattoos. staying up late talking. massaging your shoulders while you study. laying on his chest on your phone in the evenings.

everything is romantic...with minho

cat fur on your favourite black sweater. slow blinks from across the room. homemade dinners and red wine. walks through the forest in the early morning. making the bed around you while you sleep in. closing the blinds if you forget to before falling asleep. hundreds of weirdly specific yet endearing nicknames.

everything is romantic...with changbin

you as the cover of every instagram post. matching fluffy hello kitty pajama pants. referring to you as 'his wife' from day one of dating. buying you every cute trinket or keychain he lays his eyes on. your sanrio stickers on his laptop. his giggles anytime and every time you say something slightly amusing.

everything is romantic...with hyunjin

chamomile tea before going to bed. shared pinterest boards for your future home. sketches pinned up around the house. lipstick stains on the collars of his shirts. a photobooth strip in his phonecase. a red digicam dedicated to photos of you. sending voice notes rather than text messages.

everything is romantic...with jisung

studio ghibli soundtracks while you clean the house. always keeping your favourite ramen in the kitchen. letting you do his makeup. silly inside jokes. writing you sticky notes when he doesn't know how to verbalise his feelings. writing and composing little love songs for you whenever he gets inspiration.

everything is romantic...with felix

reposting every love-related tiktok on his fyp. matching jellycat keychains. freshly baked goods. braiding his hair in the evenings. watching 2000s chick flicks. strange yet wholesome meme references. matching beaded bracelets. at least nine different emojis to represent you for your contact on his phone.

everything is romantic...with seungmin

freshly washed bed linen every weekend. homemade coffee in the morning. annotating each other's books. his hands in your hair while you study. putting your phone on charge when you fall asleep. filling up your drink bottle. sitting beside you and watching you do your makeup. shoulder kisses. long hugs in the hallway.

everything is romantic...with jeongin

facemasks and self-care nights. picking out your outfits. letting you borrow his jewellery. bringing you an iced coffee on your break at work. matching shoes. sharing a scarf in winter. imitating each other in public and laughing at each other. poking his dimples. playing twister on the living room floor.

[beansprean]

Commissioned for @kristylime 's CUTEASS fic “A Prescription for Love”!!! This is a snippet from chapter 4! ;)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Full body of Guillermo, dressed in a pink tee shirt, grey sweatpants, and socks, sitting up on his bed with one arm propped behind him and the other petting a gray kitten named Beaker who is happily arching and rubbing into the attention. A window nearby shows a gray sky outside, and his laptop is open in front of him on the bedspread, covered in various vampire and pride related stickers. Guillermo looks sadly down at the cat and sighs, saying, "I just wish I had some kind of sign..." 1b. Close up of Guillermo with a tear forming in his eye, glancing over as his phone, sitting on the bed nearby, begins to ding with multiple incoming texts. His phone has a black case with a rainbow bat pattern. 1c. Shoulders up of Guillermo sitting up and holding his phone with his right hand, his left taking a moment to rub the tear from his eye. The phone continues to ding with more texts. 1d. Repeat. Guillermo opens his eyes to look down curiously at the phone, swiping his thumb across the screen to unlock it as it dings twice more.

2a. A series of texts from human Nandor appear on the left with reactions from Guillermo on the right. His message reads: "Hi, Guillermo. I hope you had a nice time today. I had a really great time at brunch and showing you the farm. And I’m glad you got to meet Dr. Baron and Dr. Sirus. And all my animals. I think Rajah misses his pal, Beaker, though. He seems a bit glum this evening. I must confess that I’m still on Cloud 9… from the kiss. Though I am looking forward to Taco Tuesday. Unless you’d consider seeing me tomorrow? Maybe just some takeout from my parents’ restaurant at your place? LMK." This is followed by a text with a photo of a blue merle Australian Shepherd named Rajah laying on a large plaid doggy bed with his head on his paws, looking up at the camera with big sparkly sad blue eyes. On the right, a close up of Guillermo huffing out a small laugh through his nose as he reads, looking fond. 2b. Repeat. Nandor sends another photo of himself, half in frame, wearing a flannel shirt over a black tee and his hair in a loose braid grinning and holding a strip of bacon out between his teeth. Rajah appears from the other side and excitedly chomps down on the other end of the bacon strip. Nandor writes, "I have determined how to chase his blues away at least temporarily. BACONNNNN!!!!!" On the right, Guillermo's smile grows helplessly, looking more amused and more fond by the moment. 2c. Repeat. Nandor sends another photo, clearly taken moments after the previous one, showing himself snorting with laughter as Rajah licks all over his face. He writes, "How is Beaker doing?" and then "Sorry for all the text messages. I just realized this might be creepy." On the right, Guillermo finally dissolves into laughter, tipping his phone as if to cover his mouth.

3a. A text reply from Guillermo that reads "Not creepy at all. Beaker is settling in well. He seems to like me, air conditioning, and/or movies. He’s nice to cuddle with and talk to. Thank you again. I was also thinking about our kiss. That it was a long time coming and that I’d like you to kiss me more, if you’d like that. Tomorrow, I work until 7PM, but I would love for you to come over for dinner. Persian Delight would be wonderful, but I would like to cook for you at some point, too. 7:30PM tomorrow?" Nandor immediately replies "Sure, it's a date," with a winking kiss emoji. 3b. Close up on Guillermo's eyes shining with excitement above blushing cheeks as Nandor's last text echoes in pink around him. 3c. Full body of Guillermo, sun shining on him from behind as the sun pours through the window, grinning happily as he holds Beaker up to his cheek with one hand and holds his phone out with the other to take a selfie. He says, "I guess as far as signs go, it doesn’t get a lot clearer than that." Beaker mews in reply. /end ID

[ohsunnyboy]

living wine | song eunseok ˚₊‧⁺˖

song eunseok is good at maths, a vampire or an extreme lightweight. one of those is false, and it's not the one you think it is!

TAGS: college!au, vampire!eunseok, human!reader, gn!reader, vivid descriptions of blood, veins and feeding, kissing and caressing, gets suggestive by the end!!

A/N: eunseok has such vampire-esque visuals i couldn't help myself hehe self indulgent as per usual (idk why this turned out so long i just wanted to write some hot bloodsucking)

WORDS: ~2400

"How on earth did you get all of this wrong?" You stare at the question sheet and back at his laptop. The fang about, find out! sticker on it fraying and stained with takeout. "I thought communication studies was meant to be easy?"

"It's not wrong. There's no wrong in comm studies," he groans, still rolling about the floor of your dorm like a toddler. “I swore to Sungchan this would be the last time I change my major and he's going to tear me apart if I can't ace this."

"Oh boohoo, your mysterious campus vampire aura will be ruined. What will everyone do?" you intone, rolling your eyes.

Said mysterious vampire, Song Eunseok, buries his face into your plush cushions and groans some more. Imagine communications being the biggest of your worries in the world.

As a political science major, with a minor in vampire relations, it seemed natural when you stumbled into Eunseok's friend group at a You Can Fang event at the college. A vamp and human mixer to encourage integration due to well... reasons.

Because the thing is, vamps have only been about for 30 years.

Which is a lie. Or rather, a condensation of the fact that they've been generally acceptable for 30 years. It's only now do you find tick boxes for vampires on questionnaires, 24/7 blood banks and raw blood on the a la cartes to cater to the perpetually living.

Apart from that, it's been since the dawn of time they've been kicking about, seamlessly blending into society by acting like the rest of you. As evidenced by the one stretched out like flattened dough on your plush carpet. Eunseok physically exists at 18, has the vainness of a 15-year-old but has been kicking around for 22 whole years.

Which somehow doesn't qualify him from doing college level anything even half well.

"You still there?" Eunseok’s voice is muffled from where he's face down on the carpet, that or it's his fangs digging into his lip. He’s been limp and lethargic like this for far too long.

"Yeah, yeah just baffled at what you've written," you hum.

You shift the laptop from your lap to the floor next to you, choosing to study the moping princess. Eunseok’s brown hair is almost black in the dim of your room while also sticking up everywhere from running his hand through it constantly. Even his clothes look out of it, which is a feat for someone who always aims for college campus chic. Further, while it’s traditionally vampiric to be ghastly pale – Eunseok’s always had a tan from when he was bitten at 18 that just stuck around – his skin somehow looks even worse in the lamp light.

"What's wrong, Eunseok? You've been like this all week," you sigh.

Thump-thump. The clock ticks three times; it’s nearly midnight and the full moonlight peeks through the blinds. Thump— he shifts. “It’s nothing..." Curling further up into a ball. Like you believe that, he’s a professional whiner.

"Real convincing. How about you sit up and look me in the eyes when you say that,” you quip back. With some more prodding at his head with your foot, Eunseok sits up petulant.

You take your time to look at him properly now: Eunseok’s sunken eyes and dry mouth. It makes your own lips purse in concern. It’s a far cry to what your Eunseok usually looks like however it’s all signs of what you’ve been suspecting all this time. Idiot.

"I am completely fine,” he says it with the utmost uncertainty of any college student lying through their teeth about already having started a paper that is due the next day.

"Seok... you're paler than a sheet." When you say it, his face nearly brightens up. "That’s not a compliment!" And only then does he huff out a small laugh, eyes casting to the side.

“I’m fine, promise. Just…long night?” Eunseok mutters but it comes out like a question. You know he sleeps poor in general but that’s no excuse. You pay way too much attention to him, is what some voice says at the back of your mind, but never mind that.

Maybe it’s a reassurance when he snakes a hand around your ankle, but his cold embrace only reminds you of what he is. Maybe it’ll make whatever you plan to do just a bit easier. The question’s been dancing on the tip of your tongue since the start after all.

"...When's the last time you fed?" your eyes search for his as you ask, but he seems hellbent on avoiding your gaze.

"Why? are you offering?" Eunseok snorts and you can taste the sarcasm in his tone. He shakes his head again, before finally raising his gaze to yours apologetically. "...Look this week's been so bad. All the blood banks are low, my new TA is Satan incarnate and Sungchan chipped my tooth last time I tried feeding from him so I couldn't even feed properly then.” His finger’s drum across the skin of your ankle: pinching and smoothing.

"...and then everybody's also been busy with the new semester,” you conclude.

"Exactly.”

The silence consumes the room. You’d liken it to someone taking a fluffy blanket and smothering you in it. Dying in comfort and screaming in silence.

The sensation of Eunseok’s fingers on your skin is what grounds you. Pinch and soothe, thump-thump, pinch and smooth, thump-thump. Goosebumps have started to rise up your leg as you watch his movement. Thump-thump, pinch and smooth. You’ve grown used to his cold whenever you press against each other, even when he tries to stay away. Despite it, your heart races all the same.

Thump-thump, pinch and smooth.

The carpet bites when you crawl to him.

"Woah, woah hold on. You’re not doing what I think you’re doing.” Eunseok holds out his hand like that’s going to stop you. “You've never been fed on before,” he says it with such a painful sincerity that you think it’s meant to hurt, but right now, waiting in silence is hurting you more than he ever could.

"You need it, idiot. Besides, I trust you enough.”

"I've been a vamp for like 4 years! I don't trust me enough!"

"What happened to feeding from Sungchan a minute ago? You literally led the safe feeding talk at that You Can Fang thing last year!" You kneel back, saving yourself from your tone.  

Eunseok’s pinching and smoothing down the skin of his own hand. Nerves line him but you know he can hear your heart much better than you can your own. Thump-thump-thump—

"It was from his wrist, and it wasn’t term yet. I’ve – well, I’ve looked at yours, your veins are way too faint,” Eunseok mumbles. His beady eyes dipping towards your throat, while your own eyes track his tongue as he wets his lip. “You know I’d have to feed from your neck.” His voice trembles under the suggestion. Under this light, it should be impossible to tell if he’s blushing, but you swear he’s buzzing with heat.

You’re not stupid: you pay attention to your vampire education and etiquette classes. Enough people walked out of that feeding talk red faced and a little shifty eyed at anyone that had bite marks at the neck. The blush that sears across your face now probably mirrors theirs.

The thing is, you’ve made up your mind a long time ago.

“I’m offering, Eunseok. Don’t be more of an idiot than I think you already are.”

Thump-thump-thump—

Eunseok’s pupils swallow up the whites of his eyes, and in the next instant, you’re being lifted, straddling his thigh, his arms a crushing force wrapped around your back and cradling your head. Burying his face into the skin of your throat, he makes a high sigh of relief. Fire licks up across where you touch, eating you alive before he’s even sank a fang.

Even if he’s stone cold under your touch, the room feels like it’s been plunged into a broil, losing yourself in a steamy haze. He noses at your pulse, the tell-tale thump-thump-thump— of your own must be as loud as the fucking heavens crashing down on him. Amber and roses, the scent that’s haunted you everywhere since you got it for him, reminds you of all that he is.

(Yours.)

A breath, another, another, before Eunseok’s head tilts up from where you’ve locked your arms around him, and you come to stare at his impossibly dark eyes paired with his pearly peeking fangs. “…Are you sure?"

You close your eyes, seeking patience. “Take as much as you need, idiot.” And Eunseok exhales so hard his whole-body shakes. Your hand tightening itself at the mess of his hair. Come on, take it.

His eyes flutter, stupidly long eyelashes ticklish against your skin, his head ducks and you get a second before he presses his lips to your neck, drops his fangs and bites.

The pain is a pinch.

A sensation that will root itself into your guts and sear itself into your muscle memory. It crawls up your jaw and shatters across your head; it splits from your skull, and it streaks down your back; and then it sets aflame everything you thought was burning already. Distantly, he groans into your skin with the same neediness as before.

Where there is fire, his lips come to sooth. Eunseok lets out a soft, needful sound as he presses his lips over your skin – and maybe you do too. Every inch of you breaks into shivers. Thump-thump-thump-thump— an anthem backed by chorus. You can feel yourself losing grip in his hair, but Eunseok just pulls you impossibly closer into him, propped up in his arms as you give more onto him. Drinking you in and eating you whole.

“Thank you,” he starts mumbling into your skin, over and over. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Eunseok slurs it out like prayer. Blood drunk is the word you can find floating in the haze of your mind. You turn the thought of it over and over in your head with fascination. You have to bite back a whine.

Even without the blood, you could lose yourself to the feeling of his roaming hands. Always so close to edging under your sweatshirt but catching himself every time. His hands clench at your hips, taut in a way he’s never been before.   

"Please, Eunseok..." Amid your daze, you find the strength to nod, finding his hands and slipping them under and then up, and up. You reward him, pressing a kiss to his hair. He answers with a groan that shudders down your body. Tracing the line of your spine, ribs and collar. Leaving you gasping into your quiet dorm room. You’re half aware of your agape mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head, every part of you singing as Eunseok takes.

Propped up in each other’s arms, you don't know which one of you has given more to the sensation. Far away, you think you could sit like this for hours. Wrapped up in everything Eunseok. Subject to a degree of sheer want that you’d never want him sharing with anyone. Yours, yours, yours. It’s the anthem of your heart when you’re pressed against each other in one hot line.

…It could be another age when you feel his fangs detract. 

All you hear is your heaving breaths against the tick of the clock. The hum of your blood has plastered itself to the walls of your mind, another fixture that you’ve somehow adjusted to. Just like the cold that meets your neck again, and again. A break in the ice after drowning for hours.

Eunseok laps at the puncture wounds at your neck with enthusiasm. His hands planted firmly on your hips, holding you in place. You want to squirm as he leaves a trail of kisses to chase after the blood that drips from the wounds. Savouring every drop of you.

You bring a hand up, to cradle his working jaw, marvelling at the flush on his skin, the utter mess of his hair, how he holds you so gently.

“You… you taste like living wine. You know that, right?” Eunseok croaks out, eyes closed, head down. Something in you is struck with awe, you’ve never seen him like this. “Taste so fucking good.” He punctuates it with a kiss at the base of your throat, searing with want, humming from satisfaction.

He continues to trail them up all the way to the corner of your mouth. Teasing at your lips with his red stained ones. “You’ve ruined this for me. Don’t want anyone else feeding from you,” he purrs.

Instead of sitting there limp, you capture his face and plant a quick kiss to his lips. “Don’t want you feeding from anyone else either.” You can taste your blood on your lips as you smile and look him dead in the eye. “You’re mine too.”

Thump-thump. Eyes wide open, he stares back at you with the same craze. Partnered with Eunseok’s own brand of a self-satisfied smirk that’s driven you insane since you met him – it's mix made for devastation.

“Feel better now?” you croak out.

“All thanks to you,” he hums.

Moonlight pierces into the room and you can see him clearer now. There’s some more colour to his skin, flush from exertion, with your blood a lip-stain. Even his dazed eyes are somehow more alert than before – in spite of being a notorious lightweight.

“Let me take care you.” Eunseok preens under your hands and moves.

You nearly go dizzy from the rush as Eunseok manhandles you. Lifting you from under the knees, plastering you to his front, legs bracketing his waist, before depositing you onto your bed. A laugh escapes you from the rush of Eunseok caging you in, while landing a glancing peck on your lips

“Oh?” And you quirk your brow. A cheeky grin on your face at his own amused look. "A round two?"

However, Eunseok just rolls his eyes and collapses beside you. “We both have class in the morning and it’s like 1am.” The cheeky bugger buries into your side and slings an obnoxious leg around your hip. “I’ll get you like a Gatorade in the morning for your electrolytes when we wake up, yah?”

To be honest with yourself, there’s not enough strength in you to protest or even roll your eyes back at him. Your heart’s too busy guiding you to sleep while a hand finds yours in the night.

Thump-thump… pinch and soothe.

(Needless to say, you had to wear a turtleneck to class tomorrow morning.)

pls lmk how this turned out bc this one was a learning experience for me! a like or reblog would be lovely if you enjoyed ty <3 ⭒ masterlist

[celestialprincesse]

pretty please can i have more Simon x nerdy girlfriend?

sincerely,

a college student studying biochemistry and biophysics

Of course!! Also?? plaudits to you because how. I dropped chemistry the minute they started talking about calculating moles🎀

This woman will stay awake all night working on her research. I mean it. All night for a good few days in a row until she becomes the grumpiest, grouchiest bitch that even coffee can't save.

Simon dreads when the time for group projects comes around, he knows that she's a huge overachiever and therefore anyone not working to her level is 'lazy' and they don't care about the course.

Her advisor was 'mean' (didn't shower her with praise) to her one time and she came home in tears because she thought that he hated her.

Her laptop is covered in cringey, subject related stickers that she's so proud of, thinks they're so funny even though literally no one else gets them.

She makes all her notes in glitter gel pens and covers them in stickers so that when she inevitably cries whilst she's studying she has something to cheer her up.

Simon really, really wants to help, desperately, which is easier said than done when he's trying to decipher her blubbering mess of panic about something or the other.

He ends up just being quietly supportive so he doesn't end up saying something that will make her more upset.

Simon militarises the whole thing to make sure she sleeps and eats and goes outside, because apparently, though academically smart, her big brain isn't quite lumpy bumpy enough to recognise that the reason she feels like she's going to puke is because of the three red bulls she's had on an empty stomach.

Kept this short n sweet because my brain is feeling smooth n silly😍Best of luck to u my genius science baby mwah mwah mwah 💕🎀 Sincerely, a struggling history student 🥴

[loserlvrss]

𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄 y. jeongin ( 양정인 )

synopsis | you really needed a new computer, but at least your boyfriend was there to ease the burden.

pairing : jeongin x fem!reader genre : drabble, fluff, est. relationship warnings : language, bit of angst word count : 0.7k authors note : this wasn't bc i couldn't get my fucking computer to stop downloading everything as pages and cried about it... no...

You shut your computer with the loudest groan you’ve ever let out. Your hands found their way into the roots of your hair as your head collided with your palms. You tugged lightly, trying in some weird attempt to get the pain inside to ease up. 

“What the actual fuck,” you mumbled into thin air, “if this damn computer doesn’t work again, I’m actually going to fail this assignment.” 

You had the worst—and oldest—version of a laptop you think anyone could ever have. It lagged out, stopped working and wouldn’t let you convert anything into a pdf, much less an editable copy. Of course, besides it sounding like it was going to explode while you played the sims, or acting as a make-shift heating pad when you dared open more than two tabs at a time, it had its charms… Most of them, however, were the stickers it was adorned with over the years. 

You really needed a new one. 

Your eyes welled, but you shut them quickly before any tears started to fall. It was frustrating having to try anything and everything to not inconvenience your professors; always trying to have the piece of hot-shit up to date so you could keep up with the deadlines. But, you weren’t sure how much more of the jumping through hoops you could do before it completely inconvenienced you. 

Why couldn’t they just bring back the paper days? you thought. You could definitely find a pen or pencil somewhere in your house—maybe even a typewriter would work better. 

Everything piling up in your life was getting a little overwhelming. It was mentally and physically taking a toll on you. Your shoulders had become more rounded, and your blue-light glasses were barely working anymore. You kept getting stress related headaches, and you seemed more anxious than normal. 

You felt the warm touch meet the skin of your shoulders, dragging from one side to the other. “Are you okay?” The corresponding voice asked. Your so-very sweet boyfriend, of course. 

You looked at him through the parted hair in your fingers, “No, it’s already past due by four days.” You groaned again, completely letting your head fall onto the closed metal. “this piece of shit, in, like what am I supposed to do now? I’m so stressed and I’m already on the verge of having a non-passing grade. This stu—”

He cut your tangent short, “Hey, baby, let’s take a deep breath.” His other hand took the opposite shoulder, thumbs digging into the knots that had formed over the last half a semester. “It’s all gonna be fine, we’ll figure something out. It’s not the end of the world, I promise.” 

You turned your head to the side, visibly pouting. He moved to the base of your neck, massaging the tension away just a bit more. 

“But Jeongin,” He broke away momentarily to take the bridge of your glasses between his forefinger and thumb, dragging them off and putting them aside. “If this damn computer…” 

He kept at it, letting you rant about your outdated computer. At least it was closed, he thought, you needed a break anyways—late assignments or not. He knew you were tired, not having slept well the last couple days. He was the man sleeping next to you afterall. He also knew that you rarely wanted to stress him out, so you bottled it inside. The depths of the night made it obvious however, tossing and turning and sitting up to stare at the wall. 

Jeongin hmphed, hearing the lightest breaths leave your parted lips. He examined closer, you had fallen asleep under the simplest of touches from him. You must have needed to relax (and lay off the caffeine) bad, he thought. 

He knew you’d also probably wake up in a panic in a couple of minutes, spewing something about your schoolwork. However, he’d just take you to bed and run his hand up and down your back all night if he had to. Whatever to get you to stop overthinking—and putting everyone else first. 

You were a very dedicated person to your studies, but even the smartest person in the world needed a break once and a while. 

And maybe a new computer… 

please reblog and like <3 comments are appreciated ! thank you 4 reading © loserlvrss 2024 all rights reserved. 

networks : @blossomnet @starlit-network @k-films @kstrucknet

taglist : @seomisaho @mystarsohee @jihyokat | send an ask to be added. 

back to masterlist !

[vxnuslogy]

— 7:51 p.m. ft. alhaitham

— warnings: none

— author's note: an alhaitham word vomit and this may or may not be related to something i'll be doing in the future hehe.

“excuse me, is this seat taken?” you ask with a nervous smile gracing your lips as alhaitham’s mind swam with different ways of saying yes – when in fact it wasn’t – to try and avoid having to share a table with some stranger. but in the end, when his eyes fell on the book you’re holding, the tight grip on your bag straps, and that desperate glaze your eyes held he ended up relenting. “it’s yours.” he says plainly as you scuffle to sit down. it wasn’t long before another laptop was set on his table, just across from his own.

you were undeniably flustered; your eyes not so discreetly peeking at him, how your pen nearly kept falling from your grasp, not to mention how you kept your lips in a firm line. it wasn’t that hard to come to the conclusion that you may have something for alhaitham, but he made no comment; if he did, it would be akin to opening a pandora’s box. you were quite a chatterbox after all. 

surprisingly though, you had not uttered another word to him after you sat down and let a soft thank you stumble past your lips. after a few glimpses at alhaitham – all of which he caught on to leaving you to hide behind your laptop screen – he himself would take note of the items you had laid on his table. your laptop had multiple stickers of different characters from different franchises; a big coherent mess, he concludes. the notebook that laid on the table held haphazardly written notes, messy scribbles of black and green ink – the same black pen was in your hand being spun around like a rollercoaster – painted the inside of each page, sometimes there were little doodles in the corner. eventually you had taken out a black case with your glasses in them; he had noticed you getting too close to your laptop screen so his assumption of your poor eyesight was correct. but what caught alhaitham’s eyes the most was the annotated book by franz kafka that you had been flipping through all this time.

“letters to milena.” he softly muttered. alhaitham was sure you wouldn’t catch it, but in the blink of an eye, you were staring at him with widened eyes. the moment your eyes met, you ducked your head back behind your laptop screen with a nod. your fingers nimbly flipping to another page that was annotated with a burgundy book tab. “literature assignment. our professor requires us to write an essay about a book of our choosing each semester.” alhaitham hummed in acknowledgement and with that, the conversation ended. 

the two of you stayed in the comforts of the library for another twenty or so minutes before you started to pack up. alhaitham’s eyes followed your movement as you put away your laptop first, then your notebook, and finally your book tucked neatly on your arms as you flashed him a small smile. “i’ll see you around!” you whisper-yell at him with a wave of your hand. alhaitham simply nodded, not even bothering to wave back, but his eyes did follow your figure as you made your way out of the library when you turned your back on him. letting out another sigh, he pocketed the glasses case you had left on the table as he started packing up.

“how troublesome.” he said gruffly. putting on his headphones – putting the music at max volume – and slinging his bag over his shoulder he left the library.

–

“how do you lose a pair of glasses in the span of less than twenty-four hours?” you turn to glare at your friend who was making sure you didn’t trip and fall face-first on the ground. “i swear i’m not this forgetful, okay?!” he just snickered while you groaned, a hand dragged itself down your face as he led you to the art room.  you let out a slight scream when you nearly tripped over your own feet as you tried to rack your brain to try and find where you last put your glasses. letting out another frustrated groan while your friend laughed, you sulked your way to the art room.

“there you are!” kaveh, the art club president, exclaimed with what you presumed was a wave. “good morning senior.” your friend greeted the blonde man. to your and his surprise, kaveh had suddenly handed you a black case that looked oddly like the one you were looking for. when you had taken it from his grasp, you let out a small gasp of surprise as you saw your glasses.

“where’d you find them?!” you ask while putting them on, letting out a breath of relief as everything finally started to clear up. “a friend of mine found it in the library.” your brows furrowed in thought. you do remember wearing them in the library yesterday when you were writing your essay. so that means–

both men looked at you in confusion as you started slightly jumping around the room with giggles bubbling from your throat and bursting into tiny little laughters. plopping yourself on the ground, hiding behind the case, you then lay on the cold floor – much to kaveh’s dismay. both of them urged you to not lay on the floor, but you just kicked your feet and giggled, opening the case again and holding it close to your chest.

kaveh just sighed as he urged your friend to start working on a project. “we’ll be back later. try not to go crazy now.” the blonde man said, amusement lacing his voice as he closed the door on you.

a little voice in your head said that it was a logical reason to giggle over.

‘don’t leave your things behind.

– A.’

seems like you’ll be writing another love letter to this particular senior that has won over your heart.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[pardycity]

hehe >:o3c

pleo nation. the pleo shirt will be in my possession soon >:o]

[mountainpresspublishing]

and if I get burned, at least we were electrified by @seiya-starsniper

The latest bind here at Mountain Press Publishing! This one was a ton of fun and made for a chuck of firsts for me as well! From making a book of a smaller size (and a different size than my usual in general!) to refreshing my Illustrator knowledge as well as some quick sticker making, this ended up being a very fun project!

Initially, I planned for this bind to be the size of a CD album (and it was), but I intended to be able to fit it within a CD case itself. However, it ended up being the perfect size of a case, which meant it didn't actually fit inside of the case.

Lessons learned there!

Thankfully, I had also picked up some CD case sleeves that I was able to package the book within to still achieve that aestethic I was going for.

Now, you may be wondering why I went for a CD size at all. This fic's title (as well as Chapter Titles) were all based on lyrics from Taylor Swift's reputation album! Which, once I found that out, helped me solidify the styling I was going for.

I looked up the Reputation album and the styling and fonts that were used on the cover images as well as the lyric booklet within, which is how I settled on the drop caps and the fonts I choose.

And here's the reference image I used for the text

You can see that the fonts are pretty similar. The header in the book also matches the header here!

And, of course, if I was diving down this copy of Reputation, I had to make a matching cover as well!

Shout out to the Sadman server's channels devoted to Ferdie and Tom and Boyd. I had plenty of good photos to sift through and choose from to get all the boys in the image!

Here's a full view of the cover, spine, and back as well. And yes, I did have to pen tool that summoning circle by hand since I couldn't find a good transparent one online!

Now, for the chapter headers, you may have noticed some peculiar images in the back. In the fic, The Corinthian as well as Dream have symbols, signatures of sorts, that they have. Old ones, made before humanity as we know it. They end up featuring a few times, mainly when the marks appear on Hob, marking him as theirs. So, of course, I had to design those as well!

The Corinthian's is on the left and sharper than Dream's, which I thought fitting for a nightmare. There's the theme of three in his, with the three sections, three lines, and three little swoops. The design is also mirrored, which ties nicely to his function as humanity's dark mirror.

For Dream, his is more fluid, more swoopy. It starts like a circle that quickly breaks into diverging lines, similar to the unreality of dreams and their meandering paths. It also looks somewhat like a treble clef, which also ties well with Dream's role and relations to the arts and creative pursuits.

The final image is of their marks combined, swooping and curling around one another.

The last major part of this bind was the stickers that I created and printed to go along side the book! Since the CD case didn't work out as I had hoped, I still wanted to add something special and unique to this gift for Seiya, so I decided to design some sticker that went along with the fic! I didn't take photos of them all cut out, unfortunately, but I do have the original sheet here.

We have the marks in color, the album cover, along with some more fic specific stickers! These were really fun to design, honestly. I have the knife one on my laptop currently! 😂

Overall, this was an amazing fic and if you're a Hobrintheus or Hobrinthian lover, you definitely need to check it out! This project was a ton of fun to work on and I'm so glad I could get a copy to the wonderful author ♥️

[vs-stardream]

i was at the mall today, and was noticing a bunch of new kirby-themed accessories on sale in some of the more pop-culture oriented stores. which isn't a new thing, of course, but it made me wonder who was buying them - there sometimes seems like there's a demand for kirby merch that eclipses the size of the fanbase! so my question is...

to what extent has kirby, specifically in visual/aesthetic culture, transcended his identity as a video game character linked to a specific franchise, and become more of a general "cute mascot" figure?

so, here's a poll about it :)

i realize i might be skewing the results by posting this on a kirby blog, but i'm curious regardless!

[aphelion-alifer]

lower energy ways to connect with your nonhuman self

it's amazing that as nonhumans, we have a lot of different ways to express ourselves and to feel connected to our theriotypes, kintypes, species, etc. as mental health is a big struggle for myself and I am sure for many of you too, sometimes it's not possible to feel fully energized for any sort of reason, and sometimes this can lead to feelings of disconnect between you and your species, or not being able to fully participate in things that you normally would do to feel nonhuman. hopefully my tips will resonate with those in need of a little bit of help during these hard times!

p.s. - I hear you and I see you, all of you who are struggling, or know someone who is. I know it's not easy some days, and sometimes mental health leaves us feeling lonely. on top of being nonhuman, the loneliness can feel increased. never be afraid to reach out to someone you trust if you need to!

step outside on a nice day if possible. you don't have to walk far or go anywhere, just connect with nature even if it's for a few minutes

if you can't or don't want to go outside, listen to nature/ambient sounds that relax you or remind you of your species or habitat

take a nap/go to sleep in the way that feels most natural to you. do you curl up, have heavy wings that wrap around you as you lay down, need to find a position that feels right because of your horns or spikes? do you need to make a nest or den out of blankets or pillows or stuffed animals? do what feels right to get cozy!

listen to music, something that comforts you as well as makes you feel connected to your species

if it's possible, find or make meals/snacks that comfort you or make you feel more connected to your species. don't feel like eating or don't have the energy to? try to find something to drink instead!

watch youtube or documentaries relating to your species, and make a playlist out of the videos you like the most

feeling creative, but just not quite enough to go through with creating something on your own? decorate something you own with stickers to help remind you of yourself or your habitat (water bottle, journal, sketchbook, laptop, phone case, mobility aids, etc)

if you do have a bit of energy to doodle, try doodling things that make you the happiest when it comes to your nonhuman experience! bonus points if it's on yourself (with safe inks ofc)

casually daydream about yourself as your true nonhuman self in your habitat throughout your day

if you're feeling lonely (for nonhuman reasons or not), try talking to someone you trust or try reaching out to nonhuman groups that are willing to help support you and listen to you

if you're feeling up to it, put together an outfit that reminds you of your nonhuman self. you don't necessarily have to wear it, it can be clothes you have personally that you can lay out for later or you can make a pinterest board with things you'd think would help make you feel connected to yourself ^^

do you have gear that you wear but forgot about, put away, or havent worn in a while? bring it back out and wear it! take pictures of yourself or look at yourself in a mirror and try to think about what makes you the happiest when it comes to being nonhuman, a happy memory regarding your nonhumanity or when you wore your gear, etc.

if it's possible, take a bath. it doesn't have to be a full shower, just a simple bubble bath and light some candles that remind you of the outdoors or your nonhuman self. when you're done, give yourself a good little shake to dry off, if that's something you do or brings you joy! bonus points if you get out of the bath and think "man my fur/scales/feathers/wings/tail(s) etc feel heavier after being in the water"

..and if those tips don't resonate with you, or are feeling completely drained, it's okay to just exist. feeling disconnected to yourself is one hell of a pain to deal with, and I know it's hard to feel connected to yourself again when the darkness passes sometimes. sometimes, at least for me, feeling connected to my nonhumanity comes and goes, and sometimes it's mental health related and other times it's not. when these hard times come, and when the feelings of being drained hit hard, it's okay to take a step back from everything and relax and get the help you need. you will find the strength to feel connected to yourself again. always remember that life is never fully stuck in one place and that we are always constantly moving and changing, even if it doesn't feel like it. 💙

[zlobonessa]

hi-i-wrote-a-thing-for-a-fanweek. day one — memories (although it also fits heroes from day 3 and alternative universe from day 6 so we can pretend I'm not extra late). anyway it's reincarnation/modern au emijulisuba where julius tries archeology and finds it very thoughts-inducing. it's also on ao3 but not translated. enjoy.

Julius doesn't particularly expect his application to be approved: an email titled "Re: Volunteers for excavations" finds him in the process of drafting a loose idea of his diploma topic for the next academic year, with a third glass of white-chocolate-and-lavender iced coffee and almost zero thoughts related to archaeology. That prevents him neither from nearly flooding the laptop with lavender-white liquid while making an incomprehensible sound in the middle of a cafe nor from packing up his things that exact day and buying a ticket to a luxury train compartment to Pristella.

When the raging greenery of the Red Sun peak sweeps past the window, he is overtaken by — the smell of clothes fresh out of the laundry and hand cream for sensitive skin, the hum of students and the clatter of thousands of keyboard keys, an oversugared pastry from the cafeteria, columns of calculations in front of his eyes, a discussion of master's courses — the question is: what is he even doing?

Objectively speaking, this is a good question.

Objectively speaking, this is a very good question, and Julius pushes it as deep as possible into the depths of his brain, drowns it out with the sound of wheels hitting the rails, crushes it with the weight of bags on his back, and suffocates it with the smells of dust and cigarettes from Priestella central station. By the time he frowns and tries to force his mind to merge the two-dimensional directions of the navigator in the phone with the three-dimensional chaos of the city, the question goes almost quiet.

Almost.

It must be said, the navigator is of little use. Before even boarding the train, Julius firmly rejected the idea of calling a taxi to the train station: how could you do excavations in a city that you refuse to see? He had to admit that by the eighth missed turn this thought lost some of its freshness.

(Trying to spot a noticeable supermarket from the map, he almost slams into a pillar covered with ads and vulgar stickers, and, dodging this unpleasant fate, miraculously avoids a collision with a scooter rushing at full speed — and for some reason, disappointment wakes up in his chest with unexpected force and for no particular reason. It even leaves him standing in disbelief for a few seconds: the depth of it is so strange and painful, like a cut wound.)

But, as they say, all's well that ends well.

"As they say, all's well that ends well," laughs Anastasia, the head of the excavations and a leading archaeologist, Julius searched the internet for her name: her field of study is Alec Hoshin, and the period of the foundation of Kararagi. "Ya haven't fallen into the canals, have ya? There were cases, I had to send them home. The water there isn't especially clean, wouldn't advise taking a sip."

 Julius winces involuntarily, trying to overcome the wave of disgust. Anastasia studies him closely.

"How did ya end up here even?" she asks, kind of jokingly, casually, to keep up the conversation, but the depth of her gaze is a tell: she is serious. This is a type of question the answer to which determines the future — the type of question that, as his uncle explained, should be met with the best answer of all you have.

Julius replies:

"I don't know. "

The sunlight pours onto a roped-off piece of ground where they form a crowded circle — more like a square, sure, but that's not what matters. Julius's knees go weak, and he suddenly feels like a little rascal again, not taught to respect his elders. How can they stand over how — many centuries of history?

"It's nice to see everyone so captivated — and without a single swing of the shovel, wow," Anastasia laughs, and her voice rings with pride. "At this very place, four hundred and twenty years ago, one of the fights that decided the course of the battle for Priestella happened. Great timing, right? Everyone studied the battle for the Priestella at school, I hope, yea, I know, such a busy historical period, so many names, so many dates, but on the anniversary occasion, it doesn't hurt to refresh your memory. By the way, everyone remembers the briefing, I hope?"

The job — predictably enough — turns out to be dirty. There is something fascinating even about how quickly Julius gets covered in mud: he expected the gloves to lose their white in a matter of minutes, but the knees and elbows come as a surprise. Under the afternoon sun, a thick and sticky layer of sweat appears on his face, which, as Julius quickly realizes, should not be wiped with a dirty sleeve (and the decision not to cut the hair on his forehead begins to seem somewhat questionable), several times he has to push out the grains of sand gotten into his mouth with his tongue, his palm takes the shape of the handle of a trowel, and a sharp pebble gets into his shoe.

It's definitely not what he's used to—but when he looks at himself, covered in earth from head to toe, somewhere in his memory a thread stretches.

Maybe... no.

Father: in the middle of a garden black with moisture, planting seedlings in dirty old clothes and suddenly noticing Julius on the porch — he straightens up, waves at him, and smiles broadly.

That's what this memory is about.

"So this is what happens to children who were not allowed to play in the sandbox," a familiar voice is heard from the side when Julius takes a short break to get out of the excavation and do shoulder exercises. "I almost didn't believe my eyes. Would never have thought that you were capable of getting your hands dirty — like, on a physical level, I thought you would howl and turn into dust, you know, like a low-level monster from..."

"Subaru! It's very, veeery mean to say that!"

"That is, you agree with the content, but you are not satisfied with the presentation? Ha! Heard that, huh?

Sighing, Julius turns around.

"Subaru," glances from a t-shirt with a stupid print to a ribbon with flowers woven into a braid, "Emilia, what an unexpected meeting. Glad to see you."

Is he glad? He is not entirely honest, and this is gnawing at him: it is unfair to treat good friends like this, especially from the university where he will return in the Yellow-Sun anyway, but an obscure annoyance rises in his chest. As if they had done something wrong — as if they had...

Although — he does has the right reason for that.

"But what are you doing here?"

"Hey, hey, are you pointing fingers?!"

"We are here on vacation! T-together, that is. "

"E-emilia-tan!"

Julius allows himself a restrained — and maybe slightly teasing — smile.

"Is that so? Have a good time. But I meant," having lost the internal struggle, he stoops to the Subaru level and points his finger at where they are all standing, "right here. Outsiders are not allowed to enter the excavation area."

Subaru blushes rapidly and amusingly:

"Eh! .. is that so... oh."

"Oh," Julius nods, with the most serious face possible.

"Truly — oh!" Emilia gasps, also blushing. "Julius, we are so sorry!.. Subaru, you said we were positively definitely going the right way this time!"

"We were! — Subaru retorts, but the fire is lost. — Up until some point."

"I'm sorry again, we're already leaving, I hope we didn't break anything important!" Emilia shouts as she walks, pulling Subaru by the sleeve with the tenacity of a bulldozer: it's amusing to observe, for fairness' sake. Just before disappearing behind the corner, she turns for a second:

"Just in case, we will be glad to meet and have a chat sometime!"

And so she leaves.

The work is completed late in the evening, and the way to the three-and-a-half-star hotel is illuminated by the stars studying in the grayishly blue sky — and streetlights, of course. Fortunately, there are no channels lost in the dark on the way, but a hospital with a flickering sign comes across — which, he supposes, is rather convenient, but his insides get turned out by the urge to write to Joshua, which is ridiculous: it will ruin his sleeping schedule, and he was also so upset that he couldn't go with Julius, and so sincerely wished him to have a good time, and write to him now... Julius suppresses this urge firmly and even walks a few meters further with something like enthusiasm.

Each step, however, turns out to be harder than the past, his back and arms ache, the taste of dirt pervades his mouth, fatigue fills his bones with lead-like heaviness, and he can only hope for...

Well, it sure was a stupid hope.

A few days ago — when Julius, having found the hotel closest to the excavation site, patiently hung on the phone for twenty minutes, waiting for someone who could book him a room because he abandoned trying to figure out the interface of their sprawling website half an hour later — he had something like a romantic idea about a hidden underappreciated charm of small things in small hotels that the general public is picky about. Not that Julius had stayed in them previously: his uncle and aunt were meticulous about vacation planning and did not skimp on money, but the impeccable and faceless sterility of the five-star hotels they chose always repelled him. There had to be some kind of homeyness, he supposed. Some kind of soul, no matter how sentimental it sounds.

The lobby of the hotel he chose smells sickeningly of varnish, at the reception he is warned that there will be no hot water for the next three days, and the cold water in the shower barely hanging on the wall turns out to be rusty, dark spots appear on the ceiling on old wallpaper, and without glasses it is impossible to make out if it is mold, the wind is blowing from under the window frame, and this bed has probably the most uncomfortable mattress that Julius has ever lain on, and it doesn't help his back at all.

People tend to significantly embellish their fantasies about a way of life that they have never led, his uncle once said a long time ago. He didn't tell Julius this, Julius shouldn't have heard it at all, and it turned out otherwise almost by accident, and strictly speaking, he wasn't talking about his father, but Julius knew, knew that he meant his father, and even now this memory could ignite an unbearable heat in his chest and eyes.

But was his uncle wrong?

Julius has never expressed a desire to get a degree in history. He himself was aware of the absurdity of this idea: it was just a stupid childhood dream, pure fiction, sometimes floating through his subconscious when he allowed himself to entertain thoughts about some completely different reality with completely different circumstances. Here and now, someone had to inherit the family business, and Joshua would not be able to bear it, scientists are paid pennies, the work is thankless, and does he truly want to waste his talents digging in the ground?

Does he want to?

What is he even doing?

"Now you can't dodge the question," mumbles Subaru through a full mouth: Julius winces, and he makes a face in response, but swallows with effort and noise, allowing all patrons to watch a huge lump of food moving down his throat. "Spill the tea, why are you here, are you lost or something?"

The cafe on the corner where they squeezed in is small, but thankfully they managed to successfully occupy the seats. A cozy place that successfully combines the influence of Kararagi and Lugunika, with garlands, a chalkboard for customers — Subaru has already managed to write "E + S = ♡" there — an artificial tree in the middle of the room and paper lamps. The perfect cafe for the perfect "vibes" in photos for social media. Julius had spent many hours in places like these, typing his essays.

But now he can't get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth - he can't shake the thought: what was here a few centuries ago?

(He can’t help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu when he closes his eyes: as if he had already sat here once, meeting Emilia and Subaru, and the air between them was still filled with something unspoken.)

Pretending to be unperturbed, however, he shrugs:

"I've always wanted to participate in excavations."

 "Boring answer," Subaru snaps. "Come up with something better."

Carefully sipping his coffee—caramel cream latte—Julius raises his eyebrows at him:

"What, lie?"

Subaru rolls his eyes:

"Who in their right mind will go to study management when they have at least some hobby more interesting than cramming the most effective formulas for sorting spreadsheets?"

"Someone has to sort the spreadsheets, Subaru," Emilia remarks. The barista drew a kitten on the foam of her coffee: she thoughtfully twirls a straw in her hands, trying to figure out a way to drink without spoiling the drawing. "And Julius is doing a great job at it."

It is easy for Julius to imagine his future life: many, many spreadsheets filled with numbers.

"Thank you, Emilia," he says tersely. Trying to deflect the conversation from himself, he strikes back: "And why did you decide to go to Priestella?"

Subaru is blushing again. The color floods on his face in a single wave. The skin from the forehead to the neck is all the same shade, so thick that it feels like an invitation to dip a brush into a soft cheek and paint a sunset landscape.

"Well, I mean, why not here? The city is beautiful, the weather is warm, and there's water here... And the atmosphere is like, you know!... Such... Very... yeah.

Julius gives him a knowing grin. Subaru hunched his shoulders, sending him a vicious look from under his brows.

"Subaru!" Emilia snorts into her glass of coffee — a blush rises on her cheeks and spreads gently to the tips of her ears — and the drawing distorts. She looks at it upset. "Well, there you go. "

Sadness, however, does not remain on her face for long: sighing, she takes a sip of coffee and, having tasted it, squints with satisfaction.

"But the city is reaaally very, very beautiful," she agrees, and her words reach Julius with a slight delay. "So... a little magical, I don’t even know how to explain it. You know, you come here for the first time, and it feels like... like you’ve finally returned. We left the station, on the other side, remember, where the old buildings and the arch are, and I looked at them and I... it probably sounds absurd, but it felt like I recognized them, although I’ve never even been here in my life! As if they were waiting for me. Dreamlike, right? ...Do you know what I mean?

Julius doesn't immediately find the strength to nod and smile casually.

"Generally speaking, all the records we have about the battle for Priestella are incomplete and contradictory," says Anastasia, sitting right on the ground with a kind of simplicity that shows a habit. The excavation opens right at her knees, bathed in the evening dawn, and sometimes her gaze slips from the volunteers nearby to the ground that looks like a sliced layer cake. "Most sources of that time explain everything around them as witchcraft and magic, and it is extremely difficult to make out what actually happened, and in our case, we are talking about a clash of religious fanatics with the knights of Lugunica —  who, as I hope everyone remembers, were credited with powers of divine origin... "

"The Last of the Saints," Julius blurts out. Disapproving stares thrust into him, and a heat washes over his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt, I... have read about him, and... don't pay attention, please continue. "

But Anastasia doesn't seem upset at all — on the contrary, she snorts and nods gravely:

"What an educated young man, watch and learn! Yea, that's right. In those days, by the way, he was simply called the "The Sword Saint" — from what we know, it should be assumed that the title was inherited until it ceased to exist, and as to why — history, as they say, is silent. By the way, there is an interestin' moment connected with the battle for Pristella: some sources mention the presence of two Saints of the Sword in the city at once, the Last and his predecessor — while other sources claim that they died many years before! That's right, history is always a bit about being detectives. If ya are attracted ta a sense of mystery, then you have come to the right place, I will tell ya for sure."

"So what's the answer?" one of the volunteers, blonde and with a detached face, speaks up. Her name is Silver or something like that, Julius can't remember exactly. "Was that predecessor there or not?"

Anastasia laughs:

"And for a sense of the answer, unfortunately, your path lies in the exact sciences! Many scientists fought about that one, and all to no avail. And, mind ya, some," Anastasia leans forward, and a conspiratorial gleam appears in her eyes, "some scientists believe that the dynasty of Sword Saints never existed at all!"

“How is that possible?” Julius blurts out – again condemning glances, but he almost doesn’t care: for some reason, his chest hurts as if it was pierced by a rusty sword.

"It is what it is," Anastasia shrugs, clearly pleased with the effect. — "Primary sources are inconsistent, there's a complete lack of records after the beginning of the Golden Revolution, which, I remind you, was also a revolution in a cultural sense, the power of the holders of the status is clearly exaggerated many times and attributed to magical powers: the Last of the Saints, they say, could throw a man to the sun with his bare hands, which, you must admit, is incomprehensible! Many historians hold the position that the Sword Saints were a legend and served in fact as a collective image of outstanding warriors of that time. Who knows, here we are digging up the site of one of the fights of the Last of the Saints, and it can have nothing significant there at all — this happens!"

And through his tight trousers, Julius feels acutely every pebble digging into his legs. He wants to object — he wants to argue — he wants to refute, but the knowledge gap is opened up to him by an archaeological dig: he is not a scientist, not a historian, he is an amateur, a student who receives a bachelor's degree in management next Red Sun, but for some reason is tormented by his own foolishness and goes to excavations.

The contradiction in the story should be like an incorrectly written formula, corrected with a few clicks. Simple movements that reduce everything to flawlessly grounded mathematics.

"Not for the first time even: the discrepancies in the number of participants in this battle are especially significant," Anastasia continues mercilessly. "The Eucliuses, for example: one of the famous historical chronicles, written after the fact, claims that two descendants of the then famous knightly family of the Eucliuses participated in the battle, who in fact had no heirs at all! A very controversial chronicle, in fact: by all indirect signs, it is authentic, but at the same time the lexicon used in it for its time period is completely uncharacteristic — it is still a very big subject of debate. "The truest story about the adventures of the humble support of the great heroine Emilia", you can search it in your free time, it's a very funny read."

(Julius has read it. He has read it.)

It must be stupid: at the age of twenty-two, to believe in fairy tales.

Julius doesn't.

Just sometimes — just sometimes — he wanted so badly that it almost felt like a white cloak was fluttering on his shoulders, a sword was weighing down his hip, and magic, bright in taste and smelling of past rain, trembled in the air with the movement of his hand.

"Hey," Subaru's fingers snap in front of his face, "how's the weather at the cloud your head's now in?"

Julius almost stumbles over the asphalt with the toe of his boot. He freezes.

"Hm. I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

"You almost fell down the steps, you idiot," Subaru hisses. "Think less, that's not what your face is so pretty for."

Blinking, Julius realizes that Subaru is right: the stairs start right in front of him, the steps leading to the canal embankment.

"Julius has a very multitasking head, Subaru, it's not nice to say such nasty things," Emilia pokes Subaru's cheekbone with a finger, looking instructively: he blushes and sulks. Then she looks at Julius with a worried look: "But you really should be careful. You can get so perilously hurt like that!

"Who in the twenty-first century says "perilously"...

"People who read actual books, not just teen comics, I think," Julius can't help himself, and this time Emilia's stern gaze turns out to be directed at him:

"And you too don't tease, Subaru reads books! Sometimes."

"Sometimes?! What do you mean "sometimes", do I need to read a book a day?! Emilia-tan, only posers who skip every other word read books at that pace, and in class, they just spit on the ceiling, don't be fooled by this show-off!.."

Julius raises his hands in defeat:

"Okay, well, I'm sorry. I wasn't going to question your intellectual abilities, Subaru. Strictly speaking, with my schedule... I'm afraid I read books only sometimes too."

"Exactly," Subaru snorts, folding his arms over his chest, but his face looks satisfied. He looks at Julius with an inquisitive look: "Well, what were you thinking about, thinker?"

Julius shrugs helplessly. They continue their walk: a boat sweeps past them along the canal, and one of the passengers throws the can overboard.

"Well, just how can they be so completely unashamed?" Emilia shakes her head ruefully; she is enrolled in the university's environmental community, Julius recalls.

They’re complete pigs,” Subaru agrees; Julius once caught him in the cafeteria picking up a glass and wrappers that had fallen past the trash can from someone’s tray during the previous break.

"I don't really know what I'm even doing," Julius shares.

"Huh."

"What do you mean?"

Belatedly, Julius realizes what he has said. They say that in the old days, the knights cut out their tongues when they realized that outrageous nonsense had come out of their mouths — it would be worth reviving this tradition, probably.

"Anyway, haha, never mind, don't worry about it, just some nonsense on my mind," he quickly tries to reduce the damage. It doesn't work - he can see it in their eyes that it doesn't work.

"Julius, what kind of nonsense can you have in your head?" With her eyebrows drawn together and her lips pursed, Emilia looks at him with pleading pity. "And if there is nonsense, then there is especially no need to keep it there since it needs to be released. What happened?"

"There are limits to perfection, huh?" Subaru tsks and twitches the corner of his mouth, then winces, looking at him with serious seriousness. "Come on, tell us."

"Nothing special, really, I'm sorry to bother you... " Julius sighs. "I study management. Instead of writing a draft diploma, I'm here in Priestella, digging in the ground. This is illogical. You're right. That's all."

"You like history," Emilia points out. "In my first year, you explained to me the entire genealogy of Astrea with an exact chronology."

"Eh?! And where I was at the time?"

"You hadn't transferred to us yet."

"Approximately the exact chronology, Emilia. I like history, but..." his lips crease involuntarily and tightly, "on an unprofessional level. There will be no career from this. This is childish at this point. "

"God, you sound like an old man. It's going to happen to me at twenty-two, too, huh?"

"Subaru!"

—Subaru," Julius finds the strength to just shake his head and doesn't even try too hard to hide his smile. "I... like history for... selfish reasons, I guess. Astrea... All those people... they went down in history for doing something important. Significant. Noticeable. No one remembers people for using the most optimal way to sort spreadsheets."

"Wow, you sure know how to cling to words."

"Learning from the best."

"So the point is that you want to go down in history, Julius?" Emilia looks into his face with her usual caring expression, and embarrassment fires up in his cheeks:

"Hmm," he pulls on the strands on his forehead, hoping to draw attention away from the skin tone, "with the way you said it, I look, perhaps, somewhat vain..."

"Well, you can't hide a cat in the bag... " Subaru parodies his gesture by twirling the short hair sticking out of his own hairstyle around his finger. "Hey, hey, Emilia, these are your words!"

"No, no, it's all right," Julius prevents Emilia's educational lesson that hangs in the air. "I really was quite arrogant as a child. I always dreamed of world fame... I don’t envy my family back then, to be honest. No, I didn’t want to become a great actor, or a great singer, or a great blogger, Subaru, thank you for your opinion,” this time he gets ahead of Subaru’s facial expression. “I wanted to be a great scientist — so that people like you could draw a mustache on my photo in textbooks, I guess.” 

"Blatant slander! I have never been involved in spoiling public property in my life, I wasn't raised like that. "

"I'll try to believe it. But no, now I think I'm mature enough to realize that I'm not cut out for fame. I'm not that outstanding. "

"Julius!" Emilia gasps. "Don't say that, you're very, very talented, and smart, and handsome..."

I appreciate the support, but...” Julius purses his lips, “well, that’s the objective truth.”

Subaru stares at him for a long time in disbelief.

“I’d like to give you a good punch,” he drawls dreamily. “Why is it that you all have such bad self-esteem, huh? No matter who you poke, everyone thinks they were admitted to the university by mistake, but in reality, they belong under the fence. A-grade students! That’s so stupid.”

Now Emilia is looking at Subaru intently.

"The pot calling the kettle black, Subaru."

"Eh?! Eh, eh, don't drag me into this! I'm just, well, a foreign student!!"

Palms ache. Julius does not immediately realize the cause: his own nails dig into the skin.

"Have you ever thought about what will happen after death?"

"Julius, are you all right? If anything, I remember the suicide hotline number, just ask!"

"Well, I don't think a bore like you will go to hell if that's what you're talking about."

"No, I mean... in, say, a year. Five years. Decades. Centuries. Self-absorbed, I know, but I'm thinking about it more and more often — what will remain after me? What the fact that I lived, that I got this diploma, and finally went to these damned excavations can even change? Will anyone — anything — remember me at all?"

He stops — no, not even like that. Some unknown force is pulling him to stop, only there are no unknown forces in this world, and it must be all about Julius's subconscious, his treacherous subconscious, pulling him to search for something that does not exist.

The control tower stands in the middle of kiosks, cafes, bicycle parking, and crowds of tourists. Julius had read about them on the internet, in a scant article that omitted many details: an ancient mechanism once built to control the water level. Over time, it was replaced with modern technologies, and the towers were planned to be demolished — but after the protests were left as a monument.

It would be better if they were demolished, Julius thinks and is horrified by his own thoughts, but he cannot get rid of them.  In the midst of the triumph of the twenty-first century, the building looks ugly. Out of place.

"Sometimes I like to imagine that I was born at the wrong time. Just like... this city, for example. He doesn't belong to modernity, have you noticed? It was built as an ambush for monsters — no one expected it to stand until the moment when we call them fairy tales." A queasy feeling spreads through the body. As if his skin was covered with saliva, sticky and viscous, smelling disgusting, and not even washing off with tar soap — even if you rip it off, because there is no more point in it. "I understand, though, that it is ambition that speaks in me. In the past, I would probably have disappeared from people's memory just as easily."

He imagines it clearly: the white cloak falling into a canal and dissolving in the water. Like in that video with the raccoon and cotton candy that Subaru once insistently showed him.

...Yes, Subaru really has a bad effect on his thought processes.

The culprit of the ridiculous associations examines his face with extreme skepticism.

"You're such an idiot. Like you can be forgotten so easily!" His index finger points accusingly at Julius's shoulder. "I can't forget your pretentious face even in my sleep, does that seem forgettable?!"

"Subaru-Subaru... That's just his way of comforting, don't get mad," Emilia hurriedly explains. "But you know, when everyone around knows your name, it's not always good. You don't even know what they're saying about you until it's too late, and then..." She bites her lip and shakes her head. "Your name will remain in history, but you will not recognize yourself in it. Isn't it better to do good just like that, without expecting fame in return? After all, the world gets a little better with every good deed — what do you need a personal signature for every change?"

Julius feels unbearably ashamed.

"I don't need it, of course. I'm just trying to say... Ordinary acts of kindness are not so significant... Hm, no, absolutely not, it sounded terrible, forget it, please. I probably want to say... after all, everyone can do them."

Emilia's lips form a bitter smile.

"But not everyone does."

Standing on tiptoes, she puts her hands on his shoulders—carefully, as if Julius is made of the most fragile glass—and pulls him into her arms.

A gurgle comes from Subaru's throat. Julius is afraid that now he will be pushed into the canal, but instead — the sounds do not stop — he is gently patted on the back.

"Don't try to save the world all at once, guys," Emilia says softly into his shirt.

Subaru lets out a laugh, nervous and inexplicable to Julius. He, however, wants to repeat it.

A cooing, pitiful sound begins in Emilia's chest. Her hot lips press against Julius somewhere behind his ear.

(And this is how the chronicle is written in the stars: that night, Julius does not return to the hotel. It feels like a a half-forgotten journey, made anew years later, where the unfamiliar becomes recognizable in one moment — where, a second before the hands intertwine, a non-existent old touch tickles and tears under the skin — and at the moment of contact everything comes together, as if a contradiction resolves. Perhaps this is the most historical of it all; perhaps humanity is connected to each other through the centuries by the clutch of hands.)

(And this is how the chronicle is written in the stars: in the "E + S = ♡" on a cafe chalkboard a narrowed "+ J" gets squeezed in.)

In the slow interval between day and dusk, when the sun has not yet touched the edge of the horizon, but its light reaches an evening viscosity of spilled honey, Julius's shoe — stepping on the cultural layer of the fifteenth century that was going to be left untouched — crunches an earring, and the heel sticks into the skull.

The entire skeleton is dug out faster than one might think, and with a tremulous reverence that suddenly makes Julius's chest ache: no matter how close they look, there are no remains of the coffin, no tombstone with a name, or any other trace of the grave. The tattered clothes on him are so torn that you can't tell the century they are from — but through them, you can see broken bones, dozens and hundreds, as if someone — of unprecedented strength — beat him for hours, crushed him with a huge boulder, or maybe dropped him from a great height.

"Come on, come on," Anastasia mutters, hastily flipping through the notes on her phone. "Museums will snatch up a find like this, I can tell it!"

Bending over the bones with a brush and an awl to clean the stuck soil, Julius feels inappropriately happy. He tries hard to convince himself that his eyes are watering from the setting sun.

[three-realms-archive]

Beel is Anime

Levi is torn. Very, very torn about whether he should intervene with the scene happening before his eyes.

On one hand, what was happening was definitely anime-related. A laptop, a phone and some DVD-playing screen; all playing a different genre of anime. There was a now-empty Akuzon package on the floor with a receipt for ‘anime cosplay waifu makeup eyeshadow palette and brush set with manga kawaii sticker set’ taped to the top. The contents of said-box were laid strewn on the coffee table, being used by the last brother he expected to share his interests. At least, not without some limited edition snacks or a themed-cafe involved. Despite that, Leviathan’s heart soared! His little bro was finally seeing the light and appreciating the wonders of anime! Maybe they could cosplay together; eat at maid cafes together; read manga, have hotpot, and all the other things he knows families do from the stories he’s read or watched before.

On the other hand, his second-youngest brother, Beelzebub, was currently dipping his fingers in what looked to be makeup primer (from the bottle label) and putting it in… his hair? Like gel. Making a mess of the whole… whatever this thing was. Smothering foundation on his lips before outlining them in eyeshadow; fumbling with coloured contact lenses, only to stick them with… lash glue? On his eyelids???

The whole thing looked like it required at least twenty content warnings. Plus a message telling kids to not try this at home.

Suddenly, Beel turned around. Of course he did. He was standing in front of a mirror, and could one-hundred percent see his older brother’s mortified face in its reflection.

“U-Uh… B-Beel. Beel!” Levi couldn’t really decide on what to say. Or even what tone of voice to use. “Beel, uh… What, um, are you up to?”

“Bro.” The sixth-born nodded in acknowledgement. One of the eyelid contacts fell off as he did so. “Have I done it right?”

Levi gulped, his hands getting clammy. What was he meant to say? To any of this?!

“D-Done what, Beel?”

“Cosplay. I thought we could go to the upcoming Ruri-chan pop-up cafe together. So I’m gonna dress up like Ruri.” Beel announced, holding up his arms in a ‘T’ shape. He had painted the sleeves of his shirt. Levi’s eyes fell on the paint bucket by Beel’s feet. Literal paint. Literal, thick, still wet paint. It was so much worse than Levi initially thought. “I saw on a poster that if you cosplay as Ruri-chan, you get free dessert.”

Levi blinked.

“Y-You’re cosplay - this is Ruri-chan?”

“Yup. If I want to cosplay, I just have to be anime, right?” Beel shrugged. “‘I am anime.’ That’s what you always shout when you cosplay in your room.” He explains simply, still in the ‘T’ pose. Levi’s eyes go wide and he immediately flushes a deep red, holding his hands to his face and trying to hide behind his arms.

“WHAT?! How did you - ? Y-You weren’t meant to hear…! GAH!!!” He groans loudly in defeat, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands; any further words muffled.

“It’s okay, Levi. I get it.” Beel reassures fondly, reaching down to pat his brother’s shoulder. Levi’s embarrassed stammers turn to horrified shrieks when he hears a wet squish, realising that Beel had also put foundation on his hands, which now were rubbing it into his favourite hoodie. “The Fangol team does chants to hype up before big games, too. I’ll chant it, too - and you can rate it.”

… Levi sobs helplessly as Beel takes a deep breath, and opens his mouth.

_

Lucifer nods, satisfied as he roams around the House of Lamentation, passing by each door. After all the nonsense last time, he’s banned anyone from using loud speakers without his permission… And he’s also banned Beel from ever touching a paintbrush. His hungry, little brother seemed to be behaving himself since then, so all was good.

Or so he thought. He’s checked all the rooms, so he decides to reward himself with a nice, long shower before he has to head back to his study to finish off more paper work. It’s the only room he hasn’t checked, too; which was convenient.

Lucifer approaches the bathroom. He hears a mix of Beel chanting “Beel is anime!” and Levi’s horrified wailing. The smell of paint fills his nostrils.

… He leaves. That shower can wait.

(i will never get tired of this series. the usual: beel being adorkable and confused, lucifer being absolutely done, and horrible, horrible art. one of these days, i swear i’ll write lucifer being cool and suave and stuff. but today is not that day.)

[azenhawke]

I was thinking to myself, 'It's sad that I can't decorate my laptop with something Matt Miller related because no one's made any stickers of him', and then realized I can be the change I want to see in the world