#it makes me feel completely feral | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ziracona · 6 days ago

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More Metro fic be upon ye. [Metro Last Light - Finale and further from Pavel’s pov: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.]

Pavel’s body felt so heavy he might as well have been carved in stone. And yet somehow, simultaneously, his head felt light and foggy, unable to think. This beaten, feverish sensation lasted for what he would find out later was hours, him dropping in and out, but mostly out, of some semblance of consciousness.

Finally, everything darkened, and his injured body sunk into a real sleep.

There were faint suggestions of memories—in the dreams, in the fevered time before it, but his weak processing power couldn’t make sense of any of them. There had been an old man, a face he hadn’t recognized. Stopping over him, saying things he didn’t remember. The creature had been there again, in his head. He thought that part must really have happened. And, he knew he’d been moved. No idea by who, or where, but, he had felt it. And…and things got hazier then. Out of order, too, if they’d happened at all. The voice from the radio had spoken The International like a prayer. But that couldn’t have happened, could it? There had been more of those creatures, maybe. They were fading, passing, blurred memories, but it could have been real. And he had seen Artyom, dead, soaked in blood and wounds, but he had been moving, somehow, rushing towards him. That must not have happened.

There were people, voices, arguing. Then, nothing.

The nothing was a relief to Pavel. He was at rest, a deep, heavy, sunken rest. A rest he needed.

There were no dreams. No pain. No thoughts—God that was the real mercy. Just…a break.

A gift.

And it was many, many hours later, when he awoke.

He did not feel better. Actually, he felt considerably worse; his body, upon realizing it would live, had turned back on all those fun nerve endings a body tended to shut off and ignore once it had decided the end was coming no matter what, like a last gift to its inhabitor.

Breathing hurt, in a wet, heavy way. The bullet there had done the most damage, and the pain of it was the first thing he became aware of as he woke. Everything else was heavy and sore, and his head swam with pain and disorientation. When he opened his eyes, even his sight was blurry.

Still, he was alive.

As he struggled to understand that, he blinked, and coughed a heavy, stabbing cough.

“Ow,” he groaned, trying to make himself feel better.

“Pavel!” That had been Artyom’s voice.

Confused, Pavel turned his head, and there he was. Artyom sat in an old chair, at the bedside, looking more than a little like hell himself. What Pavel could see of his chest past the collar of his shirt was covered in bandages, and so were his arms and neck—even one of his ears was padded over with gauze, and his forehead and chin were bruised badly.

“What happened to you?” asked Pavel automatically, lagged brain still in the process of waking up.

Artyom seemed to find this funny, but he answered anyway. “General Korbut ran a train into me, was most of it.”

A train?? That had been the plan?

“I got shot a few times,” added Artyom thoughtfully, and he smiled and indicated a bandaged spot on his right upper arm. “This was you.”

Right, thought Pavel with disappointment as things began to fall back into place, I was trying to kill you.

With that thought, everything came back at once—the fight at the square, the hall of damned souls, Artyom letting him go, the radio, D-6, the Dark One.

His heart sunk lower. We lost.

“…We lost,” said Pavel, not exactly a question.

Artyom nodded.

They were both silent, then. He knew Artyom was waiting for him to speak, but it had suddenly become difficult to look at him.

“…What happens now,” asked Pavel finally, eyes on the far wall, “…a court martial?”

It stayed quiet.

After he had waited out as much time as he could take, Pavel made himself look at Artyom again. The man was watching him, expression sober, but hard to read.

It hurt to look at him. He felt overwhelming guilt doing it, and then rage at himself for feeling that way, and guilt for feeling guilty about doing his duty, and confusion, and anger at the confusion. He was already nauseous from blood loss, and the sudden whirlpool of emotions increased his urge to vomit. Even more than that, though, he just felt sad. He’d lost—they’d lost. His friends were dead, for nothing. His comrades were dead, and the Red Line was weaker, not stronger. The Nazis would be pushing back hard at the scent of an opening, and he wasn’t there to help them. They were dead, and he had failed them.

And Artyom was alive, and he had failed him too. He had done the worst thing. He had hovered on the line between choices, and failed everyone.

The world and the ideals he believed in, the general he was loyal to, the men under his command who trusted him. They had all lost today, because the Rangers had won.

So how could he be so glad Artyom was alive. What horrific betrayal was he capable of, that that feeling was the stronger one now? He did not know what to do with it, except to hate himself.

“Yes,” answered Artyom after a bit. He shifted in his seat.

A court martial. Pavel exhaled slowly, and rested his head back against the medical bed. Honestly? That was almost a relief. This way, at least he could dodge ever having to truly figure out any of conflicted feelings swirling around in his head, and he would probably get what he had coming. Unfortunately, he was far from the only person their loss to the Order would affect. And…that mattered a whole lot more.

“…and…the Red Line…?” asked Pavel finally, dreading this answer most of all, and his eyes firmly on the ceiling.

“They are in talks right now, in Polis,” answered Artyom.

Talks?

Brow furrowed, Pavel made himself look at Artyom again. The younger man was still studying him with the same difficult to read expression.

“…Well,” continued Artyom after a few long, uncomfortable seconds, “The situation is not good. We lost hundreds, and the Red Line even more, at D-6. They failed their assault on the Reich as well. The Nazis are calling for blood, Hanza wants territory, all balance is thrown off.”

He’d asked, but Pavel felt the urge to vomit intensify with every syllable. Everything was falling apart. Okay. Okay, what can you do? the thought was frantic, but the answer was ‘nothing.’ Fucking nothing.

“Right now, all factions have met for talks in Polis. Continuing the peace conference from before.” There was an edge to Artyom’s voice when he mentioned the ‘peace’ conference the Red Line had used as the opening for their attack. Pavel did not regret what they’d tried, but he still felt a twinge of guilt at the words.

“So far, what has been decided is that General Korbut will face a court martial very soon,” continued Artyom, “As for the Red Line itself, it helps that Moskrov admitted to being blackmailed by him, and warned Polis of D-6 just before the attack.”

He what—he did what?

The shock must have registered on his face, because Artyom’s expression lifted into a cautious smile. “The Spartans have decided to offer the Red Line an alliance now. I hope they will take it.”

That’s impossible.

Pavel was sure he’d heard him incorrectly. Then sure he was still unconscious and dying on the floor of D-6, and this was his mind trying to dream up a scenario that could save them.

Seeing his face, Artyom cautiously reached over to touch him, then hesitated and drew his hand back. “It’s true,” he said instead, deep brown eyes focused and sincere, “We don’t want things to change. Hanza wants too much power, and god knows we can’t give the Nazis more. We need the Red Line.”

There was a factual simplicity to the statement that was undeniable, but it could not be true, and just Pavel stared at Artyom and shook his head.

“We almost wiped you out, today. The blood has not even dried,” insisted Pavel, “We tried to destroy you.”

“I know,” said Artyom. He smiled sadly. Pavel couldn’t understand it.

“Why…?” asked Pavel hopelessly, “Even after all of this?”

Artyom was quiet, as he was often quiet. Pavel saw him try to speak a few times, and he waited, familiar with this, as his former ally considered the question in silence.

“…You are my friend,” managed Artyom finally. He looked up and held Pavel’s gaze.

What?

Of everything he could have expected Arturo’s to say, this wasn’t even close to a guess.

“…You betrayed me,” continued Artyom slowly, picking words as he went, his voice calm and soft and tinged with regret.

Pavel felt a stab in his chest with the words. Again, he found himself wishing desperately that Artyom was angry. Sad was so much worse. But he was right. It wasn’t that simple—it was so, so fucking complicated, but still…he had done it.

“I wanted to believe you hadn’t. I wanted to believe you in Venice. I wanted…you to change your mind,” continued Artyom, voice almost a whisper. He wasn’t looking at Pavel anymore, he was looking down, at the past. “…I realized in Red Square, you were not ever going to. …But, I also realized that you were playing the villain.”

Pavel looked at the wall.

“I have seen you talk your way out of execution, Pavel. I know you are too smart to encourage me to kill you,” continued Artyom carefully, as if setting pins in a lock, “So, you did not do it for you. You did it for me. …You did not want to kill me.”

Artyom must already know the answer, but Pavel owed him this much, after everything, and he made himself meet his gaze.

Artyom smiled sadly with recognition. “Yeah. I did not want to kill you either. So I did not. And I still don’t want to. I think I don’t want to kill anybody. I am so tired of killing. So many people are dead, and for what? There were already too few of us left. So what you tried to kill me? So what the blood has not dried? Blood for blood and the only thing left will be a pile of corpses to say we avenged. Don’t you want to try to live?”

Pavel had never heard someone talk like that.

Maybe once in a book, but, not someone real.

Usually, Pavel knew what to say, and in almost any situation. Now, for the first time ever, he could find no words inside to speak at all.

“Can’t it be that simple?” said Artyom, like he was asking for a lot more. Maybe in his own way, he was.

“…I don’t think it can,” answered Pavel finally, surprised to hear his voice choked when he spoke.

“Then you don’t know that it can’t be,” pleaded Artyom.

Again, Pavel didn’t know what to say.

Artyom cut such a sorry picture like this, bruised and shot and bloodied, and with all the power and none of it, asking him for something he didn’t have to give. It made his chest ache. It made him want to give it. But it couldn’t be done.

After a minute of heavy quiet between them, Artyom seemed to realize he was not going to answer. He shifted in his seat and surveyed what he could see of Pavel’s wounds, then tried again. “How are you feeling?”

Somehow, that was worse than anything Pavel had thought he might say next. He felt like his head could explode. Pavel was experienced. He was intelligent, and capable, and just the amount of hardened he needed to be to fulfill his post. And yet, this conversation was making him sick.

“Alive, thanks to you,” he replied. He had started to be friendly and familiar on impulse, because he was a survivor, and he knew the best way to stay alive now was to make sure Artyom wanted him to stay alive. But as he heard his voice, he’d choked on the last word. He already wants you alive, fucking idiot, or you would not be here. But you are being court martialed. With all he’s done, can’t you at least give a decent goodbye? He is…

The silence descended again and was agonizing. Heavy with things unasked and unsaid, things Artyom struggled to say, and Pavel could not figure out how to.

“…I am glad you’re alive, Artyom,” managed Pavel finally, doing his best, “…and I’m sorry. I never—…I really did consider you my friend.”

“Don’t you still?” asked Artyom with worry.

“Of course,” replied Pavel. He finally managed a smile. “I owe you my life. Again.”

Artyom smiled back. This time, he reached over and closed his hand around Pavel’s. His skin was warm and rough; Pavel could feel cuts on his fingers. He wondered if any part of him had made it through all this unscathed. And then, with a delay, he realized there was no shackle by the hand Artyom was holding.

Confused, somehow almost alarmed by it, he glanced at his other wrist, and found nothing but an IV drop anchoring it. Rolling his ankles, he could feel no bindings there either. Looking around the room and taking in detail for the first time, it registered that this was just a room. There was a wooden door at the end, single bolt, locked from this side. A lock anyone in the world with a hand could slide back. It was not any kind of cell. There was a guitar against the wall.

He turned and stared at Artyom, then swallowed, trying to figure out how to even ask. “…Where are we?”

“D-6,” replied Artyom, looking confused by his sudden shift in tone, “The surviving members of the Red Line in D-6 surrendered when the Dark Ones attacked. Most were moved to Polis or sent home for treatment, but the most wounded we treated here.”

Incredible how little that had answered the question he had actually tried to ask. Wait.

“You truly sent most of the fighters home?” asked Pavel, brow furrowing.

Artyom nodded.

“You’re all crazy,” observed Pavel, mystified, “…Then, it is just the officers being held for court martial?” The amount of relief he could feel if so. Nothing would undo failing here, but it would make their losses so much smaller if-

There was a look of deep surprise in Artyom’s eyes at the words and he hurriedly shook his head. “-No, Pavel, only General Korbut. -Not any other officers—Not you.”

The words were like being struck. Something in his throat wrenched into a knot, and he could barely breathe. Pavel shook his head and turned away, trying to recover. Artyom did not let go of his hand, but now he wished he would.

“…Artyom,” he said finally, still turned away and eyes firmly set on the far wall, “Oktysabrskaya… You know I lead-”

“-I know, Major,” came Artyom’s voice.

Pavel waited, but there was nothing else. No ‘but,’ no ‘and,’ no anything, so he made himself face Artyom again, exhausted as he was.

When he did, Artyom was silently watching him with the same hard to place expression he’d had when Pavel woke. After a moment, he continued. His words were careful and slow. “As far as everybody else is concerned, you helped me escape the Reich. Then you tried to warn me over the radio last night, and you returned a stolen bio weapon to D-6. That’s all.”

That was not all.

“Korbut did not act alone,” insisted Pavel. He had betrayed his post for Artyom, but weaseling out of the consequences and leaving his General to take responsibility alone was a level of disloyalty he was not ready to betray himself with. Artyom was asking too much. Korbut was not some monster to throw to the wolves; he was a good tactician and leader. This was wrong.

“I know,” said Artyom.

“I should be with him,” said Pavel.

“Why?” pressed Artyom.

’Why?’ Because I have some modicum of honor and duty left? I don’t know why you want me to live so badly, after everything I’ve done to you, but I can’t turn on my people. Even now, even for you.

“…Artyom, I have done all kinds of things you despise, to protect the Red Line,” said Pavel quietly, “But I have done those things to protect the Red Line. I am not such a snake I would do it to save myself.”

“Who does it help for you to die?” argued Artyom, “Is the Red Line better with you gone?”

Pavel didn’t reply. How can you not see that is not what is at issue.

“If it is, then stay with me,” urged Artyom, “Sparta can use you.”

Pavel shook his head and looked away. “You don’t understand-“

“—I do understand!” insisted Artyom, grabbing his shoulder and jerking him, forcing him to turn back and look. It hurt, and he was glad it hurt. It was anything else to think about. “I know you released the virus; I know you have killed Spartans. I know you used me! I know you would have killed me, if you had won. I know you probably still think everything you did was right, and you may always think that. I don’t care! Even if you come after me again tomorrow, I would not regret it. Understand, Pavel, I am not asking you to do this for you; I am asking you to do it for me!”

…How could he possibly respond, to that? Artyom had leaned in close, and his deep brown eyes were bloodshot and desperate. Blood trickled past a wrapped cut on his arm he must have reopened, and down his wrist, onto the hand of Pavel’s he was still clutching. His grip was like iron, but his hands trembled.

Why?

When Pavel didn’t answer, Artyom’s expression fractured. “Please,” he said, all the strength from before gone.

“…Why do you care so much?” said Pavel finally, “Enough to let me go, and to lie for me? Even after Teatr. I…don’t understand.”

“Because, you…Ты мне очень...” Artyom faltered. His face had lost the little color he had had left, and he looked so desperate. Why? Why over this? “…We are the same. Musketeers. And…” He trailed off again, heart visibly sinking as he took in Pavel’s expression. “…Isn’t that enough?”

Pavel felt bad for him, but he shook his head. It wasn’t. That didn’t make sense of any of this at all.

Artyom looked crestfallen, and he tried to say something, then stopped and struggled to speak, to no avail. Pavel had seen him struggle like this a few times, so he waited, and after a minute, Artyom seemed able to go on again. His manner was different, though; talking seemed to have become an immense struggle.

“…You know…” managed Artyom with great effort, “….You know I was the one who…killed the Dark Ones?”

Pavel had not known that. Everyone knew it was the Order, but, Artyom?

“Not…I was a part of it,” continued Artyom, faltering woodenly from word to word, “It…was me.” He looked serious in a way Pavel had never seen on him before, like a man on his way to the noose, who knew he deserved it. “It…was my idea; I went to the Order…and got their help…and…it was me who…launched the missiles. The…Dark Ones begged me, to their last moment, to stop…and I heard them, and I… I did it anyway. I burned them to ash, in an instant. …Because I…was afraid, and I wanted…to protect my home. …My people…”

Pavel had seen Artyom a lot of bad ways—staring down death in a cell, injured, furious, half dead, betrayed. None of them even came close to as bad as the agonizing expression he wore now. He had not known any of that, but he remembered that way the voice of the Dark One in his head in D-6 had felt, and…about the voices in that place of damned souls, in Red Square.

“…and they still saved us, at D-6. After everything. …The little Dark One I found. …I had killed his mother. … He…called me his friend. He knew who I was, and…still.” Artyom choked up, then looked over at him and tried to smile. “You have done so much less than me, Pavel, for the same reasons. If…I believe I can keep going, I must think…you can too.”

He looked so miserable, so sorry. Why the hell had the Rangers let someone so young and inexperienced make that choice. It was something past cruel. And Pavel knew Artyom; he had known him since the moment he saw him looking at the prisoners in the death camp with such worry—he was a good person. That was all only more evident here.

“…Artyom,” tried Pavel slowly.

“-I don’t care if you agree!” cut in Artyom when he heard his tone, “I will protect you anyway!” Little blossoms of red had appeared over the bandage on Pavel’s shoulder, where Artyom’s fingers gripped him. He had never seen anyone hold onto another person so tight.

“You are not like me,” said Pavel kindly, almost gently, and he raised his left arm and carefully moved Artyom’s hand off his shoulder, “Chuvak. You are much younger. You think differently.”

Artyom tried to speak and failed, so he shook his head. He tried to move, and Pavel caught his free hand at the wrist and held it to stop him from gripping his shoulder again.

“Artyomich,” he said softly, finally managing a smile, “Whatever you think of me, I promise, your fate is not tied to mine.”

This only seemed to upset him more. Artyom struggled to reply again, and couldn’t. Frustrated to anger, he jerked his hand free, and pulled away from Pavel, then stood, agitated, and ran a bloody hand through his hair.

“We are not the same,” assured Pavel, trying to make him feel better.

“Долбаеб!” exploded Artyom finally, whirling on Pavel. “We are exactly the same! Muskateers, da, Athos?!”

Oh? Pavel stared at him and blinked in surprise, then finally understood. He burst out laughing.

Artyom gaped at him.

He was laughing so hard it hurt, but he couldn’t stop, and the laughter turned to horrible wet coughs in his chest.

“Why are you laughing!?” said Artyom.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” choked out Pavel, struggling and failing to hold back the coughs and laughs that sent spirals of pain along him. Somehow, he felt okay in spite of it now. “—You were right, Друг. I am sorry. I misunderstood; we are not so different.”

Artyom looked confused, but after a moment he relaxed a little and sat back down.

When his laughter subsided, Pavel lay back and gave Artyom a tired smile. He shook his head. “You win, d’Artagnian. Have it your way; I give up.”

Artyom hesitated, then smiled back, relieved.

He was so utterly different from everything else Pavel knew. All of this…illogical, unsafe, utterly hopeless forgiveness. Just because they had been close. …But then, hadn’t he been making terrible decisions all week for almost the same reason? He had done several very stupid things because of this man. …Maybe we are similar. That almost seemed to him like a good thing.

“Artyom, thank you,” said Pavel, “For Red Square, and for this. …I hadn’t said that.”

“…You’re welcome,” said Artyom.

It became quiet again, but the quiet was companionable now. Faintly, Pavel could hear indistinct voices in, and the clang of tools. The voices were calm, and conversational, the tools steady, unrushed. The sound of relative peace. Of rebuilding. Even as bad as things had gotten, even here.

“You know you’re good, right?” said Pavel.

Artyom glanced at him with the face of a wearied young man and the haunted eyes of a frontline soldier twice his age. And somehow, still, there was kindness in them.

“Whatever you think, you are a good person,” said Pavel.

Artyom didn’t reply, and Pavel doubted it had convinced him, but someone had needed to say it to him anyway. So it would take time; Pavel had that.

“Okay,” said Pavel with an exhale, leaning back in the hospital bed to relax and shutting his eyes, “So tell me what all I missed. –And what did you say before about Comrade Moskvin?”

#metro last light fic #partyom #metro last light #rock and hard place (fic)#I rewrote this more than anything I've written since Lullaby for the Dark. It made me crazy. I still might tweak it but I think I've mostly #gotten what I want now. The problem is that this conversation could go 8000 ways depending on either person's mood and how observant they'r #being so which one is the one TuT -- hell. But anyway. I feel like Pavel is portrayed as kind of sad and pitiable in fandom a lot but #he is extremely self confident and tough. this ofc does make the times he's doing Bad(tm) so much more peak but it distracts from the fact #that 92% of the time Artyom is the sad kicked dog in any relationship. Let him be emotional it's what he was born for. He's been through th #ringer and he's only 25 let him have a breakdown he deserves it. He's feral but inthe way of a college student deciding between homicide an #suicide during finals week. So yeah enjoy tired and confused Pavel and Artyom fighting for his gd life #pavel morozov #artyom chyornyj #metro last light spoilers #I call this 'two very similar men having completely opposite conversations with each other at the same time for half an hour'

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elvenbeard · 2 years ago

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Road Trip 2/4 🏜️

Absolutely no smoking allowed in the car (cause it's Vince's baby... coffee and fastfood to go are already pushing the limit), but it's important to take breaks anyway when you're on the road for a while, crammed into a tiny, hot space together!

... to enjoy the new sceneries, stretch your legs, and give big hugs to make up for being stupid a little while earlier about something that doesn't even matter in the grand scheme of things.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk vp #cp2077 vp #cyberpunk photomode #kerry eurodyne x v #kerry eurodyne #vincent ezaki #otp: to bad decisions #my vp #did I accidentally scratch up the car completely on my search for a scenic location? no why #did I try my best to photoshop away all the damage? yes xD would no one have noticed if I hadn't pointed it out? oh well...#anyway there's something about that second pic that just made me go absolutely feral ;___;#they've probably been bickering about something stupid shortly beforehand #not downright arguing but bitching around #cause yeh... they both have a temper and big egos it just happens over silly things sometimes XD #and then kerry gets out and has a smoke break and vince follows after a minute to take some pics and then just silently hugs kerry #and it's all forgiven without many words - cause they both know whatever it was is no point being mad about any longer than necessary #I do feel like a lot of their communication goes without words cause they're both bad about expressing feelings openly #without getting sarcastic at least #and for vince it's a big deal to have someone he is so comfortable around to make that possible cause he's very iffy about touch #and physical closeness in general #and I think Kerry having someone that just gets him and understands him without words is also super cathartic #öljadjsfhadsf getting fucking emotional about pixel men again DONT MIND ME

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queerofthedagger · 11 months ago

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i'm about to finish rotk on friday (am working 24 hours tomorrow 😔) which means i'll have read the entire trilogy in like. 10 days. i can't remember when i breathed through something this quickly and joyfully, and I don't want it to end, and the real question now is if i can read the entire silm in one week before I'll be on vacation or if i should take a lil break because man. man

#*mine #mona rambles #one of the best things is just how the world is more and more revealed to me and random bits of knowledge i had suddenly make sense #it just brings me so much joy and i should take a lil break before diving into the silm #(and the unfinished tales etc after /that/ because let's be real that's gonna happen directly after also who am i kidding)#to just. process things. but also i haven't been this hyperfixated for such a long time in ages and i just.#feel like that bird under his eating dome completely feral devouring everything because it's just that good #said it before but this is like pure mona catnip it's boding terribly/wonderfully for the foreseeable future. lmao #but also my wips are crying. i already have like #40 plots #and they just keep multiplying it's uhhh #yea #anyway

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fallen-goldfishcracker · 1 year ago

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Another day, another listen of the entire Amazing Devil discography while losing my honest to goodness mind.

#the amazing devil #Every single song they've ever made ever makes me completely feral #Farewell wanderlust? Screaming #Chords? My heart is shattered I am sobbing send help #Love run/ not yet? LOVE RUN/ NOT YET???? I CALL BEING BEATEN OVER THE HEAD WITH EVERY FEELING UNDER THE SUN #BATTLE CRIES???? FUCKING BATTLE CRIES???? YOU MEAN THE SONG THAT LEAVES ME IN A MILLION DIFFERENT PIECES HOLDING MYSELF TOGETHER WITH #THE RAW POWER OF THE LINE “WE WERE GODS WE WERE KIDS” HFKDHORJSKDBDIJDLRIS #THE OLD WITCH SLEEP AND THE GOOD MAN GRACE????? INKPOT GODS???? MARBLES????#PRAY???????????#IS ANYONE ELSE LSKTENING TO PRAY SND ABSOLUTELY LOSING JT????#“GOD MADE ALL MAN IN HIS IMAGE. HONEY IM- IM NO MAN. IM WHATS LEFT WHEN CHILDTEN GO TO WAR”#JFKRNKDNELMSKFBFKRJSKRO #i swear this band leaves me in shambles every single time #I love them so much #joey batey #madeleine hyland

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memorydragon · 1 year ago

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Spoilers ahead. Confusing spoilers if you haven't started the novel, but if you're half-way through please scroll past.

So when I say this scene is what drove me mental years ago back when I first started reading Po Yun and Tun Hai, that reading it again even after so many years still made me feral. This was the Ride or Die moment that never left while translations were dropped and disappearing. Please understand when I say that reading again after reading the whole novel makes me 10x more feral than before. That is not an exaggeration. I am 100% not okay and these are crying in the club hours. F̴̻̹̊͑̉̿e̵̘̠͈͗ͅr̶̞̠͍̮̓̊͠ā̶͈̹̅̓͠ḻ̵͓̏͑͘.

Because Wu Yu's long, long panic attack, because when he's finally able to come up for air when the waves recede just the slightest, he's pushed back down again and again, because his 'safe' person has been taken away.

Because this 'elite' who had an easy life, just admitted he'd been dragged from the fire when he was nine years old after his parents were murdered in front of him. This person who wants to take him out of this hell and pull him back, who should be safe, is covering Wu Yu with his whole body, cradling his head and covering his eyes as a ruthless mob decends on them. Because this shouldn't be happening again - but death follows behind him mercilessly cutting everyone down but leaving him. Because dying is easy living is more difficult. Bu Chonghua's blood is on his face and this person should be safe but keeping their promise requires sacrifice. Please don't promise any more.

(Bu Chonghua was supposed to run. He was supposed to leave Wu Yu to deal with the mob. But if he'd done that, people would have died, and it probably wouldn't be Wu Yu, and he'd promised to pull Wu Yu back from this abyss. He wouldn't let the rage of the mob swallow Wu Yu like a wave, dragging him back under. As they beat him, he cradle's Wu Yu's head and covers his eyes, because he won't give Wu Yu up, not to the ocean or to fire, and I'm so fucking Normal about this.)

Liao Gang sees Wu Yu at the hospital and knows something is wrong. Something is off, this is not the meek and submissive Wu Yu they've met for these past few months. He correctly pulls Wu Yu aside and instead of admonishing him to go get checked over, he says 'hey, why don't you get checked out by the hospital because someone needs to look after Captain Bu tonight. If you let them patch you up, you'll be put with the captain.' And Wu Yu finally - finally relents and allows the hospital staff to look him over.

When the lights are off and he can't sleep because there's no light he tries to trace over the current Bu Chonghua with the memory of the child he'd saved in the past, and he can't sleep but he can finally breathe. Now he can agree that Bu Chonghua and Zhang Boming are different, that Bu Chonghua isn't just an elite who sends his subordinates to death for greater glory, but someone who wants to pull him back. (And I'm putting it more politely. I honestly love that Wu Yu is still sort of cursing Bu Chonghua out when he says this, because of course he is, and Bu Chonghua is immediately gonna chew him out for smoking. I love Them.)

But when he wakes up, Bu Chonghua is gone. The hospital bed is empty and cold, and there's a committee of directors who have come to question him. He asks where his safe person Bu Chonghua is, but they put him off, saying they just want to ask a few questions. Bu Chonghua has been isolated because there's been a death - death always follows him - and they're pushing the blame on him and Bu Chonghua. Why did Zhang Boming jump to his death? What did you say to him? Why did you survive? What right do you have to survive? He'll take all the blame on himself. He was the one who killed the suspect, Bu Chonghua didn't hurt any of the mob. It was him, it was all him, and what right do you have to speak about loyalty and sacrifice, when the hospital report on their injuries is right in front of you. They assume Wu Yu will see this is just a formality, but he doesn't have the frame of reference they knew he should It wasn't him with that frame of reference, he never had one and he lashes out. They're caging him, blaming him again, and what right do you have to talk about loyalty to someone who is on the front lines?

What right do you have to come back? What right do you have to survive?

After they sedate him and bring him back, leaving him in confinement (there's a bed, his wounds have been dressed, and there's even a tv and above average food left out for him. It's a plush confinement, only for one night. They think they're going easy on him and he should be grateful, because no one told them he's panicking and has been in danger undercover his whole life for twelve years and he hasn't been able to handle eating meat since he was a child. The lights are off when he wakes up, and he's alone. The lights are off and no one is responding when he asks them to turn on the lights. No one is there when he's progressively slipping back under the waves of panic. And when he lifts the lid on the food, all he can smell is meat.

He bites his own finger, trying to wash it out with the smell of the disinfectant from his wounds and blood, but he can still smell the meat that he spilt in his own revulsion and the lights are still off. (Wu Yu, little fish, I'm not blaming you, but please, please learn to talk about your triggers and let people know so they can accommodate you, because they would actually like to accommodate you and you're not weak because you have ptsd, you're breaking our hearts. Also, as an aside, Song Ping is actually quite hilarious in this fight. He's not to blame either, but he's making things so much worse and I love that Bu Chonghua has to yell at both of them to calm down because they're both set off on his sake)

And when someone finally comes, finally turns on the lights, they're blaming him. Look how you're acting! You're acting like a spoiled child when we've sacrifed been so nice to you! We've brought you back here, to this place you've worked for several months, your new home!

Except he never came back.

He was never brought back.

He was sacrificed for to catch the criminal. He died because his life was less important than catching someone on the wrong side of the law.

He was never asked if he wanted this sacrifice. He never wanted to be a cop. Who is Wu Yu? He's never had a name. Let him go, let him go - let him go!

He was never brought back. He never came back - Zhang Boming made the correct choice, but he never came back. The sacrifice was chosen, the promise was paid. Why did he survive? What right did Wu Yu have to survive when we he never came back.

"Wu Yu!"

He never came back.

"It's me. Okay, calm down." Someone restraining him, and he struggles automatically, but slowly stops. "It's me, Wu Yu. It's me. Just calm down."

Bu Chonghua came back. Held him above the water untll he could catch his breath. And finally, finally...

The boy left his own blood on Bu Chonghua's cheek, disappearing for twenty years, leaving only one command - Survive.

"I arrived late."

"I was just a little worried. It wasn't very late." It wasn't his whole life twelve years. It was only one nightmare. You pulled me back.

The boy who rushed off to save a child he didn't know finally appeared before Bu Chonghua again. He came back.

He came back.

#Swallowing the Seas #Huai Shang #This is Mem's life #meta and things #if you're wondering who the fuck is narrating that's intentional actually.#it's meant to be messy #because I'm completely feral over these trauma kittens #And if you are sitting there thinking wow Mem You're insane #I should stay away from these novels for my own sake #you're probably not wrong.#But if you decide to jump in anyway and join me in my insanity #check the tags on novel updates and if you're uncertain feel free to ask me about any of them #but please join me #I will shout to the void #and I'll keep shouting until I've finally dragged some of you down with me #and probably shout a bit more after that because I'm so not okay about Them #These are crying over trauma kittens hours in the club hours rn #I am really not lying when I said it's making me ten times more feral now that I've already read it #It's so much worse when you know #and I'm Normal about this

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stevebvck · 1 year ago

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genuinely don’t understand the straight explanation for CATWS

#ash.txt #how did straight ppl watch this and say ‘yeah- this film is about the power of friendship’#like this bond is not simply held together by friendship #70 years of brainwashing disappears with the power of FRIENDSHIP? 😭 heLLO #the potential of stevebucky makes me scream cry and throw up everytime #yes I have completely normal feelings about this movie and these characters #no I am not obsessed and completely feral about Steve rogers and Bucky Barnes

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blujayonthewing · 2 years ago

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god grant me the confidence of my best friend who once asked, laughingly, if I was 'just eating a pickle by itself', acted as if doing so was one of my Trademark Jay Eccentricities, and, when pressed, wholeheartedly asserted that when you get a pickle spear with a sandwich you're supposed to take a bite of pickle and a bite of sandwich and eat them together

#beloved. you can do whatever you want but really look into your heart and ask yourself which of us is deviating from the intended use here #MY DARLING FRIEND THEY ALREADY MAKE PICKLES YOU EAT WHILE BITING YOUR SANDWICH. THEY PUT THEM ON IT FOR YOU??#what about pickles for sale at the ren faire?? what about pickles in deli trays????#we are white people I KNOW you've encountered a potluck with little baby pickles on a tray #the truth is that having attention called to me when I'm being a little weirdo is actually the only downside of being a little wierdo #so it lowkey drives me up a wall when I'm TREATED (lovingly!) like I'm being a little weirdo when I am LITERALLY BEING COMPLETELY NORMAL #like-- I just thought at first she personally doesn't like pickles and thought snacking on pickle spears was gross lmao #if I eat a chunk off a tree or a weed while on a walk please feel free to roast me for being a feral goblin but PICKLES??#about me #irl frens

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nilesmoon · 1 year ago

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you leave me alone for three seconds and when you come back suddenly I am here at the showdown part amprule drama track

#ITS SO BAD. ITS SOOOOO BAD I KEEP GOING BACK TO IT THE CANDY APPLE SCENE MAKES ME WANT TO BITE SOMEONES HEAD OFF #I have broken down this scene in my brain so many times and yet. And Yet #Paradox live ruining my life completely I feel like a feral dog ready to jump at any family dynamic it throws at me #nile talks

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fraldariiius · 11 days ago

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Thinkin abt how if Seren was in the game, she doesn’t show up after the timeskip during the reunion like everyone else does, BUT she has a paralogue that becomes available about two months after the timeskip. Paralogue only becomes available though if playing the Azure Moon route or if you recruited her before the timeskip. If you play the paralogue and complete it, Seren shows up during a mission to which leads to her rejoining ur class!! However if you never do the paralogue, Seren never rejoins regardless. Also she has special little dialogues during the paralogue if you have her speak to Felix, Sylvain, or Ashe :]

#fe3h #fe3h oc #RAAA Seren i love you #Seren intentionally not showing up to the reunion makes me feral RAA #she PURPOSFULLY did not show up BUT LIKE also she was out completing a mercenary job and was too far from the monastery #but also she was like ‘ok yeah i already feel like crap i guess i just shouldn’t bother them and just not show up’ GIRL

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screampied · 5 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 CHECKED THE RACK ?!

☆ sum. bóob obsessed jjk men who just can keep their hands off of you, their sweet sweet wife. toji, choso, gojo, geto, nanami.

warnings 𝜗𝜚 . fem! reader, wife reader, feral handsy men, bóob fondling, unprotected, cowgirl, dry humping, praise, dirty talk, lactátion fantasizes, brief face-fucking, bréeding mentions, implied multiple rounds, overstim, petnames.

☆ SATORU GOJO.

“god, really missed my girls,” satoru huffs, sucking in a single sharp breath as he buries his face right between your breasts.

you gasp, feeling him lick a single long stripe down the sloping valley of your chest before he roves his tongue to teasingly lap near your perked nipple. he takes a single whiff, and he’s enticed. satoru was always a clingy man. you had his cock stilled inside of your cunt the entire time you laid back against the cushioned mattress. despite it being so early in the morning, he couldn’t help but want more, want you.

pristine white tresses of hair rub up against your chest as he nuzzles further into you. “mhm, seems like they missed me too, mwah,” he kisses your left breast, feeling you cutely writhe. satoru’s still reclined back against the king-sized bed before he shoots you a sleazy grin. “tell me somethin’,” he whispers, and his hands suddenly grab onto your unsteady hips. you moan—feeling him start to leisurely rock you quicker into him. the bulbous curve of his shaft makes your legs merely collapse inward. “you touched yourself today, sweets? while i was work, hm?”

“n- no,” a soft whisper sprints out of your lips as you watch his hands tenderly guide your hips back and forth. you’re drenching his cock with your sweet syrupy sap, clamping down mercilessly within each sloppy thrust. so good, you bit down at the bottom of your lip before your tits start to bounce again. satoru glances straight toward them and he almost moans himself. the way they slap back against your chest. pap pap pap, he feels himself get harder the more he stares at your loud tits hitting against you, his cock sporadically and shamelessly twitching inside of you.

“no?” he repeats, and he noticed how your eyes dart away for a split second as you speak in a hushed voice. as his fat shaft continues to deeply barrel inside of your puffed cunt, he hums, cupping one of your springy soft breasts. “ ‘course ya did, you sent me those soapy pics of you in the bath on my break,” shit. you completely forgot, and you now start to whine as you’re just bouncing on his cock. your head fills up with nothing but clouded empty thoughts—not a single thought in your mind but the longing anticipation of satoru pumping you full of yet another thick load.

ruthlessly, the skin of your own starts to smack back onto your chest over and over as you thoroughly dig the centers of your knees into his thighs. “silly girl,” the white haired man playfully taps against your forehead, giving it a soft dumbing knock. ‘m making that my wallpaper by the way. fuckin’ sexy.”

as you’re whimpering the same repeated cacophonies of his name, you gasp, feeling his palm softly swat against your tits. “fuck, satoru!” you clench down on your jaw and your hips continue to sway. it was a tender delicate spank against your breasts, but he grunts once he feels your pussy squeeze against him the second he does it. you liked it. your body, he knew it—he knew every part of it, and he found it cute how you always responded to his lewd antics. “hngh, ‘m not gonna last, ‘s still sensitive, ‘toru.”

“you’re a kinky ‘lil thing, huh,” he lips curve into sly simper once he hears your cute hiss. you’re growing dumber and dumber the more your ass pounds against him and the brief sting makes him groan. his fat thick base sits right underneath you and you feel how full it is, so swollen. your mouth starts to salivate at the realization of just how deep he’s inside—merrily massaging your gummy clingy walls. satoru loved more than anything to give you a good filling after a long day of work. it was his treat to you, and he couldn’t resist when you were just so sweet. “ooh. like that?” he purrs, and you moan once he then gives your nipples a squeeze with two stubby fingers. fuck, your legs were shaking and he felt it—your body was a ticking time bomb. “yeah, yeah you do. pussy’s a sloppy dead giveaway, angel.”

“sato—ugh,” you moan, and he goes back to sucking on your tits. even whilst buried between your chest, he’s so pretty. satoru’s got the biggest cheekiest grin plastered on his lips as he’s got nothing but your boobs in his mouth. you’re still riding him but once his tongue slurps against your sensitive nipple - it’s over. your brain short circuits and your hands grab onto his hair hard. he’s drooling all down your chest and yet he doesn’t care about being messy. his tongue traces everywhere down your skin until he’s just tenderly sucking at any spot his lips can reach. “fuck, fuck, m- more please.”

“my wife’s got such a pretty body,” he groans, his lips ‘popping’ loudly once he removes your boob from his lips. glossy strands tear away from the slim cracks of his mouth before he rubs a thumb over your throbbing nipple. “y’know what though,” and his voice lowers. you gulp, still having his dick idle inside of your sopping cunt before he leans up close to your ear, pressing a hand down on your tummy. “you’d be an even prettier mommy. think ‘m ready ‘ta see that tummy round ‘n plump again, sweets.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURUO

“ah, ah babygirl. hold still, need ‘ta give the twins some extra lovin’ too,” a raspy voice whispers against the back of your ear.

you moan, slumping back against your husband’s chest. he still had his work clothes on and he’s just came back from home. it’s late evening, dusk preparing to set and yet—the first thing he made sure to do was to touch his pretty wife everywhere.

his bare scarred hands softly grab against both of your breasts, making them playfully bounce in his palms. “no bra too? such a good girl.”

“t- toji,” you whimper, almost forgetting that his cock was still buried deep inside of you. hes not even moving, you’re not even moving and yet you feel his thick heavy cock plummet through your goopy insides. he’s always been a clingy man, you knew that, and if it wasn’t your ass toji fushiguro was utterly obsessed with, it was your tits.

you were wearing nothing but a silky ivory colored nightgown. he peeped at how your perky nipples would rub and poke out against the showy soft fabric and he hums in sly amusement.

your hips were slow, painfully slow.

you were barely moving, but his cock was very much keeping your gummy insides occupied. his touch was fiery hot and you collapse back against his chest before feeling his lips kiss down your neck. “fuck, i still have to m- make dinner.”

“no need, hon,” he huskily snickers, and you let off another moan once he gives both of your breasts a firm squeeze. he’s obsessed, the rotund prints of his thumbs couldn’t resist to swipe and swerve all across your sensitive nipples just to feel you squirm and writhe on his cock.

oh, you could never stay still and it was his favorite thing about you. you cutely shiver from his touch, leaning into his grasp before hearing your own cunt squelch.

it’s screaming out a pretty sloshing ‘pop’ sound that echoes through the thin peeling dry walls and a wry smile compresses against toji’s lips. “already got my dinner right fuckin’ here,” and you moan once one of his hands creep down toward the curvature of your ass, giving it a soft spank. “ah, never said you could stop ridin’ me, pretty mama. work those hips more f’me. chop chop.”

“ngh, toji i’m gonna cu— oh!” you shriek, and as your jerking hips start to pick up again, slamming meaner and quicker against his lap, you gush right out. you end up cumming far earlier than you anticipated, all thanks to his rude blushing tip repeatedly kissing and mashing up against your most sweetest spots. you’ve never felt more dumb. you’re at a lost for words, stupidly dumbfounded. you’re moaning out inaudible whimpers as you hear your slick mess slosh down right between your pried open thighs. toji grunts, feeling your honeyed mess spray and cream all down his twitching lengthy shaft. his cock’s still plugged into your greedy pussy as your legs now grow limp. toji’s got his hands glued back on your tits and he playfully gives them a few bounces. “f- fuck.”

“did ya just cum from me playin’ with yer tits, baby?” he coos, a wolffish grin spreading against his lips.

so hot, your legs continue to spasm before squeezing shut, keeping his dick inside. you could barely even swallow without moaning out little whimpers of his name as your tongue’s just casually lolled out of your mouth.

“aw,” he tsks, giving your nipples that poke through your blouse a kittenish pinch. you’re weakly grinding against his lap whilst he’s whispering sweet nothings to you from behind. you’ve never felt more sensitive—and ripples surge all through your body as you ride out your orgasm, hearing toji’s breath get more rasp against the shell of your ear. “there there babygirl, ‘s okay. relax,” he whispers in a gruff tone as one of his hands slide down your body. you twitch from his callused fingers slithering down your chest. “such a messy cutie, should play with y’er tits more often if ya get like this, heh.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO.

“thought about you today at work,” nanami purrs, a husky baritone smoothing underneath his tone. your drooling wet pussy was so so closed to milking him yet again, and he’s just in awe at how you ride him good—bouncing on his fat cock with droopy half-open eyes. he’s exhausted, he’s been up and about his feet all day everyday, same old same old nine to five job but he was missing you. and now that he had you, he was clingy. nanami kento was clingy, so clingy to the point where you had to pry his hands off. he’s got you riding him in his creaking wooden rocking chair whilst he’s got a flustered grin curling against his slick glossed lips. “thought about you ‘n these pretty girls too.”

right as he said that though, he’s got two big hands squeezing against your tits, cupping them each in such a delicate manner. you gasp, continuing to rock back and forth against his halfway pulled down silk slacks before you moan. “fuck, ‘ken,” and his touch was so tender. his fingertips trace everywhere—every crevice and corner of your body. you still had your bra clasped on and he can’t help but openly gawk.

your wobbly hips continue to swivel all around him as your ass rigorously throws itself on his lap, smack smack smacking away. it feels sharp, your unpredictable movements that were once in sync with his grew more and more unsteady and it makes the aging rocking chair behave more and more rickety. it’s pathetically crying from the pounds of hefty weight crushing against it. “mhm,” you mewl through gritted teeth and your hands softly grab onto his wide wrists. a thumb of yours ghosts against the band of his rolex and he shoots you a needy grin. “kento, you never answered my question.”

“hm? oh,” there’s a playful glint in his eye, and you moan again once his head goes right between your springy tits. he’s showering every exposed area with a multitude of wet chaste kisses, making sure your skin knows who’s making it feel good - him. “oh, my day was fine sweetheart,” and a drawing hot breath gets stuck in the back of your throat, feeling his sly tongue slowly and playfully lap down the valley of your breasts. “mhm, so fine,” and his voice drops lower and lower. your hips start to slow down with seconds and he’s just toying with you. nanami’s hands now slither further down to toward your quavery hips. “my day’s even better now that i’m spendin’ it with my pretty wifey.”

and you let off a sweetened three second moan once he starts to latch his glistening lips against your swollen neglected nipples. shaggy blond strands of hair tickle against the upper part of your chest as he starts to suck, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to roam. “ah, i remember when milk used to come from here, my love,” he grunts, shifting between each tit — he’s tender, making sure to take his time whilst his hardened cock’s still hidden inside of your puffy cunt. nanami’s cupping each hand over your breasts before his gentle fawn eyes meet yours. the tip of his tongue swirls around your achy nipple before he groans right into your chest. “thinkin’ about that makes me wanna put another baby in you, sweetheart. f- fuck, all swollen ‘n plump. you’d like that?”

“y- yes,” you moan, and your hips start to frantically pick up again. the angered plump crownhead of nanami’s cock extends through each pivotal thrust and you feel it. the curving hook of his cock repeatedly thrashes up inside of you and you’ve never felt more full. he’s just so deep, you bite back a moan or two before your breathing starts to catch up with you. he’s tapping against a spongy texture and it makes your thighs squeeze together in sudden rapture. “want another baby, please. give me another..another baby,” your words start to chop as your hips become sloppy. your pussy’s got his entire cock slobbering down from the veiny sides with your sap and he grunts at the sloshing slickness.

“give you?” nanami softly rasps, and he raises a blond eyebrow at your needy demand. “oh, baby. that’s not how we ask. c’mon, be a big girl ‘n ask me the right way, sweet thing,” and he grazes a thumb over your pouting lip, kissing it gingerly. “talk to me nice, my love.”

as his cock roughly punctuates inside of you within each exaggerated thrust, you toss your arms over him, whimpering loudly. “please, please can i have another baby, ‘ken. breed me, make me full. want it so bad, want you.” and he leans in to kiss you. it’s passionate, his lips dance against yours whilst his tongue slides into your mouth, demanding access. you moan, feeling his solid weight continue to anchor into yours. slamming, he’s got your hips working to the bone and it makes him groan. nanami’s hand go back toward your tits and he gives them a nice good feel, smiling against your lips once he feels the full doughy mounds bounce and jolt in his hand.

“better be a g-good girl ‘n take it then,” he huffs, stammering over his own words. nanami leans in, going back to sucking against your tits. they slap and move move all against his face due to your rocky hips and a faint grin tugs on both sides of his lips. your hips grind further into him at full speed—full throttle and you moan once one of his hands gives your ass a squeeze which turns into a quick spank. “mhm, that’s it. ride me, honey. milk me, got so much ‘ta give you,” and your skin melts into him the faster you move. skin against skin and it smacks rough, ricocheting against both pounds of flesh and you whimper at the brief twinges of pleasure. each smack against flesh makes your ears ring and it’s only seconds before he’s cumming.

it’s a lot, a thick load of velvety ropes that deeply pours into your aching cunt. it’s so much to where it’s unapologetically dribbling down your thighs in creamy stringy clumps. it can’t fit inside of your cunt—he groans at the realization, cupping your right tit before going back to sucking against it whilst staring you straight in the eyes. “fuck, i- i need a minute,” and he’s gradually feeling his body succumb to defeat as his burly muscles tense underneath his business attire. with your tit still popped in his mouth, nanami shoots you a wry pussy drunk smile before lathering his tongue around your tender nipple. after a few seconds, he takes it out of his mouth before falling back. his and clench underneath his business shirt and he playfully smacks your ass, another hand dramatically fanning himself. “whew.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

“a- are you sure?” choso mumbles with a pout, and he’s panting heavily at the sight that’s right before him. you’re on your knees for him whilst your two hands cup under both of your tits. doing so—you show off your pretty nails he paid for about a week ago. you make direct eye contact with his leaking cock. his tip was a pearly pink, swollen with tears of pre-cum spewing from the sides. he’s got a hand wrapped around his length before he exhales. “i just—put it in between..?”

“mhm,” you softly coo, occasionally glancing at the black curly specks of hair that glue near his base. his happy trail, you stare at it for a while, watching his chiseled abs achingly flex before you puff out your bottom lip. “c’mon, baby. nice ‘n slow. ‘s okay. just pretend you’re fuckin’ me.”

an elongated breath gets caught in his throat at your lewd words. just pretend he’s fucking you. choso’s sable dark pupils dilate as he gives his throbbing cock a few single pumps. he’s slow, a thumb of his swipes against a pulsating vein that’s prodding on his skin before he slowly positions his dick between your plump tits. “f- fuck,” he murmurs, watching as two of your hands squeeze your breasts together. so soft, he watches you with cute widened eyes as his achy cock rests in between both of your mounds. choso’s so hard too, it’s almost painful at how much he’s throbbing but it feels too good to shy away. “baby, can you use your mouth too?”

“yeah, ‘cho,” you hum sweetly, and he hears the tease in your tone. it was probably a dumb question and he already felt a hot wave of embarrassment spray over his body. his breath continues to hitch as he sees you—gradually starting to bounce your breasts up and down with his twitching shaft caught between the slick valley. your dewy glossed eyes never leave his, and every few seconds you’d grab his shaft, using a hand to pull it up to your lips for a quick suck. choso whimpers, desperately craving for more. he’s never did such an activity like this before. a boob job, apparently humans call it that. he’s not a stranger when it comes to intimacy but this, he could get used to having his cock between your pretty tender tits. “mhm,” you purse your lips, briefly wrapping them around his sweltering hot tip. he’s close, you could tell he wasn’t gonna last long and the bouncing of his thigh gave it away.

“ugh, w- when you use your tongue, i—” he cuts off, a keen gasp ripping out from his vocal chords. you drag his leaky pulsating tip to smear around your nipples before popping it right back into your mouth. choso takes a mental image of this entire scenario, storing it in the back of his mind. but he just couldn’t take it anymore. “fuck it.”

you let off a sheepish giggle before it’s your turn to gasp once choso’s hand suddenly grabs the back of your head. you look up at him and he moans, pushing your head all the way down until his tip greets against the roof of your mouth. the edges of your nails pierce into his thighs as you’re now being face fucked, ruthlessly.

your head bobbles up and down continuously as your tits bounce in sync and you’re slobbering all down his cock. lustrous cobwebs of saliva start to string away from your lips and it’s so pretty. he’s trying to luxuriate in the feeling of your warm mouth keeping his cock warm.

so so good, he’s rolling his eyes in pleasure but that’s when you then feel his dick twitch inside your mouth and on your flat tongue once he spots you starting to drool. oh, and that was all it took for him to grow weak. glimmering sheeny strands of saliva cascade past your lips and further down the crack of your chest. it brings a brighter shine to your breasts and he’s never felt more turned on. “fuck, y- you’re so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he babbles, black arched brows contorting together in awe. choso’s tugging at your roots - pulling hard. you’re getting his entire dick wet with the help of your mouth—slurping inch after inch until his mushroom tip’s continuously kissing against the back of your throat. “ohfuckohfuckohfuck.”

as he’s blabbering out the same repeated cries, your eyes briefly widen once he’s shooting gooey ribbons of cum right into your mouth. the bittersweet taste never fails to make you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment. choso’s dick resumes to weakly pump down your throat as his milky hot cum sprays on the center of your pink tongue. twirling your tongue around his tip whilst your hands still play with your pretty breasts, you meet his gaze once he’s shaking—releasing his rough grip against the back of your head. “shit, was i too mean? ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry baby-”

and his voice slowly trails off once you pull his cock out of your mouth, hearing the loud ‘pop’ sound from your lips before you lick the side of your mouth. “i’m okay, ‘cho,” you coo, feeling yourself throb a bit at choso being rough for a change—it was just the image of him shoving you down his cock, watching you play with your tits, gripping hard on your strands all while whining. “you liked that, baby?”

“a lot, actually,” he grows sheepish. but even after the fact, choso can’t help but smear his achy tip against your swollen lips, before softly smacking it against it against your rolled out tongue. you looked a mess - his mess. strands of saliva land on his tip once he brings it toward your lips, watching you give it s quick kiss. but as he glances at your twitching cum-glossed lips, he desperately to kiss you and snatch a taste for himself but he knew he had to wait. choso starts to pant, wrapping all five fingers around his veiny length before stuffing it back between your tits. “one more,” and he lets off a soft moan once you spit on his cock, slimy transclucent drool glissading down the valley of your chest and onto his rosy tip. “you’re so n- nasty, heh. do that again, princess.”

☆ SUGURU GETO

“stay still,” he whispers, and you glance down at geto who’s resting his chin right between your breasts.

they’re all bare and exposed, his favorite view. he’s missed you all day and he couldn’t wait to pounce on his pretty wife. “my, look at these. jus’ waiting for me,” and he cups both of them, giving them bother tender kisses. fat silky covers go over the both of you and just seconds ago, geto was pounding into you raw until your pussy was literally overflowing with velvety ropes of cum. “untouched, i presume?”

“y- yes, sugu,” you breathe, feeling a bit tender from his delicate touch. he grunts, shifting a bit under the plump covers. his cock rests flat against the dull grey sheets before he starts to rut against your leg. a hand of yours finds its way to run through his strands, digging near his tender scalp. “didn’t touch myself all day. waited for you.”

a small hum leaves from him before he brings his crooked lips up toward your right breast. groaning, geto leand in to suck against it—he’s feral, sloppy rutting hips slowly grind against your thigh that’s propped up underneath him as his tongue flicks up and around your nipple. “ah, sugu,” your eyes squeeze shut for a moment as your fingers intertwine with his thin raven locks. his eyes were closed and he was so into it, his tongue circles around your nipple before he slurps—popping sounds shrieking out from his slim reddened lips. “fuck, don’t stop. . please,” and your words only made him grunt more. he didn’t even realize he was humping all up against your leg but he didn’t care.

this place—buried right between your tits, absolute heaven to him. .

he’s so sloppy too, he’s got strands of slippery saliva dripping past his perfect parted lips as he’s snaking his head down the crack of your chest. “oops,” he whispers, dark hooded eyes observing the mess he’s creating. your breasts were all swollen, the centers of your mounds were so shiny all because of his saliva. your nipples were poorly tender and glistening with drool. “sorry, sweetie. couldn’t help myself. had ‘ta get a taste of my favorite girls,” and his words get a bit muffled once he stuffs his face back in between your tits. you giggle but it quickly turns into a sultry long moan once he starts to greedily suck against the other neglected breast. “mhm,” and he groans loudly, the tip of his cock brushing up against your thigh. geto’s wearing sweats but even still, you could feel it. his dick rubbing off against the grey fabric, ticking all against your leg. he’s brick hard and with your tits stuffed in his mouth, it only made him ten times worse.

“fuh— fuck,” he snarls, and his half on boxers continue to snag against your skin. geto’s brows come together before he ends up cumming - it’s so abrupt, his eyes roll back and you can almost hear a whimper leave from his throat. “goddamn,” he huffs, and as his chest heaves in and out, he stares up at you with the most feral expression. his mouth’s open and no words come out anymore for a while—just breathy hot pants and faint whimpers. geto couldn’t have felt anymore embarrassed. damp grey splotches soak and create a patch near the center of his boxers as his hips grow substantially weak. geto’s shuddering, and you pull him close as his head’s buried between your tits. “you drive me c- crazy, y’know,” he moans, and he’s still feeling the sharp after effects. his cock was now soft and flaccid, bulging inside of his cerulean blue boxers that hide underneath his sweats before he pouts on your chest. “got me h- humpin’ your leg ‘n moaning for you, fuck.”

“it’s okay, suguru,” you whisper, silvery fingers still kneading through his hair. his face softens at your reassurance. his eyes meet toward your lips before you give his forehead a kiss. “good boy.”

“s- shut up,” he scoffs, both sides of his cheeks angrily flushing the second those two horrid words slither out of your lips. the audacity, geto’s still laid on top of you as if he’s practically glued against your body. he’s so hot against your skin that both pounds of flesh practically melt against each other. but, geto can’t help but pout more against your chest as he looks up at you, his pride’s nowhere to be found as he’s now happily nuzzling his face into your tits. “say it again, sweetheart,” and he sounds annoyed but he’s actually pleading for more—not only did you make him insanely sensitive but you also made suguru geto whimper. “tch. call me that again. see what happens. f- fuck.”

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