#knowing i'll never be that? i'll never be what anyone wanted? knowing that nobody wants me? refusing to be wanted?
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milawritess · 4 hours ago
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just read your gojo fic and it was amazing!! can i ask does megumi end up calling the reader mom to her face or something along those lines in the end? i’m a sucker for the reader being a parent to megumi so was wanting to know how that plays out 💜
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Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader, mom!Reader & Fushiguro Megumi 
Warnings: angst, Megumi missing his mum :( 
Word count: 2k+
a/n: this takes place after the events of my fic Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow
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Would Megumi ever call you mom to your face?
Yes and no. He’s a bit shy when it comes down to it. 
After nearly dying, you were sick. Your technique became unstable, a flicker of the shadow of what your flames once were. 
Your recovery was hard, harder than anyone could have expected. Your eyes were hollow and sunken; you had lost even more weight, and you were always so tired. Megumi saw you dozing off at the dinner table, in the middle of conversations, and one time while you were even standing. It seemed like a never-ending exhaustion—like your own soul couldn’t withstand being… alive. 
It scared Megumi. More than words could describe. 
When word got around that you couldn't even conjure up more than a spark, Megumi noticed you started to change. You’d disappear for days at a time, you were eating less and less, and you hardly spoke, evident by the strain in your vocal cords when you addressed him or anyone for that matter. He knew you were depressed; he picked up on the signs quickly and felt the weight of your absence. Eventually, it seemed Yuji and Nobara did as well. 
It was starting to get to you, he thinks. But Megumi doesn’t entirely blame you. If he woke up one day unable to conjure his shadows, he thinks he’d lose himself, too. 
Megumi could tell Gojo was starting to worry. He found him taking you out on strolls around the block a few times, trying to get you out of the house you’d much rather wallow away in. Gojo kept a bright smile on his face the entire time, and he was more open and apparent with his affection for you. His hands were always on your hip, around your shoulders, or your hand was tightly wrapped in his. Megumi wondered if it was to be closer to you or to help you keep your balance. Probably both; Gojo walked slower than usual, half strides that still never seemed quite slow enough to match yours. 
It felt like you were just… disintegrating right before everyone’s eyes. To Megumi, it was like watching an angel fall from grace. 
One day, he finds you and Gojo on the couch. After finishing his classes, he went to the store to buy your favorite soup, crackers, and some energy drinks he hoped might perk you up, even just a bit. He let himself into the Gojo estate after knocking and receiving no answer. It wasn't a big deal. Not too long ago, it was his home, too, and it's not like nobody was home. He could sense Gojo's presence. It was oddly overwhelming and dense. 
He sees why when he finds you. 
The room was warm—warm enough to make him break a sweat in his uniform upon entering. The fireplace was crackling, and the central heat was on blast. You were sprawled out on the couch in the main room, and Gojo was behind you, holding you to his chest while you slept. Megumi was ready to leave the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and leave. It didn’t feel right intruding, but-
You were shivering. 
He doesn’t get it—why nothing could keep you warm. His whole life, you’ve always brought a warmth that extended beyond your kindness and soft smiles. It was the kind of warmth you shared with him— from those oversized winter coats you bought him, those knitted gloves you make him every year, and you. 
He remembers being small and how you’d heat your hands before holding his tightly. Back then, he never had numb knuckles or fingertips whenever you were around. Not only that, you could just radiate warmth, effortlessly warming the air around you. He’s seen you do it a few times when the people around you got too cold. It was like walking past a sauna, a warm breeze that always caught others off guard. 
He remembers you doing it just a few weeks ago. Yuji’s eyes widened, and he jumped up and down, annoyingly asking a million questions about your technique. You looked a bit prideful when he compared you to a fire-breathing dragon, which, ironically, might have been the best comparison for you. 
He hated that you shivered now. With several blankets, the room cranked to eighty degrees, and Gojo beside you still wasn't enough. He hated that there wasn’t much anyone could do—anything he could do. 
Quietly, he ambles upstairs, yanking the blanket off the bed in his old room. When he returns to the living room, he throws it over you and Gojo. 
Gojo doesn’t move much but opens one eye, eyeing Megumi for a moment. He acknowledged Gojo with a nod, knowing that he wasn’t asleep. His six eyes have followed him since he knocked on the front door.  
However, he notices that Gojo has sweat beading down his temple, his white hair damp and sticking to his forehead. Megumi hadn’t associated himself with Gojo much since the incident, but… he’s happy he’s with you, doing everything he can to keep you safe, protected, and warm, even at his own expense. 
The corner of Gojos' lip twitches before his eye closes again. 
Megumi leaves a note on the counter before leaving. 
Mom, 
I bought you some food from the market. It’s in the fridge. Get well soon. 
— Megumi 
-
It’s when Gojo takes a leave of absence from teaching that Megumi can feel it sinking in—a dark foreboding, an anxiousness that tied knots around his heart, keeping him up late into the night. 
“I’m worried,” Yuji admitted sullenly. “What if… what if the damage was so bad she won’t fully heal? I know regenerating cursed energy takes a while, but it’s been weeks.” 
“I really hope that’s not the case,” Nobara sighs, resting her elbows on the table and looking out into the distance.  “It must be serious for Gojo-Sensei to leave.”
“I can’t imagine how painful it must have been,” Yuji winces a bit, merely playing with the fries on his plate. “… Urggg!” Yuji wines, hiding his face in his hands. “I don’t even wanna be at this stupid sandwich shop without Sensei. It’s not right!”
“Relax, I’ll order her something before leaving. I’ll drop it off at their place,” Megumi grouses, pulling himself away from his thoughts. 
Yuji peeks at Megumi between his fingers. “…Can I come?”
Hell no, is what Megumi wants to say, but he bites his tongue. Tsk. You’d probably like to see Yuji—Nobara too. 
“Fine,” Megumi laments between gritted teeth. “Just- don’t bother her too much. We drop the food off, and then we leave.”
Of course, Yuji doesn’t listen. 
“Sensei, it was crazy! First, it went—boom! Then skeeert, and wham! And then, and then- I went flying! Right into the wall! But it was a short wall! I flipped right over it!”
You held a cup of warm tea in your hands and smiled softly, eagerly nodding along and giggling at Yuji. He animated the story with excitement, bouncing on his toes, and his voice echoed through the halls as he made quirky sounds. Megumi rolled his eyes, finding his friend rather obnoxious, but you looked happy. He supposed that was all that really mattered. 
However, Megumi wonders if you have a single clue as to what Yuji is talking about. He surely didn’t. 
Yuji threw himself down on the couch adjacent to where you sat, right beside Nobara. “Man… they banned me. Can you believe that?”
“They banned you? That’s egregious.”
“I know, right!”
You wiggle your eyebrows before taking a sip of your tea. “Want me to beat up the director?”
Yuji lets out a heartfelt laugh. “No, but that would be kinda funny,” he sighs dramatically. “I guess I’ll just have to start going to other skating rinks.”
“Sensei-” Nobara freezes, your name slipping from her lips. 
Megumi couldn’t see what those two saw. He opted for staying in the corner of the room, watching you interact with his two friends. It was hard for him, he realized bitterly, to even look at you. So he stayed in the corner, content with just watching over you from a distance. But suddenly, the air is knocked from his lungs. 
Things weren’t supposed to be like this. 
Nobara reaches forward quickly, nearly dropping her tea as she does. She rips out three tissues from the tissue box before shoving them in your hands. 
However, Yuji freezes. His face goes white as a sheet. 
You lean forward, holding the tissue to your nose. Nobara jumps up, putting her hands on your shoulders as she encourages you to stand. “We’ll be right back! Going to the ladies room!”
It’s only when you two walk past him that he sees the bloody tissue, crimson dripping from your nose. Yuji remains silent on the couch, fiddling with his hands and looking at nothing in particular. He looks like he just saw a ghost, and Megumi doesn’t blame him. He felt the same way; however, he had the will to move. In a haze, his feet carry him to the kitchen. He finds Gojo there, plating the food Megumi brought you and putting it in the microwave. 
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Well, hello to you too, brat.”
“Just tell me already.”
Gojo sighs. “Yeesh. Everything’s fine, you little gremlin. Nothing you gotta worry about.”
“H-Her nose just started bleeding! Out of nowhere.”
Gojo seems to pause for a moment before going back to what he was doing. “Seems Nobara has it handled. They’re on their way back to the living room now.”
“Just tell me what’s going on,” Megumi nearly pleads. He wants to accuse Gojo of not caring, of not doing whatever he can for you during your difficult recovery, but the bitter words never make it past his lips. Megumi knows he is. Even when anger threatens to blind Megumi, he remembers that you and Gojo have weird dynamics that often leave people’s heads spinning; however, the love is always there, alive and apparent. He just had to know where to look. 
Gojo loves you, and more importantly, he makes you happy. Megumi knew that even if he didn’t always understand it. 
Gojo sighed before reaching for the sink and turning on the faucet. Megumi gives an odd look, but Gojo grins before tapping his ear. Oh. Right. If you wanted to, you could easily pick up on what they were discussing. Megumi imagines you wouldn’t feel great knowing they were speaking about you—even if it came from a place of worry and concern. You didn’t need anything else being added to your plate. 
“Is she sick?”  
Gojo crosses his arms before leaning his back against the counter. “She is,” he answers honestly. Megumi wanted the truth, yet he flinched when it was handed to him. “She is sick.”
How can he do that? Sound so indifferent? But, as he looks at Gojo, Megumi notices that he's uncharacteristically stoic, almost stern, as he hands him the cold truth.  Gojo didn’t like what was happening as much as Megumi, but there was no avoiding the truth and no sense in lying about it. 
“What can we do?”
“Not much,” Gojo answers easily. “We just… wait.“
Megumi can’t quite understand that. He hates this, hates waiting, day after day. You were weak; Megumi could sense it, Yuji and Nobara, too. 
“She’s outputting more energy than she is retaining… how do you even begin to fix something like that?” Megumi murmurs, his eyes finding the floor. He was afraid. You were his mother, the woman who loved and raised him and always kept him warm. He feels like he’s losing you, like a candle wick running dry of wax. 
Suddenly, Gojo reaches up, ruffling Megumi's dark hair. “She’ll be alright, brat.” Gojo playfully pushes his head back as he pulls away, a small smile now gracing his lips. “Leave all the worrying to me, yeah? I’ll take good care of her. I promise.”
-
“Sensei! I’m praying for you!”
Nobara rolls her eyes. “You’re not supposed to tell her, dimwit.”
“I know, but I want her to know I’m praying for her recovery!”
Megumi groans, stepping away from the shrine. “Just shut up, Yuji.”
You smiled from your spot beside Gojo. You were leaning on him, your head resting on his shoulder. One of your arms wrapped around Gojo’s, your fingers grasping his bicep. Your other hand reached down, intertwining your delicate fingers with his. Clinging to his arm, which you held close to your chest, you smiled sweetly as you observed the scene around you. 
You still looked exhausted, and there were still bags under your eyes, but you had enough energy to get out of the house today, at least. 
“Thank you, Yuji,” you smiled. “I appreciate it more than anything.”
He beams, giving two big thumbs up. 
“Whatever,” Nobara brushed Yuji off, stepping forward. “I, on the other hand, got you an omamori!” She presents the small charm to you with a broad and cheesy grin. It was a Kenko charm—an amulet for good health and protection from illness and disease. 
You hesitantly reach for it, clasping it with one of your hands. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to. You have exams coming up that you should be focused on.”
Nobara waves you off harmlessly before looking at Gojo. Her eyes squinted. “You didn’t get her anything. Tsk. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Wha- I got her something! Look! Show them sweets!”
You laugh, putting Nobara’s charm in your pocket and rummaging around. You pull out two other charms—en-musubi charms. Your cheeks flush a bit as you happily present them, and Gojo perks up, looking the proudest he’s ever looked. 
“Two en-musubi? Hm,” Nobara hums passively. “And yet I don’t see a ring on her finger.”
“Hey, that’s not fair!”
Nobara defiantly turns her head from her Sensei. “Whatever, just tell us how you really feel...”
“Y’know, Satoru,” you play along with a slight grin. “She might be onto something…”
“Wait! Hold on, let me buy you a charm!” Yuji dashed away, ignoring how you protested, yelling to him that it was alright and that you didn’t need another charm. 
Megumi sighs. He hates to admit it, but that idiot's right. He should get you a charm, too. ”I’ll be right back.”
“Megumi, it's okay! I don’t need another one! My pockets are already full!” 
He waves, brushing you off. It was the least he could do. He prayed for you, of course he did, but he wouldn’t say anything about it—unwilling to risk his prayers potentially being unanswered.  So, he walks, eventually catching up with Yuji. However, even with the charm in his hands, it doesn’t feel enough. 
So, after buying your charm, he walks over to another booth. He takes out his wallet to purchase an ema, a wooden plank on which he can write the wish he has been praying for over the past few weeks. 
What Megumi doesn’t see, though, is Gojo nudging you and pointing over to where Megumi stood. Just in time, you see him hanging his ema, placing it alongside hundreds of other wishes. It’s only when Megumi turns around that he notices you and Gojo have been watching him the entire time. 
He coughs, cheeks flushing as he walks away. He puts his head down before walking to where Yuji and Nobara are waiting for him, too embarrassed to look your way. Yuji and Nobara’s smiles were sincere. Yuji even offered him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. 
There were tears in your eyes as you read the ema. 
I wish for my mother to get well soon. 
-
a/n: just a little blurb following the events of wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow :p
Let me know your thoughts or if I should write a longer fic detailing the reader's recovery. I have a few ideas in mind… 
As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3
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kbookblurbs · 1 day ago
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Wind and Truth - Brandon Sanderson (Stormlight Archive #5)
4/5 - midseason-finale ass book; he needs to scrap this editor; this book simply never ends
MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW!! LIKE FIRST LINE!!!
We finally come to the end of the first arc of the Stormlight Archives and they are going to need a new name. Before we dive in, I want to clarify that I did enjoy this book! I think it tackled a series of very hard-to-conclude plotlines in a relatively good way, and I think it sets Sanderson up for success in the latter half of this series. With that said, I'll be splitting this review into four parts:
Kaladin, Szeth, & therapy speak
The Spiritual Realm plot
Azir
Book mechanics
Kaladin, Szeth, & Therapy Speak
Now first of all, anyone who's read anything I've written knows I love Kaladin - he's one of my favorite characters of all time and his journey through depression is one of my favorite parts of this series. That said. I find the whole timeline of this healing to be highly suspect, and his attempts at therapizing embarrassing at best and deeply annoying at worst. What context is there for him to go from literally attempting suicide in the last book to semi-competent therapist in no time at all? Need I remind Sanderson myself that there is no time skip between the end of RoW and WaT?
The language is also just bafflingly modern in a way that nothing in this series has been before, but we'll get to more on that later.
The flip side of this criticism is that Szeth's plotline was easily my favorite of the book. His completed arc might rise to rivaling Kaladin's (thus far) in terms of how much I enjoyed it. His backstory is so tragic (slay for the almost successful military coup though?) and I truly believed he wasn't going to make it through the book until the very last page. His moments with his father, in the past and present, brought me to tears more than once.
The Spiritual Realm Plot
This whole plotline took too long and frankly, it was boring. Watching Shallan slay her demons for the umpteenth time and deal with Formless again and kill her mother again was, and this may be controversial, not a very interesting plot point to me. She's done all this before. I feel that this book, as a whole, gave diminishing returns on her pagetime to character development ratio. I also don't feel that Shallan, with all her everything else, needed a Herald as a mother as another twist, but maybe that will be more relevant in the future. For that reason, and that reason only, I'll bite my tongue on criticizing it unnecessarily
While it was nice to see Renarin and Rlain get together, I have to admit that Renarin's POV didn't add much for me. I think Sanderson could have written the entire plotline for these two from Rlain's perspective and it would've been far more interesting since he is, in my opinion, the more interesting character between the two of them. Renarin's POV does not reveal anything that isn't already clear from other POVs.
I also just wanted more of Ba-Ado-Mishram. She was haunting the story but not present. I understand that's likely for later plot reasons, but it did make this section drag. Dalinar contributed to that but  we don't have time to get into that right now. I was happy he died though (long overdue, in my opinion).
Azir
Adolin #1 character of all time? The only one to save their assigned city and did it with 0 Radiants and the power of friendships? Nobody is doing it like him.
I loved the founding of the Unoathed and, particularly, Yanagawn's development. I'm really hoping that Yanagawn becomes a more important character in next major arc, since he was so sweet here.
I did not love that we spent probably 25% of the book in Azir fighting battles. Contrary to the opinion of Sanderson many fantasy authors, there is an upper limit on how many battles you can include before I get tired of reading them. There's only so many ways you can swing a sword or block a pike etc etc before I'm bored.
Book Mechanics
Overall, I find this concluding book to be much weaker than the other 4 in the series. Whereas it had seemed that the pacing was improving in Oathbreaker and Rhythm of War, here we were back to all over the place. While I liked that he split the plot into each day leading up to the contest, the timeline genuinely made no sense.
Beyond that, this entire book was filled with oddly YA-style prose that has never appeared in the Stormlight Archive until now. I think whoever edited this book must be different from the other four because, in my opinion, it was much too modern, not as tight, and frankly, not as good. And I know this might be controversial, but I did not think Maya calling Adolin a slut was funny. Why would she even use that word? Whore or prostitute would've been acceptable because they've been referenced here before but I found that example and others like it to be jarring.
Conclusion
I liked this book, but it's by a longshot my least favorite in the series. It was too long and frankly, some of the characters didn't even sound like themselves. I know that Sanderson can do better than this, but it leaves me a little wary for the next arc.
There's lots here I didn't cover (Jasnah my beloved, Sigzil! I'm in mourning) but this was already quite long. DMs / ask box are always open if you'd like to chat more.
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monocle-teacup · 2 days ago
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Should Earthspark been a sequel instead of a standalone? I don’t see anyone discussing this.
In ES, we got Optimus who is the same as in G1, Spike Witwicky exists (or he’s a nobody), we don’t know how they got to Earth or how the fight began on Earth, did they have selected allies, who died, what characters exist in this continuity, what happened during the war on Earth that could play a significant role in the post-war, what concepts exists?? A lot of the story is generalized. Nothing interesting, just ‘post-war inspired by G1; make it vague, fill the minor gaps, add some changes and let the imagination fill in the rest’. I could be wrong. But I love that they borrowed some IDW ideas.
New audiences are not going to understand what’s going on and not get into this story. Only fans can watch this with their existing knowledge from other continuities. Watching a standalone show as a fan kinda feels… unfulfilling, empty, I don’t how else to say it. I’m glad it’s a new idea but it’s less satisfying. We don’t know who or what the iconic characters (Autobots and Decepticons) are in this setting, they have smaller roles and don’t have much depth. Especially for new viewers.
IMO, ES should be separate from G1. Even if it was a sequel, it wouldn't save the show from writing quality issues which I'll get to later.
From what I've seen on other sites like tfw2005 and reddit, one of the only times ES gets brought up is when a person asks if it's a sequel to G1. It doesn't help how much G1 fan service ES has. While it's neat long time fans can have a "I understood that reference!" moment, there are also TF fans that are sick of the G1 pandering and want something new. ES was supposed to be that, but then it added the fan service like it knew some people would immediately reject the show because it strayed too much from the typical TF formula. It's pretty telling that ES S2 pretty much scrapped everything from S1 to the point that one of the staff made a tweet about it:
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Budget and time constraints are most likely a factor for how how vague things are in ES. However, most of the vagueness feels intentional because the writing quality wasn't up the challenge of doing actual nuance. It'd be hard to really make the Cons and Megatron sympathetic if they were shown being utter bastards like most of them were in G1 and especially in IDW. The writing across all seasons of ES operates on the assumption/hope that the audience won't question anything.
And I know people are probably sick of me bringing this up, but the show's insistence with focusing on the Maltos as well as the way they're written is a huge reason why ES never realized its full potential. How are you supposed to look at the effects of war when the main humans behave like there wasn't a war most of the time? Wanna see more of the actual TF characters doing something? Too bad, this is the Robby and Mo Show. Sure, the TFs do get some time to shine, but they ultimately take a backseat to Robby and Mo. The Terrans were supposed to be a new subspecies of TF, but being a Malto is the most important thing.
So many people like to cite Nightshade as being THE reason ES failed when the reality is that the show's overall writing turned a lot of people away. It being a G1 sequel might've made more viewers stick around longer, but nostalgia can only get you so far.
If the writing was better in S1, I'm 100% certain that ES would've been one of my favorite TF series as well as one of my favorite cartoons in general.
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skunkes · 7 months ago
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edit: ive updated dis post with links to the brushes i made, pls check reblogs ^_^
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lazylittledragon · 10 months ago
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detransition is something that should Absolutely be talked about but the idea of going into this tag terrifies me beyond belief
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nexus-nebulae · 4 months ago
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i feel like half of my posts are just hidden from other people's dashes bc like 80% of what i post is just not seen by anyone
#and i hate feeling like im begging for attention#i hate making posts like this#its just i get. really scared. like im either doing something wrong or i just suck or im not fun#i hate feeling alone and isolated it's. one of my worst fears#and i don't know what to do in these situations#i hate feeling like i have to constantly remind people i exist at all it scares the hell out of me#but also i feel horrible and stupid for just crying about nobody liking my stupid fucking posts#i don't use any other social media this is the only place i interact with people so this is kind of all i get#and i started posting more bc i thought maybe if i just do that I'll get something#but it feels like every note i get is solely for that one popular post i have and nothing else#i dont like. need comments or reblogs just like. idk. seeing the 0 notes makes me feel invisible like i never posted#i feel like exactly 5 people ever interact with me and even then it's only on a few posts#am i doing something wrong? did i break some unspoken rule i didn't know about again? i don't know#am i just annoying#i#i just#we've been so so blurry lately and we keep begging for people to talk to us so we don't forget our system completely#because we don't keep track of this stuff without external motivation so we need to talk about ourselves to someone#we lost our only system irl bc they turned out to be a predator and now we have nobody to talk about system stuff to#i just . want a friend to talk to#i just want to talk to anyone
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ultramarine-spirit · 7 months ago
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I'm sorry, Mari, I know you don't want to talk about it anymore, but why is it so problematic to repost other photos? I feel like one of the biggest reasons people do it is because they don't know why. I understand that you can't publish images of chapters that have to be paid for like webtoon or merch (although I don't know why either) but wmmap has already ended years ago so I don't understand what the problem would be.
Yeah, it's as you've said, firstly, because most of it is paid content. That's why you'll see that manhwa accounts on Twitter almost always post proof of them having purchased the chapters. Secondly, because this fandom has a huge reposting problem in general (art, fics, translations, edits, etc). For "regular" pictures I have less of an issue, but if it's "exclusive" content, I feel like I'm already edging the line of what is respectful to publish/leak. Yes, there are hundreds of illegal uploads of the manhwa, but that's not something I wanna promote. I wanna encourage people to support the author. Spoon has also spoken about this a bunch of times. But I guess some people might disagree with my stance.
Let me put it like this. When I stay up until 5am to watch a Chinese stream and get news about the donghua, and people immediately repost the pictures without keeping my @, it's tiring. When I spend my own money to attent Spoon's art class (at 3am), take notes, work with Japanese and Chinese fans/friends to provide English fans a translation and summary, and people immediately repost it without asking, it makes me wonder why I even bother. The last thing I want is to sound all "oh, woe is me" though, that's why I haven't spoken about this many times (I believe this is the second time in 4 years I bring it up).
For pictures that have translated content (such as what Lithi does), I think it's way worse, because you are basically "stealing" their labor without any credit. Fan translators already operate in a grey area, legally speaking. There has been a lot of drama in the fandom around this subject, and in general, translators hate to see their work reposted. Most of them have deleted their translations because of this (Ever wonder why you can't find fan TLs of the novel very easily anymore? Lithi has also deleted a bunch of her novel posts and I don't blame her). Sure, reposting a single picture/page might not be big deal, but this has happened a million times.
And then there are instances when people straight up copy posts word for word, pic for pic, which is just kinda annoying/comes across as clout-chasing. Not reposting other people's posts is kind of online etiquette.
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moe-broey · 8 months ago
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It is so fucking dire. My dream. Of Summer Sharena. Over. Sniped. By my most hated banner of all fucking time. I have so many problems. This is going to be torture. Crafted for me, specifically. She is undeniably adorable. A duo w Veronica is undeniably adorable. This is like a Saw trap to me. I'm dying in a fucking Saw trap right now.
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starpros-sunshine · 11 months ago
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I used to be funny you know? I used to have good humour and now every time I try to crack a joke I just feel awkward like I could've gotten that one delivered so much better. Smitten with the curse of not being able to be serious while also being horrible at being silly. If you ask me I'd rather be smitten with other curses but such is life I suppose.
#people say I'm funny but when have I ever made anyone genuinely laugh is the question you know?#it's horrible when most of your idols are comedians or well rather actors that got famour through comedy and fictional characters who are#just funny in their own way and it's one of the most desirable qualities in a person don't you know#a good sense of humour is very important it's just a shame I don't really have it#I wish I knew how to make people laugh I really do#I'd hate to be boring on top of all my pthwr personality deficits#the awkwardness I can live with the theatrics I can accept and the lame humour i don't like but what other choice remains#but boring no I don't want to be boring#nobody ever talks about me though and I don't like that#not even negatively#i hate that i really do#everyone just thinks I'm nice I'm just nice and nothing else I'm a footnote in a world full of interesting people I'm the nice one#that you don't have an opinion on except “nice''#thats why I'd be happy about anon hate to an extent because that means someone thought about me#i always think about how once I'm dead I'll just vanish and I don't want that#i want to leave /something/ in this world I don't want to live my life being an afterthought and then be forgotten in death#i don't even mind being lame but I just don't want to be nothing#my head hurts again I should stop thinking ugh this is what happens when you sit in silence for too long#oh i don't know I guess it really is just the fact that when you constantly look at the stars and want to reach their light it's hard#to deal with the way that you're stuck on the ground and will never even get close no matter how hard you try#but such is life I suppose there's no use in lamenting the spilled milk#delete later
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double--cross-d · 3 months ago
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#vent#I think the reason I've been so hesitant to share my art or be satisfied with it is because#no one really likes it#I mean I get likes and the occasional comment but the only reblogs I ever get are from myself and one other person#And I get that I'm creating for myself and it's rude to ask people to reblog but#do you know how demotivating it is to see a reblog get more notes than your art?#to see fan works made in under an hour get more attention than stories you've spent months crafting?#God I know I'm fucking evil for wanting just a little attention but I'm just tired#I haven't even posted art of my newest characters because I know nobody would give a shit#I've been stalling on posting a story for a year because I just can't find the motivation because no one would care#I see artists I follow and look up to post their personal stories and get so many notes and asks about it#enough to make their own ask blogs and comics and get fan art#but when I post my own stories I get like 5 notes at max#I'm just so sick of it#Why should I bother showing my art to anyone if no one gives a shit#It'd be better if I just deleted my fucking art blogs because I'm the only one who cares about them at this point#I just want validation that what I'm making isn't complete shit but I'll never get that because no one reblogs anyone that begs#I only have like 3 people to confide in#meanwhile my sister has entire fandoms supporting her projects#I don't know man I don't want to dwell on it but I just can't bring myself to create anymore#my motivation is gone#I shouldn't care this much I know
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strikersin · 6 months ago
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I also just hate that the idea of being delusional could land me in so much hot water down the line, I don't want to be disregarded and sent away. I don't want to lose the kids I don't even have because of someone else's judgement. I just want to paint when I'm 40. I'm probably dealing with enough grief by then and it's just day to day. Trying to live in the moment and do my best
#and i just can't forgive you guys for that... even though it's not real and hasnt happened#i guess maybe what i can't do is forgive mys— was i about to type myself? hold that thought#i was going to say i can't forgive my parents and it's pinging off that very polished shield because i never let myself feel angry about it#in the first place. you know? i skipped straight to acceptance because no amount of bargaining was going to get me out of that situation.#ok. ok. no it's my bad. I'll take whatever comes out of this. <- even this is extremely reductive. i need an echelon of words to regard—#even the subject.#um. but maybe it's actually that I can't forgive myself for being in that position in the first place. for bringing that situation on myself#...#and i can't forgive myself for whatever I will do that will bring about this hypothetical future loss and excursion into pain and loneliness#if i just kept everything to myself and never let anyone in then nobody would ever... i mean nothing like that could ever happen#and that's what I did the first time. extreme isolation. ask me how it went#but sharing nything still feels like <cosmic boom> it's so calculated and careful and... is it? i can't say anything. i can't even look at-#myself.#anything that would upset my dad has to be thrown out the window. anything that would endanger my family is gone. it just. has to be.#my entire me is just... smoke waiting to go up in flames. that's nonsensical#i want to go home. i want to be 5 years old but actually three. and i want my older brother to not be angry with me.#i miss Chiron i miss Paulie i miss... the fluid nature of things. and light. i miss you stupidhead. i want to go home.#anyway ok that's enough for this entry!#but yeah i never could forgive myself if i *brought it on myself* nd more importantly. can't stress this enough. on us#it doesn't even matter if i am crazy if i need help because. that in itself endangers the family. do you see? so i can't have it
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featherymainffins · 8 months ago
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Family is clearly just prolonging my and my mother's misery by forcing me to text her on special occasions and send her gifts, which is giving her false hope that her only boxing bag might come back and endure whatever she decides to take out on it again.
#if it were up to me I'd block her number and never even hear anything about her again#she made her choices and I swear to god i tried to be a good daughter and take them#when university told me that we should try to stay in contact with people in cults because it's much harder to get out without#a support system i tried to take it because of that if nothing else. i told myself that I'll take it. that I'll take it because maybe one#day she'll want out. i tried to.#maybe I didn't try hard enough I don't know. and if that's right then the universe can add it to my endless list of sins which makes me#not a human. the universe can add it to the list of reasons for why I'll never lead a happy life and why I'm better off dead.#that's what I've been told when i was growing up after all.#i tried to but it's just. it's her life or mine. and if she were mean just to me I'd let her take it. if it were just me I'd let her say all#those horrible things to me and I'd stand there and let her punch my limbs until they go numb like i always have#and I'd let her tell me that nobody will ever love me and I'd let her do her invasive checks of my body and I'd let her have those#episodes of searching through my entire room and breaking into my accounts to see if I'm saying anything about her ever to anyone#and calling my doctors and telling them that I'm crazy and not to believe a word i say.#I'd let her do all that as i always have. but she's horrible to my friends and horrible to strangers and it's just too much for me.#I don't want to hear that my friend killed herself in vain and I don't want to hear that you'll never use her name because#'it was just a year before he offed himself so it doesn't count.'#I don't want to hear any of it. i don't want to hear that all my friends hate me and I don't want to hear how horrible they are#and i don't want to hear slurs you use against them and I don't want to hear you say those things about random people you#meet on the street and i don't want to hear you passing moral judgement on strangers because of the way they do their hair#or the way they dress or the way they were born.#I don't want to hear that all my friends with tattoos are rotten and that cancer awaits them as punishment#I don't want to hear any of it. I'm sick of it. i don't want to hear 'youre a censoring bootlicker' whenever i say that i would like you#to tone it down. 'its my opinion. i have a right to free speech.' free speech is not saying that my friends should die.
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teaboot · 2 months ago
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Sometimes at work it's not my place to tell people the things I want to say, and I find I often go home at the end of the rougher days to stand blankly in my shower and tell myself over and over what I wish I could pass on.
This accomplishes very little, and mostly just gives me a tension headache, but through it all I think I've narrowed myself down to a few solid things I'd like to tell people the most.
You can't change people. Not permanently, not for anythig. You can support them, encourage them, love them, give them tools and opportunities and resources, but you can't make them change. They can change themselves if they want to, but they have to want to, and they have to want it for themselves, because they're the only one that's certain to be with them forever.
For better or worse, you make your own choices, and blaming bad choices on others doesn't only work to absolve you of responsibility- it also robs you of control. Because if you say you only did something because I did something, then you arent only shifting blame- you're admitting that you cannot control yourself, that you cannot truly make choices for yourself, that other people can control you- and as long as you truly beleive that, you'll keep facing the same problems over and over. You'll keep letting others dictate your choices, because you'll beleive that they can, and you'll never be free.
White knights on horseback are from fairytales. Nobody can help you if ou're not willing to help yourself. To try, to put the dirty work in, to belive you're worth that effort- Act as though nobody is coming to save you. From a struggle, from pain, from bad relationships, from yourself. And when you do save yourself, because you will, because failure here isn't an option if you want to survive, you'll never find another dragon that can keep you prisoner.
Don't say anything to anyone that you wouldn't want them remembering forever.
Doing the right thing in bad circumstances is hard. It's the hardest thing. But if you make the choice to do that hard thing anyways, despite your fear, you'll go on the rest of your like knowing that you're the sort of person who did something.
The present only seems the hardest because the past I over and the future hasn't happened.
There's so much joy ahead of you, the kind you can't possibly understand until you see it yourself.
The responsibility of consequences is often disguised as the power of permission. "I won't do this if you help me", "I'll work on my anger if you do this for me", "I promised you I'd quit, but can I have just one?". The unspoken question is, "Can it be your fault if this goes badly?"
You cant make someone love you the way you need to be loved. Someone can love you very much and still be bad for you, even if you love them very much in return. Two people can love each other very, very much, and try their very best, and still be wrong for each other.
Sometimes being near to someone changes you, even in good ways, and the people you become don't fit together as well as the people you were.
Caring takes work. Even if it's real. Especially if it's real. And the most important gestures aren't the grand, poetic, songs-and-flowers-and-tears moments; they're getting out of bed even though you don't want to. Paying attention to things you don't enjoy. Scrubbing pans, or opening a window, saying "thank-you", or helping carry groceries into the house. The small things fill the big things- without the small, boring, mediocre things, big things feel hollow.
Thrre is honour and dignity in humble work.
If you are a cruel and spiteful person, then you will find every place you visit to be full of the same cruel, spiteful people. This is not because the world is as cruel as you, but because everywhere you are, you will be disliked. This is the curse that comes with being persistently cruel and spiteful.
If you are a kind and ppsitive person, you will repeatedly encounter kind and positive people, because as they grow familiar with you, they will be happier to have you near. This is the reward of being a kind and positive person.
When splitting paths with loved ones, briefly or forever, aim for your last words to always be "I love you".
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lovelettered · 2 years ago
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#i usually put this kind of stuff in the drafts so you don't need to read it. go ahead if you want i don't care just like. don't respond lol#but this is just for me to vent publicly so it feels like the thoughts went somewhere#my sister's best friend's mom just got put in hospice and they say she has about 3 more days#and i could hear my little sister bawling when my mom told her and it's breaking my heart#they're barely teenagers they're too young for this#and my mom's trying to write an email to the father and she can't fucking do it. i wanna help but she doesn't want any which i get#i can hear my sister either giggling or crying in her room right now i can't tell which but it sounds more like laughing. i hope it is#my mom and my sister are going to do to the hospice room to say goodbye to her i think tomorrow#and i really just want to be able to hang out with my sister bc i know it's gonna be really scary for her after but i have to work#if one person complains about their problems to me at work tomorrow i'm gonna get fucking fired for what i do next#that's probably not true but i'm gonna feel like it#i don't know this woman but i know my sister loves her and my mom is friends with the father so i mean i'm not really grieving but they are#and i wish i knew what to do#at least this was somewhat expected like she was in the later stages of her cancer but i don't think anyone was thinking it would happen no#i don't know if i should post this. i want to because i have so many posts like this in my drafts and it never makes me feel any better#but i don't like sharing ultra personal stuff like this especially about other people even if nobody knows who i am#i'll post it for now but i'll delete it later. i just need it to be out there a little bit so there's proof it exists#i think this is something i should be adding trigger tags for?#tw cancer#tw death#tw grief#shut up hanna
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cumironi · 4 months ago
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warning. fem! reader, daddy kink! toji, fingering, degrading, you give him viagra.
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toji fushiguro has never felt this way before in his life. he’s always been a sexually charged man— always had a high libido, but this? this is becoming ridiculous. he’s not sure what the cause of it is, but he’s sitting at his desk at work. his fingers mindlessly type away at the keyboard, hand fiddling with the mouse, but his thoughts are only on one thing.
why on earth is he feeling so hot? fuck, and why is his cock so hard? why are beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead? he glances at the clock feverishly, muttering a curse to himself as he realises he’s only two hours into an eight hour shift. fuck, what does he do? what does he do?
the first thing he can think of is you, grabbing his phone with slightly shaky hands as he opens up your contact and presses on the call button. he glances around, making sure nobody in the office is close enough to hear, and listens to it ring. the moment you pick up, you hardly get a greeting out before he’s hissing into the receiver.
“alright, ya’ fuckin’ brat, what’d ya do?”
your response on the other end is a stifled giggle and a denial of responsibility on your part. he curls his upper lip, knowing immediately that that laugh means you do have something to do with this.
“don’t fuck around with me, girl, i know it’s your doin’. now tell me, what did you do, why is my cock so damn hard right now?”
you let out another small giggle, shaking your head even though he can't see you through the phone. you lean back against your pillows, stretching out comfortably as you reply in a light, teasing tone. “aw, poor baby. having some... trouble down there?” you ask innocently, drawing out the last word for emphasis. you can practically picture the scowl on his face, which only makes you grin wider.
“maybe if you're a good boy and beg nicely, i'll tell youuu..” you trail off suggestively, enjoying the power you seem to have over him in this moment. a thrill runs through you at the thought of reducing such a strong, confident man to pleading for relie— and all from the comfort of your own bed, no less.
he grunts, rolling his eyes at your innocent act. how you think you can fool him, he doesn't know. maybe because you're so fucking young? whatever the reason, it's working. he feels his cock throbbing in agreement with your suggestion, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
“beg, huh? alright then, princess,” his voice drops to a low purr, “on your knees for me, sugar. show me just how much you want to help your big bad toji.” he chuckles, shifting in his seat as he waits for your response. he knows you won't disappoint— not when there's fun to be had.
you smirk to yourself, quite pleased with how easily you've gotten under his skin. you sit up straighter, crossing your legs primly as you respond in a sweet, sing-song voice.
“ohhhh toji, you know i'd love to! but...” you draw out the word dramatically, “...i don't think i will. after all, i'm comfy right where i ammm.”
you giggle again, delighting in the frustrated noise he makes on the other end of the line. you can almost feel the heat of his glare through the phone, and it sends a delicious shiver down your spine.
“besides, didn't anyone ever teach you it's rude to make demands? if you wanna play, you gotta learn some manners first,” you punctuate your words with a wink, even though he can't see it.
his eyes narrow, the annoyance clear in his gaze as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “well isn't that just fucking rich? demanding manners from someone who clearly hasn't learned them yet themselves.”
he lets out a huff, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. but despite himself, he can't help but smile at your antics. “fine then, brat. how ’bout this? how ‘bout i give you a little taste of what you're denying me?”
there's a pause as he takes a moment to adjust himself, the sound of rustling fabric filling the silence between you both. he clears his throat, his voice dropping lower still. “how ‘bout i take matters into my own hands instead?”
you bite your lip, trying to suppress the excited flutter in your stomach at his words. you can practically imagine the sight of those large, capable hands wrapping around his thick length, and it sends a wave of warmth pooling between your thighs.
“that sounds... tempting,” you admit, your voice dropping to match his sultry tone. “but i'm still comfortable here. and besides, i'm not sure how well you handle rejection...”
you let the implication hang in the air, knowing full well how much it would irk him. you can already picture the look of stubborn determination on his face— the same look he gets whenever he sets his mind to something.
he snorts, a hint of amusement lacing his voice despite the growing irritation. “rejection? from you? well, ain't that just a fucking shame. please, kid, you don't know the first thing about turning me down.”
his fingers drum impatiently against his thigh, the tension in his body palpable. “look, i'm giving you a choice here. either you get off that damn bed and come play with me, or i'll just have to find my own release. and trust me, it won't be pretty.”
there's a dangerous edge to his words, a promise of things to come if you continue to deny him. he's not used to being teased like this, and it's starting to grate on his nerves. but goddamn if it's not also turning him on more than he cares to admit.
you shiver at the threat in his voice, a thrill of excitement mixed with a touch of fear. you know exactly what kind of'release' he's referring to—and the thought of it has your core clenching with need.
“ohhh, I'm shaking in my boots,” you tease, trying to keep your voice steady despite the ache building inside you. “but you know what they say, baby... pride comes before a fall.”
you pause, letting the weight of your words sink in. “and honestly? i'm not sure i'd want to be around for the aftermath of your tantrum. seems like it might get messy...” you trail off, leaving the invitation open-ended. you're playing with fire, you know— but the thought of seeing him lose control, of witnessing the raw desire etched across his features, is too enticing to resist.
his patience snaps like a twig underfoot. “fuck it,” he growls, standing abruptly and pacing the room in agitation. “i‘ve had enough of your games, brat.”
he stops in front of the window, gazing out at the cityscape below as he tries to regain his composure. “listen up, kiddo. i’m coming over. and when i do, we’re gonna forget all about these silly little teases and get down to business.”
there's a finality to his tone, an unspoken command that brooks no argument. he's made up his mind, and now it's time for you to comply. “be ready,” he adds, his voice low and warning. “or else.”
your heart pounds in your chest at his declaration, a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling within you. you quickly scramble off the bed, your feet hitting the floor with a soft thud as you rush to prepare yourself.
“or else what?” you challenge lightly, attempting to mask the tremble in your voice. “you gonna spank me like a naughty child? or maybe you'll just have to punish me some other way...” you let your words hang in the air, suggesting all manner of punishments that send a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins. you know you're pushing him, testing his limits—but part of you craves the chaos that follows such reckless behavior.
he laughs, but there's no humor in it. “don't tempt me, girl,” he warns, each syllable dripping with barely restrained lust. “because believe me, when i get my hands on you, you won't be sitting down for a week.”
he hangs up without another word, leaving you staring at the phone in disbelief. seconds later, there's a sharp knock at the door, followed by the jangle of keys. he must have kept a spare set, you realize, your heart leaping into your throat as the door swings open and he fills the frame.
he looks pissed. and turned on. and maybe a little bit crazy. “hello, sweetheart,” he drawls, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him with a resounding click. “ready to pay for all that attitude?’
he stalks towards you, a predatory glint in his eye.
your breath catches in your throat as he approaches, the air charged with tension and expectation. you stand frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from the fierce intensity in his eyes.
“i... i don't know,” you reply coyly, tilting your head to the side as you feign innocence. “attitude's kinda my thing. what makes you think i'd want to change?” you take a step back, retreating until your back presses against the wall. the cool surface provides a stark contrast to the heat radiating off your flushed skin.
he closes the distance between you in two long strides, one hand slamming against the wall beside your head as he looms over you. his free hand finds your hip, gripping it possessively as he leans in close.
“oh, i‘ll make you want to change,” he promises darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “i‘ll make you beg for it, princess. i‘ll make you scream so loud the whole damn neighborhood will hear you.”
he punctuates his words with a rough grind of his hips against yours, the hard bulge of his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach. “sooo, what's it gonna be, sugar? you gonna be a good girl for daddy? or do i need to teach you a lesson?” his hand slides higher, skimming along your ribcage until his thumb brushes the underside of your breast.
a gasp escapes your lips at the contact, your nipples hardening instantly beneath the thin fabric of your top. you squirm against him, feeling the throbbing pulse of his arousal against your belly.
“i... i...“ you stutter, caught between defiance and desire. “daddy? who said anything about daddies.” your protest falls flat, though, lost amidst the haze of arousal clouding your senses. you arch into his touch, seeking more friction against your sensitive flesh.
“teach me then,” you whisper, a daring gleam in your eyes. “show me how a real man handles a naughty girl.”
a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, the sound vibrating through you. “with pleasure,” he purrs, his grip tightening on your hip as he pulls you closer. his other hand moves lower, slipping beneath your skirt to find your panties damp with anticipation. “seems like someone's eager for their lesson,” he taunts, circling his fingertips around your swollen clit.
he pinches the sensitive nub firmly, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. but when none comes, he smirks. “good girl,” he murmurs approvingly, his fingers continuing their torturous dance.
“now why don't you show daddy how much you want this?” he coos, leaning in to capture your bottom lip between his teeth. “bend over and spread those legs nice and wide.” a whimper escapes you as his fingers work their magic, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. you're already so wet, so desperate for more of his touch.
“please,” you breathe, the word falling from your lips unbidden. “i need... i need...” you trail off, unable to articulate the overwhelming hunger consuming you. instead, you obey his command, turning and bracing your hands against the wall. you look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes hazy with lust.
“like this, daddy?” you ask feigned innocent, slowly bending at the waist and arching your back. you reach back with one hand to lift your skirt, revealing the soaked patch of fabric clinging to your ass. “is this what you wanted?” you purr, spreading your thighs wider in blatant invitation.
a guttural groan spills from his throat at the sight before him. “fuck yes,” he growls, stalking forward to press himself against your exposed rear.
his large hands cup your ass cheeks, kneading the supple flesh roughly as he grinds his rock-hard erection against your panty-covered cleft. “such a pretty little slut for me,“ he praises, his hot breath fanning across your skin.
without warning, he yanks your panties aside and plunges two thick fingers into your dripping channel. “god, you're so fucking tight,” he grits out, pumping his digits in and out of you at a brutal pace.
he curls them slightly, stroking that spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. “come on, baby,” he urges, his voice low and commanding. “ride my fingers like a good girl.”
a high-pitched moan tears from your throat as he penetrates you, your inner muscles spasming around his invading digits. the combination of pain and pleasure sends you spiraling into a frenzy of desire. “yes, yes, please!” you chant, pushing back against his hand shamelessly.
your pussy clenches greedily around his fingers, soaking them in your juices as he fucks you relentlessly. the sounds of your own arousal fill the room—moans, whimpers, the obscene squelch of his fingers moving in and out of your cunt.
“‘m going to cum,” you warn, your voice strained and breathless. “if you keep doing that, i'm going to cum all over your hand.”
a wicked grin spreads across his face at your confession, his thrusts becoming even more insistent. “then let go, sugar,” he encourages, adding a third finger to stretch and fill you further.
he quickens the pace, driving into you with a relentless rhythm designed to push you over the edge. “let me see how much you love being fucked by daddy,” he taunts, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own growing arousal.
the sensation of his teeth on your skin only heightens the pleasure coursing through you, making your orgasm that much more imminent. “that's it, just like that, gooddd, ” he coaches, feeling your walls clench and flutter around his fingers.
a keening cry splits the air as your climax crashes over you, waves of intense pleasure ripping through your body. your pussy convulses around his fingers, milking them for every drop of satisfaction they can provide.
“toji!” you scream his name, the single syllable carrying the weight of your surrender. your entire world narrows down to the feeling of his hand inside you, coaxing every last tremor of bliss from your quivering frame.
gradually, the aftershocks subside, leaving you limp and panting against the wall. “fuck,” you curse weakly, trying to catch your breath. “what did you do to me?”
a satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he watches you come undone under his touch. “just warming you up for the main event,” he teases, pulling his slickened fingers free from your spent pussy with a lewd pop.
he brings his glistening digits to his lips, licking them clean with a lascivious grin. “but we're not done yet, brat,” he says, his voice laced with promise. “it's time for daddy to get some attention.”
he steps back momentarily, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside. his shirt follows suit, revealing the chiseled expanse of his chest and abdomen. he unbuckles his belt with deliberate slowness, letting you take in the full extent of his arousal. “spread those legs wider,” he commands, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his pants.
a shiver runs through you at the sight of his bare form, his muscles rippling as he moves. there's something undeniably primal about seeing him like this, stripped bare and ready for you. a shaky laugh bubbles from your lips, still tingling from the aftermath of your orgasm. you glance back at him over your shoulder, taking in the sight of his naked lower half.
“like this?” you ask, parting your thighs even further, exposing yourself fully to his hungry gaze. “is this enough for you, daddy?”
you watch as he discards the rest of his clothes, his muscular physique on full display. the throbbing bulge in his groin draws your attention like a magnet, its size promising pleasures untold.
“are you going to fuck me now?” you ask, tilting your head to the side and giving him a coy smile. “because i really hope so,” you added, your voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. “after all, ‘m just a naughty girl looking to satisfy her daddy.”
a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, his eyes darkening with raw lust. “naughty girl indeed,” he agrees, prowling forward until he's standing directly behind you.
his hands roam over your hips, gripping your flesh possessively as he positions himself at your entrance. “but daddy has other plans for you,” he whispers, pressing the head of his cock against your drenched folds.
he gives a slow, measured thrust, sinking into you inch by delicious inch. “feel that, sugar?” he asks, pausing to allow you to adjust to his size. "that's just the tip."
a gasp tears from your throat as he finally fills you completely, stretching you in ways you never knew possible. the sensation of being so utterly claimed by him leaves you breathless, your mind spinning with pleasure.
“oh god,” you moan, clutching at the wall for support. “you're so big... always so big,” you trail off, lost in the exquisite agony of having him buried inside you. he doesn't move for several long moments, allowing you to acclimate to his presence. the tension coiling within you is almost unbearable, each beat of your heart echoing the throbbing pulse of his cock pulsating inside your clenching walls.
“move,” you beg, finally finding your voice, “please, fuck me already.”
a smirk tugs at his lips at your plea, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. with a fluid motion, he begins to withdraw, only to slam back into you with bruising force.
each thrust hits deeper than the last, driving you further onto the edge of sanity. “like that?” he asks, punctuating his words with another punishing thrust. “does daddy feel good inside you?”
he sets a ruthless pace, fucking you with a precision that borders on cruel. every stroke sends shocks of pleasure radiating through your body, lighting up your nerves like fireworks on the fourth of july.
“you're so tight around me,“ he growls, leaning over your back to whisper in your ear. “so wet, soooo perfect.”
a strangled whimper escapes your lips as he hammers into you, the sheer intensity of his movements threatening to reduce you to a quivering mess. the sound of your bodies colliding echoes throughout the room, a symphony of carnal desires.
“mhm, oh god yes,” you moan, bracing yourself against the wall as he continues to ravage you. “so bigggg, daddy.” you reach back to grab hold of his ass, urging him to pound into you harder, faster. the sensation of his thick length splitting you open is overwhelming, sending jolts of ecstasy shooting through your veins with every brutal thrust.
“i can't...” you pant, struggling to find the words amidst the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. “i can't hold on much longer...“
a surge of possessive pride courses through him at your admission, fueling his desire to claim you entirely. “hold on, sugar,” he grates out, his voice rough with lust. “daddy's not done with you yet.”
he pulls back slightly, only to ram into you with renewed vigor. the angle of his thrusts hits that sweet spot inside you, triggering an avalanche of pleasure that threatens to engulf you whole.
“come for me again,” he demands, biting down on your shoulder to mark you as his once more. “show daddy how much you want it.” he quickens his pace, his hips snapping forward with abandon. the slap of flesh against flesh grows louder, the sound mixing with your cries to create a lewd chorus of carnality.
a keening wail tears from your throat as he strikes that perfect chord within you, sending you spiraling toward obliviation once more. the coil of pleasure inside you tightens, ready to snap at any moment.
“toji!” you scream his name, your voice cracking with need. “i'm gonna—”
your sentence cuts off abruptly as your orgasm washes over you, tearing through you with the force of a tidal wave. your inner walls clamp down hard on his cock, milking him for everything he's worth.
“fuck! fuck!“ you sob, riding out the waves of your climax, “’m cumming, ’m cumming!”
a guttural groan rips from his throat as your velvety walls spasm around him, the rhythmic squeezing pushing him closer to the brink. “that's it, baby,” he praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. “milk daddy's cock.”
he continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until it borders on pain. “such a good little slut,” he growls, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. he yanks your head back, forcing you to arch your spine as he pounds into you mercilessly.
with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. a hoarse shout tears from his lips as he finds his own completion, his seed spurting forth to paint your insides white.
the sensation of him filling you up, marking you as his, is indescribable. your entire body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your legs growing weak beneath you.
“oh goddd,” you pant, collapsing against the wall for support. “you're so deep... so full, daddy.”
the warmth of his cum flooding your womb sends another ripple of pleasure coursing through you, extending your high well past its natural end. you can't help but push back against him, desperate for every last drop of his essence.
you lean back against him, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist. the warmth of his body pressed against yours, coupled with the lingering throbs of pleasure coursing through your veins, is simply heavenly.
a satisfied sigh escapes him as he slowly eases out of you, his cock slipping free with a wet pop. he turns you gently in his arms, pulling you flush against his chest.
“feeling better now, brat?“ he teases, his voice still laced with the remnants of his satisfaction. “or do you need some more of daddy's special attention?” he nuzzles into your neck, planting a series of gentle kisses along your sensitive skin. despite the harshness of their lovemaking, there's a tenderness in his touch that speaks volumes about his affection for you.
“you're amazing when you come undone like that,” he murmurs, his hands roaming over your curves with reverence. “always so responsive.”
a contented hum vibrates in your throat as he holds you close, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. the tender kisses he plants on your neck send pleasant shivers down your spine, a stark contrast to the intense passion of mere moments ago.
“i think i might need a little more,” you admit, tilting your head to grant him better access. “just to make sure all that pent-up energy is drained away properly.”
you thread your fingers through his hair, guiding his lips to the crook of your neck where you know he loves to suck and bite. “and maybe some cuddles afterwards,” you add, a playful glint in your eye. you press yourself even closer to him, savoring the solid warmth of his body against yours. your fingers finding his nipple, pinch the hardened bud in between.
a low chuckle rumbles in his chest at your request, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “cuddles, huh? you're really milking this ‘needy’ thing for all it's worth, aren't you?”
he captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your gasp as his tongue delves into your mouth. the nip of his teeth on your bottom lip has you whimpering into the embrace, your fingers tangling deeper in his hair.
breaking the kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, pausing to suck a dark bruise into your skin before moving lower. “as for that pent-up energy,” he murmurs, his hot breath washing over your collarbone, “daddy's got just the thing.”
he drops to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushes them apart. “spread those pretty legs again for me, sugar.”
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barleyo · 6 months ago
Text
Consequence.
Adoptive Dad! Enji Todoroki X Fem! Reader (smut)
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A/N: nobody asked for this but idc :3 i wrote this as a b-day present for myself!! i luv this old abusive man so bad oh my god!!! nasty old man who tries to be good but fails so miserably :3 old man who is just MEANT to be awful and abusive and gross!! luv it!!! i wanted to do a full on incest fic w him but idk if anybody would be interested >_< just let me know!!
Tags: adoptive-incest (daddy-daughter), age gap (18-50s), p in v, purity, sexual abuse mentions, loss of virginity, allusions to physical abuse, size difference, creampie, gross nasty stuff in general
Wordcount: 1.6k
Once all of his kids had given him a final 'fuck you' and left him on his own, Enji felt the pressure of loneliness crash down on him. Being on top in the hero rankings was worthless to him when he came home to an empty house. Every second he sat alone in his house, he realized that it was simply too big for just one man. It had never been a home, only a house where a fragmented family resided. Only once his kids fled did that realization hit him. 
He needed to fill the space and quick, and more than that, he needed to start over. He wanted to redeem himself somehow. Whole new family for a whole new man. 
But dating was hard at his age, and all the decent women were taken. Only fame-chasing whores were interested in him at this point, and he couldn't blame them. What the hell else did he have to offer? No woman would want to be with a tired, emotionally constipated, divorced, middle-aged man. Nor would any want to have kids with one, especially not at his age. 
Adoption it was. Simple enough. Plenty of kids in the system. Plenty of needy little brats that could benefit from his new-found, new-wave parenting tactics that he read up on in his abundant spare time. 'Don't abuse your kids.' Who would've thought it? Crazy. 'Top ten reasons why your kids won't visit you when you're in the nursing home.' Well, shit. 
He knew he had to go older. He would be absolutely damned if he would take in a toddler, or worse, a tween. He wasn't ready to raise anyone— he needed something already broken in for the most part. 
17? Yeah, that should be fine. He could do that. Old enough to take care of itself for the most part. Another body in the house was what he needed, not another responsibility. A girl? Yeah. Girls were supposed to be easier, right? Girls are sweet and grateful, always considerate and willing to help out. Girls are gentle and tender. 
Just his luck. He got the most clingy girl the foster care system had to offer. It was, at most, a bit irritating for the first few days when you were skittish and nervous around him all the time, but he understood. The problems occurred when you started to get comfortable.
He thought he wanted an affectionate little thing, especially considering the radio silence he received from his biological children, but this was just too much. Wherever he was, you needed to be. All day, all night. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, excluding when he was on patrol. 
Enji knew that adopted kids tended to have abandonment issues, or whatever, but did you have to be such a damn velcro child? It was cute, in a way, the first year or so of your stay with him. He kinda liked it, having some positive attention finally turned his way, but at a certain point it was just too much. 
Like when you turned 18 and decided that sleeping alone was no longer an option. Of course, he gave in. He tried to argue back, but the threat of tears from you was too much for his now mended heart. He was trying to change, damn it. He couldn't possibly not give you everything you ever asked for. 
'Oh, what's that? Sleeping in daddy's bed isn't enough? He has to spoon with you until you fall asleep? Honey, do you really think—? No, no, don't cry. Okay, okay, I'll do it.'
Or when spooning wasn't enough, and you needed to be massaged before falling asleep in Enji's arms, taking up his bed like nobody's business. 
'What's wrong, baby? Daddy's already rubbing your back, what else do you want? Touch you where? Baby— okay, since you said please.'
Every night, his thick fingers ran tight circles over your clit, strong arms holding you tight while you flailed and wriggled against him. You never seemed to get used to his touch. It was just too good. He split you open with his index and middle, curling into the spot you couldn't quite reach on your own. Every night, like clockwork. 
But, of course, you, the mouse who was given a cookie, asked for more. Fingers weren't enough. You needed more from daddy. Sleep didn't come easily enough for you after his skilled touches. You whined for him after every exchange, but he just couldn't give you what you wanted.
Daddy would do almost anything for his baby, anything you asked! Hell, if it made you happy, if it helped to ease the guilt he carried from his older four screw ups, why not? If it helped to mend the hole he created in his own heart, he'd pepper you in every kiss and suck and touch you as much as you wanted him to, but—
he really didn't think he could deflower you. 
The idea was too much, way too much. Kind of hypocritical of him. Finger banging and slurping on his adoptive daughter was well and good enough, but playing a little game of 'just the tip' was a line he didn't know if he could cross. 
It was tempting, and every time he turned you down he felt like a real douchebag, but he didn't trust himself with you. You were so small. He was anything but gentle. He had broken enough of his kids in other ways, he didn't exactly want to add to the score. 
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Your cunt was swollen and drooling after your near nightly ritual with Enji. Crawl up into his bed, whine, scratch at him and beg for his sweet touch. You always got what you wanted, except for one thing.
"Why not?" you whined, gripping onto his forearm as he curled his fingers into you from his spot behind you, lazily acting as your big spoon. 
"This is enough." His teeth were gritted softly, trying to hold himself back. "You cum like this just fine."
You let your mouth hang open, shuddering silently at how he seemed to speed up and abuse your g-spot. "Not enough," you were finally able to make out, legs clenching in an attempt to force him to stop. 
Enji huffed, ignoring your whiny excuse. He hated when you locked him out like this, trying to keep your cunt from him like some type of half-assed punishment. Moving your legs back open, spread even further now, he continued fingering you with the same brutal, forceful pace. 
"You're being bratty, baby. I don't appreciate when you act like that," he said simply, looking down at your convulsing body. 
"You always say that," you said, pushing his arm as you tried to squirm away from him to pout. "You don't wanna 'cause you don't love me. Don't wanna get close t'me." 
That was his final straw. He had been holding himself back for your sake, but he could not handle the hurt tone in your voice, even if he knew you were faking just to get him to bite. 
He pulled his fingers out of your hole and pushed them into your mouth, stuffing the digits down your throat. He slipped his girthy cock out of his boxers, jamming the wide tip into your needy warmth. 
"You know that is not true," Enji said, already fucking into you without regard to how you were almost too tight. He'd fix that. Make you fit like a glove soon enough. "I spoil you enough, and you still want more?"
You moaned, sound coming out muffled from his fingers blocking your words. He pulled them out, strings of saliva coating your cheek as he brought his hand back to your clit. 
"Jus' wanna be closer to you 'nd feel you."
He scoffed, pushing down on your clit with too much force, bringing you to the edge of climax already. 
"No, you're a spoiled brat. I give you too much," he said, not meaning a damn word that came from his mouth. "Got used to getting whatever you want, huh? Selfish little pussy taking everything it can get." 
The pure euphoria you get from him being rough with you for once is unmatched. Daddy gave you what you wanted all the time, and you liked it, but he was too gentle with it. Like he was scared to mess up or make a mistake (again). You needed him to correct you, you'd wanted him to fuck some sense into you for so long.
You clenched the silky sheets on the bed, hands trembling while he pounding into you, hips cramming against yours spastically. 
God, he was ashamed. 
Not because he was fucking his daughter, hell, he came this far without problem. He just usually was much better in bed. Your gasps and shaky moans did little to appease him. Any other time, he'd be composed and sophisticated with his strokes, but he was sloppy and needy now. 
His cock kicked inside of you, twitching when he spilled his seed. He was so caught up in his own embarrassment that he hadn't realized how dangerously close he had gotten. 
"Daddy, did you—?"
Your question was interrupted by his hand covering your mouth, unstable thrusts continuing to fill your senses. You couldn't care that he came in you when he made you feel this good.
While your legs shook and your pussy gushed, one thing was made very apparent to both you and Enji:
This was the first time he let himself go and fucked you, but it would definitely not be the last.
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