#lemme know what u think

[mistyffa]

imo, there's something about funneling that's wild in the best possible way. It strips away all the niceties and foreplay, which can be great, but sometimes you just need feedism in its purest form. As many calories as possible, as fast as possible, through the cold, almost clinical vehicle of a literal feeding tube.

It's just the effectiveness of it all. A nice, big shake, once or twice a day, and you can swell up fifty, maybe a hundred pounds in a year...

Just imagine that; your partner straddles your legs in an all too familiar way. Although with those couple dozen extra pounds on you, their stance is significantly wider than it was when you two started this routine. They lift up your shirt and lightly trace your stretch marks with their nails, admiring all their work, and making sure to point out any changes they've noticed. Flustered, you try to look away, but they grab your soft chin and make you look them in the eye. They stroke your cheek with their thumb while they tell you all the ways your face has changed since the two of you met; how your cheeks had puffed up, how your strong jaw had turned into a soft double chin, how the look in your eyes had become almost docile. Then they lean back and grab their supplies.

"Open wide"

They place the tube in your mouth and start pouring. The mix of pain and ecstasy makes the ten seconds it takes for you to gulp down the thick, heavy liquid feel like ten minutes, but you know it'll be worth it. When it's finally over, they take the tube from your mouth and plant a kiss on your quivering lips. They place one hand on your tight, sore upper belly and use the other to wipe a bit of extra shake off your chin. They slide their thumb into your mouth for you to lick up the remaining cream.

"Can't have you wasting any, sweetie"

They climb off of you and lay across your lap as you slump back into the couch. As you drift off to sleep, you both anticipate doing it all over again tomorrow...

[living-mites]

☀️☀️☀️

CHAT MY NEW WRITING SIDE BLOG <3 SEND ME REQUESTS OR STUFF PLZ PLZ PLZ

@b3st-sunday-dr3ss

[psi-tanium]

hey how we feeling about the new username :3

im still not sure about it but fakepsychictales kinda sucked booty!!!!!!!!!!! jk it kinda ruled

i could either stay as this or psi-lirium, which one sounds cooler ? psi-tanium or psi-lirium

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[scottinaussie]

Chicco Jerikho

via Instagram

[niccolites]

green cliffs: - lessons in mortality. chapter one

highlander!soap x fem!reader. cw attempted sexual assault. read on ao3 here

On the same patch of land that you once took your first step, you are dragged out of your home by your hair.

There are things of little consequence: the blinding beam of the sun, how its heat doesn't reach you, snatched up by the snapping wind. The peeling paint of your broken fence, the pitchfork that has been abandoned in a bale of hay instead of with the rest of the tools in the barn.

You focus on this, the bite of the cold on your cheeks instead of the nails that are digging into your scalp. Easier to try and distance yourself from the fear that is gaping in your stomach, instead wondering if it was you or your brother who left that pitchfork out like that. You decide that it must have been your brother, he had been the one in the rush to get to the river to catch the ��better’ fish this morning.

There are three strange men around you. You don’t know any of their names. You had seen them in the distance, the stark red of their coats along a distant hill, barely even a day prior. Your village had seemed to suck in a breath, air stilling with their approach. Now, the wind howls, the noisy exhale after that tense beat.

Trouble, your brother had warned you. Told you to stay in the house as much as you could. Tend the crops, feed the animals and keep your eyes down. He would go out, speak with your neighbours to get information on who these men were and what they wanted.

And you had done what you were told, had darted across to the barn, to the coop. Like a horse jumping at the sight of a snake before it even coils to snap.

It didn’t matter anyway. A spooked horse gathers more attention than a calm one. Your brother is sitting by still waters somewhere else, and you are here, gritting your teeth at the sting of your hair being ripped out by clumsy fingers.

Seemingly bored of dragging you, you are shoved to the ground, collapsing in a pile of skirts in the dirt. The men guffaw at you. They’ve clearly been drinking, the stench of whiskey is foul, and one of them still holds a bottle of it. Swings it around and you feel some of it catch the end of your dress. The laughs have a bitter edge to it. They’re angry, you realise, a new spike of fear shooting up your spine. You have just met these men, but they are treating you like you have wronged them in the past. Here to exact their revenge.

Soldiers, likely. One of them is still holding their bayonet, the other with a pistol slung around their waist. You don’t know how high-ranking these soldiers are, you don’t know if that would make a difference in how they are going to treat you. Worse, likely. Not even a month past and one of your neighbours had been strung up to the post, back bloodied with a whip until he collapsed. The punishment for not welcoming God’s own into your home, apparently.

Usually the English presence in your village is more official. A battalion, passing through and making sure that everyone is minding their own. There had been another Jacobite uprising, somewhere to the west of your village. Scottish men gathering to try and overthrow King George, reinstate the Catholic Stuarts. It had failed, but English law recently had become a lot more permanent, tangible in light of this rebellion.

These may be soldiers on your land, but they were operating as men. English law placed to the side, it’s overseeing eye shut for just long enough for what they were planning for you.

You are pulled up, arms yanked behind your back. Held in place by the first soldier while the other two prowl around your home.

“You know, I'm sick of you stuck-up cunts,” the first soldier hisses in your ear. There’s a twist in the muscle of your shoulder which makes you whimper. “You'd bend over for your sheep before you would us. I bet you have as well.” You can see his dark hair in the corner of your eye, smell the whiskey on his breath.

“Oh, come on, Grahams,” the second interjects, reaching over to catch your chin in his clammy hand. “She looks like a good girl. I bet you haven’t even been touched. Am I right?” His thumb pushes on your lower lip, his own mouth parting beneath the heavy curl of his pale moustache. Salivating, the way a rabid dog does before you put it down.

You stay silent. Feel his skin on yours, how he pulls your lip down. The parting of where you were and where he drags you down. Feel that ugly gap of space, an inch but it feels like a mile.

“Alone in that house?” the third asks, not even sparing you a glance. He’s pouring his drink over the edge of your field, just outside the second fence. The border between your yard and the crop you and your brother had laid down, scarcely a few weeks before. The third soldier has small eyes, and a pig nose, turns to give you a horrible, hating look. “Bet she’s had the entire village between her legs,” he sneers.

The first soldier distracts you, breath polluting you as he huffs a laugh. Tightens his arms around the lock of yours and ignores you as you grunt in pain. "Well, I’m sure that she wouldn’t mind the King’s own men from taking what they are owed, yes?”

The third man, apparently done with talking, throws the rest of his bottle over your fence and strikes a match. The catch of fire always surprises you. The match is suspended in the air for a flicker of a moment before it connects to the pool of liquor. A blink, and the fire roars, summoned into life and it eats all of the crop that you and your brother had laid on that once tilled field.

The memory of you and your brother, on your hands and knees as you planted that crop. The acceptance of exhaustion that comes with physical activity when you know it must be done and so you do it. Body connected to mind, an idea and then the yield.

Impossible to reconcile what had taken hours to do, lit up within a second. The fire branches across everything, almost licking the third soldier himself. Everything swallowed up, a horrible demon, brought by these men, a senseless cruelty that you can barely comprehend.

You howl, a wounded animal sound, lunging forward and then yanked back immediately. Everything is separate, suffocated by sensation. There is only the connection between the fire and your eyes, the conclusion that your brother is going to have to bow in that dirt again.

You shriek again, when you are stopped from preventing this, arms protesting in the twist that the first soldier forces them into. Told to stop your squealing. The second soldier steps back into your eye-line and grins down at you. Yellow teeth, dark eyes. Another demon on your land, seeking retribution in something that you have not even committed.

His mouth moves, but you barely hear it, blood rushing in your ears. Your face is hot, molten with tears. Brain and body disconnected. The socket of your shoulder is boiling, every yank pulling a tense groan from between your clenched teeth. You know that you are going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling, or maybe one of these men are going to hurt you. But you keep pulling, huffing with fruitless effort.

The second soldier reaches down, fingers digging into the collar of your dress. His fingers cold against the hot flush that has spread across your chest. A tear in the cotton cloth that covers most of your clavicle. Another shriek, ripping up your throat and into his face. He barely flinches. You are a cat with its tail caught, it doesn’t matter how sharp your teeth are anymore.

The first soldier with your hair in his teeth. The second with his hands groping down your chest. The third man, kicking your fence to get it to buckle and catch in the flames as well. Paralysis like a fist around the base of your spine. A yell that starts in the bottom of your lungs, builds until you are almost sick with the force of it.

Another yell, one that does not fully register until the soldiers take notice of it.

"What on -" the first soldier starts to say, before the rest is lost in a strangled noise. The second soldier steps out of your vision and you see what is stopping him.

Your father was no soldier, although he had been when he had to be, god rest his soul. He used to tell you about the true highlanders, the real soldiers and the swords that were as broad as they were, and how they would swing them as if they were an extension of their own arm.

It sounded like folklore. Mythology, until you see the swing of that broadsword, splitting the third soldier at the waist like the crack of an egg.

You barely have time to catch sight of the fourth man before you are thrown to the ground again, dirt catching on your palms and digging in.

It feels generous to call it a fight. There is a brief tussle between the new man and the two soldiers that had been holding you prone, before they are brought to heel. Blood seeping into the dirt. Half of the second soldier’s face thuds to the ground, his moustache halved. He stares sightlessly up at the sky, half an expression stuck and immortalised.

You lie in the dirt, watch as your tormentors are silenced, lives ended and left to pool in the soil that you used to dance across when you were younger. It is entirely unfair, the three men that were able to drag you around like a ragdoll, cut into like slabs of cheese.

It’s breathtaking, watching this man save you like it is the easiest thing in the world. He finally stills, the first soldier lying limp on his knees before he is kicked aside. You hysterically wonder if that is what would have been done to you, if these three Englishmen had gotten their way. A passage of time interrupted, snipped like the threads of fate. Time redirected.

You stare up at him, barely able to connect that your arms are your own now, even though you had been wrestling for them to be this entire time.

Your saviour, a bloody mess on his kilt and three dead men around him.

"Thank you," you manage. Voice crackling as you form full words now. The stench of gore is another presence in the yard with you. Thick, you resist the urge to gag as it seems to catch in your teeth as you inhale noisily through your mouth.

The man who saves you is silent, breath heaving out of him. He is massive, with dark hair that is pushed back out of his face. A light beard and red in his kilt. Red everywhere, actually. Staining the white of his cotton shirt beneath the crossover of his kilt, staining his skin. His broadsword is almost the same height as him, almost as wide. Metal catching the sun, glowing red as it drips blood.

It takes the man to stumble back to force you into action. You force yourself up, staggering towards him. You reach the centre of his chest, his breadth suffocating you, encompassing. You catch his bicep to right him, the equivalent of smacking your hand against stone. Now that you are standing chest to chest with him, you realise if he were to fall, you would not be able to catch him.

"Are you alright?" You ask, staring up at him. The blood on his face doesn't seem to be his, for the most part. There is a cut across his brow, leaking a lazy trail of blood down his temple and you almost reach up to touch it without thinking, before you catch yourself.

His eyes are blue. The sky brought down to you.

You almost laugh, delirious. Self-conscious under his rapt gaze. You tilt your head and catch sight of the fire again. As if other sensations had been halted under this man’s gaze, you are brought back to the present with the crackle of fire. You curse under your breath, stepping out of the pull surrounding this man, darting away to get a bucket to extinguish the flames.

You feel the ghost of a hand across your back before you are gone, furiously pumping the handle of the well and tossing the water across to the fire. It takes a few journeys, something that has your hands fumbling as you try to work faster.

The man is there, pulling the bucket away from you even as you try to stop him. He is able to swing the water further, catching more of the flames. His gait is longer than yours, but you notice that he seems to be stumbling as he is putting weight on his right leg.

After you pass him two more full buckets of water, the fire is finally put out. You take stock of the blackened field. All of it razed, deader than the men who are still sinking into the dirt a few feet away from you. You swallow harshly, angry tears pricking at your eyes. It will take a month, longer even, to fix this. You can imagine the devastation on your brother’s face when he sees this. Resist the urge to turn to the corpses and give them a few good kicks.

You want to give into the lump in your throat and cry over this, but the man fills you with purpose. You roughly swipe at your face before you face him, catching him already watching you. “Your leg - is it alright?” You ask, trying to keep the burned field out of sight. Better to focus on what can immediately be fixed.

The man stares at you for a beat too long. Almost as if waiting for you to speak again before he does. "One of the bastards caught me in the leg," he says. His accent is thick, deep in a way that has you flushing. He tilts his leg, lifting his kilt enough for you to see the gash on the back of his calf. The flesh looks torn open, which makes you wince.

"I can patch that up," you offer, grateful at the opportunity to take your mind off of the events of the past hour. You step closer, hands hovering, unsure if he should be walking. "My brother cut his arm on a scythe once, wrist to elbow, and I managed to stitch that up,” you add, even though the man doesn’t seem to care about your past experience with wound tending.

"You the village nurse then?" the man asks, reaching over to drape his arm over your shoulder. There is a moment of his weight pressed into you that almost makes your knees buckle before it is lifted. His hand stays though, warm on your opposite shoulder. He seems to be guiding you into your home more than you are. He is a hot line along your side, hip to hip. The sway as you acclimate to his walk, sturdier on your right leg as if to compensate for his.

“Hardly,” you manage to respond, kicking the door open for him to get inside. “My brother is just clumsy.”

You set him on the chair in your kitchen, bustling around for some cloth and a needle and thread. Your kitchen is like a picture in a book, just how it was when you woke up this morning. Time has not moved here, your mug is still by the sink. Your brother’s boots by the door where he had forgotten them this morning. Life before the fallout, perfectly preserved.

“It’ll look ugly, but it’ll do the job,” you warn, tossing a cushion on the floor to kneel on, gesturing for him to elevate his foot on the other chair.

“I trust you to make my leg as handsome as it was before,” he says, a smile that slips from his mouth when you come back to his side. You kneel down, a wet flannel in your hand that you cover the wound with, wanting to the extent of the damage beneath the aftermath that covers it.

You glance up at him, finding him watching you. Eyes dark now, water before a storm. You give him your name, suddenly realising that you haven't yet. Admonish yourself for being rude.

He breathes it back, like he wants to hold it in his mouth for a moment. “John,” he replies after another pause. “I get called Johnny.”

“Am I allowed to call you Johnny?” You ask, turning back to his leg. You catch sight of his chest stuttering over a breath. You tuck your hair behind your ear, frowning to yourself. You know if your brother were here, then you would not be speaking to this man so casually. That knowledge makes you feel like you are doing something inappropriate. Something to be ‘caught’ doing. Extra dash of sugar before the whip of the belt across your backside.

“Absolutely, angel. Well, dependent on the work you make of my leg,” he adds, tone musing. He seems amused by you, mouth smiling even as his eyes stay that dark colour. Trouble, your brother had described the soldiers. You aren’t so certain he wouldn��t describe Johnny in the same way.

You resolve yourself to your work. It’s not a bad gash, when most of the blood is wiped away. One of the soldiers must’ve stabbed it in, and then pulled it to the side, splitting the flesh. You wonder how he was able to stand on it, nevermind help you with the fire. You murmur a warning before you stab the needle in, threading the wound closed. A thin layer of poultice along the loose white cloth you have, an attempt to prevent any swelling before you wrap this around the wound. Tie the ends. The beginning of a thank you for what Johnny has done for you. His blood stains your hands, sticky into the crevices of your palms.

You squeeze the red out of the flannel and stand, roles reversed. He looks up at you, gaze reverent in a way that makes you faintly embarrassed. “The cut on your brow doesn't seem as bad,” you murmur, half-excusing yourself. You’re not doing anything untoward, but you feel the need to pre-emptively explain yourself. 

You wipe the blood on his face away, other hand hovering uncertainly, before you cup his chin. Hold him in place as you clean him up. It's something that you think would be normal, but feels outrageously intimate with how hot his gaze is on your face. Swallow and watch as his eyes drop to observe your throat move.

You avoid his eye, difficult when you can see that flash of blue darting around. You feel swallowed up by it. His attention feels like the sun has finally reached you, reaching through the wind to land on your skin. Scalding where his eyes land. You’re suddenly aware of the rip in your bodice, how it looks like you are bending over to show him the view down your chest. You snap up straight when you realise that he is looking.

You’re being ridiculous, you decide. This is the man who saved you from those horrible soldiers. A fate worse than death, most likely. Raped, murdered and burned most likely.

The cut on Johnny’s brow as stopped bleeding. “I think you’ll live,” you pronounce, voice falling flat at the end.

Another gap of quiet. Standing over a man who saved you, his blood on your hands. Three dead men in your yard. The burned crops, that smell wafting in, ruin and death.

“You live here alone?” He asks, accent catching on the ‘o’ sounds.

“No, my brother…he's away, fishing,” you explain.

Johnny barely seems to hear you, hand on your wrist. Thumb on your pulse, like he's listening to more than your words. “There may be more soldiers,” he says, gaze dragging away from you to the window. Darting back again as if he can barely stand to not be looking at you. “We have to go.”

You stammer, something in your spine locking at the idea of leaving your home. “I can't, no, this is my home - my brother - Ian - he’ll be -”

Johnny stands, a wall of muscle in front of you. The size of him silencing you. “There are English men dead on your land,” Johnny tells you, fierce suddenly. The snap of teeth. “Now, they may not believe that a sweet thing like you could do this, but they’ll make an example of you anyway.” His words blow the air out of your lungs, a shudder in the shape of a breath. You think about what he’s saying. You, on that post with your back whipped until everyone can see beneath your skin. Saved from the lawless and delivered to the law, the punishment eerily similar.

You shiver, fear worming through you. The scowl on his face smooths out, and he reaches up and cups your face. Sticky with gore, you can feel the print of hands left on your cheeks. “We have to go,” he repeats, firm. The full force of his will is something to bow to.

Your shoulder twinges, familiar with that sensation of being caught and forced into position. You twist your mouth, that ignored lump in your throat making itself known again. You blink up at Johnny, blood in the light beard across his face. The blood of the men who hurt you. Offering to save you. Again.

Your saviour is a stranger in your kitchen, and when you murmur your assent, he smiles like a wolf.

[valeriapryanikova]

goretober 23 : decapitation | hermithorrorweek 1 : game mechanics

[impala-dreamer]

My mother just called to ask for part 2.

Anyone else? 😆

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INSTAR MEDITATIONS by Rebekah Jordan

Young women around the country are going missing and the only one who seems to care is unlucky FBI agent Nora Hammond. Not even her partner, ladies' man Jason Carter, thinks it's worth looking into.

Meanwhile, the TruLove Corporation has a new line of luxury sex dolls that will truly love you back - for a price. When the dolls start attacking their owners, the FBI is called in to investigate and things with Nora and Jason get a little sticky...

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[bellaheartly]

it's all my fault. ↳ h2o: just add water ✧ rikki chadwick in bad moon rising.

[fruittt-punchhh]

Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad’s best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can’t help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader. Choso Kamo is mentioned, not a major part of the story.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! afab! reader, fem! reader, dad’s best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/affectionate names, no smut yet 🫶

Word Count: 2.2k-ish

Notes: friends!!! This is my first ever smut! Pls be nice🫶 if you have any suggestions, comments, advice, PLEASE feel free to let me know!! I hope you enjoy hehe. (filthy smut if you’re down for that in pt. 2 trust) excuse any typos, proofread a bunch but I’m also human. 💖

It had been a terribly long week already, and it was only Thursday. You were on spring break from university, and you had spent most of the week catching up on overdue assignments.

You were staying with your father, as well as your brother, and your father’s best friend. He had a condo at the beach that wasn’t too far from your university, so it worked out well.

You had just finished your final essay for philosophy 200, closing your laptop with a snap! as you rub your eyes. It was nearing 3:30 a.m. but you still felt so much residual stress from the paper. You had a joint ready and waiting for you, and a hit or two couldn’t hurt, right? Enough so you could relax, maybe grab a snack, and hit the hay. You open your bedroom window, creeping out onto the balcony to let your worries fade away.

————————————————————————

You throw your leg over the window sill, trying to keep your balance. You lowkey had the munchies so you head to the kitchen before you retire for the night. Until you are met with a surprise.

Your father’s friend (you think his last name was Fushiguro?) has been gone all week for “work”. You noticed him coming in at odd hours of the night, looking worse for wear.

“What are you starin’ at, doll?” Toji says as he looks for a shirt in the laundry room.

You feel your cheeks turn red as you try to quickly avert your eyes. You wore nothing but a large t-shirt as you crept into the kitchen, hoping you wouldn’t wake your father.

You thought you heard Toji come in maybe an hour earlier, but you couldn’t know for sure. Here he stood, fresh out of the shower with nothing but a small towel wrapped around his waist. His dark hair was dripping down his back and he still looked as if he was radiating heat from the shower he just took (or was that you?) It was all of a sudden much too warm in the kitchen for your liking.

“S-sorry, I was just grabbing a snack. I’ll be quick,” you stammer. You had only ever seen Toji a few times, and you didn’t remember him to be this… attractive? You didn’t know if that was even the right word. In this moment, you felt attracted to him, sure. But you also felt small and helpless. As if he could pierce through you with his gaze alone. You truly didn’t mean to stare, but you also didn’t expect anyone else to be in the kitchen at 4 a.m., either.

He interrupts you with a smirk, “What’s the rush? It’s y/n, right? Grab me a beer out of the fridge while you’re at it, girl”

If you thought your cheeks couldn’t be any redder, you were wrong. You felt the crimson blush cover your ears as you turned around to look for a beer in the fridge. There was a (beer brand here) in the back on the bottom shelf. You tried to bend at your knees as to be discreet, but you could have sworn you heard Toji clearing his throat as you did so.

Toji slipped on a pair of black boxer briefs as you grabbed him a beer like the sweet girl you are. He felt as if the wind was knocked out of him when he saw you bend down, searching the fridge for his drink. Call him crazy, but he could’ve sworn you weren’t wearing any panties. He quickly ran the towel through his hair, trying to ignore the rush of blood he felt surging to his dick.

You grabbed the beer, as well as an apple for yourself. You walked over to Toji, and he took the beer from you with a ‘thanks’. He popped off the cap with his molars and took a big swig. You watched as the beer dripped down his chin and over his adam’s apple. You also noticed the scar covering his pretty lips.

Your eyes wandered as he finished his beer surprisingly quickly. He would usually come home covered in a mixture of dirt, sweat, and sometimes blood. Apparently, underneath the dirt and grime was a body that was sculpted by the gods. Everything about him was so big. His huge tits pecs and his ripped abdomen. His biceps were bigger than your head and his hands, oh god, his hands. They were riddled with callouses and he had short, bitten nails. His fingers were so thick and you started to imagine what it would be like to feel them on your body.

Your temperature rose as the lewd thoughts entered your mind. This is your father’s best friend! Although he was a a few years younger than your dad, he was still much too old for you. Not only that, but you were still (unfortunately) a virgin. And not for a lack of trying! You were double majoring in psychology and philosophy, so most of your limited leisure time was spent smoking to relax, or hanging out with your small group of friends on the weekends. Sure, you had masturbated plenty of times, and you’ve given the occasional blowjob. But you’ve never quite found the right person at the right time to go all the way with. You never cared much about the label ‘virgin’ until now, feeling like you might have been missing out.

Now, you were standing in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning thinking about what this man could do to you with just his fingers. The thought alone had you squeezing your thighs together, trying to give yourself any relief from the problem you’ve created.

“You know it’s rude to stare, right y/n? Especially after I asked you a question, doll”

Yet again, he’s caught you off guard. I mean seriously, how old were you? You felt like a teenage boy who had just seen his first pair of tits. You need to pull yourself together so you can get out of here as soon as possible. You didn’t know how long you would be able to hold it together without making it quite obvious that internally, you were aching.

“Shit, I’m sorry! I was lost in a train of thought, I-I guess. What was the question?” Hopefully he doesn’t catch on to your half-lie.

Toji pulls a black compression tee over his torso, giving you a moment to collect yourself finally. He throws the beer in the trash and steps into the light of the kitchen alongside you.

He flashes a toothy smile at you, “You should watch that language. Pretty girls don’t go around saying things like that. And I asked you what the hell you were doing up so late.”

Pretty girls? Did you hear him correctly? He could just be saying things to get you to squirm, and if that was his goal, it was working all too well. You hope his smile was out of politeness, but you knew enough about Toji from your father to know that this man did not have a polite bone in his body. It seemed almost as if he was teasing you?

“S-Sorry about the language, I’m just tired. I’ve been working on my philosophy paper for the last few hours and I just wanted a snack before I went to bed,” you admitted truthfully.

Toji rolled his eyes, smirking at your statement, “God, that sounds so fucking boring. I’m surprised you finished it, I woulda given up hours ago.”

You smiled at his honesty. You knew that your paper topic ‘the perception of personal space’ and your other assignments on morals and judgement were not everyone’s cup of tea. “It’s actually quite interesting, it’s about the concept of how one perceives personal space, but I definitely wanted to call it quits a few times. I’m just glad I can sleep in tomorrow.” You admit with a grin. Despite his blasé attitude, a part of you thought he might actually be listening (at least a little bit).

All he heard was bla bla bla. It seems interesting enough, if you have absolutely nothing else going on in your life. How could you even write two sentences on personal space, let alone an essay? “If it’s that fucking interesting, then why are you in here looking like a walking corpse? Have you seen those bags under your eyes? You need the sleep more than I do, hun.”

Well damn. You didn’t think it was that bad, especially not enough for some old man to point out. You had been staying up most nights trying to catch up on your work, and you could sleep in anyways. But each morning you found yourself awake at 7 a.m. on the dot, still cursed by the rigidity of your usual school routine.

“I’ve just been behind, so I’m trying to catch up while I have the free time.”

Toji peers at you and scratches his head, “Why the fuck are you doing school work on spring break, anyway? Aren’t ya’ supposed to be at the beach getting wasted with your girlfriends?”

While you admit that would be fun, there was just no time for it this year. You were in the last semester of your senior year, and you were graduating with top honors. You had to keep up the good work so you could hopefully be accepted into graduate school in the fall.

“I mean it’d be fun sure, but smoking is more my thing anyways. I like relaxing after all my work is done, so I’d rather stay here and get caught up while I can, ya’know?”

How cute. Look at you trying to be a good little student. It would almost be admirable if it didn’t make his stomach churn at how sickly sweet it was.

“That’s good, doll. Keep it up and you’ll be making big bucks just like me, yeah? What are you wanting to go to school for anyways, to be a fuckin’ therapist or some shit?”

Everyone thought you wanted to be a therapist, but truth be told, that profession couldn’t be more off your radar. You had enough problems of your own to deal with, and you certainly didn’t need to hear other people’s on top of that.

“I’m not going to school to be a therapist actually; I really want to be a professor one day. What do you do for work anyways? You always look like you just came home from war or some-“

He cuts you off before you can land a joke at his expense. Toji’s profession wasn’t the best topic for conversation, given that his line of work was very hush-hush.

“You’re cute. Next question.”

Cute?? At this point you felt like he was toying with you. But you did have another question for him.

“How come I can’t say ‘shit’ but you can say whatever you want? I’m grown, aren’t I?”

Toji shifted towards you. You stood in the door frame between the kitchen and the hallway, your apple untouched. You were too busy thinking of what to say next to the large, burly man that was suddenly peering over you. He came to the doorframe, throwing one hand on top of it. At this point, he was towering over you. His shadow cascading over you as you felt yourself shrink into the background. Toji glared at you with his velvet green eyes and a smug grin was plastered across his face. You felt his hand grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your neck was strained as you attempted to make eye contact with the taller man.

“Can’t you hear woman? I said pretty girls don’t go around saying shit like that. Do I look like a pretty girl to you?” He says as he inches closer to your face. You could smell the beer wafting from his mouth. But the smell was quickly overrun by the rest of him. He smelled like pine, cheap liquor, and…cinnamon? Suddenly, the grip on your chin tightens. His hands are so large, he’s even starting to squish your cheeks, making you look like an absolute fool underneath him.

“I asked you a question, princess.”

The name throws you off guard, but for some reason, you’re not upset.

“S-sorry, no y-you don’t look like a pretty girl. Of course not, m-my bad.”

“That’s what I thought, y/n.”

Toji spits as he releases his grasp on you, standing straight and stretching his arms as he lets out a yawn. He smelled the weed all over you and could tell how flustered you got from your little interaction. He grabs the apple from your hand, taking a huge bite which in turn means you only have about half an apple left. He hands you back your snack, pats your head then saunters over to the couch, plopping down with a grunt. He grabs the remote and turns it to some wrestling show he always watched.

You look at him, confused. You weren’t even staring this time. You were simply dumbfounded at the interaction you two just had. Surely that can’t be it, right? He’s just going to watch tv after he had you literally in the palm of his hand? (and he ate half of my fucking apple)

You move to turn the lights off, and you put your apple in the trash. Your appetite for food was long gone. You quietly walk out of the kitchen into the dim hallway. Toji calls your name, startling you.

“Sleep tight, doll.”

pt. 2

[scatterbrainedbot]

the trouble with being the one who survives is you must keep on doing it

inspired directly by @onionninjasstuff 's heart wrenching comic of Future Donnie's death (read it!!)

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

hello i had an idea once. Here is ur explanation for it

Ok goodbye

[tch8mnis]

GRAVITY - CHAPTER ONE

authors note: this IS my book from wattpad that i’ve never finished so i’ve decided to transfer it here and finish! i’ve only done the first two chapters so i have a lot of work to do but i still know everything that’s going to happen in this book so hopefully it comes together good in the end. my updates also might not be consistent since i still have things to do outside of writing but i’ll try as hard as possible! i also wanted to note that wanna give credit to @judethluvr unfortunately she has deactivated her account and i’m not sure if she made a new one but this fic is based on a imagine she did that i quickly became obsessed with so all credits go to her!! also ur allowed to have whatever face claim but i’m writing skyla to be a poc, the face claim i’m using is 6kenza on it if that helps ! please enjoy <3

summery: in which feelings are resurfaced two years later after the harsh feeling of unrequited love….or so she thought.

SKYLA laid alone in her bed, watching whatever football game that was playing on her tv. she had the sudden urge to get up and do something but her laziness was preventing her from doing so.

skyla didn't have any friends. that might sound sad to everyone else but to her, that was perfectly fine. her previous ex-friends only used her to get with her brother who was quite popular and attractive. it was hard for her to trust anyone after that, which is why she's so close with her siblings.

she wanted to go to uni as soon as she finished highschool, which was in a few weeks but she'd rather go to uni somewhere outside of the UK. just to experience new things.

she wanted to be a model. why? because she knew she was pretty. duh.

she'd hope to take modeling courses in uni to help her fulfil her dreams. she also wouldn't mind doing some youtubing on the side.

before she could even try to get up and do something, her brother malik abruptly opened the door to her room causing her to jump in fright. one she saw who was at the door, she kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes. "are you mental? don't be coming into rooms without permission like that." she scolded, feeling her heart rate go at a faster pace.

malik rolled his eyes at her overdramtics and leaned against the door frame. "yea whatever, i just came to tell you that jude is coming over so don't be annoying."

skyla then perked up. "jude's coming over?"

skyla had the biggest crush on jude, and everyone was aware of it. she made it quite obvious when she'd constantly dress up pretty to impress jude or when she’d beg malik to join him on their joint-hangouts.

she was a young naive teenager who fell for her brother's best friend. pretty cliche right? though, it was evidently clear jude wasn't into skyla. he didn't have a problem with the girl but he'd always get annoyed when she was trying to flirt with him, but didn't show it because he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

don't get him wrong, skyla was a great friend. she'd always help him with football and speak proudly of him. she'd play video games with him whenever malik was too lazy. she was great, but jude didn't like her in that way. jude was still only 17 years old and trying to focus on football as he's currently in talks with transferring to borussia dortmund in germany. he wasnt looking for a girlfriend right now, plus he'd rather just mess around instead of settling down.

malik was aware of the crush skyla had on jude and he found it funny. sure, he was annoyed his sister liked his best friend but he also found it funny because he knew they would never happen. ever. not under his watch at least. their younger sister, delilah was also very aware of the crush her sister had and unlike malik, she found it very cute. she'd always try to play match maker whenever jude came over and tried to get them together but unfortunately, that didn't work.

so yes, that is why skyla's heart is currently beating extremely fast when she heard jude was coming over.

"yes he is so just stay in your room or something." he stated watching as his sister's shoulders deflated at his words. "you can't tell me what to do." she scoffed. she loved her brother but his bossy attitude aggravated her.

"i'm older than you."

"i wish i asked but i didn't so get out of my room, thanks!" she shooed the older boy out her room and closed the door, making sure to lock it.

was she going to listen to her brother? of course not.

about 30 minutes later, skyla heard a car pull up infront of the house. she quickly rushed to the window to see the familer view of denise bellingham's car and quickly bolted out of her room and downstairs. moments before, she put on a pair of black jeans and a black cropped tank top while letting her hair lay neatly down her back. was she dressing up particularly for jude? of course not! she walked into the kitchen to make it seem like she was already downstairs and waited for the door to ring. when it did she instantly heard movement at the staircase and started walked to the front door.

"i'll get it!" she shouted to her older brother who was still walking down the stairs and opened the front door to be met with jude. just like always, she pressed her lips together to try and suppress her smile. "hi jude."

jude sent a friendly smile back. "hey sky, how are you?"

the girl felt butterflies in her stomach at the nickname, especially since jude was the only one to call her sky. "i'm great, how about you? you're good?" she went to give the boy a hug but malik already came over and pushed her out the way. "didn't i tell you to stay in your room?" he grumbled, pulling jude into a bro hug, who laughed at his friend's words.

"shut the fuck up malik, i came down here to make some coffee and like the nice sister i am, i was gonna make some for you but now, you can go to hell." she fumed and walked into the kitchen where she got the ingredients to make coffee. at first she had no plans on making anything but now, she had the craving.

"i'll take some coffee if you don't mind, sky?" he asked, walking into the living room with malik following behind him. skyla, of course smiled and said yes but not without rolling her eyes and her brother now asking for one as well.

while making the 3 mugs of coffee, delilah came downstairs and scrunched her face up at the sight of her brother but also nicely greeting jude. when he said hi back, she walked into the kitchen where her sister was and smirked. "soooooo..."

"what do you want?" she groaned, already knowing her sister's antics. "nothing, nothing." delilah shrugged. skyla then shook her head and grabbed the templates she uses for her coffees that she got for christmas. she grabbed the heart one and thought, why not use that one for jude she placed it on top of the coffee and poured foam lightly on top. when she took the template off she smiled on the sight of the white heart sitting nicely on top of the coffee.

"you're so corny." delilah chuckled watching her sister.

skyla scoffed. "shut up."

she grabbed the two mugs and walked to the living room where the two boys were and handed them their drinks. they both thanked the girl before malik noticed something. "um, where's my heart? you don’t rate your big brother, yea?"

she was going to answer, but she was too stuck on the fact that jude did not even acknowledge the heart. sure, she didn't expect him to bounce off walls but a smile would've been nice. “you don’t deserve a heart!” she snapped at her brother, hearing delilah laugh behind her. she then turned on her heels and walked right back upstairs but not without looking at jude once more.

hours passed since skyla was downstairs making coffee for her brother and jude. the footballer was still over despite it being around 7:00 pm. the sun was setting making a yellow and pinkish hue appear in the sky. it was pretty skyla thought.

the said girl had her airpods in blasting bryson tiller while staring at the celling. her head placed on her soft silk pillows as she lip synced the lyrics to the songs. obviously the music wasn't loud enough because she was still able to hear the harsh knocks coming from the other side of her room door. sighing, she harshly pressed the button on one of her airpods to pause the music. "come in!"

she was expecting to see malik or delilah walk through the door so that's why she was so shocked when she saw jude instead.

"oh! hi jude." she squeaked out, sitting up watching the boy carefully. jude would never come to her room on his own unless he had to get something for her brother. "what's up?"

"hey, nothing really i just wanted to know if you wanna play fifa with me? malik just ran to get us some food and i need a fifa partner." he explained, picking up a plushie skyla kept on her desk. she silently cursed herself knowing he'd might find her immature for keeping a childhood teddy bear.

"uh- sure why not?" skyla eventually agreed and got up from her position on her bed. skyla had absolutely no idea how to play fifa but she would do anything to spend time with jude without malik breathing over her shoulder.

"literally, this is fucking bullshit!" skyla whined after jude scored again. she took a look at the scoreboard. 6-2 and everyone can guess who scored the 6 goals. jude laughed as he enjoyed winning. jude always liked to win no matter what he was playing at. it didn't matter and that was one thing skyla liked about him. soon, a whistle sound effect came from the game signaling that it was fulltime and it was quite clear that jude absolutely annihilated skyla. he put the controller and did his usual football celebration with resulted in skyla rolling her eyes "you're annoying."

"nah i'm just too good." he smirked, picking up his phone. skyla just smiled, knowing he was always full of himself but she found it attractive. while he was scrolling through his phone skyla just stared. not in a creepy way, but more in a admiration way. his side profile was perfect, his lips was perfect, his hair was perfect, his eyes was perfect. he was just perfect in every aspect in her eyes.

suddenly, she felt bold enough to ask the one question on her mind. that question being if he wanted to go on a date with her. well, not exactly a date, more like hanging out with just them two alone but it was still a date to her. before she could even ask the question, jude turned his phone to her and asked a question. "do you know who this is?"

she looked at his phone and her face dropped. it was an instagram profile of one of her friends from school. one of her most popular friends at that. "um yea that's one of my friends, she's in my french class. why?" she questioned, her throat feeling tight.

"she's pretty."

and right after he said that, she saw him press the follow button and go right to her dms.

skyla then sharply inhaled and looked away. well she could kiss that "date" goodbye.

moments later, malik walked through the door with 2 big bags of food. for whatever reason, 2 more of his friends accompanied him at his sides but skyla could really care less. "i brought food!" malik announced, placing the bags of food onto the table in the living room. he reached in the bag as 2 of his other friends dabbed up jude and sat on the couch.

malik then passed skyla a chicken sandwich and fries. "here you go, see? i'm a nice person." he proved making skyla scoff but still thanking him while accepting the food. he passed out the food to everyone else but all of a sudden sky heard someone curse and when she looks to her left, she see fries all over jude's lap and the floor.

"for fuck sakes!" he groaned throwing his head back as his friends laughed. skyla felt bad so she did the only thing that came to mind. she extended her hand that held her cup of fries towards him. "here, you can have mine." she offered making jude and malik's head whip towards her.

"seriously?" he asked, shocked but still taking the cup from her hands. she shrugged and grabbed her sandwich that was still wrapped in foil. "fries are literally your favorite skyla." malik pointed out making her sigh as she stood up. "it's fine."

they really were her favorite but she didn't mind.

"whatever. bring delilah her food please." he gave her a paper brown bag holding the food and sat down on the couch, starting to converse with his friends. skyla walked upstairs and knocked on delilah's room, opening it after she heard the "come in!" she walked in to see delilah laying on her bed, tucked in her covers watching tv. "here, malik brought food." she placed the paper bag on lilah's table next to her bed, digging through the bag and taking a couple of fries.

"how greedy of you?" delilah kissed her teeth watching her older sister eat her fries. skyla smiled in returned and walked out the room, closing the door behind her. she started to make her way downstairs but stopped abruptly when she heard one of malik's friends mention her name.

"so skyla? she was quick to give you her fries, what's going on there?" malik’s nosey friend asked jude. of course they wait after she leaves to talk about her.

"nothing is going on, that's just jude's loyal fan girl."

they all started to laugh at their friends remark except malik who turned his attention to his phone. skyla cringed at their words. she wasn't anyone's fangirl and she's surely hoped jude didn't believe that.

"nah lads it all banter. i enjoy the attention but i only entertain it to entertain everyone else really." jude started. "i know she has like the biggest crush on me but it's nothing like that with me. plus i just found some girl's instagram, absolute 10/10 let me show you."

malik groaned. "im tired of you guys talking about my sister like im not right here."

"sorry man"

skyla didn't realize there were tears falling down her face until they started to fall faster. yes, she knew jude probably didn't like her back but hearing him voice it was a different kind of pain. “i enjoy the attention” and “i only entertain it to entertain everyone else” was all she was thinking about at the moment. she could physically feel her heart break.

the girl turned on her heels and went back upstairs, rushing into her room and closing the door. seconds later she silently broke down into more tears. she would've rather gotten rejected to her face than behind her back like that.

hearing jude's true feelings about her in that moment, made her think.

“what am i doing wrong?”

[sstrange-cloudss-art]

[gurbled-gargles]

Fairy lights in a tummy, I think it’d be cool

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Aaaaaaaand they're done too, YAY!

I always stopped working on them because I kept thinking "I can't show them until I do this-"

I think I did "that", sort of... this only confirms it, lmao!

Enjoy~