#still too scared for main tags. :sad:

[bnuydreamz]

i love you. monkey god thing from gre.at god gro.ve………..

[theultracharmingladynoire]

This has been a rant building up for a while now and I just need to put it in here but it's that. I remember the joy and excitement I felt when I watched y/o/i ep 1 - 10 because I literally. Knew nothing about the show except for the fact it was gay?? dvsjgshd but it just was so GOOD but then I. Came across a couple of interpretations of ep 11-12 (which I hadn't watched by then so I had no idea what went down) which was just people being disappointed, people thinking the ending was changed for a season 2, people thinking it was out of nowhere (especially V/ictor's comeback?? I guess??) And that really. messed up my perception of the show?? Like upto then I was forming my own interpretations of the characters and after this I. Was lowkey scared to watch the last two episodes because I was afraid of it being bad™ (if that even makes sense) and then one day even when I did watch them I didn't watch them properly?? Like I even missed a lot of scene and dialogue because I was too nervous about what I had read about it before.

And like. I don't even think those interpretations are entirely wrong for record. I understand that especially when there was a whole week between episodes and when the fandom was so huge and active people might have a very different viewing experience which directly plays into how they interpreted the character arcs! And those interpretation are extremely valid even though I disagree with them. The show definitely leaves a lot upto intrepretation of the viewers so there isn't any interpretation that is necessarily wrong™ (Idk how to phrase this sorry)

But it's just that I wasn't able to form MY own interpretation properly because I was influenced by others' ?? (In lack of a better way to word it) and I just. I've been mulling over this for a whole MONTH and going back and forth and back about the ending. And it just feels very draining when I go out to look for meta and people who had opinions similar to mine and find...like what ten people?? it kind of makes me feel like I am looking at things wrong, and that probably the finale WAS just bad or whatever (which seems to be a more common idea in what I've seen)

I do think there were pacing issues, and I do think the character arcs CAN be interpreted differently than what they are in the finale but I also am a bit sad that not many people tried to recontextualise the show in light of the finale (again, it isn't a MUST But I really wish people tried to if I am making sense?)

And it's sad because I know this can be fun if I just created my own bubble without all the meta and opinions I disagree with but it's hard when that is somehow always what I come across? And I KNOW I should stop reading a post when I see that it may suggest something towards the opinions that I disagree with (because that'll just waste my energy), but then what if I AM wrong? What if those posts are right and I am willingly closing my eye towards what the characters originally are or something?? Is what perplexes me out and really makes me sort of nervous and uneasy(?)

And now it is getting worse and I feel like I am slowly losing all the love I had for this show and it absolutely SUCKS because I just want to enjoy this silly little show and now this is all....just a mess

[lilghostiequinni]

Difference Between

Main Masterlist Landoscar Masterlist

Pairing: Canadian!female reader (nn: Sugar/Sweets) x Lando Norris x Oscar Piastri

Warnings: Fluffy, Polymory, Established relationship, Death

Summary: There's no place like home, and well, you have many, but none are more important to you than the two drivers of McLaren.

Requested: NO / yes

They pursued you first. You didn't want to be with them because it would cause too much attention, and you were scared of what people would say, of what kind of hate you would possibly receive.

Eventually, they convinced you to go on a date, and within days, you were dating both of them.

For a few months, your relationship didn't go public. You stayed in the bliss that was there with this new relationship.

It was new and amazing and great.

But eventually, you were spotted, and your relationship went from private to everyone, everywhere knew, and there was so much you were getting you could barely leave your apartment because of it.

You didn't even have to leave the apartment to get the hate. It's online. You blocked everyone and turned to private accounts, but there were still the pages of your boyfriends and of the McLaren team.

Lily, Oscar's ex-girlfriend and current best friend, helped you through your struggles, and when the boys were gone, she was at the apartment helping you through the mental breakdowns.

Your boyfriends knew of your breakdowns and even helped you through many of them. They addressed the hate many times on social media.

It didn't help much, but when a video exposed the dynamic of your relationship to the world, many in the public realized that you made the boys happier, and the hate didn't just make you sad. It made them mad about the people they thought would do this to their loved ones.

People realized that you weren't the enemy or a gold digger but a person of great kindness.

You made the papaya boys try their hardest to win when you were there.

People gave you bracelets to give to Lando, and you brought the merch between the fans and the boys to sign when they were preoccupied with other fans.

People began to respect you.

The fans loved it even more when they learned that Lando called you Sweets and Oscar called you Sugar.

It was a fan tribute that got to Lando and Oscar that made them want to use a race to pay tribute to you after your death after you were killed in an accident in your home country of British Colombia.

An accident that could've been stopped if they just listened to you when you visited your parents.

So, on the anniversary of your death, they were able to get F1 to agree to do a race on the Vancouver circuit.

A real race in remembrance of you, but even then, it was different.

Everything was different without you or the twins you were carrying at the time of your death.

The difference was one that could never be made up with you or them.

It was the difference between then and now.

A/N: From this poll. This was much harder to write than I thought.

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[wannab-urs]

Title: Crawling Back to You

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: After some particularly awful shit goes down, Javi distances himself from you. But he always comes crawling back. 

Tags: Angst, smut, more angst, reference to s2e3 events w Carillo, Javi sleeps with Gabriela (that’s the one from S2E3 y’all), sad!Javi, self hating!Javi, references to blood, wounds, rot, etc, all metaphorical, drinking/alcohol, as always: excessive cursing, me trying to speak spanish (translations provided), arguing, manhandling, dry humping, fingering, oral f receiving, face riding but while lying down, hair pulling, actual riding, Javi very briefly picks you up, that one position from s1e2, unprotected PiV, creampie, Javi crying, Javi yelling, reader yelling, did I mention angst? WC: 2130

A/N: I'm sorry? And thanks to the HBH for beta reading <3

Series Masterlist | Javier Peña Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Crawling back to you Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do

Javi has avoided you for two weeks now. He got himself involved in some truly fucked up shit with Carillo and couldn’t bear to face you after that. He couldn’t let you see him like that – completely ashamed of himself, broken. He went to Gabriela instead. He knew she wouldn’t ask too many questions, that she would let him take out his anger and helplessness and shame on her. 

When he got home that night he still almost called you, just to hear your voice. You calm something inside him, something dark and violent. But it feels like a sin to expose you to it in the first place. He’s terrified of letting you in. Sure, he’s afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of giving his heart to you and possibly watching you crush it in your hands. But what he’s really scared of is letting you get close enough to see the blood in his teeth, to smell the rot in his chest. Afraid his darkness will infect you, ruin the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. He is a bad man and you are so so good. You deserve better than him.

And yet he can’t truly let you go. Just another reason he doesn’t deserve you. He’s selfish enough to keep going back to you, to keep knocking on your apartment door and burying his pain in your body, only to tuck tail and run the second you push him for more. Most selfish of all is how much he wants more with you. Wants to come home to you every day. To cook dinner with you, to share a bed with you, to share his life with you. He wants everything you want and more and he’s terrified and horrified at the prospect. 

You haven’t called him. Maybe you finally listened to him. Finally accepted he’s not what you want or need. Do you think about calling him? Maybe after a bottle of wine, listening to your maudlin records and relaxing on your couch. Do you drink yourself into a stupor before you can make that mistake like he does? 

He dreams about you, about your body wrapped tightly around his, your nails dragging down his back so sharply it snaps him awake. He finds his whiskey glass turned over and spilled on his couch. His back aches from falling asleep sitting up. He eyes the phone. 

Fuck calling. 

Javi stares at the brass numbers on your apartment door. What the fuck is he doing here? He just can’t leave well enough alone. He pounds on the door until you answer. 

“No.” You slam the door closed. 

He bangs on the door again, fist pausing mid-air as the door swings open. 

“You can’t just come crawling back to me when you get tired of your whores, Javi.” You look beautiful. Standing in your doorway in one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. Righteous anger puts a fire in your eyes, gives a hard set to your jaw.  

“No es así y tú lo sabes.” (It’s not like that and you know it).” Javi steps closer to you, you don’t step back. “Me haces falta. (I miss you). Let me in.” 

“Oh you fucking miss me? It’s been two weeks. Y no llamaste. (and you didn’t call).” You didn’t call him either, but that’s not the point. You didn’t show up at his apartment.

“Sé, lo siento. (I know, I’m sorry).”

“No. No lo eres. Déjame en paz.” (No. You’re not. Leave me alone.).  

“No puedo. You know I can’t.” Javi looks defeated, run down. You know he needs you. Despite the advice of everyone you know and your own better judgment, you step aside and let him in. “Gracias, cariño.” And he sounds so relieved, you almost feel bad for keeping him out, for not calling him. Almost. 

He closes the door behind him and you stalk off to the kitchen, still not quite ready to face him. You pour yourself a glass of whiskey and shoot it, wincing a little at the burn, before grabbing another glass and pouring one for each of you. You set both on the coffee table and sit on the couch, folding your legs beneath you. 

“Why are you here, Javi?” He’d asked himself as much.

He picks his glass up off the table and sits on the couch next to you. You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I need you. I don’t know what else you want me to say.” 

“Start with why you disappeared.”

“Classified.”

“Bullshit.”

Javi sets his glass down and manhandles you into his lap. He crashes his mouth into yours and at first you don’t even respond to his touch, but it doesn’t take long to fall into him. You can’t deny that you’ve been miserable without him. Craving his touch, missing him so much it hurts. He’s like an itch you can never scratch enough to satisfy. A festering wound that won’t ever heal. So you may as well pick at the scab. 

Javi pulls your crotch flush with his. He’s already hard against you. You bury your hands in his too-long hair where it curls at the nape and lose yourself in him. You grind down on him and he thrusts up against you, the denim of his jeans and hard line of his cock creating delicious friction even through your panties. 

He breaks the kiss, dragging his lips up your jaw, and whispers in your ear, “Can you come for me like this?” You don’t answer him, simply grind down on him harder, faster, nearly rubbing your thighs raw on his jeans. He peels his t-shirt off your body, throws it behind the couch, and immediately sucks a nipple between his plush lips. He bites down and it sends a jolt straight through your core. 

“Fuck, Javi. More, baby. More,” you whine. He grabs your hips and drags you along his clothed length hard and fast. You feel your core tighten around nothing, and a keening moan falls from your lips as you come. 

You don’t even have time to catch your breath before he’s thrown you onto the couch. He drags your ruined underwear down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, and buries his face between your thighs. He sucks your clit into his mouth and pushes two fingers inside you, pumping slowly and rolling your clit gently between his teeth. 

You arch up into him, and instead of pinning you down like he often does, he lets you grind your pussy on his face. The hard ridge of his nose, the rough drag of his mustache, the plush softness of his lips, so many different sensations hitting you as his fingers plunge into your cunt, curling into your g-spot over and over. It’s completely and utterly overwhelming. You fist his hair and hold him tight to you as you ride his face, and he moans into your cunt. He fucking loves it when you let go like this, unabashed moans filling the room, probably filling the whole apartment complex. 

You fall apart again, like this, hips stuttering to a stop as you squeeze his fingers so hard it almost hurts. Javi peers up at your blissed out face, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, takes in just how beautiful you are. He drags his tongue through your slick one more time before hovering over you and licking into your mouth. 

You suck your own slick off his tongue, licking into his mouth as you feel him shove his jeans down enough to free his cock. He pulls back, sits on the couch and drags you into his lap. You straddle him and he helps you line up before grabbing your hips and pulling you down on him. 

You collapse forward, the feeling of him inside you is like being split apart and it would probably hurt if you weren’t so wet. He grabs your hair and pulls backward until your back is arched. “Montarme, cariño.” (Ride me, baby). You start moving your hips, slowly picking up in speed until you’re bouncing on his cock so hard and fast you can barely catch your breath.

He hitches your thighs around his waist and wraps his arm around your back, dropping you on the couch. He shoves his jeans down, stepping out of them, and drops one knee to the couch. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping your legs around his hips. You cling to his shoulders with your left arm and drop your other one behind you for leverage, rolling your hips into his. He meets you with his own thrusts, holding your body to his and burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

He’s so close, you’re so tangled up in each other, he’s so fucking deep inside you, barely even pulling out before rolling back up into you. You fall back onto the couch and he follows, still holding you in his arms as he fucks you. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, rolling over your body and giving you chills as your cunt flutters around his cock. 

He comes with you, fully collapsing down onto you. You should feel crushed under his weight, but it’s comforting. He holds you so tightly it’s like he’s afraid to let go of you. Afraid that when this moment is over you’ll kick him out and he’ll be alone again. Afraid this is the last time he’ll ever get to touch you. 

You pet his hair gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. It’s late. You’re so fucked out you feel high and maybe the whiskey is loosening your tongue a little.  

“I don’t understand, Javi. If it feels like this, why won’t you love me? What more could you want from me? What am I missing that you need?” This is going to ruin everything.

Javi pushes up on his elbows to look you in the eye. “Cariño. It’s not you–” 

“I swear to God, Javi, if you use that line on me I will burn your apartment down with you in it.” 

“You don’t understand. You won’t understand. I’m not good. I’m only going to get you hurt or killed.” 

“You already are hurting me, Javi,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him back down to you. 

He’s silent for a long time before he half whispers into your shoulder, “I’m just so afraid.” His voice breaks and you feel a tear land on your skin. You stroke his hair, drag your fingers along his heated skin. 

“I know you, Javi. I know who you are and I don’t care. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time. I can’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard I fucking try. It’s torture.” 

Javi shoves himself away from you, standing and grabbing his jeans off the floor.“That’s my fucking point!” You flinch at his volume. He pulls his jeans on, grabs his boots and crams his feet into them, already heading to the door. He turns around. “I am only ever going to hurt you. I am a bad fucking person. I hurt people on purpose and you are not immune from that just because I care about you or because I love you.”  

You stand and try to take his face in your hands but he grabs your arms and holds you away from him. “I’d let you crack open my chest, rib by rib, while I watched if it meant I could have you. If it meant you’d be mine. Stop running away from me! I’m begging you!” You’re sobbing, yelling, pleading with him to just listen. 

Javi looks at you, brow furrowed, big brown eyes shiny and bloodshot with tears. He lets go of you and steps away slowly, putting distance between the two of you. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He drops his head and closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath, and walks out the door.

He knows he will come crawling back to you, tomorrow or a week from now, he can’t ever stay away. But maybe this time the wound will be too raw. He will have hurt you too much, and you will shut him out. He fucking hates it, hates the thought of being without you, hates the way it feels like he’s clawing out his own organs hurting you like this. But this hurt is so much less than what he would do to you given enough time. This wound will scab over, form an angry scar, he will have left his mark on you. But you will heal. 

dividers by @saradika

[a-spes]

This Dream Is Not Feeling Sweet. A part of the "Devious Lies" series — Alternative Ending. (2,315 words).

| SUMMARY — Alternative ending in which Reader died, because the og ending was apparently not sad enough for some you lmao.

" And your story may have ended in a messy way, with blood, and tears, and words that will never be spoken, but the woman realized that she wouldn't have it any other way, cherishing every moment you had shared together. "

| TAGS & WARNINGS — Natasha Romanoff x Reader. Death (R), heavy angst with no comfort (and I think that's all?)

| SERIES MASTERLIST & MAIN MASTERLIST.

It was not raining, and yet the woman could feel droplets trickling down her skin. Unstoppable ones, that always came back, even after she had wiped them for what may be the tenth time.

But Natasha is firm, and she says she does not crying, refusing the comfort that some of her mates were trying to provide.

She doesn't need it.

Or, more exactly, she knew they couldn't give her the comfort she was craving, their gentleness being nothing more than a painful reminder of the things she had lost.

Their soft words could never be as significant as yours, and their embrace as reassuring.

She doesn't need it, she repeats, over, and over again, in her head but it is not enough to make the words more true.

Long ago, she was taught that pain only makes her stronger, and yet she has never felt so in pain, and so weak, at the same time.

Get up, a voice was whispering in the back of her mind, but her body felt so heavy than even breathing became an impossible task.

These words, along side with the belief that emotions, and love, were weaknesses, were engraved in her being. It is an indelible mark she had never really rid herself of, a ghost from her past that sometimes still haunted the woman.

Ever since she was a kid, the redhead had danced with Death. She taunted It, played its sick games, but she never folded, and never a tear rolled down her cheek, never a cry shook her body.

Even when she became one of her henchwoman, taking more lives than she could ever count, painting her ledger with so much scarlet that she might never be able to get rid of it. Even when she had lost some of the people she considered as her friends.

Her visage has always been marked by indifference, Death never being as painful as it was right now.

Today, as she was standing in front of your grave, she could felt every barrier she had ever built shattering, to weak to prevent the tears from flowing.

She had tried to stop them, the woman bitting her trembling lips until she draws blood, but no amount of pretending could ever be enough to stop the feelings that were hitting her. These were comparable to an unstoppable, and huge, wave that was about to take everything away in its path.

But things were different this time.

You taught her that love may be a weakness, but that it could also be the greatest thing. One that makes it worth living. You taught her how to be vulnerable, even thought she was frightened by the idea of trusting someone.

Because you are the one who taught her that some risks were worth being taken.

And your story may have ended in a messy way, with blood, and tears, and words that will never be spoken, but the woman realized that she wouldn't have it any other way, cherishing every moment you had shared together.

Two years went by since you left, and yet it is as if you were never really gone as the woman was constantly thinking about you — How could she not? You were in every night she has spent starring at the ceiling, in every corner of the compound, her memories of you being permanent reminder of the things she has lost.

Or, more exactly, of the things she has ruined because she was too scared to admit the truth.

The woman had looked at those pictures so many times that they were engraved in her mind, hauting her when she closed her eyes. She held into these as the reminder of the things you have done, as the evidence that she was right for the way she treated you.

Yet, deep down, she knew.

The women has always knew that something wasn't right with those, that it doesn't sound like something you would ever do — But don't we say that we never really know the people we are living with?

She had been so angry when she learned about what happened that it clouded her jugdment, and when the hatred of the first days eventually washed out, it was only to be replaced by somethong more vicious — Denial.

The thought that you were better without her, that she would've ended up hurting you anyway, eventually crept inside her. But the woman knows now that it was only an excuse, and a pitful one, to not admit her mistakes, to not face her fears. It is an old habit of hers that she went back to at the first difficulties — Running away.

She was scared, and as lost as when you met for the first time, and thought that, if she left first, if it was her decision, then maybe the situation would hurt less.

A false impression of doing the right thing, encouraged by the others, led her to think that everything was right.

Yet, she knew it wasn't true.

All these nights, when she had to listen to them sharing their hatred about you as if this mistake was the only think you have ever done in your life, and all these days, when she had to walk on the streets, reading the articles that were spreading lies about the person you were, as if this one mistake could erase the hero you once were, she knew that things weren't right.

Yet, her lips remained shut, and as time went by, it only became harder to speak out, the silence being oddly comfortable despite the price it came with. She should have spoken up, and at least try to defend you, but the woman never found the courage to do so.

Despite the soft promises, she had let you down, and that more times than she is willing to admit.

The woman had loose herself in her flaws, acting selfishly, and this is a crime she would never forgive herself for comitting. Especially because she had no explanation for her attitude, or at least none that would be more than an excuse for her cowardice.

She choose to act as if you have never existed, because she thought that it would make things easier, because that is what she does when her life becomes complicated — She runs away, and bury her emotions deep in her heart with the hope they won't resurface.

But if she thought that it would be easier to turn her back on you completely, the woman eventually realized that she was wrong, and that hiding didn't make any of it more bearable. The regrets she had buried deep inside of her, the ones she had hidden under a thick layer of anger and hatred, eventually resurfaced to hit her twice as hard as before once she realized that she was not hating you as much as she thought she was.

The truth is that her whole soul was longing for your presence, and she was angry at herself for that. The woman would have gave up everything she has only to see your smile one more time, to regain the comfort of your embrace.

But the realization came too late.

Two years went by since you left. Two years during which she preferred the comfort of ignorance instead of taking the decision to pursue you, ruining her own oppurtunity for a second chance.

Natasha could never forget the moment you left, and for ever this time — How could she, when felt you slipping through her arms, and your body becoming limp in her grasp. When she saw your eyes closing, only to never open again. When she noticed the way your lips stopped trembling, and your chest stopped rising.

She heard it, your last shaky breath before a heavy silence settled in, but she still refused to admit you were gone.

The woman had screamed, this day. She had begged deities that she doesn't even believe in, and pray anyone that could hear her pleas to give you back. But despite her cries, your body remained cold against her chest, and no amount of tears will ever be enough to bring back someone from the deads.

Death can't be changed, it is for ever.

Yet, some days, it was like you were never gone. From your favorite dish in the fridge to your favorite movie on television, everything was then a painful reminder of your absence. She could see your smile in the sun's rays, and hear your soft voice in the night, and as every corner of the city was associated with a memory of you, it was impossible for the woman to escape your ghost.

You were everywhere, hauting her life every minute, and especially her thoughts. She had replayed the events thousands of time in her mind, imagining all the things she could have done for your story to end diffirently. She had thought about all the things she should have said but kept for herself, all the times she wasn't brave enough to do the right thing.

You wouldn't be dead if she had listened to you, that day.

You wouldn't be dead if she didn't decide to be selfish, and to choose to save herself over yours.

She vowed to protect you, swore to always be by your side, promised under the stars that she would never stop loving you, but she eventually broke every of her words.

She should have been here, by your side, and not only in your last moment, but also the years that came before. She thought the situation was unfair to her, being deceived by the woman she loved, but she was so far from the truth. But, when the reality of the events has eventually been revealed, it was already too late.

A part of her died that day

A part of her that she will never be able to get back, the best of her, the hero she used to be — If she couldn't save you, what was the point? Why continuing when she couldn't save the only live that really mattered?

Slowly, the woman pulled away from the team. At first, she requested only a break of a few weeks, and it was granted to her without a question. Everyone knew she was affected by the events, but none of them could have guessed that it would led her to never come back — How could she?

She wasn't feeling like a hero anymore.

The desire to do good had been drowned out by anger and hatred, and if she was blaming herself, she was also blaming every of her coworkers. She was angry at Fury who kept sending you on dangerous missions despite your state, at Clint who convinced her to rest, and at the rest team who lost the only track they had of you.

The woman was sure that if you didn't go on that mission, if she had been with them, or if they hadn't fail to find you a few hours earlier, then you would still be here. Maybe not by her side, but at least alive.

Your funerals were held in secrecy. You didn't have much family anyway, and so only the team has been here. Not a word was exchanged during the ceremony, and no one dared to give speech.

What could they have said, anyway?

She could've explained what a beautiful soul you were, how she had loved you, and how the world should be grateful for your services, but it felt wrong, especially after all the things she had done.

It is when you were still alive that you needed to be loved.

And now that you were gone it was too late to repare the damages that she had caused to your heart, and reputation.

Despite her attempts to make the truth known, the world wasn't willing to listen, and the hatred that raised after the original events couldn't be undone, and even thought you died as a hero, no one is ever going to treat you as one.

The beast is dead, along with some other harmul words has been written on your tomb. When the rumors about your death eventually spread, some found your grave, but their intentions were everything but pure. The sight of your beautiful grave being damaged made the woman angry, because she couldn't stand the way they kept disrupting your slumber, as if you hadn't suffered enough in the last years of your life.

The world should have remained thankful for the things you've done for them, instead of hating you at the first occasion. If she had her reasons for the way she acted, they didn't.

She came regurarly, almost every day, to clean your tombstone, making sure that the flowers never wither. They are probably going to be stolen soon, by someone that thinks they deserve them more than you do, but it is not enough to convince her to stop.

Under her breath, the woman is whispering sweet words that she can only hope you will here from where you are. It is all the words that she couldn't bring herself to tell you when she should have, when it wasn't already too late. It is all the excuses and regrets she had never been courageous enough to share, and all the "I love you" that were stuck in her mind.

It is all the things that she couldn't gather the courage to say, at least not before you were already gone, unable to hear them. If words could heal hearts, they couldn't reverse death, and it is a lesson the woman learned too late.

[zazter-den]

Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

Comments and Reblogs carry me through the week!

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

S/O bought a Roomba,

taped a knife to it,

gave it a name tag with the name ‘Mr Stabby’,

and set it loose.

(main boys, please)

Love your stories!

Undertale Sans - One day you don't find your Roomba and discover Sans took it for a walk only to get a reaction out of the people in the street. He can't get over Mr Stabby. It's his new pet and his best friend.

Undertale Papyrus - He adds googly eyes on the Roomba so it looks even more ridiculous doing its task. It makes his brain happy to watch it clean the house while carrying its little knife. And it prevents him from doing chores he doesn't want to do. His ADHD is satisfied.

Underswap Sans - He's not sure what to think of Mr Stabby. First of all, he never saw a Roomba before and it scared the hell out of him the first time he saw it. But now? Now this poor thing looks ridiculous. It's small with a knife bigger than him. Who is it going to scare? If you wanted a guard dog... Adopt a guard dog???

Underswap Papyrus - He replaces the knife with a flower every time he sees it and now it's a daily battle between you two over Mr Stabby or Mr Flower. Come on, the Roomba is clearly cuter with a little flower, why would you tape a knife on it? The battle became so intense you're both using super strong tape to discourage the other now.

Underfell Sans - The thing is staring at him. Menacingly. Red hates it. Somehow, the Roomba cornered him and now he's shooting distressed glances towards his S/O. Help? The hell is this thing? He doesn't want it inside his house, get rid of it! He's going to have quite a few jumpscares in the next few days. He really doesn't like it.

Underfell Papyrus - He calls it Hellbringer. Now he has two weapons of massive destruction by his side. You cringe as he starts to laugh maniacally like an epic villain, carrying both his cat and the Roomba above his head. Ok....

Horrortale Sans - He's in a corner, growling at the Roomba. The thing surprised him while he was napping and now he distrusts it completely. Still, the Roomba refuses to hear his warning and comes closer. So Oak picks up the Roomba and explodes it in the wall lol. Rip Roomba.

Horrortale Papyrus - He didn't pay attention and accidentally walked on the Roomba... And on the knife. Now he's looking at you with sad offended eyes. You did that to him, feel guilty now! He's too tall to always watch where his feet are going!

Swapfell Sans - He refuses to get down the couch. This is witchcraft. He didn't touch the Roomba and it still activated on its own. This is some supernatural shit. Every time the Roomba gets close, he hisses angrily and tries to jump higher on the couch out of fear the thing will attack him. It's not funny! You still wonder how that coward is somehow the general of the royal guard.

Swapfell Papyrus - It's hilarious! He quickly understands the power of the Roomba on his brother and he keeps using it to traumatize him. His favorite thing is to hide it under Nox's bed, waiting for his brother to come in, and then activate it just to hear Nox's screams of panic as he tries to escape the evil robot. He will never get tired of this. His dream is to send Evil Roomba on live TV during a meeting with Toriel to see his brother freak out and the Queen completely panic over the reaction of her main counselor.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He's not impressed. He simply glares at you in a silent "Are you serious?" way. This thing looks ridiculous. The next day, he tells you he fix it. Mr Stabby is now covered with barbed wire and has a chainsaw. He even added an autodestruction device so he could explode in the face of the enemy. Uh. You're not sure about that feature honestly.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He met Mr Stabby for ten seconds but if something happens to him, he's going to kill everyone in the room and then himself. He insists Mr Stabby sleeps with you two in bed as it's obvious it's your adopted child. You never knew the Roomba was that big before you had to sleep with it. Coffee is very happy though.

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

<33

name: mithi - not really, just family nickname

she/they (trying out new pronouns after a random sunday morning realization.. idk im prolly cis tbh)

16

desi

lesbian

questioning demi/grayromantic

ace-spec (too lazy rn to explore microlabels)

11th grader in cbse science stream

intj-t

dni: basic dni criteria, pro-israel

rules: don't be any of the above mentioned, don't be creepy

fun fact!: i was born exactly at 11:11 p.m.

daily click!

libra sun, gemini moon, cancer rising (idrk what it all means tho)

mental: unstable, go through depressive phases, gritted-tooth optimist, generally a bit sad and numb and lonely

physical: brown skin, black hair, v dark brown eyes, 5'6/168cm, glasses-wearing girlie, kinda a face reveal?

sideblogs :

studyblr: @academicgremlinhehe here to keep my procrastination in check

mental health/vent/ranting: @thyhonesteheorte here cuz i'm too scared to be especially depressing on main

ns/fw sideblog: @thy-wench-hath-gone here for idk exploring my sexuality somewhere else, not gonna be horny on main yk

feel free to check me out on :

blog - like an actual site, not this beauty chaos

ao3

that odd melancholy feeling - current ongoing marylily fic on ao3

pinterest - still in the middle of organizing so mind the chaos!

life goals :

become an academic weapon once again - summoning pre 9th grade me n making her better

multiple degrees?? yes pls to being disgustingly over-educated

work in research + part time writer

independence

travel the world

tagging system! :

#mithi's own - all original posts

#she communicates oh my! & #com com - answering asks, tag games, i switched to the 2nd tag cuz many ppl thought i was referring to them😭

#poetic lil mithi - original poetry

#artsy mithi - original art

#mithi's marauders - all posts relating to my marauders fanfiction

#wishful necromancy - posts relating to the marauders fandom hehe get it?

#slightly less beloveds - posts about fandoms apart from the marauders, mostly pjo ngl

#on the record :) - lyric posting

#musings from thy truly - journal extracts, vents, stuff that should be in my journal but i was too lazy to write with my hand, shit posts, life updates, literally anything that has words and isn't poetry or fandom-related

#tis bout 'n' - about a friend i've known on n off since 1st grade

#tis bout 'a' - yapping about the girl i constantly yap with at school<3

#moody mithi - moodboards, web weaving, etc yk

#filmy mithi - posts featuring my own pics :)

#mithistudies - studyblr posts made until 10th october 2024 (later created my studyblr sideblog)

#save palestine - all donation asks

current read! : crime and punishment (fyodor dostoevsky), jane eyre (charlotte bronte)

current watch! : -

current obsessions! : telling myself 'suck it up bitch u've been lazy long enough', thinking thinking thinking every moment my entire being is not occupied with some other task

hobbies! : sketching, chess, photography, writing, recording vlogs, listening to music + analyzing lyrics, reading, watching movies & shows, piano, contortion & gymnastics (yeah i'm one of those sick fucks who enjoys exercise, sue me)

music! : gracie abrams, lorde, olivia rodrigo, chappell roan, cavetown, clairo, hozier, ethel cain, phoebe bridgers, mckenna grace, billie eilish, conan gray, chloe ament, mitski, tv girl, beach bunny, girl in red, adrianne lenker, lana del rey, wallows, alex g, florence + the machine, boygenius, chloe moriondo and many many more!!

lit! : solitaire, heartstopper, pjo, hoo, toa, soc, p&p, wuthering heights, jane eyre, great gatsby, sherlock holmes, agggtm, ouabh, and many many more!!

shows! : heartstopper, atypical, lotr: rings of power, pjo, young royals, dickinson, sherlock, s&b, and many many more!!

movies! : lady bird, p&p (2005), the perks of being a wallflower, dating amber, little women (2019), lotr & hobbit trilogies, thg triology + tbosas, dead poets society, and many many more!!

last updated: 23rd january 2025

[mazzystar24]

I hope I can ask you this because I don't want to ask in the tags, I'm scared 🥹 but I've seen a lot of discourse about why tommy isn't good for buck, he's cold, the relationship is toxic etc and I was wondering why people think that? Is there anything specific that started it?

I fully believe eddie is buck's true love, endgame, whatever we want to call it and I'm sad we don't have that (yet) but I thought bucktommy was kinda fun in the meantime. I just want to understand 🫶🏻

Oh hey darling! you were so sweet and genuine in your response so please know I’m just answering what I’m asked and if you wanna enjoy and have fun with bt that is completely your prerogative but I’m just offering my perspective on it

And i am warning you this is gonna be long because I feel a constant need to go really in depth in my thoughts

Okay so idk how I’m gonna break this down but maybe I’ll do it in like main points?

Also if you’re new here whenever I use bullet points I’m just doing it cos I find it easier to chunk up my thoughts not cos I’m being curt or anything with you

1. The chimney and hen begins episodes

He wasnt just passive in the episodes and letting Gerard get away with his racist and misogynistic behaviour he ACTIVELY participated in it

This includes:

• Asking if they forgot to tip the delivery guy WHILE THEY WERE EATING CHINESE FOOD when chimney first comes up despite the fact that 1. Chimney had a big ass lafd bag 2. They were probably already told a probie would be coming 3. Probably would’ve seen the actual delivery guy 4. I would bet my absolute life that question would not have been asked if buck or bobby had walked up those stairs this wasn’t an innocent comment it WAS RACIST intentionally like the entire point of the episode was to show how bad they had it

• the New York bitchiness comment

• throwing his tools down along for hen to clean up

• going out of his way to treat them like outcasts and hating chimney before he even knew him despite chimneys efforts

• the way each of them had to “earn his respect” in some way before he acted like a normal coworker to them and this was never in the typical ‘oh it’s a new person’ type of way it always had to do with their race or in hen’s case her gender too

A defence I see a lot for this is “oh he was closeted” and honestly to me that is such bullshit because 1. Eli was perfectly capable of not participating in the racism and taking chimney under his wing without getting any shit for it and chimney is quite literally a Korean man (something he literally can’t hide) and he had just got his head above water with Gerard’s racism when hen came and he STILL was a friend to her 2. Again tommy wasn’t passive in it and just letting Gerrard be racist (which would’ve been one thing) no he actively participated in it to be part of the boys club 3. Let’s say that somehow not being a dick would’ve meant that that was a threat to the closet he was in- that is still in my opinion a fucked up sense of preservation if you spare yourself the possibility of bigotry (despite having inherent social capital by being a white man in that job) by inflicting others to bigotry

Now when Tommy was first reintroduced I was like keeping an open mind and saying okay it’s been a lot of time and maybe he has genuinely made amends because I do believe in redemption but imo they have made no attempt to show us that and had him honestly put more of the blame on Gerrard for his behaviour or the writers flat out avoiding mentioning it to retcon tommy a little and hope we forget

Another defence I see is “oh chimney and hen became friends with him so they must’ve forgave him”, hen went no contact the moment he left (something the writers went out of their way to include that line) and chimney didn’t even invite him to his wedding which was quite big after the Buckley parents got involved so it’s not like it was cos it was such a small and intimate wedding and he only called him as far as we know in those years when he needed a favor, which all means that most likely they had kinda just put it behind them and kept up a coworker relationship with him, but no actual friendship or actual forgiveness or redemption had taken place

Oh wow all that was just point one and I can probably talk more on it but I’ll just leave it with saying that Lou’s comments about it being teasing or how Tommy genuinely didn’t know hen or chimney were capable etc just makes for a worse case than saying it’s cos of being in the closet (and that is genuinely a large part of why idk much abt Lou but those comments are enough to make me hate him) and I’ll also say that poc (myself included in that) have these situations so often- situations even as specific as gay men being racist to them to fit in - and we understand the nuance and shit to it but we also understand on a deep level how it feels to be on the other side of that

And getting toxic bt fans try to come up with ways to downplay or minimise racism honestly pisses me off so much cos believe you me we have heard every excuse and downplay under the sun and I for one am sick and tired of it

2. Why he’s viewed as cold and his jokes

• literally from the small parts we saw of him and Eddie hanging out we have seen the man is in fact capable of joking and being light and having fun but around buck in particular he’s like 🧍‍♂️😐 and the occasional 🙂 like it just feels very stiff and just plain in a way

• his humour consistently falls flat and feels passive aggressive more than anything like blunt or sardonic humour DOES work like I personally love it but it’s not being written OR executed right

A. It’s always in response to genuine moments or questions such as buck talking abt the award or the daddy kink joke or henren questioning him

B. It’s the the majority of what we see from him, there is not enough balance for it

C. Lack of rapport, when friends or couples make jokes that can come off the wrong way if said to anyone else it’s cos of the rapport built already, this rapport is not established with the characters OR with the audience for these jokes to come off right

D. I gotta say this one too but the execution just isn’t right from writing to acting, it’s the same reason sardonic humour lines from Sandra oh as Cristina Yang or hugh Laurie as house still lets you like the characters and find them funny but Tommys lines come off as annoying to a lot of people

3. I think fandom discourse probably has something to do with it but not in the way you think

I’m not saying like oh ppl who ship buddie just hate him cos of the ship no I’m saying that like what takes him from an annoying disliked character to a hated character is most likely the fact that his role stirred so much drama and caused so much damage to how the fandom used to be that its turned the dial up

4. A lot of his development, lore or redeemable factors or cute things are just not canon

This may be blunt and I am sorry for that but I think his character has been blown up to such a degree that it’s genuinely shocking

Like I look at posts or get sent hate and I’m like where did any of this happen this is just not canon this is just not a show like at times I’m genuinely convinced it’s a social experiment where different ppl saw a different show like some spiderman multiverse situation

Listen I’m all for headcanons genuinely like if you wanna take extra number three and make a whole backstory and lore and cute stuff abt her I’m all for it but it’s when it’s said as if it’s fact or canon that I’m like hold up a second rewind

I think this is kinda a result of Lou’s cameos (which honestly deserves its own post but you asked why the tommy hate so imma stay on topic) and also this like need to defend the character but not having much material to work with

Like if we look at canon we can literally break down the entirety of Tommys appearances this far in the show and what we learn about him:

• chimney begins- he makes a racist comment and he tries to suck up to Gerard, there is a little hint abt his gayness with the gf comment, Eli says to chimney that’s just how they are and tries to reason it could be fear of losing friends but we see tommy having friends in the firehouse while eli says this, chimney tries to make friends with him and tommy makes no attempt to get to know him and says he’d hate him anyways, chimney saves Tommys life thus earning his respect

• hen begins- she’s met with the same racism chimney is but also met with misogyny (and homophobia but that’s not relevant to the tommy of it all), we find out chimney is still isolated from the rest despite having earnt that respect, chimney befriends hen and again tommy still doesn’t try anything like that until hen proves herself and earns his respect, ppl reported Gerard but it’s never actually stated tommy was one of those ppl so again that’s not canon that’s speculated

• bobby begins- chimney and hen both seem to be like coworker friends with tommy and Sal, Sal throws hissy fit bobby “fires” him tommy says it’s an overreaction bobby reveals it was a transfer, they all seem to make nice, tommy leaves to 217

• chimney calls tommy for help and tommy helps

• we see nothing from tommy,then cruise ship he helps the team but also in this we find out hen cut off all contact since he left

• buck takes tour of harbour, Eddie and tommy have a friendship and we find out some of Tommys interests and that he was in the army, basketball scene and the subsequent apology and kiss

• dinner date, Tommy explains how he was in the closet, Buck has his little awkward moment (which will be elaborated on in my next point) , Tommy says nothing abt it till the Uber arrives and he leaves buck

• buck reaches out and apologises and asks for a second chance inviting tommy to the madney wedding

• bachelor party and the issue of the lack of costume and not just taking the day off for neither wedding nor bachelor party (which you can reason is reasonable but also I feel like this deserves its point for the narrative choices)

• tommy shows up straight outta work they kiss buck has the soot coming out award ceremony - buck being happy abt the reward to which tommy sardonically says enjoy it while it lasts enter bigoted cunt gerard then chimney comes and insults gerard and they walk away

• we don’t see tommy again till the dinner date after Bobby nearly died and when buck tries to explain Bobbys significance to his life tommy throws the your dad is still alive which is just honestly one of his worst moments imo and I made a whole post abt it but can’t find it and then we all know the rest of that convo and I could make a bullet point for it but actually I made a whole post before so I’ll link it: here

AND THATS IT

Like all this comes down to what maybe like 30 mins screentime? If that?

5. The leaving buck on their first date

The defences people use for this are:

• buck was trying to shove him back in the closet

• buck was obviously not ready

• people angry abt this are just babying buck like he can find his own way home it’s not that big of a deal

• buck was at fault there and tommy would’ve been justified in being angry and not giving him a second chance

And honestly every last one of these are bullshit imo and lemme go point by point

• buck panicked, I don’t think that what buck was feeling in that moment can be properly described because unless you’re a queer person and you’ve experienced that like bone deep panic that like brain overload then you won’t get it

Like one it’s his first queer date

Two he doesn’t even understand his own sexuality atp

Three his closest friend just walked in in a situation that’s already putting him on edge

So he’s not only panicking he’s not understanding why he’s panicking he’s trying to make excuses eventhough part of him knows he doesn’t need one but also he doesn’t even understand this side of himself yet so he doesn’t want to have to potentially explain it

Like it’s a million things and a million emotions and no one can claim they would behave rationally or appropriately in that situation and if you say that you would you’re lying simple as that

Also then we find out that Eddie thought tommy was straight anyways

• the reason I love the buddie coming out scene is because of Eddie’s “and what do you think” line because it’s not up to tommy or anyone else whether a person is “ready” enough in their queerness to date. Full stop.

Also tommy knew it was Buck’s first date with a man and was still down so why is he using that as some sort of out

•it’s not about babying buck and it’s not about him finding his own way home it’s the fact that Tommy could’ve done it with much more grace and he could’ve been a lot nicer with it but he wasn’t, and this is again bucks first date with a man even if it doesn’t end with a second date it should at the very least not end up with him feeling like a screw up on the side of the road

• to the ppl who say that- kindly shut up cos again see the first point but also I wanna point out that somehow the ppl saying this are also the same ones saying that Tommy was justified to be RACIST for a prolonged period of time due to being in the closet yet Buck what? Panicking for a few seconds and being a little awkward? is somehow this giant inexcusable thing

5. The narrative choices with him have been reasonably clear and tbh if they had been made with a woman it would not be up for debate:

• tommy leaves buck on their first date then he comes back and gives buck a chance- we as a fandom have been unanimous in saying for years that Buck’s endgame would be the one that doesn’t leave him cos this pattern has been something we saw over and over with him

• tommy not dressing up- again you can rationalise it but it’s a narrative choice and it’s glaring when contrasted with Eddie suggesting the duo costume

And if we had this scene with Taylor so many ppl would be saying that it’s once again showing that her and Buck’s personalities don’t align

• him being on standby for the wedding and bachelor party- again you can say oh buck invited him last minute or oh he couldn’t taken the day off (which lbr he could’ve he’s not the only firefighter pilot in la) - but again narrative choice

If it was Taylor everyone would’ve been like SEE? Again they’re showing the audience that her work is this looming presence in their relationship

Anyway I’m gonna shut up now cos this is A LOT

I’m so sorry it took me so long to respond tho and sending flowers in apology💐💐💐💐💐💐

Love ya for being so genuine when asking and hope all this didn’t come off too strong and that it was idk helpful?🫶🫶

I realise my response is abt to have toxic bt fans scurry to my inbox like rats to send hate and to that I say go fuck yourselves I’m responding to a question here

[draco-after-dark]

Feral! JD au

Info dump time weeeeeeeee

HATES music (Mainly his old Brozone songs)

If he hears the song "Perfect" start playing anywhere he beelines for the speaker and yeets that shit into tomorrow (rip that one kid's b-day party)

Talking is difficult since he hasn't used his voice in years but secretly practices by himself

Gruff voice

Hissing, grumbling, rumbling, scoffing, huffing and growling are his main ways of communicating until he relearns to start talking

Branch and Clay are the main ones to reteach him but Bruce and Floyd also help. Poppy and Viva too

He cannot read, like at all (Clay figured this one out pretty quickly)

Tends to stand and stare alot (at first this kinda creeped all the brothers out but then they all collectively realized it was his way of spending time with them)

Has a sixth-sense of when one of his brothers is having a bad day

Big sharp claws

Floyd once watched JD pick a lock with his claws and doesn't know whether to be impressed or concerned

Runs on all four but can still walk and everything (its just faster for him on all him on all four)

gets the zoomies

Parkor

will bite as a warning

s t r o n k

perching on high objects/things

will smack shit

cat behavor zero table top items are safe

His goggles got shattered because he headbutted one of those spiders from the first movie once to scare it off. He was sad about breaking them but still has them

Fur cape because he may be feral but still has style (caveman royalty fit)

Master at hid and seek, tag or any game that involes moving quickly

Became grey when he relized that Branch (and mostly likely the rest of the family) were all dead or eaten after the events when he returned to the tolls tree

Keeps memorabilia in his hair from each brother

When he first got captured by Velvent and Veneer they were thrilled but then imediatly scared of him so they shoved him in a bottle and put him in the closet cause he was to loud

Veneer had to get a Rabies shot because JD bit him (multiple times)

Veneer "Does this look infected to you???"

Velvect couldn't use him in the sholder pads because he was too loud and they couldn't get him to be quiet so he was left behind

Claustraphobia go brrrrrrrrr

He did not have a good time in the diamond prison

Oh god I didn't realized how long this would be and its not even everthing oop. any gonna do crawl back into my grave byeeeee

[sternenhimmel-mond]

Half an hour left!

A woman from the broken province of Cyrodiil flees home after being disgraced from her family of lower noble status. She can no longer face them, she can't take the way they look at her and talk to her now. She heads north and unintentionally crosses the border into Skyrim, but by the time she realizes, it's too late. She's on a prisoner's cart with the leader of the rebellion ravaging the province and wasting valuable resources. They're on their way to an execution. After surviving the dragon attack that saves her life and helping a few people, she learns she is Dragonborn. A mortal with the ability to speak like the dragons and project her voice into a weapon. Along her journey to ridding the world of dragons, she gets cold feet and abandons her position as the savior of the world. She gets sucked into a scheme while trying to look for someone she had met previously, and joins the infamous guild of thieves that seems to have lost their spark, disgraced in their own way. She doesn't always like committing crimes, but these people look after each other, and what more could she hope for after what happened back home? All is well until a betrayal occurs, she's left for dead and she spooks like a wild deer, choosing to let everyone in the guild believe she's dead and she disappears. She wants to help people again, but doesn't trust the woman that was helping her destroy the dragons, so she looks into why a 10 year old boy would be summoning the all but eradicated Dark Brotherhood- the guild of assassins serving the Dread Father Sithis. The child begs her to kill the woman in charge of an orphanage. She knows that the Dark Brotherhood is either no longer a thing, or being very unprofessional by leaving this boy unanswered for a few months, so she takes it upon herself to help him out. After killing the orphanage owner, she gets kidnapped by the leader of what's left of the assassins guild. The leader promises her she can leave alive as long as she pays back her debt to them, and when she does, she is asked to join her little family. The woman is free to go and takes up the leader's offer, if only to have a family again. Killing people would be more of a means to an end, as what she really craved was a family. Another betrayal, but this time she decides she's done running, she fixes as much as she can from the fallout of this betrayal and decides she has to return to the thieves guild and stop the man who betrayed her from hurting the others. But she has some preparations to make before she shows her face there again.

Her name is Serelynn.

I have been playing a Skyrim character that I'm using to write a story with. I have had to change some in game events and dialogue to make it all fit right and sound better. Right now I'm nearing the end of what I planned and might go further after the planned story closes, but I also might not, the current stopping point is after she becomes the leader of the thieves guild. I have most of it written down, but it will need to go through a few editing sessions to make it all make more sense and sound better and whatever else. Also, as it stands right now, I skipped ahead in my writing to a little later in the main questline because trying to write the intro to the game up until kynesgrove felt so tedious and clunky to me. I might go back and write it in anyway. But for now, I want to know if anyone is interested in this story. There's a lot of details I left out, or perhaps I even added too much detail to my outline, but I figure an overall idea of certain story beats would help people decide if they like her or not.

As always, I would like to ask that this gets reblogged so more people will see it, but no pressure. I've been working on this for a long time now, and I hope people will be interested so I can share it instead of just keeping it to myself.

[localkeifc]

Scars

Request : Can you do a Hawks x reader with self harm? Like the reader being shy/hateful about the past scars and him being chill/comforting about it.

Requested by : Anon💗

Warnings : Mentions of SH

Summary : The first time Keigo finds out you used to SH and comforts you

A/N : I apologize if anything regarding SH in this is not accurate! I've personally never gone through this, but I've tried my best!

[ Fluff, H/C, Gn!Reader ]

Tags : Hugs, kisses, Keigo being an absolute sweetheart, Hurt/Comfort

Pulling the sweater off of you, you were left in a simple t-shirt, nothing more, nothing less. Prepared to head to the showers, there was an abrupt knock on your window.

You turned to see Keigo, perched by your balcony, top floor of the building, giving you a sly smirk.

You knew the windows weren't locked, and he would easily just walk in. He only knocked for the mere reason of respecting your privacy and to alert you of his presence.

Without thinking twice, you immediately grabbed your sweater in attempt to pull it back on to cover up yourself.

Failing miserably and getting caught in between the fabric, Keigo had already gotten in and was right by your side, helping free you from your misery.

"Woah there, babybird. Easy." He lets out a laugh, setting your sweater on the couch next to him as you swiftly hide your hands behind your back.

"Kei.. you're here." You muster a smile but your voice sounds small in the confined space between the two of you.

He raises a suspicious brow at your demeanor, eyes flicking up and down over your body to make sure you weren't hurt.

"Hey." He says, looking straight into your eyes. You can't bare the compassion, love and worry in his eyes and turn your head away.

"Hey. What's wrong?" Keigo lifted his hand to cup your cheek, turning your head to check if you were still intact. "(Y/n), talk to me, please."

"'It's nothing."

"You sure?" He whispers, pulling you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in the crook of his neck as he gives gentle pats on your head.

"Hey. What's going on?" He mutters. "You're scaring me, my love."

"I'm sorry. It's nothing, seriously."

"Stop saying that. Tell me what's wrong."

He takes hold of both your fore arms, which were by your side, and his eyes flicker over you. He reaches both your arms and his gaze lingers for a bit too long.

He's noticed.

"Those were from a while ago." You tell him.

He simply hums in response, barely acknowledging your words, too focused on the scars by your wrist.

"You did this?" He asked. He didn't seem mad, he didn't seem sad, he was just asking a simple question. Keigo was way to good at hiding emotions.

You nod and he brings your wrist up to his face and gives them both a small little peck.

"When?" This time, you hear the concern as his brows were furrowed as well.

"Before I met you." You whispered. You didn't necessarily like being seen with all those scars, but it was something you couldn't happen to get rid of after many years.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better now." Keigo simply says, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Let me know if I'm crossing boundaries, I know you don't like to bring up your past."

"It's not that big of a deal, really. I just don't like them."

"Why not?"

"They remind me of everything I've tried to leave behind."

"Scars tell stories, babybird. You don't have to be hateful about a symbol of your growth." He squeezes you even tighter, finally pulling away to sit on the couch as you followed.

"Still don't like them." You curl up next to him as he wraps a wing around your body.

"I think they look cool."

"Really though?"

"Of course. They're what makes you, well, you."

He kisses you. You smile.

"And I love you."

BACK TO MAIN MENU

[thoraeth]

Black Hole Hunger [2/3] | All Might x reader

words: 1500 TW & Tags: gn!reader, no use of y/n, small might, slow burn, ANGST, att3mpt3d su1c1d3, fluff, happy ending. Summary: Under the pouring rain, a sad spectacle awaits you. It's time to give back what you received and help Toshinori facing a monster that you know well.

[Part 1] [Part 3]

“Shit, shit, shit!”

You climb the stairs frantically, raindrops splattering everywhere from your beat-up umbrella. “Shit!” You grunt.

You’ve moved into your new apartment a few days ago and yet, just today, you heard something odd clinking at the bottom of your bag: the keys to All Might's apartment.

You were supposed to leave them on the table and go but, somehow, you managed to mess things up. 

“Will he think I wanted to keep them? How fucking embarrassing.”

Panting your way up the building, you hope to God you can still sneak the keys in unnoticed.

As the door’s in sight, a shaft of light is coming out of it. “Did I forget to even lock it? It's not like it has been open the whole time, isn't it?” 

Cold shivers run up your spine at the thought of a hero’s house being burgled because of you. 

But when you peep through the opening, you feel reassured. 

Everything is exactly like the day you left, with the only difference that All Might himself is there, tinkering in the middle of the main room. You pull out the keys from your bag and step inside, ready to flash your best smile at him.

At first, your brain cannot fully compute the scene you're looking at. It's just a glare of something metallic, his shirt unbuttoned, his shoulders trembling. Then you snap.

“Toshinori, no!”

Scattering your belongings on the floor, you run across the room and tackle the hero.

Under any other circumstance, someone like you would have no hope against him. But miserable as he is now, staring at you wide eyed as if he's just seen a ghost, he lets the knife in his hands slip on the floor.

The man slowly lowers down on his knees: as much as you strive to hold him, he shrivels up in a shaking mess.

You crouch too and your hand gently runs up and down the back of his drenched jacket. “Let's…let's get you some rest.” 

Toshinori nods and, without a word, trudges himself down the corridor. As he crashes on the unmade bed, you follow after him with a towel. 

That familiar bedroom is now dark and gloomy: with a storm like today's, howling outside the window, it’s like the whole house is drifting in the dreariness along with its owner.

“How did you know my name?” He asks, idly resisting your attempts to dry his hair.

“You were on the phone, that time you slept here. They called you by your name.” Hesitant, you decide to address the elephant in the room. “Do you… wanna talk?”

For a split second, Toshinori looks like one of your scared highschoolers rather than a 7 '2 hero. He turns his face away and keeps silent for the longest time. 

“Why were you here anyway? You moved out days ago.” he mutters eventually.

“I forgot -”

“Take your stuff and go. You shouldn't have been caught up in this.”

“If you were the one walking in on something like that, would you leave?”

Silence again.

“Let me at least call someone you feel comfortable with.”

“Yeah, so I can trouble everyone some more.” He hisses. “You're all busy with your lives, moving on so fast, so easily. I can’t let you slow down for someone…who’s reached the end of the line.”

It all finally clicks: the bed unmade and the way he wouldn't leave that night. That constant ‘being happy to help’. His face darkening when you told him you found a new place. 

He feels left behind. He's hiding away.

As he buries his face back in the mattress, you feel your heart sink. 

“He was asking for help. Just when he’s the one in need…it goes straight over everyone's head. Mine included.”

Clutching the wet towel in your hand, you throw it on the floor.

“I'll ask you once again,” you declare fiercely "Do you want someone else here with you?”

“Again, no.” 

“Fine. It’s gonna be me, then.”

Toshinori lifts his head, staring at you with a blue glare in his sunken eyes. “I know it's a pitiful sight in here, but I’ll be fine.” He stretches a smile.

“It’s not about pity: when I hit rock bottom you were the only one who stepped up. You must let me return what I received.”

The hero rolls over the sheets and takes a deep breath. 

“...Thank you.” you hear him whisper before he drifts into a deep slumber.

From that moment on, neverending days come and go, marked by the constant tapping of raindrops on the windows and the rumbling of distant thunders.

As in a weird sort of quarantine, you spend all your time sitting on the bedroom's floor, rewriting your lecture notes and taking care of Toshinori. Or, at least, trying to.

The hero is on sick leave and won't move from his bed, nor touch a crumb from any of the take away boxes that are gradually invading the house.

“What do you want for dinner?” You ask him casually, while playing on your phone. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“You say that every time. I hope you're not trying to starve yourself on my watch.”

The blonde head appears above you, leaning out from the bed. “That’s a bit much, don't you think?” His long hair dangles over your forehead. “Also, I heard you messing with the cutlery in the kitchen the other day. Please, it's not necessary.” He pauses for a second.

“I... I wouldn't have done it anyway.”

As Toshinori gets in a sudden talkative mood, you sit on the bed next to him.

“There's this kid, you see…I promised I’d taken care of him, no matter what, so I could never go like that. It's just that… there's nothing left in me to protect him or the other students. And even if I had any spark left, they won't be needing an old man around anyway.”

“It’s a cruel path, to be a teacher.” You sigh. “You know you did a good job when they no longer need you. Same goes for a hero, I imagine.”

“I was terrible at both, then.”

“You? The man who consumed himself, body and mind, to protect everyone?”

“Yes, since he couldn't finish what he started. Now that burden will be on the young while I stand by, useless and powerless.” He clenches his fists.

You’re reaching for his arm but your hand freezes mid air. “Wait. Is this about lacking health or…lacking a quirk?”

At the bottom of Toshinori's eyes you recognise your sworn enemy, the number one villain on the planet, as far as you're concerned.

“Are you telling me you’d rather die than living quirkless?!”

Springing to your feet, you take a step back from the bed.

The room starts to glitch into a whirlwind of scenes: a boy in a school uniform, falling off the roof. A playground, where a little kid is using fire powers against his scared buddies. 

“What's all this?” Toshinori asks.

“I’ve always wondered too.” you say, trying to keep your unchecked quirk at bay. “Looks like a monster to me, an uncanny hunger that consumes people when it comes to their quirks.”

Toshinori gets up, staring at the vivid image of  a much younger you. You're talking to a girl in a park, both bawling your eyes out.

“My best friend.” You explain. “She didn't pass the UA placement test and… she let herself go, sinking deeper and deeper, until she was but an empty shell.”

The image of Toshinori waving happily flashes across the walls, spinning along the rest of your memories. 

“I-I don't want you to sink.” you add, lowering your head.

The hero grabs you by the arms, a sudden fire in his eyes. “It's not a matter of quirk, it never was!” 

“Can you see the point, though?”

A thick darkness falls on the bedroom and a multitude of stars and galaxies unfolds, shining in bright colours all around the two of you.

“Even the biggest supernova is going to collapse one day. At that point it either evolves or it turns into a black hole.”

Toshinori lets you go, his hands sliding down your arms as the image of an ominous vortex appears underneath his feet.

“To some extent…it's true.” the hero's voice trembles. “I'm scared of living quirkless. Being there for others is all I am and now that I physically can't, I don't know what my place is. If I have one at all in this world.” 

He sighs deeply. “I see it, though: things have changed and I have to figure out what's next.”

“Whatever it’ll be, please...keep in mind you don't need to be powerful to be helpful. Or seen. Or loved.”

“Mh.”

Caught up in your passionate speech, it takes you some time to realise what's going on: the warmth of Toshinori's hands against yours; your fingers, reaching for his.

When his thumb brushes the back of your hand, the deep flutter in your stomach startles you and the starry visions go out.

You both withdraw your hands in silence, avoiding eye contact. 

“S-so, you don't want to eat at all?” you stutter confusedly.

The hero gets back to his bed, trying to hide the flush on his face. 

“I’ll take what you take. I trust your judgment.”

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 20. showtime

chapter tags/warnings: dad! toji. toji also calls himself daddy. vouyerism. angsty! megumi. infidelity/adultery. pet names (mainly "princess" and "sweetheart"). mentions of violence. mentions of betrayal. so much family drama. strong language. classism. manipulative undertones.

word count: 2.6k

notes: this was originally going to be one long ass chapter but I had to break this into two. you will see why. enjoy! comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Obviously, you wanted to learn everything about Toji Fushiguro.  

He didn’t have to hear you say it. 

Already, Toji could tell from the inquisitive glisten in your round eyes, that all he saw in you was curiosity with the need—not the want—for him to share himself with you. Naturally, you would like him to retell his story from chapter one. 

Similarly, he longed to share his tales, revealing the burdens that had been gnawing at him since his childhood. That Toji had known Naoya for years, that he used to be a Zenin himself, that he knew your husband was fucking his ex-wife. How messed up was that? 

Very much so.

The main problem was, though, that Toji was selfish. 

While he would love to be honest, he did not want to shatter your trust in him. He knew how much you lived under Naobito and Naoya’s control since your father worked under the Zenin Corporation, so the last thing he desired was for you to associate him with them. 

Toji didn’t want you to be scared around him, too.

The idea of losing you was something that Toji did not want to think about. Yes, this was going to sound possessive but...Toji liked having you around. Not in a sexual way, but in a companionship manner.

Or maybe both, but still.  

Regardless, your presence comforted him.  

Of course, Megumi was another factor in the equation. Given that the teenager hated his Uncle Naoya, he understandably could not stand to see his pampered in-law (you) either. Toji knew Megumi’s frustration was a projection of his mental turmoil and that much of the ordeal was due to Toji’s previous poor decisions regarding women. 

But you were different.  

For the first time in a very long while, Toji believed he had gotten something right. 

All these thoughts brewed in his mind as he outstretched his arm to brush over the smudged mascara by your cheek. In vain, he attempted to rub away the signs from your earlier sadness. 

“Want to wash your face in the bathroom first?” 

The question came out more like a command, and defeat sank into your features as you ultimately respected his decision. 

“Okay,” you acquiesced.

Even if you wanted to, there was no chance for you to protest when Toji stepped past you and toward the spiral staircase. You followed him without another choice, trailing behind him like a lost duckling.  

Although you seemingly settled down from the whole Naoya situation, Toji had yet to. As he ascended the steps to the apartment’s upper level, he placed up a front in which he was all calm and levelheaded when—in reality—he could still feel the burning, white-hot anger rolling off his body. 

Toji badly—so, so badly—wanted to hightail it to wherever the fuck Naoya was in this world and beat the living shit out of him. He always knew that his kid cousin couldn’t be trusted with a wife because he wrecked so many people already. 

Nonetheless, Toji had kept these thoughts to himself ever since he first heard about Naoya’s marriage from business and celebrity newspapers. After all, Toji didn’t know you earlier this year and wasn't in the appropriate position to intervene, therapist or not. His relationships were his relationships, and your relationships were yours. 

Now, with that misogynistic jackoff proving him right, Toji had some regrets.  

He should have done more.  

Toji abhorred knowing that Naoya was emotionally abusing you, disrespecting you, and treating you like you were just another dumb slut.

Put simply, he absolutely could not stand to see you so upset and fucked over by somebody who didn’t deserve you in the first place—by Naoya fucking Zenin of all people in this world. 

While Toji would admit that he had his reservations about you upon the first encounter, he rapidly realized that you were nothing more than an innocent lamb caught in an ugly crossfire. 

Could Naoya not see how lucky he was with you? A whole package was what you were: your allure unparalleled, your energy contagious, and your elegance remarkable. No wonder Naobito had taken every measure to secure you as his son’s wife.

On the other hand, Toji sincerely wished that you would no longer be miserable because a person like you deserved to enjoy all the rhapsodies of life. 

Sometimes, Toji wished that you stood up for yourself more. He wished that you had been more selfish over some things that were rightfully yours. Your marriage, your family, your happiness一these belonged to you , yet some other woman (the real ‘dumb slut’) was robbing you of these entitlements.

Had you been single, had you waited a little, Toji knew for sure that countless suitors would have lined up vying to court you, willing to throw themselves on the line because you would be their queen. 

“Are you alright?”  

Given that he had been lost in thought, Toji jolted at your voice. He had stopped completely at the upstairs landing, brain still reeling from thoughts of leaving Naoya busted and bloodied, hanging on to life from a thin little thread. 

Vigorously, he shook his head from side to side to clear his mind. 

Regardless of how badly he wanted to and how easy the task would be for him, Toji would not stoop that low to exert physical violence on someone else. Even though the fool deserved to be punished twenty times over, Toji wouldn’t hurt your husband because you would also not want him to. 

But damn, holding himself back was hard. 

For Toji, who had seen how Naoya’s impulsivity and greed had hurt his step-daughter Tsumiki and his son Megumi as well, restraint was especially difficult.   

"Ah, my bad,” Toji finally said after composing himself many moments later. He then realized that he had yet to introduce the apartment’s layout. “So the lower level includes the guest areas: the parlor, kitchen, bar, dining space, home theater. Upstairs, though, are where the living spaces reside.” He gestured toward the far rear of the corridor. “Bedrooms are over there with a study room at the end, but the washroom,” he went several steps ahead, pushing open the first door to the left, “is right here."  

In slow and inquisitive steps, you followed as Toji started rummaging in a linen closet by the entrance. He grabbed at the white cotton towels in the lower compartment.

"For you," he explained, placing a neatly folded set into your delicate hands. “Here. Splash some cold water on your face. Let me find you in a couple of minutes. I will check on Megumi in the meantime.” 

“Alright,” you hummed while Toji retreated back into the halls. 

“Talk to you later, then.”

Next mission was Megumi Fushiguro, a troubled boy who could easily be misunderstood. 

Oftentimes, Toji saw his own reflection within his son. He recognized himself the most in Megumi’s cheerless gaze, where beyond the initial glimpse lay a barren tundra bleakened by pain, by incidents that have hurt him before. 

In that dark void existed a part that cried for help, but this place remained faded over so that others could not pry into the true emotions within.  

Megumi was terrified. 

Heck, even Toji was, too. 

Because, in their experiences, those who had betrayed the most were those who had been the closest to them. Therefore, all that was left was caution, wariness, and distrust, such that now—between father and son—there was no one to turn against but one another.  

“Megumi!” Toji shouted when arriving at the said boy’s door. (Unlike a certain colleague, he at least had the decency to announce his arrival.) 

As expected, however, there came no response. 

He then knocked loudly so that Megumi would hear the sound even with his headphones blasting.

Nothing again.

Exasperated, Toji wiggled the knob. Noticing that the handle was unlocked, he opened the door and into a darkened room. Megumi had switched everything off save for his glaring computer monitor, but the boy wasn’t in his chair either. 

“I don’t really want to talk right now.” 

Instead, Megumi’s grumble came from his bed, to where Toji looked and saw a large blanketed heap. The teenager was cocooned in his sheets, not leaving a single black strand in sight. 

From the small gap amid the lump came another glow.  

He’s on his phone , Toji figured, which he knew among kids these days was the ultimate sign that they wanted to be left alone. 

Except the therapist side in him was not going to give up that easily. 

Idly, Toji flicked at a nearby houseplant. 

“Not talking right now is okay but,” his green gaze shifted from the succulent to the enveloped lump, “trust me on her. She’s on our side.” 

Rather than another outburst, Megumi didn’t reply immediately. “Sure,” he mumbled eventually but hardly convinced, using whatever TikToks he was scrolling through to fill the silence for him. 

“If Tsumiki had been home from university,” Toji continued, this time bringing up the step-sister that the boy adored, “would she want to hear her little brother talk to others like that?”

Another long pause. “Whatever.” 

“I know I had made bad judgments about people before, but—for this one instance—think about what you’ve said tonight,” was what Toji left his son with as he wished Megumi a good night and closed the door behind him with one very extended sigh. 

Being a therapist was tough, but being a single father was a thousand times more wearisome.

Toji would consider calling an end to the evening, to sit in his study as he evaluated his own emotions, but was reminded that he had a guest by shuffling sounds from down the hall.

Knowing that he still owed a small explanation, he paced back to the bathroom, barging into the vicinity to suggest, “Whenever you’re ready, let’s go talk again...down...stairs....” 

His voice trailed off before disappearing completely when he could not locate you.

Rather than finding you by the sink washing your face like he advised and expected, Toji spotted your tossed clothes on the floor. Confused, his gaze darted around until he glanced toward the bathtub where he found your muted form hovering over, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“I, um,” you blinked rapidly, as though you had been caught doing something bad. “I showered, too.” 

You got flustered too easily, which was adorable. 

The only thing that covered your naked and glistening form was the towel that had been wrapped around your figure, but even that hung low from your chest before stopping abruptly past your hips, leaving little to the imagination. 

In the lamplight, you glowed golden while clinging droplets made your skin shine. Your cheeks and arms were flushed, your body heaving from heavy panting.

You clutched the fabric tighter so that the towel would not merely slip away, but if Toji had to be honest, you would have to hold on to that for dear life so that he didn’t yank the whole damn cover away entirely. 

A shaky breath later, his gaze wandered up your body until his malachite eyes flicked up to collide with yours, his tongue—piercing and all—caught between his teeth. Meanwhile, your mouth was plush and sweetly pursed, softened by a doe-like innocence, and he saw how you trembled slightly from the sudden vulnerability. 

Toji should be able to handle himself better. After watching you break down and then dealing with his personal stressors, the last thing he should feel was the boiling need that burned through his skin, the air in his lungs weighty as if flames from his stomach drifted thick smoke into them. 

Just…leave him alone okay? 

Fuck.  

"Not inviting your host to the party is bad manners,” was what he found himself saying, but the light grin on his face did not match the lust and pink flush that swept across his face.

You cleared your throat as water dripped from your elbows. With every effort, you tried to stay casual. “Sorry.” 

Toji chuckled at how seriously you took the accusation. “Relax, princess. I’m just messing with you.”

All pouty, you looked at him with those huge, round eyes.

“Then, can I ask something while you’re here?”

Intrigued, he lifted a brow. “Depends.”

“Why are you scared to open up to me, Toji?” you pressed on.

The said man didn’t immediately answer, placing his hands inside his pockets instead. He rolled his shoulders back, all without his gaze leaving your intentful one. Sure, you both stared at each other wordlessly—but somehow, in the absence of conversation, the more you two began to understand one another. 

“Simple. I don’t bring up my past to just anybody, darling. Apologies for the disappointment.” 

“But I’m not ‘just anybody,’” you fought back, half-offended. “We’re friends , remember? Just like you had said.” Then, you directed an accusatory finger to his stoic face. “So, I’m somebody special .”

Well, you stumped him now. 

Contemplating an answer, Toji walked around your clothes and met you at the other section in the bathroom, cornering you against the nearby countertop as his brawny body leered over your smaller one. 

When you glanced upward, your warm breaths fanned across his scar. But the heat that whirled between your bodies was far more excruciating, stifling even. 

“What if my reason is to protect you?” He stopped, half-expecting you to cower but all that shone was determination. So, he resumed, “My history is fucked up. I was born into an unlucky situation surrounded by manipulative people, and I was another stupid person making stupid choices. Here I am, still dealing with the blow many years later. I don’t think you’ll want to talk to me again once you learn about the people I share the same blood with."

“But that is them. That is not you . Why would I want to forget you after everything you have done for me?” you vented in disbelief. “Toji, all I want is to help you!”

“Better not to drag yourself into this. You’re already much deeper in the waters than you think,” he admitted with a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his inky hair. “I couldn’t shield my son, and I couldn’t shield my stepdaughter. Therefore, I cannot promise that I would not hurt you, either.”

You fell quiet for a brief moment.

“That’s okay,” you resolved. “Because you…would be worth the pain.”

Toji felt...his heart leap? He had not been this exposed in many, many years, and he reached for your hands so that he could lace your fingers together. His emotions were so fragile and raw , his face only inches away from yours at this point.

"Really now?"

"Yes." A pause. “Then, what…does this mean for us?” 

Toji shrugged, eyeing that stupid fucking wedding band on your fourth digit. “I’m not the married one here, sweetheart. The decision is yours,” he offered up, although he could feel himself grow dizzy. “What do you want?”

In anticipation, your tongue ran across your lower lip. You crept forward and moved closer until your thighs were pressed flush against his.

“ You .”

And boy, did Toji love that answer.

He leaned forward again, this time scooping up your behind and propping you onto the countertop, yanking the pointless towel that had been shielding your goddess-like figure. He gave your hips a good squeeze before tearing your knees in opposite directions. 

You yelped and winced from the discomfort, but Toji knew you loved being maneuvered. Between your legs was a glistening mess, almost as if your pussy had been weeping for him, begging and crying and sobbing for your therapist’s touch. Did you actually think you were going to hide this from him?

When Toji looked up and met your line of sight, he cherished how you peered at him from under your fluttering lashes.

What a beautiful scene. 

So, he smiled. 

“Then why don’t you give daddy a show?”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: 1) I know you hate me for the cliffhanger, but I had to! 2) For a while, I had been debating whether to write this chapter and the upcoming one in Y/N's or Toji's POV. In the end, I chose Toji's perspective to shine some light into his thoughts when he's with us. See you all again soon! Get ready to get real dirty next chapter. ♡

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[shewaslikeasunflower]

i was scared to show i liked mother ships and all, especially when one of my fave artists actually hated mom ships and would block the tags n people…

SO I GOT REALLY SCARED, i didn’t wanna reveal i liked any of them because i didn’t wanna be hated over it let alone blocked. understandably so why cause they’re all children but auuughh im not even trying to be weird about that and i just wanna like ships..for fun? I wanna be serious with mom art and draw sad stuff but also have fun moments that make me feel happy as the artist drawing it!! and joy!!

umm, im still a little worried showing i liked mother ships now, but honestly i gotta say - the whole reason why I ended up revealing I liked mother ships was because of @nanaten!!! I ended up reallly liking clausten and discovered the clausten blog she has, and i found her main blog llike a good couple weeks later and AAHHHHH ❤️ her clausten art and her blog encouraged me to actually want to draw the ship for the first time - and post it on tumblr too! It’s not even just nana anymore though, there are so many mother artists im mooties with who do ship art too and it feels great!! sure, maybe i’ll be hated, but i’m really relieved i get to be open about it and just..enjoy ships without having to think of who’ll hate it behind the screen because i focus on the positive comments i get with my art iwndkwnjd

it feels good for me to speak about this i think :"D i even considered making another tumblr blog just to do seperate mother ships but i’m glad i chose to go “screw it lets just post on main”, because i then got to meet the right people in the fandom that appreciate it for what it is - and also even people that respect the art even if they don’t like mom ships!!!

as i said, i’m still nervous about showing i like it. but i think talking about this here makes me feel a little better to keep it up

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - one hundred and nine | what are you feeling?

You needed to talk to someone but you weren’t sure who. You couldn’t talk to y/n because you didn’t want to dump everything on her. You couldn’t talk to Jongho, Dei or Mingi, they knew Yunho too well. You couldn’t talk to Hongjoong or Maddox, because you didn’t want them to worry about you. You could only think of one other person.

“So… yeah. That’s what happened.”

“And he said he did it because he didn’t want you to leave?”

“Yeah,” you sniffed.

She hummed a moment as she thought. “Hmm, I can understand why you’re so angry.”

“Mhm.”

“If he had told you he didn’t want you to leave, what would you have said?”

“I would have told him that even if I had to leave him behind for a little bit, I was still going to take him with me.”

“Mhm.”

“I just…” you sighed, “I just don’t understand why he didn’t just say something instead of doing that.”

“Well… it could be that he only realized that it was an option in the moment. You’ve known Yunho longer than I have, but I’ve never seen him do anything underhanded.”

You didn’t know what to say, you never had either.

“Stupid shit occasionally, yes, but not underhanded.”

You laughed and choked on your spit. Coughing and sputtering for a moment as you wondered if that was the first time you’ve heard her curse.

She chuckled. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You sighed. “What do I do? I told him not to talk to me for the whole ride back and I didn’t say goodbye to him when I got out of the car or thank him for the ride. He probably thinks I’m mad at him.”

“Well… are you?”

“...I don’t even know anymore.”

“Well then… what are you feeling?”

“Like… I used to like him, when we were kids.”

“Mhm.”

“So part of me was so happy to hear that he liked me too.”

“Mhm.”

“But then it just got destroyed by learning that he acted so selfishly and stopped me from leaving the way he did.”

“Mhm.”

“But then like… I was sad that he didn’t just tell me that he liked me back then and that he was scared that I would leave him behind, because… I would have told him I liked him too.”

“Hmm…”

You sighed.

“We’re all so stupid when we’re young, huh?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I wish he had just told me.”

“You should tell him that.”

“Yeah. But I don’t know how to talk to him now since I left on such a bad note.”

“Calling is a good option.”

“Yeah… Fuck, I feel so awkward. He probably doesn’t like me anymore and now I need to bring it up again.”

She chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing. I think you should talk to him.”

“Yeah… I probably should. Thanks for listening, by the way.”

“It’s no problem. You’re a great person, so of course I’d listen.”

You chuckled. “And you’re nothing like how I thought you’d be.”

“Because I look like a bitch but I’m not one?”

“Oh-- uh--”

“You can say it, I don’t mind. You don’t grow up with a face like mine without hearing that once or twice.”

“Oh,” you laughed awkwardly.

“But who’s getting the modeling contracts? The girls in school who used to make fun of me? Or me?”

You laughed. “I was going to say that you’re so pretty that it’s intimidating but… that’s very true.”

She chuckled. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, later.”

You hung up and found that you had a text from Dei.

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a/n: Another party? What do you think will happen? Or, how do you think it’ll go down?

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