#the blue lock brain rot is never ending

[newagevictorianorphan]

i KNEW these mfs seemed familiar

[mooshofish]

Most accurate prediction for the next chapter:

Rin will eat the ball.

Then they have to pause the game to get a new one!! Very sad, but it will scare the other team

[kurokawaia]

❛ Self Care ❜

Postwar!Sasuke X Fem!Reader

WC; 2k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: fab!fem!Reader,soft Sasuke like rlly soft and affectionate guys, body worship, reader is depicted as a medical ninja, this is so fluffy guys, use of {Y/n}, suggestive towards the end, fluff.

˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯; @lovelyandproblematic - ok since you asked and I have severe incurable Sasuke simp brain rot so if you ever need prompt ideas lmk! ty for being my fav tumblr creator rn 😍 SELF CARE SUNDAY W/ SASUKE! I’m talking face masks, eye masks, cute headbands, warm robes, and a nice candlelit bubble bath, the whole nine yards! He’d prolly never admit it but he def needs to be spoiled and might have to be forced bribed into participating (*cough* body worship? *cough*) but poor boy has been thru soo much he needs a night to relax and pls get some moisturizer on him stat! his skin must be screaming lmaooo

this is being depicted as sasuke being 19-20 years old, he's come back for a little while to Konoha from his redemption mission for a bit (he missed you :))

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

"I'll see you later, Sakura!" I droned with satisfaction, giving her a one-armed hug as she did too, our arms filled with only a couple of bags while doing it.

Sakura released herself from the hug after a few seconds, still donning that warm smile plastered on her face. "See you tomorrow, yeah?" She asked.

"For what?" I replied in confusion.

"Lady Tsunade said she'd like to meet up with us," Sakura said, taking this in characteristically.

"I think she does miss us, but she doesn't say that," I said with a chuckle, leaving my glossy lips open. "I guess I should not drink too much news here tomorrow night."

"I'll see you, {Y/n}," She said while waving walking away.

"Bye, love!" I replied.

I pulled my keys from my bag and slid the key into the lock that was positioned on the traditional sliding door. With an exhausted chuck, I stepped in, slumping down on the step up into the house; slipping the ninja shoes off, placing them on the rack, seeing another pair—male pair.

I opened my lips as I started to wonder whose they might be, my heart flattered at the thought of Sasuke having to be back, its long past a day, absolutely late into the night—who knows for how long he has been back.

I nibbled on my bottom lip again. Sasuke has come to visit three times in the two years he's been out. When Sasuke came back a few months ago he said he wouldn't be coming back for a couple of years and now look at him, he's here. It's odd, I wonder if something had gone wrong?

I place my bags next to the stair case that leads up to the bedrooms.

I have yet to see Sasuke up and around our house; by now, I assume that he is soundly asleep and probably tired. I pushed the door of our bedroom open, and right in front of me is my lover, soundly sleeping in his deep sleep on our bed, with the dark blue cover across his full body as he snuggles into the sheet. It brings a sight that only brings a gentle smile across my lips.

I silently walk over to Sasuke's side of the bed. The hand itself was placed coquette-like on the cheek exposed to me. I bent down so that I could apply a warm, tender kiss to his forehead. I could feel his body easing into the touch of my hand and smiled, because even from a kiss, that feeling had been transmitted to me.

I had just started on the way to the bathroom when, literally only a moment before I could remove my hand from Sasuke's pale cheek, I was holding another hand. Turning back to look, I see Sasuke's weary eyes peering into mine, and I immediately frown in worry.

"Sorry, dear," I murmured quietly, leaning down to look into Sasuke's eye's. "I woke you."

"Don't stress," Sasuke hummed back with a tired sigh.

"'M just going to go have a shower and I'll be right back," I bumbled on, but Sasuke wouldn't let go of my hand. "Are you all right, my dear?"

Sasuke hummed in response, showing he was fine. "I won't be too long, Sasuke," I answered. "But it will take longer if you don't let me go," I added with a soft smile.

I watched Sasuke as he got up slowly, still holding my hand, his head drooping to my stomach for a moment of silence, showing he was tired. My other hand brushed the hair out of his face, and I placed a kiss at the top of his head.

"You wanna come with me?" I had said, and he had nodded his head tiredly against my stomach. "Alright."

"You go ahead, I'll be there in a second," Sasuke mumbled, drawing back from me and looking up at me with those onyx and purple eyes.

"Okay," I smiled softly, and Sasuke released his grip on my hand.

"I figured a bath would be better; you seem really tired," I hummed as I watched Sasuke slump down on the stool beside the bath, leaning his head against the wall.

I let out a sigh and turned back before going to the cabinets under the sink to grab some bath oils and some vanilla scented body soap. "My love," I muttered as I realized just how tired Sasuke is. I had no idea as to why he would be that tired, as the last few times he came back home he seemed normal.

Maybe that's it—something happened to Sasuke, and I just didn't catch it, and now he can't manage. Man, I really am a horrible girlfriend. So stupid.

I rummaged for some facial lotions and serums for myself, but such a funny thought came across my mind. Sasuke won't mind if I apply these things to his face, now would he?

A smile rose to my face, and I saw Sasuke look at me through the mirror, his expression suspicious, and I simply let out a soft giggle. Watched him shake his head and lean it back onto the wall, a small smile on his face. Well, whatever it is I'm doing sure cheers him up.

"Ah, are you hungry, love?" I asked and added salts, oils, and body lotion to the bath.

"Eh, a little bit," Sasuke mumbled.

"That means you are. What would you like for dinner? If we go outside, we could go out to a fancy restaurant. Or I can cook something," I replied sarcastically, adding an eyeroll about his small fib.

"I'll stay in," remarked Sasuke as he stood up. Heck, much to my surprise, he stood behind me, wrapped an arm around my waist, and whispered sulkily against the side of my neck, "Beef tomato curry." I smiled, but of course he couldn't see me. "Okay."

I chuckled softly. "But it's gonna take a couple of minutes. That's fine?"

"Yeah," Sasuke hummed shortly.

"Okay, then. Enter," I said, walking around gently in his arm. "I'm going to start dinner, and then I'll come in with you." Sasuke gave me a soft kiss before pulling away, his hand moving from my waist to cupping my cheek. "Don't be too long," Sasuke mumbled.

"Ten minutes, love," I said. "I just need to slice things and put them in with broth.

Back into the bathroom I went, well ten minutes later, by that time I was pretty good at cutting up a bunch of stuff in a hurry. The door slid open with a soft push, and my eyes landed on Sasuke. He was nearly asleep in the bath; at the sight, a soft smile touched my lips. My tired boy.

I peeled off my ninja clothes and stacked them next to Sasuke's grey sweats, as that was all he was wearing. I put the serums and facial creams on the rim of the bathtub before I slid into the warm water.

In forty five minutes dinner will be ready plus another ten minutes to cook the rice.

And I press myself down over Sasuke's lap and watch him open his eye, with the rim of the Rinnegan just peaking from under his fringe. My hand cups his cheek as I look down at his skin. The condition of his skin feels pretty dry. I had been planning to use my serums and my skincare anyways, but then again, Sasuke had first dibs.

I squeezed some of the serum out onto the tips of my fingers and started applying the thick liquid, brushing over his features, my fingers slipping under his fringe. I knew quite well he didn't like me pushing it up, though his nose scrunched ever so slightly when I did it, which I found rather cute.

"When did you come home?" I asked calmly.

"At about midday," he repeated. "I had hoped you'd be at home."

"I'm sorry, Love. Was out shopping," I replied, and remembered the bags downstairs; I had left them full, not only with groceries but with some new clothes.

I smoothed some of the moisturizing lotion across his face, just marveling at the beauty in front of me—it was just so flawless. "You said you wouldn't be coming back for a while," I said through a mumble, and Sasuke's hand just covered mine over his cheek.

Sasuke sighed before replying, "Nah, I wasn't feeling too well-" "What? Are you sick?" I asked, worried. My other hand went to his forehead, but I found that he did not have a fever and a temperature attack. Sasuke is acting funny. "Well," I went on, "you look tired, Sasuke. Please relax for me."

He nodded once more and began to hum as he clipped his eyes contently while I continued to clean him up. I noticed that he was actually really clean, though his skin is very dry.

"My love?" I asked as Sasuke gently opens his eyes.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"Did you shower before I got here?"

"I would've done that," Sasuke answered. "I wasn't gonna go in bed dirty, I know how much you don't like the sheets getting dirty too fast."

'Yeah,' I smiled before letting my hands rest soft against the skin about his shoulders and neck. The quiet lasted longer than a few moments, though my lips parted and I asked again, 'Sasuke, why did you come home early? You said—you said you would be gone for a couple of years.

"I missed what home felt like," Sasuke replied and I saw the lump he swallowed in his throat.

My brows furrowed in confusion. "Don't worry, Sasuke. Home will always be here, wherever you go," I murmured, leaning my forehead against his.

"I missed my home," Sasuke repeats and I cupped his cheeks.

My lips ghosted over his as I spoke, "You're home, love."

"I want you to come with me," Sasuke said.

"What?" I said breathlessly.

"I want my home to come with me."

Understanding dawned on me. He wasn't talking about our house; Sasuke was talking about me.

His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, and I let out a small gasp. "I'll come, Sasuke," I hummed as I closed my eyes and let my lips grace his own.

He tasted like frustration and anger, but with an underlying flavor of caramel; peculiarly, that was him.

It is only the lip balm I had put on that had not made his chapped lips hurt.

I was his home, and he was doing all these wanderings, and I don't know where without it—without me.

Something in me just took over, and I kissed him. Really kissed him. I got a little animal groan from him when my tongue slipped on in. His hand moved, tightened around the back of my waist, and drew me inexorably closer into him than I already was.

Pooled heat in my stomach as Sasuke's dick pressed up at my entrance, and I let out a breathless sigh into his mouth before I pulled away. "Let me touch you," I asked as I nipped at the skin below his ear, only leaving subtle red marks in its path.

"You don't have to ask me for anything," moaned Sasuke. "Do what you want."

When they made some kind obscure noises about my thanks, my hands slid down his arms, shoulders, and toned abs. Sasukes head lolled back, leaning against the edge of the bathtub.

"You're s'beautiful," I mumbled in between breaths of me marking up the base of his neck.

His arm tightened further around my waist, and he pressed me down as much as he could to his dick, and I let out a moan against his neck, while Sasuke let out a sigh of content.

"So beautiful."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

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taglist - @enouche @lovelyandproblematic

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— playing defence + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — you bitch slap kaiser for talking smack about your boyfriend. perhaps isagi is rubbing off on you.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, crack, fluff, suggestive towards the end, violence, smack talk, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, established relationship, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2.2K.

⭑ notes — greetings all! isagi brain rot is so real rn, i swear i have like six wips for him... anyways this was a silly little idea that popped into my head lmao kinda cringe but i had fun with it !! enjoy ! - m.list ✩

your boyfriend is somewhat of a conundrum.

the world knows yoichi isagi as the ruthless heart of blue lock’s success. a man that’s unrelenting on the field with his strategic mind and frightening air of dominance poured into his every play. every movement he makes is calculated meticulously, the greed for a goal simmering in his blood. isagi as a pro player is foul mouthed and messy — taunting his opponent until they crumble into nothing but dust before his very eyes.

the media thinks he’s cocky, but rightfully so. after all yoichi isagi is the catalyst for a new generation of japanese soccer. the girls love him, he’s charming in interviews without meaning to be — they like how he talks about you. as if you’re a gem that’s worth millions. precious.

the isagi that you know has a tender touch and his soul warm, he wears his heart right on his sleeve and never lets you go a moment without knowing you’re appreciated. the isagi that you know is encouraging, he’s always on your side. if he needs to, he’ll sweet talk you with honey glazed words and kiss you until your thoughts fizzle out into stardust.

isagi is good.

he’s good to his friends, his teammates, his parents — he’s almost too good to be true. as if he’s been peeled from the pages of a shoujo romance manga or ripped from the silver screen of a perfect Hollywood romcom. a literal walking green flag. you’d say that you were lucky to have him, and yoichi would spin it on you — using strings of sweet words to express just how deep and profound his love is for you, praising you just enough to melt you into a love sick puddle of goo. and he’d mean it, sincerity swirling in his whirlpooling blue eyes. he swears by it.

so when someone pisses your isagi off, when they hurt him — you can’t help but lose your shit.

it happens during a practise match with a few of the players that joined during the neo-egoist league. although it’s been years since then and the blue lock project has become a formidable team, it keeps the boys on their feet to play with those with other worldly styles of soccer. the match had been going well, isagi trailblazing across the pitch and leaving nothing but a trail of destruction and despair behind — you were proud of him, amazed by him and the talents he possesses. to see him in his element makes your heart swell.

you don’t know kaiser very well — just that he’s super big and plays for the german team that gave isagi his leg up in the soccer world. you’ve heard from others about how much of a dick he could be and the intense rivalry he had with your boyfriend back when the blue lock project first started. you don’t know kaiser well but that information alone was enough to get your back up whenever he was in close range of yoichi.

and rightfully so. because you see the way he prods and pokes at the beautiful, sensitive parts of your lover as they race across to the penalty area. you notice how it rattles isagi, gets him all up in his head. you hear kaiser say something along the lines of:

���what’s with your shitty plays, yoichi? surely if you’re the heart of blue lock then the future of soccer is bound to be doomed.” he skirts around your boyfriend, intercepting a pass he was meant to receive from nagi. “pathetic, to see how much this star has fallen. i should crush you.”

you’ve heard all the insults the blue lock boys throw at each other before but this is nothing like usual. rin itoshi has said much worse to isagi right in front of your face (and isagi right back, foul mouthed motherfucker) but you know that’s a defence mechanism to how rin truly thinks and feels.

michael kaiser is just an asshole, plain and simple.

and that kind of behaviour doesn’t fly with you when it comes to yoichi.

you storm onto the pitch from the sidelines before your mind can even catch up to your body. the other players working around your boyfriend and his rival stop their movements as you stroll past them, snapped out of their egoist state by the referee whistle that calls for you to stop.

“m-ma’am! you can’t be on the pitch!”

you walk right past ness, weave between kurona, bachira and hiori, and right up to the blonde haired perpetrator himself. you’re polite about it too, tapping him on the shoulder to interrupt the narcissistic monologue he’s giving to isagi and showing him your sweetest, kindest smile.

there’s a split second before the blunt force of your fist collides with michael kaiser’s cheek and he’s knocked to the ground from the weight of it.

“you better watch who the fuck you’re talking to, you clownish freak.”

“babe?” isagi jumps into action despite his shock and the sniggers from other players on the field. he wraps his strong arms around your middle and tugs you into his chest with a winded laugh. “precious, what are you doing here?”

“he can’t talk to you like that!”

“but baby, you can’t be here—“

“this isn’t good.” bachira sings from a safe distance.

“fuck! what the actual fuck?” kaiser swears, using the sleeve of his jersey to wipe the blood from his bruising nose. “who’s crazy groupie is this?”

another wave of anger crashes through your veins, your blood at its boiling point as his words register within you. “excuse me?” isagi snarls, clearly unimpressed, loosening his hold on you while you struggle against your boyfriend’s lean frame.

“so what? you get your girlfriend to play defence for you and then act like i’m in the wrong? i said, get this groupie away from me—!”

before anyone on the pitch can realise, you’re free from isagi’s hold and you’re on kaiser like white on rice — fisting his sweatshirt between the same pretty fingers that treat isagi like he’ll break with too much force. “you wanna say that again, shitstain?” you run your tongue over your teeth, the menacing glint to your eye making you look like you’re a predator about to hunt down her prey. the blonde shakes underneath you as you pin him to the grass — an insult rolling around on his tongue. “i wouldn’t waste my words. you should just lay down and die before you take another sucker punch from this groupie.”

“do you have any idea how much this face is worth? i should—“

“gimme a break michael kaiser,” to your left you can hear bachira chanting something about ‘no violence’, bouncing around excitedly and a wicked grin tugs on the corner of your lips. “you’re not worth shit to me. so keep fucking around and find out, pretty boy. you talk smack about yoichi again and i swear your face won’t be the only goods i damage.”

“jeez, you’re just as crazy as that wanna be protagonist over there—“ is all he can muster before he flinches back from your fists that raise a over your head.

isagi moves quicker this time, scooping you up from underneath your armpits despite how you huff, puff and protest. “alright, alright, you’re done here. let’s go, princess.” he says sheepishly. maybe he’s been rubbing off on you a little too much.

his comforting touch slides down to your hand, grabbing at it to drag you off the pitch for the sake of kaiser’s safety, keeping everyone else out of harms way. and isagi just about gets you off the green before you set your sights on your next victim — ness, who can’t help but make faces at you as you trudge after your boyfriend.

drawing a line over your throat with your thumb, you make direct eye contact with him. “you’re next, shitty little meat-rider—! ow! ‘ichi!” you bark, but isagi quickly scoops you up again like a cat holding her kitten by the nape.

you have no choice but to back down for now.

“yanno, you really didn’t have to do that.”

isagi let’s you go once you’re back in the locker rooms to check on your hand. he crouches before you (where you sit just a level above him on the metal bench), holding an ice pack to your knuckles with the trace of a smile on his lips, only lifting it to see if the swelling has gone down. isagi reads you like an open book, he’s got you all figured out so he leaves you with the space to react and have your little tantrums.

besides, it’s cute that you get so pissed off when it comes to him. watching your nose scrunch up and your lips twist into a pout while you fight your own outburst just makes his heart beat for you a little faster.

“oh i fucking did! he was being so horrible to you and i couldn’t just let it slide!” you huff as your temper flares, shoulders sagging and arms crossing over your chest. he says nothing for a moment and lifts the compress from your hand to check the damage.

“look at you, precious girl. you’ve only gone and hurt yourself,” even when you’re throwing a fit like this, yoichi can only see the beauty in you — his cheeks flushing at how much you care for him. the dark haired striker flips through a first aid kit that rests at your feet, looking for disinfectant to clean up your split knuckles. “and, as for kaiser… well, he’s always like that.”

“well, i don’t like kaiser. i hope a bird shits on his head and both sides of his pillows are warm.”

“bird shit is supposed to be a sign of good luck, baby.”

“don’t test me yoichi isagi.”

he dabs at your wounds with a cotton pad and a brownish liquid that smells like the dettol your mom would keep in the cabinet under the kitchen sink for when you got yourself into similar situations like this as a kid. but instead of scolding you like she would, yoichi tends to your cuts and scrapes either upmost care. still smiling to himself. smiling at you. resisting the urge to burst with affection.

“you’re gonna have to apologise, precious.” he mutters absentmindedly, wincing when you do.

“i-i’m not going to, he deserved it!” that much is true, kaiser is clown who needs to be put in his place but it shouldn’t have been by you and at the expensive of your precious hands getting hurt.

you’re in more pain than you’re willing to show, and it bothers isagi just a little bit that you’re experiencing it because of him.

“well he did, but ego won’t be happy.”

“did ego make you apologise for all those times you beat the crap out of your teammates for even looking at me? for stealing your goals?” you roll your eyes, leaning away from your doting boyfriend in protest.

isagi grabs at your wrist firmly, tugging you back into place so he can start wrapping your hand up — ignoring the way his face and the tips of his ears start to burn up in embarrassment. “well no… but that’s different. friendly competition.”

“hardly! may i remind you that shidou literally couldn’t walk for a week straight after he commented on my ass? because of you?”

“i was defending your honour! and keep still!”

you give isagi a pointed look. hypocrite. “okay, but what about when rin said you couldn’t fuck for the life of you and then you proved your point. using me. in front of him. was that about honour or about your ego? mister egoist.” isagi’s big blue eyes instantly shoot up to meet yours and blushes a crimson that could rival the shade of the older itoshi brother’s hair. “itoshi couldn’t look at me for weeks!”

“point taken.” knowing that he won’t win this argument (if you could even call it that), isagi finishes up with bandaging your hand and takes a seat next to you, a comfortable silence settling over you both while he attempts to piece together why you love him this much. to play knight in shining armour to his damsel in distress.

“are you…really going to make me apologise yoichi?” you ask him sheepishly after some time, leaning into him for comfort.

“not if you don’t want to, precious.” he hums, fondly brushing a thumb over the back of your bandaged hand. a silent thank you. a hidden i love you.

“good,” you whine now that all of your adrenaline’s worn off and you can really feel the consequences of punching a world class striker in the face. “now kiss my knuckles. they hurt.” holding up your hand to isagi’s face, you shake it as if to rid yourself of the painful ebb to it.

“better?” isagi complies, his lips soft against your skin.

“much.”

“so spoilt,” he adds. your boyfriend’s voice stays low while he plays with your bruised fingers and checks them over, resting his head against your own affectionately. “next time you throw a punch in my name, tuck your thumb into your fist to minimise the damage. i don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

“so you did like seeing me punch kaiser.” you giggle, squirming when isagi drops your hand to pull you into his lap possessively. his loving grin spreads even further when your eyes widen at a certain…hardness poking your inner thigh.

“oh yeah, super hot. i love it when you get mad ‘n start talking shit for me.”

isagi doesn’t make it back to practice, too caught up in showing you just how much he loves it when you start fights over him.

[theincognitomoth]

Wild Side

Pairing: Mr. Wolf x Fem!Reader (Stablished relationship)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5731

Warnings: Rough sex, mild language, bitting, scratch,ing knotting, praise kink, male!dom, fem!sub, first person POV.

Sinopsys: During a mission gone wrong, Mr. Wolf goes on a wild frenzy and ends up hurting his girlfriend. Out of guilt, he isolates himself in a dirty apartment, all the while his sweetheart is determined to prove he has nothing to feel Sorry for.

Since the Night Howlers' incident, Wolf refused to come out of his room. He also refused to let anyone else in, except for Snake, and he refused, above all else, to see me- And that stung far more than the bite mark shaped like his teeth in my forearm as I applied the flower scented infection cream.

Three months ago Diane came with a mission for us. It was simple at first: find a couple of missing citizens. But soon the conspiracy web spiraled so further down that mind controlled guinea pigs and a butt shaped meteorite sounded sane in the same sentence. 

Those people were targets of a cult- The Naturalists, they called themselves. They believed that the root of suffering came from the modern world. A normal group with this belief might have organized a hike or camping trip but, crazy bastards that they were, thought themselves justified to take people off the streets and inject them with a brain altering drug: The Night Howlers.

That cursed little purple capsule was the reason my boyfriend refused to see me, even after two weeks of the case closed.

During a chase he was shot with the substance. Even now my stomach ran cold when I remembered the look in his eyes- Desperate at first, and then feral mindlessness. He chased me prey, my heart pounded in my ears, all my blood going to my legs telling me to run, run, run. It was still a blurry memory, the way his fangs buried on my skin. It was sheer luck that saved me that day, and I dreaded imagining the other outcome. But whatever horrors my mind came up with, I knew Wolf's was much worse, leaving him to rot in his little den of misery. 

With a heavy sigh, I put on my clothes and marched out of the apartment, standing in front of Wolf's door yet again.

“Moe?” I knocked and waited for a response that never came.

This everlasting silence would drive me mad.

“I know you can't- won't see me right now, but could you at least say something so I know you're not dead and rotting on the other side of that damn door?” 

My words were harsh, I knew, and the corridor echoes made sure to slap me in the face with them. For his sake I kept those words in. I knew he was suffering, I tried to be patient, but the sting with each day of deathly silence left a bitter taste in my mouth and I had to let it out before it made me sick.

“I'm getting tired of this- I know you feel bad for what happened, but I swear, I'd rather get bitten again than for you to play dead. Please…”

I was certain my plea would fall on deaf ears until the door locks creaked. My heart was beating in my ears like drums, my eyes burnt from not blinking. The door opened to reveal a dark room, cold and smelling like an old pantry. Snake stood on the other side, looking at me with a frown deeper than normal. He was much better at hiding  his worry than me. 

“Go easy on him,” He said, slipping out of the door and holding it open.

“Is it too bad?” I whispered.

“Would be easier if he wasn't such a drama queen.” 

I forced out a chuckle.

“Thanks.”

“Don't mention it, just… Get him out of that damn apartment.”

A difficult mission, one I didn't know if I was up to, yet had to grab this precious small chance.

I walked into Wolf's apartment and closed the door behind me.

Some people prefer winter nights over nice summer days, but the state of his apartment was absurd. I adjusted my sleeves to cover my hands as the AC turned a city apart into a tundra, its blue glowing numbers being the only light source letting me see broad shapes. Wolf sat in the corner of the couch, wrapped around an old blanket with his face hidden in it. How much time did he spent day after day like this?

One of many food packages scrunching under my foot as I made my way towards him. His ears perked up for a second before laying flat against his head again.

“Moe…” He flinched.

I sat on the couch, arms length from him.

“Can you look at me?” The knots in my chest tightened further as the seconds stretched without a response. “... I miss you.”

Finally, thank Heavens, finally he looked up at me, those big sad eyes resembling an abandoned puppy. He stared for a short while, before sifting his focus to my forearm, covered by the long sleeve.

“Does it still hurt?” He asked, voice quiet.

“No.”

“Did you get an infection?”

“I didn't.”

“Scar?” 

“None.”

“Good.” He let out a shaky breath. “I've missed you too.”

There was a glimmer of the ‘him’ from before the incident when he smiled at me- My old Moe. But I blinked and it was gone. I reached for his hands into the blanket cocoon, but he winched away, covering it up with a chuckle.

“I haven't trimmed my claws in a while.”

“Since when do you trim them?”

“I- uh, started recently.”

“Moe…”

He shook his head, leaning further away from me with a frown.

“Stop. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He struggled to find words. I knew that angry look, but it wasn't aimed at anyone.

“Like you're the one who hurt me and not the other way around.”

When he stood up, so did I, keeping a distance as I followed him to the kitchen, littered with full trash bags that didn’t smell, for they were full of plastic packages and cans instead of real food.

“Come on, it wasn't your fault.”

“Yeah, there are blood stains on my shirt that say otherwise.”

He grabbed a kettle and put it on the stove to boil and took one cup of instant noodles from the almost empty cabinet. Shrimp flavored, Moe's least favorite.

“You weren't in control, they shot you with a Night Howler.”

“And I went after you instead of the cultist, how do you explain that?”

Over the weeks, that question plagued me too and I came up with a few theories. Maybe he chose to chase something that smelled familiar, or his animal brain saw me as easier prey, since the cultist was bigger. Whichever reason, not a part of me believed he acted from malice.

“Look, you don't need to try and justify or rationalize what happened there. I don't blame you one bit.”

“You should.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

I tried to remain level headed, but I didn't know what else to say to make him see reason.

“Why? Why the hell are you so angry with yourself when it was the crazy cultist that drugged you?”

“Because I liked it!”

The kettle whistle was the only sound in the room as I was left speechless, mouth agape and dry. I only realized how tense my shoulders were when they dropped heavy on my sides.

“...What?”

Wolf let out a deep sigh, turning off the stove and leaning against the counter. He wasn't looking at me.

“I liked it- not hurting you, not ever. But when that guy shot me with the Night Howler…” He rubbed the spot on his neck where the drug hit him. “It was like- like I had been wearing a tie squeezing my neck the whole time and the Night Howler cut it loose.”

His eyes sparkled with something familiar, that same shine from when he went through a heist plan or talked about a new driving maneuver he pulled. But as soon as that spark came, he met my eyes and it was gone.

“You can't be serious,” I shook my head. “Did you actually buy into that naturalist looney's idea?”

“It's not- look, I'm not saying I want to run around like a rabies crazed dog.”

“I sure hope so.”

It wasn’t the answer he hoped for, I knew, but it wasn’t what I expected him to say either. Something about those eyes begged for me to understand. For all that it’s worth it, I tried.

Wolf took a moment, pouring the hot water on his noodles.

“Wish I could explain it better. I haven't been able to sleep right after what I did to you, but at the same time, when I close my eyes and remember the way it felt to run around without a thought in my head, it was… free, and real and…”

“Wild?” 

He opened the lid of his instant noodles with a small chuckle, poking at the shrimp pieces with a plastic fork.

“Yeah, wild.” He took a sniff of the thing, face twisting in disgust, then put it down on the sink. 

Silence weighed on the apartment while I tried to make sense of his words. The way he spoke wasn't much different from those cultists and I couldn't use the excuse of indoctrination on him. The great leaders didn't talk Moe into buying their idea, he felt it on his skin, so much so that even the bite incident didn't stop him from missing that brief moment of brain off wildness.

Maybe the naturalists weren't so off. 

“Would you do it again?”

“The night howler? Nah, too risky.”

“But you miss the feeling.”

It wasn't a question, and the way he lowered his ears showed he knew it. I tried to relate in a way, imagining what it would be like if I could never again eat my favorite food, run in the rain or go downhill on a bike. What would be like if I had a snippet of the highest high of my life only to know I could never experience it again? What would it be like if I had a tie squeezing around my neck, only loose enough to suck in shallow breaths?

Miserable, that's what it would be like.

“Moe…” My heels clicked on the silent apartment as I approached and touched his shoulder. “I can't in my right mind say you should do drugs,” I said with a straight face and he chuckled. “But I don't want you to feel like you're suffocated either. Maybe we can find a middle ground, loosening the tie without ripping it off.”

His ears perked up a little and he looked at me with those puppy eyes that got my heart in a claw-like grip.

“Really? After what I did, would you still want to help?”

“Of course I do. What happened wasn't your fault, and I don't want you to feel suffocated.” I reached for the fluff on his cheek and Moe leaned against my hand. “I love you.”

I barely finished my sentence and his arms wrapped around me, squeezing my waist, firm and gentle, even if I wouldn’t mind having the air squeezed out of me. His head rested against my shoulder and his tail wagged fast.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

The familiar weight of his head on my shoulder melted the tension I walked with for the past weeks. I missed the way his fur tickled my cheek and the way his tail brushed against my legs. If helping him tap into a semi-wild state was what it took to keep this, then becoming a goddamn adrenaline chaser suddenly climbed its way up my list of priorities.

Minutes passed in our much needed embrace before I gathered the willpower to pull away, earning a small whine from him.

“Okay, Moe. If I'm going to help you, we are doing this right.” I walked up to his fridge where a little white board with a couple of markers was glued to the door and picked the red one, writing ‘Mr. Wolf's wild list’ on the top. “Let's start with the ideas.”

Wolf crossed his arms and leaned against the counter with a smirk.

“Not wasting any time, I see.”

“The sooner we figure out what can help you, the sooner we can implement it. So come on, ideas.”

He closed his eyes with a hum, scratching his chin.

“Pulling out a stunt with the car always gets me going.”

“Dangerous driving, then?”

“It's only dangerous if you don't know what you're doing, sweetheart.”

I stared at him, unamused for a good three seconds before sighing.

“Fine.” Against better judgment, I wrote ‘crazy driving’ on the board. “But only on empty roads.”

“Fair enough.”

“What about hiking? It's in nature.”

“Eh, I don't know. Not really a nature guy myself.”

“Really, Moe? No nature in the wild list?”

Wolf chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well, when you put it like that… Maybe I can give running around the mud and get eaten by mosquitos a go.”

“What a lovely way to put it, babe.” I wrote 'touching grass’ on the list with a green marker, drawing a little mosquito beside it.

“Okay, what else?”

Doodling a couple of stars, I waited for new ideas. When he told me nothing for a good thirty seconds, I turned my full attention to him; his tail wagged a little bit, but hung low, the clawed finger tapped against the counter in steady clicks.

 “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, I know the room is pretty dark but I'm not blind.” I placed my hands over his bouncing leg and tapping finger, the movement stopping. “You can tell me.”

He took his sweet time with it, eyes running through the corners of the room and looking away after the split moments he met mine.

“Promise you won't get mad.”

“Okay… I won't get mad.”

“And promise you'll say no if you're not absolute, one hundred percent sure of it.”

“You’re making it sound like you want to commit a crime.”

“Not far off my alley. But no, it's not a crime, it's… Not gonna lie, it's pretty damn embarrassing.”

Embarrassing. This was the man who played the suave thief like second nature, so when he looked at me like a punny teenager about to ask the cheerleader to the dance, scared of my rejection, what else could I do other than swoon?

“I never knew you had shame buried under that white suit of yours.”

I waited for his smart little remark so I could answer with a comeback heating up on the tip of my tongue. It felt nice, familiar, our back and forth.

“Yeah, that's what you do to me.”

My witty come answer turned to ash in my mouth, leaving my tongue heavy; And while my head scrambled for coherence and my knees for composure, Wolf chuckled and put his hands on my hips,thumbs running up and down sending a wave up my back and making my hairs prickle.

“I want you,” He whispered. “When you walked in, your smell almost made me forget why I hid away to begin with.”

The Moe I knew was a flirt, yes, but in a way which felt like he practiced his lines in front of a mirror. A great actor, no doubt, but still an actor. This was different, it was raw. He spoke without a filter and it made my back arch. I squeezed his shoulder, crumpling the fabric of his messy shirt.

“I want you too,” I leaned closer, breath fanning over the little furs on his muzzle. “I missed you, Moe. I missed you way too much.”

Harsher than what I was used to, his hands squeezed the flesh of my hips, and I could feel the tip of his sharp claws through my jeans.

“Sweetheart, I need you to be real with me now and only say yes if you really mean it.” A gentle hand tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want you to be part of my little list.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I want to try something different, a little more… loose.”

The only thing stopping the heat that ran up my spine from getting to my head was the ever present suspicion.

“Loose?”

“Yeah, you said I should loosen the tie,” His grip on my waist tightened and he pulled me close enough to feel his hot breath brushing my nose. “And I want to loosen it with you.”

Little impressions I had from the time we spent entangled in the sheets suddenly became much clearer. The way he held me by the waist, kissed me, touched me- Aside from being fantastic and melting the tension from every muscle, left me with this itch in the back of my mind. Be it a scowl on his brow or hands that squeezed me too tight just to let go two seconds after, what he did to me never felt complete. Now I had the confirmation to my suspicions: He held back every time.

Morbid curiosity allied with the growing fire in my stomach, making me wonder how much I could take if he didn't.

“I want to try that out too.”

“Really?” His smile widened and he gave my hips a small squeeze. “It's not just because of me, right? Because if it is-”

I cut his rambling by the root with a peck to the lips.

“I'm a big girl, Moe. I know what I want and I mean what I'm saying. And what I want is for you to take off that leash and burn it-”

In a blink, he had me on top of the balcony, body pressed flushed together as he invaded my mouth in a kiss that left me light headed.

He took his lips away from mine and before I fully made sense of what was happening, began kissing my neck.

“Just tell me to stop and I will,” he said between little kisses and small nibbles. “And if I hurt you, punch me in the throat.”

“Hm, yeah, I can… I can manage that.” 

Pushing words out became quite the task when he was making me gasp and sending  shivers through my nerves. I held onto his head, looking down as he worked his magic on my skin, tucking my shirt's collar down to give the same treatment as my neck. While Wolf busied himself with that, I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling a hardening volume against my inner thigh.

“Already?” I smiled, scratching behind his ear.

“Hm, just missed you so much.”

His hands moved from my hips to my thighs, squeezing them like stress toys while leaving an open mouth kiss on my cleavage. I tugged at his head, and when a breathy moan left my lips, he growled against my skin.

“How much do you like this shirt?”

The sudden question snapped my attention back to him. He looked at my long sleeve shirt as if it was his worst enemy.

“What?”

He squeezed my thighs a little harder, claws poking my flesh.

“The shirt. Is it a favorite of yours?” 

“Why- no, not really.”

“Good.”

The fire that ran through my blood when he tore up the shirt with his teeth and claws was enough to make my face melt off. My mouth hung open with no words uttered as he kissed between my breasts, before pulling away to stare at my lace bra.

“Hm… Not this one.” Much gentler, nimble fingers unclasped the hooks behind me, letting the bra slide through my shoulders while he looked me in the eye with a cheeky grin. “This one I like.”

“...I'll keep that in mind.”

“But I like these even more.”

His attention focused on my breasts. He took one in his hand and kneaded it gently, before making me groan with a harsh squeeze. His grip loosened the same moment and he kissed the finger prints on my skin.

“Too much?”

“No, no, just a little sensitive. It’s been a while.”

“It sure has,” Another gentle kiss traced the reddish marks, trailing up to my pulse. “We can do it the nicer way, you know.”

There he went, offering me an out again when my desires were set in forgetting all restraint. In response my eager hands worked around his shirt, soft fabric hiding even softer fur beneath it. Maybe I was the wild animal between us.

The rumbling of his laugh vibrated against my neck.

“Or not.”

His hands returned to my tender breasts, previous gentleness gone as he squeezed one while feeling the other’s weight in his palm. The pain didn’t phase me. Sure, there was a sharp moment of agony, but in less than a second it became laced with strange pleasure, before fully dissolving into it, like a cold shower after a full day walking in the sun. 

My own hands stayed occupied, tracing my fingers over his spine, glazing my nails against his skin, and fully sunk into him when Moe took one of my nipples into his mouth, threatening to bite it down. He didn’t, I knew he wouldn’t go that far, but the possibility was enough to get me shivering.

He nibbled, sucked and played with my hardened buds until I was pulling at the hairs on his neck with enough strength to rip them, and by the end even the breeze from the air conditioner made me whine. He moved back a little, a gleam of smugness in his eyes as he looked over his work of turning my flesh into a personal canvas with purple and red marks. Those eyes that never looked more dangerous met mine and I almost came undone right then and here.

“Awn sweetheart, you’re crying?”

Overwhelmed tears stung my eyes, my entire body, especially my face, feverish.

“N-No. I’m tearing up, it’s different.”

“Well, un-lucky for you, you’re way too pretty like this.” He held my chin a little too forceful, making me stare at the predatory gaze of his. “Now I wonder what’s like if I do make you cry.”

My gasp got cut short when Wolf threw me over his shoulder like a fat shack of dollar bills and walked towards his bedroom, making me yelp when he squeezed my butt followed by a less than gentle bite.

I tried to look at his face while balancing myself.

“When did you get this strong?” 

“Always have been, just needed the right motivation.”

The bedroom was as dark as the rest of the apartment, his familiar scent all around when he threw me in the bed, right in the center of a nest-like pile of blankets and kissing down my lips.

“Comfortable?”

“Yeah, I could fall asleep right now.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, one finger pulling my pants.

“You can try, don’t think you’ll be able to. But if you get close to falling asleep…” With a swift movement, he lowered my pants to my thighs. “I’ll just have to get you on the edge again.” He slid my pants down all the way and kissed under my belly button. “...And again…” His lips stopped at the hem of my panties, fingers coming up to touch the soaked spot between my legs. “... And again.”

Threat or promise, he already left unable to catch my breath. My watery eyes admired the sight as much as the blurriness allowed it, my hips buckling against his fingers while the bastard grinned.

“Hell, Moe. You want me to beg?”

“I wasn’t thinking about it, but now that you offered…”

Leaning back on the pillows with one arm over my face, I groaned.

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Hey, don’t be mad. I’m just messing with ya, beautiful.” 

“Oh, aren’t you a jokester? This is torture-”

A jolt went up my spine when he dragged his fingers along my slick, teasing me through the panties’ fabric. Wolf’s breath hovered over my over sensitive clit before he gave it the much needed attention with an open mouth kiss that if on the lips would leave anyone drenched. I held myself back from locking his head with my legs when he moved away to slice my panties off, my fully nude form barely affected by the cold room because of how he made me burn.

Moe kissed me, the softer and passionate approach meeting the pace of his fingers teasing my entrance and smearing my clit with my own wetness. For a moment he got me thinking he had given up on our little experiment, but horny little me simply walked into a trap, only noticing when he grabbed my hips and flipped me into my stomach. I tried to use my elbows for support, but Moe pushed me back down and lifted my hips, leaning over my body, pressing himself flushed against me and whispering.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to have you like this, bent over letting me see everything. And you look so pretty. Always so, so pretty for me, sweetheart.” 

His husky whisper tickled the back of my ear and I couldn’t blame myself from the moan he dragged out of me. I needed him now, before this drove me to wild madness. And maybe that’s what Wolf was trying to do- To turn me into a crazed and unleashed beast. By the way I pressed myself against him, without a single rational thought, he more than succeeded.

“Just fuck me,” I demanded.

Growling, he dug his hands into my hips, grinding the rock hard cock against me, staining his pants with my slick.

“Last chance to back down.” The sound of his voice was followed by the unzipping of his pants.

“I think I’ll combust if I do.”

Wolf chuckled, one of his hands spreading my lips for him while the other guided his thick length to my entrance and made me gasp and grab at the sheets. It took a total of three slower thrusts before he picked up a crushing, brain melting pace and made me forget the time of the day, the place and my name. He held me by the back of the neck, and by the stings of pain coming from my back and shoulder, I could guess how many marks I would have by the end of this- and God, I didn’t care. If anything, it ripped more unrestrained whimpers and cries from my throat.

“You sound almost as amazing as you feel,” he said, voice breathless against the back of my ear, his arms wrapping around my waist and holding me like a vice. “Damn, sweetheart, so pretty, so good for me, my good girl.”

“N-Not fair, that’s my- Oh, God!- that’s my line.”

The unforgiving pace grew even more savage, cutting out my moans with each thrust.

“But you like it too, don’t you? Screaming so much my ears are ringing.”

“Sorry-”

“Don’t be.”

Although he reached so, so fucking deep into me, that wasn’t the end of it. No, not with Moe like this, not with the swollen base as a delicious reminder, slapping against me everytime he moved.

His groans grew more fanatic, he barely pulled out, rutting against me right before his knot slipped inside in a stretch that might be painful if I wasn’t soaking wet.

Hissing, Moe held me flushed against his chest and my hands held onto his forearms for any semblance of structure. He could only rut against my heat and I could only moan at the over stimulation, so close from being a mess in his arms.

“Mine,” He groaned, nibbling my ear. “My perfect girl, taking me so well.”

“M-Moe…” My body twitched, tears rolled down my eyes into the sweat stained sheets. 

Wolf licked a red mark on the crook of my neck.

“Hm, I knew you would look even more beautiful crying for me.” His voice came out in huff and puffs of hot air on my already burning skin. His rutting became relentless, the tip of his cock bullying my cervix, trying to invade everything, tear me apart, merge into me, and by God, I would let him.

It didn’t take long for me to feel the familiar euphoria rush through my veins and tie knots- how ironic- around my stomach. Barely mustering the strength to moan and cry, pitiful wails echoed back to me, and my unleashed lover didn’t trail much better, his own voice hoarse and desperate.

My climax didn’t knock at the door- no, no, no, it came bursting through it, making a mess and all around as I clawed at Wolf’s forearms like a beast and was left shaking and gasping for air amidst low whines. He kept his pace, mindlessly chasing his own high, making my overstimulation all the more wrecking.

Two more minutes of harsh slapping sounds went by before the sights of his orgasm finally appeared to relieve my shaking body. Claws dug in my hips with a possessive grip, his jaw was so tense I could hear the sharp teeth grind against each other and for a moment it seemed he wanted to merge into me before his grip loosed and I felt the familiar warmth floating my walls and leaving no empty creeks.

Fast movements died down, his head resting on my shoulder followed by a heavy and content sigh .I could finally catch my breath.

“Are you okay?” Wolf asked, kissing the marking on the back of my neck.

In my head I answered ‘yes, fantastic’, but babbles left my mouth instead of words- At least he found it funny. 

Gently, he flipped me on my back and laid me down, kissing my temple and pulling my putty self closer.

“Fantastic as always, sweetheart. I didn’t think you could get any better and you still impressed me.”

I met his eyes, a smile playing on my lips. His fur never looked more messy, inviting me to pet and try to even it out. I did so, and Moe leaned against my hand, but that sweet, blissed out smile died the moment he laid eyes on the bite mark on my forearm. My heart squeezed for him as he took my arm like it was made of glass and stared at the red teeth scars.

“Moe, it’s not-” 

“I know.” He kissed the bite mark, lips lighter than butterfly wings. “But I’m still so sorry. Even after this, you’re still doing so much for me, I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

My hand scratched behind his flat ear.

“Well, if you’re so keen about it, I would love it if you finally got out of the apartment.”

He scoffed, but I kept going.

“I’m serious. I know you feel guilty, but locking yourself up as if you committed a crime is not doing any good to anyone. Hell, if I was the one who went crazy and bit you, it wouldn’t be an issue. You might even be laughing about it.”

Proving my point, he let out a breathy chuckle.

“See?” Despite the wobbly limbs, I shifted on the bed, bringing his head to my chest and placing one leg over his waist. “You’re not bad, Wolf.”

Hesitant hands moved up my back, holding me closer, and my worries were eased once I heard his tail wagging against the bed.

“Thank you, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Of course you’re right.” He nuzzled my neck and I could feel his smile. “And you’re right about leaving the apartment too. My nose is starting to itch and I would rather eat cardboard than those shrimp flavored noodles again.” 

“How about we go for a walk and get a salad after?”

He looked at me like a little kid who got told no at the toy store.

“Fine, a walk and ice cream. But after that we're deep cleaning this place.”

“Hmm, yes. You’re definitely too good for me.”

Wagging his tail, he leaned in and kissed the purple bruise on my neck. I knew his self blame wasn’t gone, hope as I might, it might never fully be, but we would take it one step at a time. And besides, exploring this new, unrestrained side of him- of us- wasn’t bad at all.

TAGLIST: @freeholeformuzan @xxladysquishyxx

[random-thot-generator]

Promises, Promises

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mac Tavish x Fem Reader

Summary: Soap has been trying to move your relationship out of the friend zone for months, and finally gets his chance when an innocent game of pool and a friendly wager lead to progressively dirtier tactics to make the other lose. Let’s just say Soap is “in it to win it” and makes a bold and filthy claim that he’s more than eager to prove to you.

Aaaand... then smut happens.  Yeah, I know. Big surprise, right?

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit sexual descriptions (bc that’s how I roll), thigh riding, oral- fem receiving, improper use of a pool table, Soap has a filthy mouth- for multiple reasons, no Y/N, 

(N/A: This thot hit me Friday night and it’s been rotting my brain ever since, so I’m purging this smut. I was going to share it for Super Soap Sunday, but then my internet died, so you’re getting a MacTavish Monday special event. So, gather ‘round the pool table, my good hoes, and let’s get into this.) 

Word Count: 4489

 🎱

“Ah, c’mon, hen. Give it up. Ya know yer gaggin’ t’go out with me. Admit it. Yer mad fer me, ain’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes at the handsome sergeant sitting in front of you at the bar, a rueful little smile quirking up your lips. He didn’t even realize how right he was. You were mad for him, and that was the sad truth of it. Head over heels for him, in fact, but you would never admit it to the cocky Scottish bastard. His pretty head was big enough as it was, already.

You had decided a while ago that it was best to just stay friends with Johnny MacTavish. He liked to keep his sexual relationships casual, and you couldn’t do that with him. You already cared about him too much, and you didn’t want to go through the pain of losing him when another woman eventually caught his eye. It sucked not being able to have him the way you wanted him, but it was better than not having him at all.

“Oh, come on, Johnny. I doubt you could even find the time to take me on a date, considering how crazy your schedule is,” you pointed out, trying to deflect his advances. “Besides, weren’t you dating that redhead? What’s-her-name? You’ve not mentioned her in a while. Things not work out?”

Soap made a frustrated face, waving a dismissive hand. “Tha’ happened months ago, Ya know good an’ damn well it was jus’ a quick feck in the lavvy every once in awhile t’relieve some stress.”

You tried your best to ignore the ugly pang of jealousy that curled in your chest. “Relieve some stress, huh? And what’s got you so stressed? Your job?”

“’M stressed ‘cause ya won’t go out with me,” was his quick retort, giving you an impish grin. His blue eyes sparkled in the low light, and you felt your heart give a pitiful little flutter.

Shaking your head, you tossed your towel on the bar and huffed in exasperation. “What’s it going to take to get you off this? Besides, going on a date with you?”

His face fell into a pouting frown. “Don’t see why ya won’t do it. It’d be a proper date, none o’ that ‘Netflix an’ chill’ shite.” Then his frown morphed into a dirty little smirk. “We can do tha’ after the date,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Aye, but I’m yer eejit.”

You wished.

Exhaling a weary sigh of resignation, you turned to check the clock on the wall. Finally. Closing time. “Last orders!” you shouted out to the pub at large. You glanced back at Johnny and pointed at his empty pint glass. “Do you want another?”

“Naw. ’M good.” He leaned his arms on the bar and smiled at you..

After the last of the customers had shuffled out, you locked the door behind them and started sweeping. Johnny jumped off his seat and began turning up the chairs and stools for you, then went to fetch the mop bucket from the supply closet. He had gotten into the habit of hanging out with you after hours and driving you home after you locked up for the night. On nights like this, he usually ended up passed out on your couch if he didn’t have to be back at base, his snores drowning out the telly. You didn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed that he had never tried to follow you to your bedroom. 

Working together, you had the pub cleaned and the bar restocked in less than an hour. Ready to call it a night and go home, you went to turn off the lights when you spied a couple of cue sticks left out on the pool table, a few pool balls scattered about its felt top. Figuring what the hell, you picked up one of the cue sticks. Johnny grinned as he watched you line up a shot, knocking the two ball into a corner pocket with a satisfying crack.

“Didn’t know you could play, hen.”

You gave him a lopsided smile and shrugged as you took aim at the seven ball next. “My uncle taught me how.” You sank the seven in a side pocket.

“If I’d known tha’, I would’ve ‘challenged ya to a game. I’m pretty good myself, ya know. I bet I could take you.”

You quirked a brow at him. “Oh, yeah? Willing to place a friendly wager on it?”

He crossed his arms across his chest and smirked. “What d’ya have in mind?”

“If I win, I get to choose where we order takeaway, and you have to pay for it. If you win. I’ll pay your tab tomorrow night.”

“Alright. I’ll rack, you break. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The match was fairly even, Johnny just barely beating you by knocking in the eight ball first. You took the loss in stride, ready to put your cue stick away, when he stopped you. “Let’s go double or nothin’.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, cue stick held aloft to be slotted back in the wall rack. “What d’you mean? I have to pay for takeaway twice if I lose again?”

“Nooo,” he drawled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m changin’ the stakes. If I win, ya have t’go on that date with me.”

“Really? And if I win?”

He grinned. “Then I’ll let you take me out on a date.”

You scoffed, snickering at him. “Unh-unh. No, if I win, you have to stop pestering me for a date.”

He sniffed, frowning. “If tha’s what ya want,” he grumbled, pouting.

You dropped your chin, shooting him a dubious look. “I thought you were sure you could take me. What have you got to worry about?”

He sneered at you, unable to ignore the challenge. “Alright, hen. Just be prepared to pay up when ya lose, again, aye?”

This time you racked, and he broke. Two solids dropped in their pockets, and his grin went wide. “Best decide now what yer goin’ t’wear for our date, hen.” He gave you a cocky wink before lining up his next shot.

Left to his own devices, you knew he would end up running the table, and you couldn’t let that happen. Sidling up next to him, face simpering, you murmured in a high, sweet voice, “Who said I was planning on wearing anything, Johnny?”

His shot went wide and glanced off the cue ball, making him swear under his breath. He turned to glare at you. “Tha’ was a dirty trick.”

You giggled at him. “Oh no! You missed your shot. That’s too bad,” you crooned in mock sympathy, poking out your bottom lip.

“So, tha’s how it’s goin’ t’be, then?” He gave you a slow nod. “Alright then, hen. We’ll do this yer way. Jus’ remember, it was you tha’ started it.”

You grunted, not in the least bit intimidated. Let him talk all he wanted. You could ignore him if you had to. You walked around the table, choosing your next shot, then bent over to line it up. Just as you went to tap the cue ball, Johnny leaned over and breathed hot on the side of your neck. “Mm. Ya look good bent over like tha’, sweetheart,” he hummed low and filthy in your ear.

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin as you flinched away, your shot just barely tapping the ball you were aiming at. You gave him a baleful look. The bastard knew his voice always got to you. “That was a cheap shot.”

His grin was smarmy as hell as he patted you on the head. “No. That was a missed shot.” He bumped you out of the way. “Now, if yeh’ll excuse me, I got a game t’win.”

Ooh! That cheeky little shit. You’d be damned if you were going to let him get away with that. When he bent over to take his next shot, you ran your cue stick up between his legs and giggled when he startled, missing his shot. He spun around to pin you with a warning look as his lips pressed into a grim smile. He cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip. “Keep it up, hen. See what ya get,” he told you, his voice gone sinfully low and husky.

You swallowed, feeling your belly swoop in arousal. Keeping a wary eye on him, you circled the table away from him and chose your next shot, being mindful of where he was standing. He remained on the opposite side, hands braced on the table’s edge, a salacious smile on his face. As you lined up to take your shot, he hummed, a dirty, rumbling purr that skittered up your backbone and made your lower belly grow warm. Your core pulsed in sympathy.

“Got t’say, love, ya got some gorgeous feckin’ chebs,” he commented, and you lifted your eyes to see he was peering straight down your shirt. “How ‘bout givin’ us a taste, hm?” he drawled, a wicked smirk tugging up the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, scowling. Just ignore him, you reminded yourself, but it was really hard to do that when you could feel your nipples tightening into hard little peaks. You growled under your breath and took your shot.

Johnny grimaced when you made it, scoffing, “Got lucky,” he mumbled.

Feeling like you had the upper hand, you strutted around the table until you were standing beside him again, then bumped him out the way. “Are we still talkin’ about this game or, uh... your game?” you asked, with a nasty little smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “An’ what’s tha’ s’posed t’mean?”

You took another shot, sank another ball, then straightened to give him a sly smirk. “You talk a good game, Johnny, but you’re never gone for more than five or ten minutes when you sneak off with one of your little birds. The way I see it, if they managed to get off at all, it would have to be pure luck.”

His mouth fell open in shock, and an airy little giggle bubbled up out of your throat at his expression. You turned your back on him to line up your next shot, feeling all full of yourself and confident, but then gasped when you felt his hands take hold of your hips and tug you back against him.

His mouth was right at your ear when he rasped out, “So you’re timin’ me, are ya, hen? Are ya jealous? Hmm? Don’t you worry tha’ pretty head o’ yers, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll have ya screamin’ my name in five minutes. Give me ten, an’ I’ll have ya cummin’ 'round my cock.”

You literally shuddered at his words, a trembling breath stuttering out between your parted lips as lust coursed through you, hot and heady. Holy shit, were you actually shaking right now? Get your head back in the game, you silently admonished yourself. Averting your eyes, you sniffed in derision, “Please. You think you could get me off in five minutes?” you scoffed and shook your head, but there was little force behind your words with you voice gone all quavering and breathless.

He pressed himself closer, a low, filthy chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I’d get ya off in three, hen,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

Heat pulsed through your core and you felt your panties grow damp. Shit! You bit your bottom lip and did your best to maintain your composure. “Hah! Th-Three minutes? I call b-bullshit,” you stammered out.

His hands gripped your hips tighter and he pulled you right up against his crotch, letting you feel just how much this little back-and-forth was affecting him. He gave a slow rut of his hips, rubbing the bulge in his jeans on the swell of your ass. “I wouldn’t even have to use this on ya,” he taunted, rutting against you again. “Jus’ me mouth.” His tongue traced the curve of your ear.

A strangled little whimper caught in the back of your throat, your knuckles going white as you gripped the edge of the pool table. “F-Fuck, Johnny...”

His lips were skimming down your neck, his breath coming out in soft, hot pants against your skin. “Let me show ya what I can do fer ya, sweetheart. Let me be good to ya, make ya feel good, aye?”

He hadn’t even really touched you yet, but you could already feel your arousal seeping out of your clenching channel to pool in your panties. “W-We shouldn’t...” you breathed out, trying to argue, but then his hands slid around your waist, one hand trailing down until he was cupping your clothed pussy in his big hand. A low, guttural moan clawed its way out of your throat. Your knees gave a little wobble.

You were in trouble.

Of its own volition, your head tilted to the side to give him better access, and he groaned into your neck before he began trailing hot, wet kisses up to your ear. He caught the lobe between his teeth before pulling it between his lips to suckle at it. The hand cupping your pussy squeezed, and another filthy moan escaped your lips.

“Y feel s’good, love. S’feckin’ hot,” he whispered, and your heart gave a hard thud in your chest. When his hand came up to clutch at your breast through your shirt, you whimpered. He gave a frustrated growl and turned you in his arms, crowding you back against the pool table as his arms wrapped around your back, hands gripping and pulling at you. “Feck, let me kiss ya, hen. Please?” he asked, voice desperate and plaintive.

You peered up at him, enthralled by the darkened blue of his eyes, the expanded void of his pupils. The way he looked at you had your hands shooting up to grasp the sides of his head, pulling him down to crash his lips to yours. This time, he whimpered, melting into you for a brief moment, but he soon recovered and took charge of the kiss.

No one had ever kissed you like that before. There was hunger in his kiss, an aggression that spoke of pent-up lust and insatiable need. The fierceness of it had you gasping against his mouth, and Johhny, never one to miss an opportunity, delved between your parted lips, tangling his tongue with yours as he groaned into your mouth.

He had slotted his knee between your thighs while he kissed you, and he lifted it, now, notching it firmly against your aching sex. You whined at the contact, hips bucking on instinct to gain more friction for your swollen clit.

“Feck, tha’s it, love. Ride it,” he encouraged you. One hand supporting your back, he used the other to help guide your hips, hissing out curses as he dragged your aching pussy back and forth along his flexed thigh. “God, I bet yer feckin’ soaked, aren’t ya, sweetheart?”

You could only whine and drop your head to his shoulder as he slowly pushed and pulled you to the very edge of orgasm. “J-Johnny... I―”

“Jus’ let go fer me, love. Let it happen,” he crooned at your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple. “Jus’ like that. Tha’s it. Feckin’ hell, yer so beautiful like this. Cum fer me, sweetheart. C’mon. Let me have it.”

A wavering cry fell from your lips as your orgasm swept over you like tidal wave. Sparks danced behind your eyelids, and your body went slack in his arms as your knees clamped around his thigh.

“Tha’s good, sweetheart. Ride it out. Did so good fer me,” he murmured, grasping the nape of your neck as he helped grind you against him, not stopping until your legs gave out and released the vice grip on his thigh. 

His voice and hands were both trembling as he caught you by the thighs and lifted you up to set you on the pool table, whispering praises in your ear. You could do little more than lean into him, pressing sloppy kisses at his throat as you pawed at his chest. “Oh, my god...” you breathed into his skin, panting.

His hands were rubbing circles over your back, giving you time to come down from your high. “I want ta make ya feel good, sweetheart, show ya what I can do fer ya. Will ya let me, love?”

You nodded like a dashboard bobble head, as you gasped out, “Yes! Please, Johnny.”

That’s all he needed to hear. Leaning past you, he swept his arm across the pool table, scattering the remaining pool balls in all different directions, before laying you back on the crimson felt. His hands went to the waist of your leggings, fingers curling into the material, giving them a quick tug. A sexy little smile appeared on his face when you eagerly lifted your hips to accommodate him. He pulled them down your legs, taking your underwear with them, giving a sharp inhale when his eyes finally landed on your slick lower lips.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, rushing to yank the shoes from your feet before stripping off your leggings and panties, and then tossed them aside. “Would ya look at tha’,” he whispered, brushing his thick knuckles down your wet slit. “Yer s’soft, love,” he murmured, bringing his hand up to his mouth to drag his tongue over the bony ridge. A grating moan was exhaled. “Mmm, ya taste so good, too.”

Your whimper came on the heels of the slick you could feel seeping out of your quivering folds, running along the seam of your pussy to drip onto the edge of the table. You were staring up at the ceiling in a daze, not caring what he did, so long as he touched you down there. “Johnny, wh-what are you―”

“Shh, love. Jus’ lay back an’ let me take care of ya. Tha’s a good girl.”

His hands were gliding up and down your sides, pausing briefly to massage your breasts. “Sweet Jaysus, cannae wait to see these,” he mumbled, brushing his thumbs over the nipples. He gave them a teasing little pinch, huffing out a breathy laugh when you whimpered and squirmed. “Sensitive little thing, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”

You threw an arm over your eyes, embarrassed. “C-Can’t help it. Don’t laugh.”

“No no, love,” he cooed, pulling your arm away. He leaned over you to stare into your eyes. “Not laughin’ at ya, love. I jus’ can’t believe I finally have ya like this.”

 He pressed his lips to yours, sighing into the kiss. You could feel his cock flexing inside his jeans, straining to get out. He pressed himself against your weeping core, slowly grinding against you until you were whimpering again. “Can’t wait t’be inside ya, love, but there’s somethin’ I got t’do first.”

His body slid down yours, lips grazing over your sternum, kissing each breast, pushing your shirt further up to plant soft kisses over your belly and hips. He licked a wet stripe above your mound, catching your hips in his hands when you rolled them up into his face. “Bless me, the way ya move, hen. Drives me feckin’ mad.”

His pressed his nose into your sex and inhaled, moaning into it before you felt the first touch of his tongue. He had dipped the tip of it into your wet folds, flicking it over your clit, before drawing back as you jolted in his grip. You looked down your body, worried that you had done something wrong or did something he didn’t like, but when he lifted his eyes to meet yours, all you saw was the wolfish grin on his face and the devilish gleam in his eye. He fiddled with the watch on his wrist, removing it and noting the time, before pressing it into your hand.

“Keep an eye on it, hen,” he husked above your folds. “Remember. Three minutes.”

Your brows shot up, mouth gaping open. “Wha― Haaah! Fu-Fuck!”

Johnny didn’t waste any time, plunging his tongue into your wet heat. His hands were like vice grips on your bucking, squirming hips as he devoured you, making the most lewd, wet, sloppy sounds as he devoured you. He slurped at your juices, sucked at your clit, slithered his tongue up into your clenching channel, all while you mewled and cried and flailed, helpless against the onslaught. You could feel the orgasm building, rocketing towards that blissful peak, and you panted out his name again and again, your hands clutching at his head, not sure if you wanted to push him away or pull him in closer, it was so overwhelming.

He was lapping at you, snaking his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, swirling it around the taut little nub. When he sealed his lips around it and began flickering his tongue over it, you gasped, then a warbling cry flew past your lips when he drew it between his teeth and sucked, so hard. The cry turned to an escalating wail as your back came off the table, but his hands held you down, and he moaned into your pussy, the vibration sending you right over the edge.

Your climax hit you like a Mac truck, barreling out of your core in a rush of hot slick. You could hear Johnny, still buried between your legs, moaning and growling as he gorged himself, refusing to let a single drop escape his greedy mouth. Tremors shook through your frame, your legs flopping to either side of him, unable to control your shaking muscles. You were a virtual rag doll, helpless against his lewd ministrations as he drew your orgasm out to the very last quivering spasm.

You laid there, spent and shaking, heaving for breath, mind spiraling in a tailspin. You were barely aware of his hand coming up and taking his watch from your limp fingers, wondering at his grunt of satisfaction. At some point, he stood, and you could feel his hands on you again, petting you with soothing, languid strokes.

“Look at me, love,” he coaxed, cupping your cheek in his palm. “C’mon, sweetheart. Come back t’yer Johnny, now.”

You blinked your eyes open to see him hovering over you. The entire lower half of his face was smeared with your slick, lips swollen and shiny, a gleaming bright red hue. His mohawk was a wild, spiky mess, his flushed cheeks bunched up, blue eyes crinkled at the corners by the huge smile stretched across his face. “There’s my girl,” he whispered, before capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

You could taste your cum on his lips, on his tongue, and so help you, if you didn’t feel that heady swoop of arousal in your gut again. You were ruined. He had completely and utterly ruined you for anyone else, and he knew it.

He lifted his watch up in front of you, brows raised. “Two minutes, forrty-seven seconds,” he informed you, grinning. You huffed out an exasperated breath and rolled your eyes shut. “Ah-ah,” he murmured in a tender but teasing tone. “No hidin’ from me, now, love. C’mon. Open those pretty eyes fer me.”

You dragged open your heavy lids, peering up at him with hooded, glassy eyes. “What?” you rasped out, your voice gone husky from― God help you― screaming his name. Just like he said you would.

His face softened. “Are ya alright, lovie?” he asked, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “It wasn’t too much, was it?”

Your hand came up to cradle his jaw, your thumb brushing over his swollen bottom lip. “I’m okay. Think I’m just still a little out of it. No one’s... Nobody has ever made me feel that way before, Johnny,”

If Johnny thought he had fallen for you before, he was dead certain of it now. Your confession sent him soaring into orbit, even as it melted his heart. “Yer never gettin’ rid o’ me now, hen. Yeh’ll have t’beat me off with a stick, an’ even then, I’d still come crawlin’ back t’ya.”

Your brow creased. “Don’t tease me like that, Johnny.”

He gave you a wry smile. “Not teasin’ ya, sweetheart. I mean it. I finally ― Jaysus, I finally got ya, an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya go.” He dipped his head down to catch your eyes. “I hope ya feel the same.”

You stared at him, eyes searching his face, looking for that smirk to appear, for him to say he was just messing with you, but all you saw was sincerity and affection reflected in his eyes. It felt like a weight lifted off your chest. “I do. Always have.”

His smile could have lit up the whole of London. “Aye?”

You smiled back at him and nodded. “Aye.”

He darted his head down to kiss you again, his hands starting to roam again with purpose. Your arms came to twine around his neck as his hands grasped your thighs and tugged you forward.

You broke the kiss, startled, and looked up at him. “What are you doing?”

He reached over and grabbed his watch, wrapping your fingers around it. “Did ya ferget what I told ya, lovie? Remember? I said I’d have ya screamin’ me name in five minutes, an’ have ya cummin’ on me cock in ten.” Your eyes went wide as he reached down and undid his belt and jeans, pushing them down til his cock sprang out. It smacked against his lower abdomen, and you gulped as you took in its length and girth. Apparently, they grew ‘em big in Scotland. Holy shit.

“Now, love,” he murmured, grasping your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. “I’d advise ya to hang on, ‘cause I’m about to make good on the rest o’ that promise.”

And let it never be said that Johnny MacTavish was nothing if not a man of his word. Needless to say, you didn’t make it into work the following evening, not the way you were walking.

[nopenototdaysatan]

....... The Red/Blue rot is over taking my brain. Actually, no. IT'S THE GENTLEMAN RED AGENDA! My people, I would like to introduce you to the smoothest and most gentlemanly lad of the colors: Red.

And in accordance to my Trans!Girl Blue agenda (you cannot stop me.) I would like to declare that Red looks at Blue, thinks about how he would want to be treated like a princess if he was a girl, and then proceeds to charm Blue into a flustered mess by treating her like a goddamn Queen! Blue acts like she hates it at first which convinces Red to stop cause he doesn't wanna make Blue uncomfy and then she has to be brave and tell him she likes it because she does. Red (and Erune) know she is a strong warrior but she never has to be that around him(/them). She can just be a normal girl.

Green is not smooth. He is making puns at every diplomatic dinner. Zelda keeps having to stop Green from unintentionally sending Hyrule to war. She loves her goober but he is a threat to Hyrule's peace. She has debated locking him in their room to keep him from punning their way into trouble during the really important meetings. Zelda is terrified for when she marries him and he becomes Prince Consort.

(Blue when not a Trans Girl is also Gentlemanly but in the super awkward wants to be the best but has no idea how he either keeps looking at Red (when dating Erune) for directions or (when dating Red) unintentionally looks pathetic to Red while trying to figure it out. Red thinks it's cute.

Shadow and Vio are not gentleman and never will be. They are in the library being nerds and doing weird shit in abandoned buildings: experiments, graffiti, rituals?, all of the above. Do not invite them to couples events or double dates. They're gonna talk about the weird shit they got away with last weekend that nobody else in the city could.

They are each other's bad boys. Vio in the science way. Shadow in the punk way. They are over here making each other worse and loving it.

In a world where they are not troubled teens. They're the couple who go on adventures and travel around the world. They hate staying in one spot. They show each other unique and interesting spots for date nights. It's adorable.

Zelda loves her husband very much. He needs to stop coming into her throne room looking like a mess after work just to give her a kiss. It is distracting! And not just cause his clothes are askew and his muscles are showing on the really good days. They have a home away from home that they go to for vacations where they can act like they're just married young adults and not the ruler of a country plus her General.

Erune and Blue are adorable. Erune enjoys being the damsel in distress for Blue. She thinks it's adorable and when Blue is puffing out her chest in pride Erune just giggles in delight. On the other hand Blue really likes coming to Erune to get patched up after a fight. She's the most gentle out of everyone with any injuries and it just feels nice when she gives Blue a kiss at the end. Food and gift giving is Erune's love language while Blue's is spending time which means so many picnics! Cheese boards are their favorite.

Back to Red! He is the goodest boy and while I only really ship him with Blue he could absolutely pull anyone. He is smooth and charismatic, empathetic and extroverted. He absolutely wants to be hanging with his partner doing what they enjoy. What he wants in return: to not feel like he needs to change for them and that they will protect his loving heart in return. Those who love him for him without the need for change are his better half. (Blue's good at protecting and even if he hates it will let Red know at the end of the day that he likes his caring nature.)

[theirwas3millipede]

The brain rot’s gotten to me- some triden angst with a happy ending ❤️‍🩹

————————————————————————————

The bullet hadn't been the only thing ringing in Donald's ears that fateful afternoon. Before, it had been management before his trail. Calls back to back, foraged alibis, demands from his lawyers to stop making midnight trips to ice cream parlors to preserve his public image and dignity.

But Trump couldn't bring himself to care. The world was just background noise to his thoughts, paired with his aching heart.

It was hard to believe almost 3 weeks had passed since their heated debate....it broke him to have to criticize his dear lover's golfing skills to the world, in contrast to how he felt behind the scenes. how he knew they both felt.

Despite never talking about it, not even daring to broach the topic, Donald saw the way Biden's eyes lingered on him whenever they met. The passing glares were laced with something deeper...forbidden but scalding. The memory replays in his head of that Monday night, right after the cameras went off.

Trump had shoved off his bodyguards, racing after Biden and into his dressing room, locking the door as security pounds to get in. Joe whips his head around to see Trump, startled but not surprised.

"Donny...leave.."

"I can't." he grits, balling his fists at his sides as he stalks nearer, "and you know exactly why."

"This will never work!" Joe stands up abruptly, throwing his hands in the air, "You are immature and reckless, y-you've--"

Silence fills the room, only heavy breathing as Trump cuts Biden off, pulling them chest to chest, noses touching.

His voice is low and hushed, just above a whisper, "I'm just not afraid to live my truth. You have to make a choice. Fighting me..." he guides Joe's hand to his chest, over his heart..."Or fighting for me. you can't have both."

Joe looks shocked, scoffing as he pulls away, steadying himself on a chair,

"You? me...fighting for you? you can't be serious." Donald frowns, letting out a nervous laugh as he cocks his head, "What do you mean? after...after all this surely--”

"There is no us Trump." Joe spits, glowering at him, "and there never ever was. i'm here to change the country and drink gasoline against medical advice." Biden turns on his heel, hobbling towards the doorway.

"Maybe it's time you choose your priorities.....because you were never mine."

The room swam, the venom seeping into every word Joe said making Donald light headed. It was all a coax? had his imagination really ran that wild?

The next thing he knows, as if he had woken from a dream, he was on a plane to Pennsylvania. One of his lawyers at his right hand side, spouting about the script for his rally, and what to say to his supporters. He didn't process a single word. His body ached with grief, the sting of rejection still fresh.

Before getting on the podium he's at least able to straighten himself out. He applies extra peachy concealer all over his face, knowing he'll need an over the top orange look to feel confident, paired with concealer lips. Stepping back from the mirror, he knows now that no one will be able to tell he'd been crying now.

Stepping up to speak and finally feeling better, death had never been so close. He toppled over once the bullet hit, trying to keep his balance as he was hauled away to the nearest hospital. The entire experience was dizzying, nurses and doctors alike rushed to his aid.

The beep of monitors haunted him, the constant sticking on needles making him queasy, and the endless IV transfusions rarely soothing him.

"A week of bed rest, sir. no less. then you can return to your mansion. that means no golf either." Donald hadn't caught this man's name, but he listens regardless, assuming he was a doctor.

“....unless it's with me of course." a familiar voice rings through the room and donald frowns, opening his eyes to look around. all he sees is the strange doctor, with a mask and scrubs. but...white hair? blue eyes? could it be? "Joey.?"

"It took you so long to notice." the doctor takes off his mask, a crooked grin plastered on his wrinkled face. Donald met his gaze finally, and finds that Biden was teary eyed.

"I'm so sorry...i need you. I can't live... without my pumpkin. It took me too long to realize. Let's run away."

Trump sobs, pulling Joe down to his bed, where they fit together as one, lips finally meeting.

“...I thought you'd never ask.”

(image isn't mine)

[dizziiesplayroom]

TW: C4NNAB!LISM, G0R3, CONCERNING TOPIC‼️‼️‼️

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOUR SENSITIVE TO THOSE THINGS‼️‼️

Honestly its not even as bad as I thought it would turn out but just in case yk.

I kinda got lazy in the last paragraph so the ending kinda sucks but it's something.

'My mother thought I was a monster. She was right but it still hurts.'

I think to myself as I look down at my mothers ripped corpse. Her body looked as if she was mauled by a wild beast. I look down at my hands and start shaking when I realize what I’ve done. Her large intestines were in my grasp while her heart and liver were in my mouth, her blood ran down the corner of my mouth, staining my blue hoodie, turning it somewhat purple. I knew this would happen. It was inevitable, but why did it have to happen this way?

I remember my mother looking at me with fear and disgust the first time I brought a half eaten corpse home. She looked at me as if I was some sort of wild animal. She ran to her and my father's shared bedroom, crying and screaming that I was going to kill all of them next. I wasn't even thinking of such a thing. My father tried to comfort my mother the best he could, but she would never calm down. It happened every time I brought something home, whether it be a dead animal, a human arm, a leg, she would always scream and cry as if it wasn't normal by then.

My father always told me it would happen. He said, one day, I would kill my entire family. I always thought he was joking. We used to joke about death like it’s a comedy show. My sister knew as well. She advised me to lock myself away whenever I got the urge. My father helped me lock the chains when it was that time. I listened and did everything they told me to do. Yet it still happened.

I look over towards the living room. My sister and brother’s dead corpse lying on the couch. Their blood is forever soaked in the maroon colored fabric. I drop the remainder of my mothers organs that were in my hands and crawl towards my sister. Her eyes were gouged from the sockets and her teeth and tongue were gone from her mouth. I slowly reach my hand out to touch hers as if she would be startled by my touch. Her hand is cold, just like her body.

Tears start to well up in my eyes again. The urge is gone. The smell of rotting corpses starts to fill my senses, it makes me sick. I start to spit up any remaining blood that's in my mouth when I hear a sudden click. I already know who it is, he's here to kill me. When I turn to my right, I'm met with my father, shakily holding a shotgun towards me. His face shows an expression I’ve never seen before. His eyes show a mix of fear, hatred and disgust, his lips are trembling as he looks around the room. The tears that were once pooling in my eyes are now falling down my cheeks. I try to crawl towards my father but he backs away in fear. He’s never been scared of me. He knows how I am when my urges get the best of me.

I look down at my hands once more, the blood that stains my hands starts to drip onto the nude colored carpet. Before I could look up, he shot me. The single bullet flies into my head, gets lodged into my brain. As blood starts to flow from my head, I feel myself slowly slipping away from my body. I knew that I was never going to be able to escape this fate. I take my last breath as I close my eyes. At least i’ll never eat anyone again.

[3mutantsinatrenchcoat]

It takes a village to raise a family: part 3

Part 2 , part 4

I am...so attached and brain rotted to this villager man- he is getting his own tag as grandpa flint because I love him that much

Rural au yet again by the amazing @angelpuns

At some point they are gonna get mad at all the pings lmao

The river runs cold in the spring, when the streets are making fruit and the leaves are the prettiest of green, pinks, and blues. The prettiest rocks are embedded in sand, just treasures to find. Sometimes I'll find something pretty, sometimes I won't.

But today I found something shiney, and golden. It wasn't very thick, it wasn't that long either. It was flat on one end and round on the other with letters on the flat side in a circle. I've never seen anything like it before. It was so pretty.

Of course I put it on my stall, but that's not the important part today. Today a festival was to be held, more importantly a cooking contest. I rolled the paper up and closed down my stall, scurrying to the outside of the village, through the woods. The trees barely let sun peek through, leaving the wonders of butterflies that pass under the little bits of light all the more pretty.

My dear husband always told me to look for the little things....well I know the human splinter is a bit of a sour crab apple. So I might as well cook with him.

He wasn't very happy to open the door to see me, even more when I walked around him inside. "Come on get your pans and whatever cooking stuff you have and let's get cooking!"

"excuse me? We are not cooking-" he slammed the door and follows me into the kitchen, paying him no mind I pulled a few pots out.

"yes we are, you will not become a sour raisen at this age-" I slid the pots onto the counter, hearing him sputter.

"I am not a sour raisen!" He pushed the cabinet door closed and glares. "We are not cooking"

"...yes we are" I held out the paper and popped his nose slightly, watching the anger fill his eyes before he snatched the paper, looking it over. ".....yeah okay I could use that money-"

"exactly, now let's get to cooking" I look around and realize this man has not one apron. "...okay we need kitchen equipment-"

"we have kitchen equipment- we have the necessities-" splinter grumbles, getting out a cook book. "You are one demanding little racoon"

I couldn't help but grin at him as he sits on the ground, opening it up. "Okay if we are going to do this, I have a few demands...1 don't be a rude little shit, 2 we have to be quiet the kids are down for a nap and 3 we split the earnings 20/80"

"done deal! Ooo pie, Im going to try that!" I hit the page, grinning with all my teeth.

"alright..I'll uh...do a basic soup I guess?" He stands up and before I could register what happened he grabbed me by my scruff and put me on the counter. "Alright racoon, let's do this"

"HAHAA!! yes!"

With a few mishaps and a few changes to the ingredients like instead of flour we used baking soda, instead of sugar we used salt..you know the good substitutes....we made a mess.

With the two of us standing at the cook out table, with my pie a burnt, bubble, uncooked mess and with splinter's halfway untasteful soup we locked ourselves in 8th and 9th place.

I think that's a win

[icarianiscariot]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY. omg okay. HI NEHA THANK U <3

none of these are my most popular fics on ao3 by any means but they are the ones that i have reread myself SEVERAL times. these are the fics that i absolutely wrote for myself (all my fics are for me, but these ones... top of that tier)

1) hurricane drill - blue lock - T - 3k

listen it might be recency bias but. hurricane drill is absolutely one of my darlings, and i knew going into it that it wouldn't be super popular due to the major character death tag, but it's still so very dear to me. i'm really excited to get around to the rest of the series.

2) all the ghosts (that are never gonna catch me) - rwby - G - 1k

running on the grief train, all the ghosts is also one of my favs!! it's a rwby fic centered around taiyang dealing w grief/depression, i think originally out of spite because i was seeing so much hate on my dash abt how he didn't "take care of"/properly "raise" yang and ruby as kids?? or something???? just. like. Bad Dad Taiyang takes. and i just wanted to idk, put some empathy into the world i guess. i think this is also one of my only all-lowercase fics, for the sake of stylistically encapsulating that grief.

3) growing pains duology - star wars - G - 2k

...i swear i write more than depression fics but they're my FAVORITES i guess!!! the modern domestic au is one i still reread myself pretty regularly. i miss the star wars days!!

4) to analyze your eyes - danganronpa - G - 5k

to analyze your eyes was probably the first fic i ever wrote that hit 5k and that came to me easily and immediately. i wrote this fic in a FRENZY. i had such a blast with it!! and i had a great many plans for this fic universe that i just never ended up getting around to, but it rotted in my brain for months providing serotonin, so. i love it <3

5) where the tear stain dries to keep you safe tonight - blue lock - T - 2k

i fucking love the itoshi brothers and where the tear stain dries was a culmination of all my brainrotting over them and desire to give them a reconciliation. i loved getting to play in sae's head and this fic rlly set me up for all my future sae-centric fics i think. and i also always love getting to write familial/platonic dynamics and tension!!

(secret 6th recommendation: the impending kaisae fake dating fic. chapter 1 will be dropping this weekend. keep an eye out.)

thanks for the ask, neha :D this was fun!!

[its-chili]

Vititi Fames

(Taken from a journal that washed ashore off the coast of Norway. )

The tide was brash and roaring, as it always is out in the great blue whirlpool where I had found myself a frequenting neighbor. Upstairs, on the deck, I heard the muffled shouting of scraggly men who had wasted away their years forming thick calluses on their hands and thicker hunger for beer and brandy. They paid me mind, sometimes, only when I had to come up from my forsaken little hole of damp barrels and barnacle-infested crates to scrounge for sustenance and drink. The brutes, well... they were a far contrast from those I would have rather conversed with. Alas, academics don't tend to know how to sail. I had been out on the sea for almost 5 months, not out of pleasure, I can assure you, dear reader. No, this had been dreadful in every sense of the word. The indescribable feeling of never having privacy to do your business can be overlooked, though, with a grand enough prize. And this...oh, this was indeed a grand prize. The manuscript of Sir Illipith Thorne, his Vetiti Fames.

I originally heard tale of this ancient text in my old college library. I was young and had yet to make my mark on the world, so naturally, curiosity was my guiding compass. One of my professors, Dr. Felidae, who was a learned but albeit strange scholar, was hidden in a corner of the library, discussing something in a hushed voice with a stranger. This stranger wore a deep blue trench coat, the type of muddled blue you would find buried deep in the Pacific underneath seaweed and algae. His face was long and square, the features of which were tucked away under folds of wrinkled skin. I remember his eyes, peering out from underneath the flabs of skin like crystalline pearls uncovered by shifting sands, gleaming brilliantly for just a moment before being hidden away forever. I remember his smell... a mixture between rotted fish and cinnamon. I am unsure how long they had been there conversing before I had spotted them, and even more unsure how long they had been there before I had arrived that night. They were talking about knowledge. Secret, destructive and beautiful knowledge that had the ability to crack the minds of profound academics who had spent their entire lives studying the weave of space and time and all manner of things inbetween. They talked about a lost scholar, his name wiped from the annals of history only to be resurrected by the two men who were daring to speak of him. Apparently, this voyager of intellect had discovered this profound knowledge and wrote it all down in a book. "How to overcome the limits of your brain," they said, "How to become more than flesh and see into worlds locked behind our fragile minds." My younger self was enamored. A book that could expand the human mind enough to become a god? How was such knowledge even possible? They spoke far too solemnly about something so incredible.

I ended up spending the rest of my college days stuffing my nose into every dust-covered and moth-eaten book I could get my hands on, scouring feverishly for any information about this so-called "Illipith Thorne" or his infamous creation. I pondered the idea of asking Dr. Felidae himself, but he resigned from the university a few days after his and the stranger's conversation. Perhaps he went off in search of the tome himself. My own search took me all across England and then some, pervading rancid alleyways and rotting bars. The people I had to go through. The things I had seen. Any other woman I had discussed this matter with told me I was going to end up gutted and left out like yesterday's garbage in a street somewhere. There were nights that this caution was fully realized. But my unyielding want- no, need- to unveil this pandora's box lit a fire beneath me that no drunken hobbler could douse.

Eventually, I ended up gaining the respect of a rather renounced pirate by the name of Gouttermange. He was as strange and disorderly as the rest of the seafaring men I had met on my travels, with his gnarled wood-toothed smile and matted salt and pepper hair. He had a limp, too, due to some sort of sickness he had acquired out at sea that had yet to completely devour him. He was barred from the waters by others like him, a walking wanted poster forged in the blood of his adversaries. However, it seemed like ground-life had stilled his bloodlust, at least, at the time I had met him. He was empathetic towards my decade-long plight, apparently having one of his own that his body had grown too diseased to chase after. "A missing friend," he said. I couldn't really care to expand upon the details. Although he refused to set sail himself, he offered to refer me to some of his, very few, accomplices. The next week, I got on a boat and sailed North.

There I was, practically a willing prisoner on a teetering water coffin smelling like rancid flounder. I don't often think of my complexion, but I swear to you my once long golden hair had soured into a muddled brown in those conditions, and my glasses had become clouded and cracked.

Sundown hit and the waves were quiet enough for me to be able to climb up the stairs and look about the endless black sea. The crew were few, and even fewer still as they conducted their nightly routine of foaming indulgence and playing cards. Two men were on deck keeping an eye out for whatever might disrupt our voyage and another was up in the crow's nest completely hidden by waves of rolling fog. The captain... oh, what was his name... I must assume he was awake, for the light behind his closed cabin door was the only thing illuminating the ship. I don't believe I had actually met the man, as there was always someone else I had to go through to get anything done here and I wasn't usually around in the daylight. My night studies and alley conquests had long since tarnished my sleep schedule...and even so it was impossible to get any sleep on that constantly moving death machine. Perhaps it was better that way. I don't like to ponder on the idea of being the only female on a small, unregistered ship in the middle of nowhere. Even when I did try to make conversation, which I had learned to keep at a minimum, these sailors looked at me a certain way. Something in their eyes... something in the miniscule twitch of their lips... They knew I was funding this journey, but as to why, well... I had gone to great lengths to ensure they didn't know the fortune I seeked. Not as though they would have known what they were looking for if it was handed to them. As far as they knew I was just a well dressed erudite needing anonymous passage.

I stared out at the sea, arms folded on the ship's rim and letting the salted breeze gently wash over me. The stars shimmered overhead, glinting on the waves as though some of them had sunken beneath and were calling out to their ethereal brethren from below. My gaze followed these stars, hanging there for what feels like a lifetime. I blinked away, something wet in my eyes. And there... in the stillness... I saw it. A singular silhouetted obelisk protruding from the deep a few thousand meters away. I rubbed my eyes and slapped myself to ensure I wasn't hallucinating. It wasn't the first time. But the thing didn't move aside from its quiet, bobbing motion. Was I to wake the crew? Alert them of my findings? No. My nails digged into the wood, and something in my chest flamed.

I looked down, mind racing as my eyes adjusted to every atom of the ship. I could see the lifeboat. The little, pathetic excuse for a waterborne vessel, barely hanging onto the twine ropes as it gently bumped against the hull. I was beside myself for a moment, completely torn by the furious need to reach that obelisk and the hinduring knowledge that I do not know how to swim. You would think after all these years, a fear of water would be a fluttering, nonsensical feeling I could swallow. I turned to the few silhouettes of life that still stalked like ghosts about the ship. I could theoretically cut the rope and try to maneuver that small wooden box to the site, but realistically one bad wave could be my end and all of this would have been for naught. I could not have that. "Hey!" My voice croaked, nearly startling me by how gravelly and hoarse it had become, "You there! Come over here!" I pointed to one of the figures, of whom startled just the same. That might have been our first time interacting. "Ma'am" The man sauntered over to me, curiosity etched into his features. He was wiry, arms like bound seaweed and legs stretched like saltwater taffy. Matted brown locks were tucked beneath a checkered bandana, obviously trying to control the amount of sweat from the day's beating sun. I pointed to the distant wreckage, but by the way his face tangled in confusion I can tell my gesture was too vague for his thickened skull. "The wreckage. Let us take the lifeboat and go to it." He put a hand on his neck, staring out at the graveyard of protruding iron and damp wood. "Aye... perhaps we'da tell the cap'tin.-" "No." I cut him off and he recoiled. "No. Just you and me. No one else."

For a split second I could see the hint of a smile on his face, as if a crude joke was stirring in his head. That smile evaporated under my gaze. Soon we were in the boat and out in the sea, slowly rocking back and forth in the water. It's strange. I had been out at sea for months, yet I still could feel bile churning in my stomach.

The wreckage was maybe 4,000 meters away or so, and all the while the two of us didn't make a sound. The oars pressed us forwards, and the mariner was good at gently setting them back down in the water. Over and over. I envisioned the script in my hands. The worn tablet or scroll, detailed in exquisite lettering with perfectly drawn images and ancient runes. The words would come singing to me, a beautiful menagerie of ethereal chords depicting things I could not quite understand in that form. I imagined the taste of that knowledge on my tongue as I tore into the script with the air of a hungry dog, feasting on the arithmetical constellations of time and space all mixed and interwoven together. I could hear it. Calling to me in the darkness. "Eiola." It whispered, "Eiola, come find me. You're so close now." I hardly noticed as the boat bumped into a stray plank of wood, as I must have been so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't even realize how far we had come.

The scene that laid out before me... I... I'm not sure if any words in the English language could fully depict the sight. Calling it a wreckage, well, almost seemed silly. No, this, this was the ruins of a city, felled under some ancient force. A whirlpool, perhaps? Some sort of monstrum storm? Pillars of blackened cedar grasped at the darkened sky, communities of barnacles clinging to their edges. I looked down into the water, my eyes widening. In the center was... was a light! A warm, yellow pulsating thing no bigger than the lifeboat itself. If I was paranoid I would say it could have swallowed us whole if it decided to rise to the surface. The whispers serenaded me once more as I leaned closer. "Reach out, Eiola. Come to us." It almost seemed alive. Familiar.

Everything from there was a blur. A cold, wet, suffocating blur. I remember that sailor yelling after me, his voice muffled and drowned. I remember closing my eyes but never, never seeing anything more incredible. The darkness broke away for spectrums of color to burst, twisting and dancing and leaping, a painting liquidized and brought to life. The freezing cold I had felt moments before soothed into an unimaginable warmth. It reminded me of my mother when she used to hum to and hold me when I was ill. All around me angelic voices harmonized, their words incomprehensible but comforting. I had never seen such a vivid spectacle. I suppose, in theory, I still haven't. And never will. My euphoria was halted almost as quickly as it came when I found myself somewhere... else... with nothing but this journal that I write in now.

I am in a dark place. A sick place. I can't feel or see my hands, yet somehow, I know that I am writing. I can't feel the ground beneath me, yet I am not floating. There was never a book, and I doubt there was ever a "Sir Illipith Thorne"... his name always did seem concocted. By who though, I could not ever hope to know. I don't know much, actually, despite this obsession to know everything. I don't know how long I have been like this. I don't know if anyone is looking for me or even remembers who I am. I don't even know what my mother's face looks like. Sadness nor regret plagues me, though, as I know it should. And when I stare up at the moonlit sky dusted in stars I know I should feel longing. But I am a void. A blackhole that devours endlessly. I feel nothing but insatiable, all consuming, hunger.

[fatedstrands]

Legato, what is a regret you wish you could undo?

The question from the being catches him off guard, having welcomed his Strands in for the evening sermon in the city they'd paused in, seeing each out with a warmth reserved only for them. The last to leave lingered, clearly asking from a place of pain themselves. At least, that is how the witch had seen it.

He motions for them to join him at a pew of the church, slowly settling on the smooth polished wood. The words still mulled about in his mind, mingling with memories as he touched his arm, where a small human skull rest, cut to fit perfectly on his limb.

"Well..."

Where did he even begin? What of his many failures would he undo? What would he give anything to fix, even if it cost him everything to do it?

He thought of the child, as illness and injury took their life, their pleas to travel, their begging, the soft voice pleading;

You promised I'd see the world when I was older. Please, never let me cease walking.

It was the hardest final plea he'd taken on, when they'd begged to go with him, how he'd carefully cleaned their skull, carved the front plate off and strengthened it with the aid of the God. How that youth still rests with him every day on his arm, a reminder of mortality and life after death.

Lips parted, as if to speak of this memory only for teeth to sink into his flesh as another struck him with a violent ferocity he doubled over. The pain so cruel, so foul like a beast tearing his stomach open to leave his insides bare to the world to rot away.

It was his own failure, as it always was. He'd been caught in the crossfire of pantheons warring, of Gods versus a Goddess with a violent hatred of all things homo sapien.

He'd thrown the wolf from the target of fire, eyes flashing up as pure energy roared like a dragon to his body. He couldn't move fast enough, the Punisher and it's handler having taken all his momentum, he was stuck, drained from his own fight. His threads writhing in his brain matter as blood slipped from his ears, his nose and stained even his teeth as he bared them.

A moment felt like an eternity, the blackened purple energy charging through the air, he found himself welcoming it. His life was over, but his last act was saving a dear friend, giving a chance to those around to make their move. Lips had curved, a serene smile as heat bloomed ever closer, eyes slipping shut with a soft prayer;

Let my death be the linchpin in this fight.

But Fate was a cruel Mistress to the living.

Arms found his form, ready for the end of life, cradling him close as feathers wrapped around his kneeling shape, cocooning him and protecting him from the sudden burst of plasma from beyond. Eyes snapped open, head jolting up to lock teal with gold, confusion turning to horror as he watched blond rapidly bleed black.

Thank you. For showing me that no matter what happens... Humanity has hope.

Words stained his soul, marred his flesh with vibrant cursive and warm geraniums across his heart, gouging his pulse as the memory consumed him now, the world falling away from his awareness.

He remembered the way he'd cried out, begging the other to stop, that he wasn't worth the Angel's life. The vivid memory brushed his cheek, wiping the bloodied tears that had formed, falling as he watched the Divine give everything for him.

Never change, Legato.

Angel burned away and when the energy finally ceased, the wretched scream of the horrid Goddess was nothing on the agonizing silence that soft smile left as his body turned to ash right around the human. It held nothing on the emptiness in his mind that formed as the other's consciousness faded.

It was nothing on the agony in his very soul.

Nor the burn of something powerful threading through his veins, blue lights burning over his plant scars he'd carved into flesh, only to turn a vibrant purple, the shapes morphing into something different, something new.

It held nothing to the rage as he stood, despite the blood, despite the agony of overexertion, despite it all, he stood against the Goddess, with kin alike strewn around in weakened but equally enraged states, converging with a violence unseen.

He came to the present once more, lights burning under his clothes, hidden barely by their weave, hands shaking as tears plipped against the ground whilst his gaze had been cast down between his ankles.

"I lost a... Dear friend because of my own weakness... If I could undo one thing... It'd be letting Him stand in the way of my own demise."

Without you... Where will we go? Where will we turn?

His head snaps up as he feels the faintest brush along his forehead, like a tender kiss of the angel.

To the stars and forward, Legato. Always forward.

That same serene smile found his lips, eyes falling shut in the moment as he let the Strand leave on their own terms.

"I suppose I never truly lost Him... For He will always light our way."

Eyes looked upon the statue, the angel depicted before him as he does in every Strand operated Temple. Memorialized in his sacrifice for the hope of Humanity and Plant alike;

Vash the Stampede.

[captainaikus]

AHHH FALSE SOUTH WAS SO GOOD - hehe thank you for reblogging it for us! I had NO idea that Tumblr could be so annoying with writing I mean you’re tagging everything correctly! Ah hope I didn’t miss other works :p and ouuu I haven’t read that book before but I already know you’re is better! Excited to follow and see more works 🤍 have a wonderful weekend Belle!!

Ok my brain is rotting with Sae. All the works you’ve written for him are chefs kiss - I think it can’t get better & then I read more & I’m stunned. The writing is amazing but even make than that your ideas feel really organic and realistic, aging him up is so smart too & seeing adult sae 🥺. I’d be curious to see how a ditzy girl would fair with him - a manager? Sports doc? Idk someone with forced close proximity :p have you thought about that (obvi her be annoyed initially but just maybe)..

I'm glad you liked false south ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა as for tumblr flagging down my works, that isn't always the case tbh. some of them get reported as unless they are reported tumblr team doesn't review it. so its safe to say that some of my works have been reported by readers or authors idk neither do i really care cause it goes onto show how much a person is willing to harm another's progress; in the end they will never pull themselves up but are willing to drag others down which is really sad. As for the book verity, its a good read and honestly, ruined rome has a lot to unpack cause of the complexity of the story line and it was something i had written ages ago before the blue lock fandom had a solid ground you could say... so it needs more refining and editing before i finish the series and I'm happy to know that you like reading my works cause feedback and interaction is something I encourage <3 For someone ditzy... so the thing is i had to search more on this word cause I thought it was closely related to bimbo? but then it is more about being disorganized...? i'm not too sure about the meaning of it. most of my x reader inserts are purely self indulgent from time to time so i've never thought about it... but Sae with a ditzy reader... that would be like itazura kiss - he'd have better choices around him say a neighbor girl who was on her way to a prestigious uni, a girl who is hardworking in his class, a suitor that his parents have chosen for him in case he wanted to settle down or even another girl who worked as a model. If there's anything to assure your relationship, its the fact that he worries about you. A lot. he has a different way of going about and showing it, but he really does worry about you and even though he thinks you're ditzy, he reasons it out with the things you're good at.

[demonikeee]

What could love be?

Is it the unspoken words beteween “I” and “you”? Is it the “I”? Is it the “you”? Is it the lilac from red and blue? What could love be? Was it lost in translation when the translator is under the influence? I wonder if the sun rests between me and you and the moon falls upon the rest. Could sound waves ever encapsule the beatings of my heart as they relentlessly chase after yours? Is love a sound? Is it an action? Is love the storm or the calm after it? Will the smoke from my cigarette reach your fingertips and linger in your fingerprints? Is love behind the thick smoke covering the view? Is love the pain before or the relief afterwards? In it’s tombstone will they quote the road untaken or the road traveled? Could you ever understand the lines on this paper without my love guiding you through them? I wonder if when the sky is shaking and the oceans come crashing on your doorstep will explain exactly, in every excruciating detail just how desperately I love. I dare not say what love is, I could only tell you what it makes me feel. I could only so very painfully tell you of all the ounces of blood flowing from my veins to my limbs and from my limbs to my skin and from my skin to my eyes where they turn transparent, begging to come out. I dare not explain my feelings, certainly can only describe the plethora of thoughts that jump around the corners of my brain to only release into an exhale of nothingness. I could never talk about love, just how love could never talk about me. I never grew up with love for love, so I could only love what love couldn’t be. In the midst of the desert my love is an oasis to the cravings of your soul. My love? I never could tell if it began with I or ended with you. My love has been nothing but the corners of your mouth when mine were blabbering “I love you”. My tongue will never learn the phonem of yours so it will forever remain locked into my jaw. How I wish you would read my heart instead of my lips, how I wish you would understand.

Love could be everything between me and you. But I dare not assume. My heart is rotting from the inside out. All I could ever do is love. But I dare not love love. All I can do, is to put my love in your hands, and say “me too”.

[abstractreign]

classic novelist aesthetics.

JOHN KEATS

the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, the heavy scent of musk, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bed sheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD

crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, mahogany wood, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favourite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction.

FRANZ KAFKA

the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, the hideous and absurd hidden behind locked doors, rusting metal, nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.

H.P. LOVECRAFT

the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never-ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., ouija boards and urban legends, horrors that can never be unseen or undone.

JACK KEROUAC

the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise, walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe, dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive.

EDGAR ALLAN POE

the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret.