#they're going to go batshit crazy

[party-lemon]

and don't quote me on this, but i think mcr will release new music between now and the start of this tour. because this is adding onto the concept of the black parade. this is a whole new world. there is "more to come." they just went on a tour where they played only their old music (foundations as an exception obviously). like...there's more. mychem doesn't believe in nostalgia bait unless there's some other shit going on.

[velarisdusk]

I Slept with Someone in Wings of Illyria

A Bat Boys Band AU

word count: 1.5k author's note: i have not been able to stop thinking about bass player az, nor have i been able to shut up about it (exhibits A, B, and C found here lol). i am so taken with bass player azriel that this was originally gonna be a one time thing to get the mf thoughts out of my head, but i may make this a collection of drabbles/one-shots/whatever the fuck. enjoy ! <3 ✦ . AU Masterlist . ✦ ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The room is sweltering, the kind of heat that clings to your skin and wraps around your throat. Bodies pressed together, arms raised, the crowd surges with the beat, their cheers deafening as the final notes of the song fade out. 

Cassian tosses his drumsticks in the air, catching them with a grin as he leans back, his chest heaving from the sheer energy of his playing. His skin glistens under the stage lights, sweat dripping down the sharp cut of his jaw to his bare chest. Rhysand steps forward, guitar slung low on his hips, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair, the movement so casual it borders on taunting. 

The three of them are magnetic—untouchable—but your eyes are glued to Azriel. 

The bass still hangs low across his hips, his dark shirt clinging to his chest and arms, every inch of him shining with effort and heat. His hair sticks to his forehead in damp strands, but he doesn’t seem to care. There’s a faint curve to his lips as he looks out at the crowd, their screams refusing to die down even as Rhys steps up to the mic.  It’s Wings of Illyria’s last song of the night, and the air is thick with anticipation.

“Alright, alright,” Rhys says, his voice rich and smooth, but it barely registers over the roar of the audience. He glances back at Az and Cass, shaking his head with a laugh, and you catch the way they all exchange a look—silent, knowing.

Cass twirls a drumstick between his fingers, grinning wide. Rhys throws a wink at the crowd, and Azriel… Azriel holds up a hand, palm out, a subtle watch this gesture that has your stomach flipping. 

And then he steps forward.

The moment his fingers graze the mic stand, the noise dips. He leans in, his lips brushing the mic, and inhales sharply. The sound carries through the speakers, intimate, like he’s right there beside you. The crowd freezes, the energy shifting into something electric, breathless. And then, he chuckles.

It’s low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine. For a moment, the room is still. And then, chaos. The screams erupt again, louder than before, like every single person in the crowd had been seized by something primal and uncontrollable.

Azriel laughs, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Rhys and Cass. They’re laughing too, Cassian smacking a hand against his drums while Rhys shakes his head, mouthing something you can’t make out. 

But then Az turns back to the mic. 

Your heart stops as he adjusts it slightly, his hand steady, his expression calm but sharp, focused. The moment stretches, and you swear he looks right at you before his lips part, and his voice spills into the venue. 

It’s not Rhys’s voice this time, not the smooth, cocky tone that usually owns the opening of this song. No—this is something darker, rougher, saturated with a raw kind of emotion that makes your knees go weak. You know this part by heart—hell, you’ve screamed it in your car more times than you can count—but hearing Azriel sing it? It’s like hearing it for the first time. 

He owns it, every word dripping with purpose, with heat. His voice snakes through the room, curling around you, pulling you under. The crowd is a blur, the sound of their cheers distant compared to the way your pulse pounds in your ears. 

And Azriel knows it. He’s fully in control, commanding every single person in the room with nothing but his voice and the intensity in his eyes. When he glances over at Rhys and Cass again, they’re grinning like they know exactly what he’s doing—and exactly what it’s doing to everyone in the room. 

You’re breathless by the time he finishes the verse, and when he pulls back from the mic with that faint, wicked smirk, the crowd surges again, screaming louder than ever. 

You scream too, the sound ripping out of you without restraint, caught up in the heat and the pounding bass still thrumming through the room. But then Azriel’s gaze sweeps across the crowd, scanning the sea of faces, and it lands on you. 

Your breath catches. 

It’s brief, a flicker of his hazel eyes locking onto yours, but it’s enough. Enough to leave you wondering if he’s seen you before—if he’s noticed you at every show you’ve managed to get into, always in your usual spot near the edge of the stage, close enough to feel the pulse of the speakers in your chest. 

And then he turns back to the mic, and your chest tightens all over again. 

It’s the way Azriel shifts his stance—shoulders squared, leaning slightly into the mic as his fingers curl around the neck of his bass—that holds you captive. His voice joins Rhys’s in the next verse, a low harmony that wraps around the melody like smoke, rich and addictive. 

When the lyrics take a turn—something dark and suggestive, dripping with innuendo—you swear he looks at you again. His lips curl just so around the words, and the way his hand moves on the fretboard has your pulse racing. 

It’s stupid, you tell yourself. Ridiculous, really, to think that someone like him would single you out of a crowd like this. But as the song builds to its peak, the heat of his gaze feels too intentional to ignore. And then they hit the chorus, when Azriel takes over the melody for one shining moment, he sings a line that makes your cheeks burn, makes your hands curl into fists at your sides. It’s not subtle. It’s meant to be filthy, meant to tease and taunt, and he sings it like it’s directed straight at you. 

The crowd loses it. You barely hear the screams over the pounding of your heart.

He’s still looking at you when the song ends, sweat dripping from his temple as he lets the bass hang low against his hips, his breathing heavy. Cassian slams his drumsticks against the snare one last time, punctuating the end of the set, while Rhysand tosses his guitar pick into the crowd with a lazy smirk. 

Azriel doesn’t move for a moment. He stays there, on the edge of the stage, as if waiting for something. 

And then he winks. 

It’s quick—blink-and-you’ll-miss-it—but you see it. You feel it. 

Your knees go weak, your grip tightening on the barricade to keep yourself steady. By the time you process what just happened, he’s already turning away, laughing at something Cassian said as they disappear backstage. 

The crowd surges again, desperate for an encore, but all you can hear is the pounding of your pulse. 

Your knees are still trembling as the crowd surges around you, voices raised in chants for an encore. You try to breathe, to ground yourself, but the memory of Azriel’s smirk and the weight of his gaze keeps playing on a loop in your mind. 

And then, just as the noise reaches a fever pitch, you see him again. 

Azriel lingers near the side of the stage, his bass slung over his shoulder now, his hand reaching out to clasp the shoulder of a man in a black security shirt. You watch, heart pounding, as they exchange a few quick words, the guard leaning closer to hear him over the din. 

It’s casual—normal, probably—but then Azriel points.

Directly at you. 

You freeze. Your pulse spikes. There’s no way, you think. No way this is happening. 

But it is. His arm extends toward the crowd, his finger cutting through the haze of heat and lights to land right where you’re standing, gripping the barricade for dear life. The security guard nods, glancing in your direction as Azriel leans closer, lips moving again. 

He says two words, slow enough for you to catch even at this distance.

“Blue top.”

Your breath hitches, your gaze darting down to the shirt you’re wearing. Blue. Not just blue—bright blue, standing out against the darker tones of the crowd like a beacon. 

You look back up, your heart slamming in your chest as Azriel straightens, throwing one last glance your way before disappearing offstage. 

For a moment, you just stand there, frozen, every nerve in your body buzzing. Did that really just happen? Your mind races, replaying the movement of his hand, the way his lips had formed those words. Blue top. 

Your gaze darts around, scanning the crowd. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you’re losing your mind because surely he didn’t mean you. But your stomach flips again as you realize—no one else around you is wearing blue. Not a single person. 

It was you. 

Your fingers tighten on the barricade. He had pointed at you. You’re sure of it. And then you see him. 

The security guard is cutting through the clusters of venue workers. Your breath catches when his eyes land on you, sharp and direct. He doesn’t say a word, just jerks his chin toward the end of the barricade, a silent instruction. 

[beanghostprincess]

The very normal and straight reaction to seeing your friend fight

[anachronistic-falsehood]

team bolas' victim complex makes sooooo much sense from like a character standpoint and it drives me crazy. i don't think they ever left day one. i think in their heads, they're still burning themselves in that bonfire. half their players were inactive, they had a clear pvp disadvantage, and they kept getting killed by other teams. it was them against the world on day one. their only solace was each other when they felt helpless and they're carrying that with them to drive them forward. they still call themselves victims because if they win, then it's a pleasant surprise, and if they lose, that's just how it is with team bolas, right? it's better to have no hope at all in the first place than to feel the crushing weight of having your hopes dashed.

day one was hell. their friends killed them repeatedly without mercy, they had barely anything while other teams built their bases, and they were bottom of the leaderboard. they've come to expect tragedy, even after their multiple victories, after they've come to regard one another as family, after they've worked so, so hard to be one of the last teams standing and actually made it. they never left that bonfire.

[tommyssupercoolblog]

To the commenter who told me, under my YouTube short animation about Shugo Chara being my first magical girl anime, that I'm a loser who needs to go outside and talk to real women-

I'm both gay and the most extroverted person I know.

Also, I deleted your comment. Thank you 💖🌈✨✨

[malepresentingleg]

if we're actually getting patpran timeskip era content i'm

[loverboyromanroy]

i too have thought "oh well maybe firing gerri is not the task they're talking about" but then we have logan talking about "cleaning out the stall" and tom that says "roman knifes gerri". and i don't really know how he could possibly blackmail her? i don't think he has anything on her (apart from what she's done in waystar's interests in the past). maybe he can't legally fire her but he's just bing the messenger boy for his dad

yeah the "cleaning out the stalls" bit and tom miming cutting the puppet strings does concern me!!

i guess the hazy thing on the legality is like...if she's still interim ceo, which i've seen mentioned in j interviews, then logan can't legally fire her because he's still outside of it? that's why i was wondering if instead of straight up firing her, maybe they're demoting her somehow...like kicking her out of the interim ceo spot (but that feels like it...doesn't matter? except for the fact that it puts logan back in the top spot if the deal goes sideways). on the other hand, if it's blackmail coming from logan, it could be anything from their long history of working together (much of which we technically don't know anything about...)

i was also thinking that tom's little voiceover part could be like a hypothetical for future steps of the plan? because he talks about cyd, but cyd isn't shown in the teaser at all, not even like in the background of a shot...so maybe the idea is that tom is filling greg in on the fact that roman is laying groundwork in this episode (again, demotion? threat? blackmail?) and saying the next steps of that "strategic refocus" will be getting rid of cyd and gerri? and we know how tom gets when he's talking to greg (overdramatic)

if you want to go really off the wall, we actually don't know who tom is addressing – maybe he's extending an offer to shiv to come in at atn??? there's a scene in the "weeks ahead" teaser with tom and shiv where shiv is wearing the same outfit as the wedding...so what's THAT all about???? 👀👀👀👀👀

[geddy-leesbian]

I hate that I can walk into a Half Price Books and look at the paranormal section and recognize 75% of the authors because I know them from Ancient Aliens

[artsolotl-hours]

I had. an Idea.

okay, concept. Bruce Wayne never becomes Batman. He goes to therapy as a child, and becomes a functioning member of society instead. However. He still adopts all of the Batfam, and they're all still batshit (heh) crazy, so, one day he'll wake up to Tim three inches from his face, clearly not having slept all night, and Tim'll just be like, "Stacy Brighton in embezzling funds." before dropping a huge-ass file on Bruce and walking away. And somwtimes he'll walk out of his room to see Dick hanging from the chandelier, about to a flip while the others are recording. Or he'll turn around and damn near have a heart attack when he sees Cass behind him. Or he'll find Jason in a random-ass warehouse beating the shit out of people and have to scold him.

But he's just a normal dude. Like, he still has trauma, obvs, but he's working past it and helping his community. When the kids come up w/ smth that's going on, he'll j get his lawyers on it nip it in the bud. And if he can't, then hell buy the company and get his lawyers on it

Idk, just an idea I had

[anonymouscheeseball]

Headcanon that Edwin and Charles both visit the bastards who killed Charles (and the people who covered it up) over the years but neither knows about the other.

And when Edwin goes he's all subtle about his haunting, like he phones each of them every year on the anniversary of Charles's death and says nothing, he moves their stuff around just enough for them to know something's going on but not enough for them to talk about it and not sound batshit crazy, that kind of thing.

And then there's Charles who is the opposite of subtle, like making chairs quake levels of haunting, fracturing mirrors, making their food rot.

And they don't quite understand why those guys are always so terrified, because they don't know they're dishing out double the haunting, until one day one of the bullies starts whimpering "not the scissors again" while Charles is borrowing Edwin's signature move and he's like "uhh" because he's never done that before.

So he goes back to the office and he's like "have you ever visited one of the guys who killed me?" and Edwin just blinks at him like "why the sudden interest?" so Charles tells him and Edwin's like "I guess they must have had an interesting life."

And Charles is just so enchanted by vengeful bitch!Edwin Payne. Because nothing says eternal love quite like writing "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" on a murderer's mirror so they'll find the message when they get out of the shower.

Don't hurt Charles. Don't piss Edwin off. You'll regret it.

[krems-chair]

I'm always interested in analyses that portray a romanced Solas as a predatory hee hee trickster god manipulating a young and impressionable Lavellan into falling for him and if that's your world state go ahead and live your truth b/c it's frankly none of my business, but I sincerely think there are those who forget that for a lot of people, a romanced Lavellan is (with all due respect to my own Solasmancing Inquisitor Rielle Lavelllan) batshit crazy. Having her boyfriend turn out to be a wolf god is honestly the least of her problems but oh boy is she unafraid to become one to fix this mess.

This is a woman who woke up in a dungeon with a glowing hand, figured out she could fix the world, and thought "fuck it, it's not like I'll have anything else better to do if Corypheus sticks around. Also. Everyone here kind of looks like they want to kill me, so maybe I'll stick with the protective powers that be for a minute." And then all of five seconds later she gets her hand snatched by a sketchy elven apostate who knows exactly what to do with her shiny new powers and cannot stop himself from having a Mr. Darcy level hand-flex after he lets it go (in my heart and soul this happens just out of the camera's gaze) and goes "hmm maybe there's something to be said for this world saving thing."

This is a woman who brought an entire fucking avalanche down on herself and three of her closest friends (and I do mean closest as in physical proximity, she doesn't know these people who are looking at her like she's Thedas' Next Top Idol) because even if it killed her it was the proper middle finger to send to the wannabe god bringing his army tap-dancing down the mountain pass towards her on the one night she had scheduled off to celebrate finally taking a W.

This is a woman going Take 2 Electric Boogaloo on waking up with no idea where she is and learning she was successful in spite-dragging herself up a different fucking mountain in a blizzard. Except now everyone is fighting wait nope now they're Kumbaya-ing a song Andraste's Herald should really probably be familiar with whoops, oh thank God, time for a side convo with the same apostate who's been trying to turn her entire life into a history class only for her to dive in headfirst (much to his initial abject horror) and get that good good discourse she needs since she can't go around arguing with everyone else like she wants to. "The orb is ours." You know what? Of course it is. But if they need the world saved from an elven oopsie, who better to right things than an elf? Fuck it, we ball.

This is a woman who misses being close to nature and goes positively feral at Skyhold, yeeting herself over balconies and banisters and turning the ancient fortress into her personal parkour playground because she's got energy to work off and shit to do, and if the path of least resistance to hunt down everyone she needs to talk to is coincidentally the same path that will absolutely wreck her knees by the time she's sixty, that's just how it has to be.

This is a woman who finds herself back at Haven with a man she's found it possible to be unfetteringly unabashedly herself with and thinks, "hey, maybe there could be more than the flirations we've exchanged over heated discussions and philosophical deep-dives, maybe I can have just one smooch as a treat." And when she feels her slowly unfurling passion reciprocated only to be shut down? She resolves herself to fight for this fledgling love and all the fade tongue that comes with it. This is a woman who gets the tiniest glimpse of what a retirement plan might look like after this whole saving the mortal world thing and buys all the way in.

This is a woman who has Grey Wardens to save from themselves, an empire trying to self-cannibalize, and still finds the time to go rescue a spirit because she, as a fellow comrade caught up in this mess, knows damn well that no innocent deserves to suffer if she can help it while she's got this insane amount of power she never asked for. And if that happens to lead to the man she feels safe enough to nap on the library couches with confessing at last the feelings she knows he's been smothering beneath his all-too-collected surface? Yeah, she'll take that W.

This is a woman who gets absolutely blasted head-over-ass into the fade and goes "honestly things were going a little TOO well." This is a woman who sneaks a peak at the closest fears of the companions she's come to know and love and goes "not on my fucking watch." This is a woman who sees that the man she forces herself to learn the old language for, her vhenan, fears being alone more than anything in the entire knowing world and resolves herself to ensuring it never comes to pass.

This is a woman who gets the opportunity to shape the government of a straight up country and runs around collecting wooden fucking halla in a palace full of elven servants with no time to dwell on that particularly cruel irony because out here it's scheme or be schemed. This a woman who collapses against a balcony railing after putting out some of the sickest literal and metaphorical dance moves The Game has ever seen, resigned to bear her ever-increasing burdens alone, only to find her heart and his horrible horrible hat extending a hand, promising her that if he is not alone, then neither is she.

Like, do you feel me here?

And then he dares to think something as sudden and damning as the truth is enough to keep her away? The queen of tough conversations and tougher choices? No, no, dear readers who have made it this far into my descent into madness.

Inquisitor Lavellan is a master-class in encouraging the odds against her to fuck around and find out. She is a rift-mending false-god-bashing politcally savvy terror upon all of Thedas. Solas (and all of the living breathing world) is lucky she took time out of her busy schedule to notice the way his smile softens when talking about spirits or appreciate the fluidity of his form when they're obliterating venatori out in the field. This man cradled her cheeks in his shaking hands, looked into weary and wide eyes and called her beautiful, and had the audacity to steal her heart before trying to peace out and take it with him.

If she's got to track down a real god this time and frog march him into the fade to reclaim both her heart and the future she fought for because all he wants to do is launch himself like a meteor towards achieving his greatest fear, if she has to spend hours lecturing him on the sheer audacity of his ass while spirits float by and realize they're grateful they never had the chance to take on a body and subject themselves to a verbal lashing this brutal, if she has to do cartwheels around him while dropping all sorts of sweet nothings in the language she is now quite proficient in until he gets it through his luminous gleaming skull that when she said "var lath vir suledin" my girl meant it? Then that's what she's going to do.

"I wish it could, vhenan."

Oh it's going to, buddy. Buckle up to get wrecked, to get absolutely loved and cherished you fool, because Inquisitor Lavellan is not the Dread Wolf's prey, she's his hunter.

[chalametabingbong]

I'M BEGGING THE WRITERS HERE TO MAKE OG FIVE GROW OUT OF LOVE (coz you know the *barf* strawberry garden scene) FROM READER THEN THE ROOM FULL OF FIVES WILL GO;

"That's our cue! Dibs on Y/N!"

"Fuck you, Waiter Five! They're mine"

"Fuck you too, Brisket Five! I'm having them first!"

"Not if I got them first!" *Loose necktie Five blinks out*

"Oh no you don't!" *The rest of the Fives did the same*

Basically the whole room of Fives will go batshit crazy (paradox psychosis included) because they (unfortunately lost their own Y/N at some point) and was only waiting for the right moment to switch with og Five.

Then the rest of the family will be confused af like where all these Fives came from.

[rainbow-wolf120]

PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR TWISTED RND LORE PELAAASSPELLEALLEASPLEASEPELASE😭🙏

*rubs hands together* okay asker… if you insist 😈

Twisted RnD! Teased their relationship in my previous post and now I’m gonna go more into their relationship / dynamics!!

Kinda a yap fest under cut:

Going for the doodle above, Razzle is the one that takes control as a Twisted (the ribbon vines, etc), but that also takes up a bunch of energy on his end. So, he sleeps. A lot (He probably did as a Toon as well). He's asleep 95% of the time before being woken up.

This leads Dazzle to "keep watch." She's still conscious, unknowingly to Razzle, and tries her absolute best to keep her and Razzle in check. Asleep or awake.

She doesn't like guard duty, but what do you do? Say no to a clearly unstable individual who's apart of you?

Dazzle does take advantage of the situation. It gives her the ability to "warn" other Toon's about Razzle.

You see, Razzle is sensitive to vibrations in the circle while he's asleep. Even if Dazzle doesn't wake Razzle when a Toon walks in their area, he certainly can feel them if they run.

After a few casualties, Dazzle picks up on it and manages to communicate (somehow) this information to the Toons on the floor, so they don't die.

But it's not all gloom, self-isolation, and masking (hah).

Dazzle's mindset is the same as Glisten when it comes to consciousness, though on different levels.

Glisten yearns for company; Dazzle yearns for freedom.

Something they can both find in each other.

Glisten find company from finding someone to talk to. He's tried talking to the other Twisteds before, but it's nice to have someone who actively acknowledging that they're listening.

The two can't speak coherently of course, but Dazzle can nod, and that's all Glisten needs.

Dazzle's only sense of freedom is going against Razzle. It's found in both her warning Toons and talking with Glisten. Though it's more of the latter.

Why does she find talking with the mirror rebellion? Cause Razzle is hella overprotective.

It's not just their space, but her as well. Razzle thinks that he knows best for both him and Dazzle, which is why he shuts her down so often.

It's not out of malice, just an overamplified sibling bond. I think turning Twisted enhances and exaggerates a certain trait, and this one being Razzle's care for Dazzle. (Think of DDLC iykyk)

Dazzle clearly dislikes when Razzle brutally kills a Toon in front of her, but he doesn't listen. Dazzle's just scared and wasn't thinking straight. He's here for her. He's the only one that understands her.

Going back to the vine vibration murder aspect of Razzle, he's not doing this for himself, but for Dazzle (or so he claims).

He wants what's best for her and what makes her more comfortable. He wants her to be happy, and if that means killing anyone who disturbs their (his) sleep, then so be it.

Razzle is unaware that Dazzle is conscious, all he knows is that she's terrified, and will do anything to comfort her in their dark times.

He knows her better than she knows herself after all.

-------------------

That was my yap fest, so crazy sauce. I have normal thoughts about these two and am sick of people thinking Dazzle's the batshit insane one like come on guys

I finally finished this months old doodle page today. I apologize for the wait lmao.

I hope people eat this up as much as they did with Dazzle, but my long posts don't get that much attention </3

Thank you for the ask, and have an awesome sauce day !!

[evilkitten3]

less crazy, and here's why:

obito had to be actively pushed over the edge by watching rin die, something that madara (allegedly) engineered to happen for that purpose. if it hadn't happened exactly as it did, it's entirely possible that obito's life would've been completely different

to get madara to do what he did, all black zetsu had to do was write on a rock (wayyyy before he was even born so it's not even like it was targeting him in particular, just any incarnation on indora who happened to check the right boxes) and wait. madara was never going to be satisfied with how things are - even if black zetsu had never existed, he likely still would've tried to do something extreme to fix the flaws in the world.

completely unprompted, madara heard "what if we put everyone in eternal naptime" and immediately went "yes perfect love it no notes" and got down to business. it wasn't a single event that set him off, it was always going to happen in some way, shape, or form.

also he spent like fifty years alone in a cave which is not going to be doing any wonders for his mental health

Guys I have a really important question for u

[khattikeri]

3zun is just so funny to me. it's so tasty.

you canonically have A Guy who got murdered barely at his mid-20s bc he shoved his ex down a flight of stairs and called him a son of a whore in a fit of anger and the ex got paranoid enough to go "alright that's fucking it he HAS to die". he's right to scream about his ex obviously planning on killing him, he's just wrong to assume his ex was always a crazy evil bitch and not, y'know, paranoid and upset at being shoved down a flight of stairs. c'est la vie.

you have Other Guy, the ex in question who got het married to his own half-sister because "too little too late the wedding's tomorrow and we already have a kid on the way, shit, her reputation will be ruined forever if i abandon her now and don't publicly explain why, fuck, guess i'll lie to her the rest of our lives" and that's not even the tip of the iceberg of crimes and other unfortunate follies he's willing to commit in the name of status and personal safety. he murders and dismembers the First Guy and keeps the body's head in his fun little mirror closet. he talks to it now and then. just girly things.

you have The Final Guy, who happens to love both of these batshit individuals and refuses to 100% side with or denounce either of them, or even really investigate the shit they're claiming about each other, which pisses them both off and leaves everyone in varying levels of unhappiness and distress. he recognizes the First Guy's disembodied chest by musculature alone. he and Other Guy lovingly eye-fuck for nearly two full decades before he realizes Other Guy murdered First Guy and lied about it. he is tricked into stabbing Other Guy and goes into self-imposed indefinite solitary confinement over it while his two partners' souls and zombified bodies are trapped together in a coffin doomed to torment each other for over a century.

amazing and quirky of them, you have to admit.

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ toji fushiguro x his favorite customer (revision)

✧ summary toji has a little soft spot for his favorite customer that he can't get enough of.

✧ content warnings reader is a black woman who uses she/her pronouns. chubby!reader and inexperienced!reader. rich girl in her midtwenties, very needy! usage of profanity, standing missionary, oral - m!receiving, doggy style, mixture of praise and degradation kink, breeding kink, unprotected, creampie and squirting, terms of endearment ─ pretty girl, princess, baby, baby girl, etc. softdom!toji with rough, passionate, and filthy intercourse. told in first POV ─ toji's. i got reader calling toji TJ, and i think that’s so cute pls.

✧ author's note happy birthday to my baby daddy toji fushiguro! we've been going strong now for years. just a little something something to celebrate him. this fic has been in the drafts since December. talk about black people time, old sksk. also, if you already seen the original of this fic on tumblr, it's mine lol. this is just a revision, so don't go around saying i copied someone! my writing has changed so i wanted to redo this and add some adjustments. i hope y'all enjoy. support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts. ♡ AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS AND/OR MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT.

 

 When it comes to women I fuck, I treat them the same because at the end of the day, they pay me good money to stuff their pussy with cock. 

 Don’t really care if they're married either. I usually get the old, desperate broads that aren’t getting any attention from their husbands at home, so it’s my job to make them feel good for the night. 

 I don’t do favorites. 

 I damn sure don’t give discounts. 

 And I definitely don’t get attached. But the moment I met Y/N that all changed. 

 My favorite customer. 

 Never did I expect a younger woman to pay me to get fucked, especially when she looks that good. 

 I’m almost positive she has a line filled with fuckers that’s desperately wanting to know what this tight, wet pussy feels like, yet here I am, living their fantasy. 

 I fucked Y/N once. 

 Then, twice. 

 Then, again.

 And again.

 And again…

 If I didn’t know any better, I’m fucking obsessed with her. Can’t even say it’s just for the money she’s paying me. Probably the best pussy I ever had.

 No. 

 It is. 

 So fucking warm, and she takes dick well, too. I usually give only an hour or two to my customers, but for Y/N? I reserved the whole night to relish her pussy. 

 The perfect fuck to end my day. 

 Those soft, sweet-sounding moans that slipped through her full brown and pink lips, having my previous cum shot staining them had me running wild. 

 But it seems like I’m not the only one who’s sex drunk. 

 Cock is all on Y/N’s mind right now. Whimpering and crying how big I am and thanking me for giving her dick. Tears pricks those chestnut-colored hues and I’m in fucking awe. She’s so damn pretty. 

 “You know how gorgeous you look taking cock like this? Being a good fucking slut for me, princess?” I ask, being met with a nod and her moaning in response. 

 Y/N’s pussy talks to me. Wet noises spreading throughout the room while I have my arms hooked under the fold of her knees, fucking her recklessly to push past any intrusion. 

 She’s jumping with me every thrust I make, causing her tits to bounce obnoxiously. I take one of her nipples into my mouth and suck on them like it’s my last dying breath, hearing that sweet whimper. 

 I belong in Y/N’s pussy, and she belongs to me, too, the way she’s gripping my cock and milking me. All of her cream and wetness drips between us and down my balls, and it feels fucking amazing. Every time I experience her velvet walls, I find myself becoming more animalistic, hungry and territorial over someone who should only be seen as a client. 

 But fuck, something in me says I would go batshit crazy if I ever found out she had other motherfuckers experiencing this. 

 Knowing how she looks when sweat coats her beautiful brown skin. How it feels to stretch her out and make her adjust to you. Just thinking about it makes me pound into her deeper and more aggressively. 

 “Toji, baby, yes. This feels so good,” she purrs. “Like that. Keep fucking me like that.”

 I hum. “Yeah? This is what you wanted, right? Paid me to please this good pussy?”

 By all means, Y/N isn’t a virgin, but she told me she doesn’t have much experience and I can tell by how tight she is. 

 Our sounds of pleasure resonate in the air, and I call her my good girl, praising how perfect her pussy is, to be met with her squeezing me and watery brown eyes. 

 “Toji… Toji… Yes. God, yes.”

 “Keep using your words, pretty girl. Tell me how much you love my dick in your pussy,” I ordered softly.

 “I love it so much. It’s so big, baby,” she tells me, slurring her words because of her lips still being on mine. “You’re going to make me cum.”

 I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. “Not yet. Come taste yourself.”

 Without hesitation, Y/N slides down to her knees and starts sucking my dick. I hiss at her swallowing me and the warmth of her mouth. She doesn’t take her time when sucking me off, immediately circling her head and throating me. 

 “Hot fucking mouth made to suck dick, huh, pretty girl?” I firmly grabbed her chin so she could look at me. “Eyes up, sweetheart. Open up your throat for me like a good girl.” 

 Y/N hollows her cheeks and bobs her head fervently on my dick, tightening her lips around me. 

 She sucks dick so fucking good, better than any other woman I’ve been with. And I just know I’m bound to bust quickly if she keeps doing this shit. 

 My hand finds the back of Y/N’s head to grip and I buck my hips deeper into her mouth, ensuring I hit the back of her throat everytime. I’m a fucking mad man when I begin fucking the gorgeous face, especially when she’s looking up at me with those big brown eyes. 

 A spoiled brat, prim and shy, who’s spending daddy’s money to get fucked and folded by an old bastard like me. Think I fucking developed a kink for this type because of Y/N.

 I pumped into her mouth more aggressively until she began choking and gagging on my cock. Drool and precum coating her mouth in the process. 

 Any type of control Y/N tries to take, I push past it because I want to use that pretty little mouth of hers how I want. She needs to get her money’s worth when fucking with me. 

 “Going to fuck my cum deep down that throat of yours, and you’re going to swallow it. Got that?” She nods and I softly tap the side of her face. “That’s it. Keep those lips tight around me.” 

 “Toji, pl—please,” she slurs, causing me to chuckle. 

 “Hm, look at you. Trying so hard to talk to me while sucking my dick. It’s cute.” I slow down my quick thrusts, but replace them with more fervent ones, pushing me and her head down until my cock outlines her throat. 

 My balls grow heavy and obnoxiously slaps Y/N’s chin, a clear indication I’m about to fucking cum. 

 Grunting, whining, gasping like a little bitch for air because head like this has a fucker like me sounding like a broken mess. 

 Blood rushes to my groin and I start getting sloppy, feeling my muscles tightening and ache burning between my thighs. I’m close, so fucking close to filling her mouth with my release, then I can finish fucking that fat pussy. 

 Everything about this damn woman is perfect. Her pussy. How she sucks cock. That fucking chubby and curvy body of hers. A pretty face with loaded cash.

 Yeah, she’s definitely mine after tonight. And I’m talking about anything lovey dovey. Meaning if I catch her being a slut like this to anyone else, I’d kill that fucker. 

 No hesitation. I-

 “Y/N, fuck!” I grunt while cumming in her mouth. This load is fucking heavy, but she’s trying her best to swallow every drop. 

 I groan at the sight of Y/N touching her tits and palming her pussy, knowing how much she’s turned on, too. It’s like the vibrations of her moans pulls more cum out my fucking dick.

 A mess I made on her face, but the joyful lust I see in her eyes tells me she doesn’t give a damn. 

 Good, because I’m not finished with her. 

 “All fours on the bed. Now,” I demanded. “Still gotta fill up your pussy.”

 Perfection is what I think when I see Y/N from behind, arched back, ass in the air and pussy dripping, ready for me to fuck. 

 I force an arch in her back and plunge my cock in her tight little pussy with one deep stroke. Y/N gasps in the air and I take the opportunity to pull her up by the throat and start pounding her cunt. 

 Why the fuck is she so goddamn wet? She takes cock well, bud shit, I abruptly slip out each and every thrust. 

 “Keep me inside that pussy, baby girl. Stop fucking letting go,” I gritted in her ear. She reaches behind her to hold my dick and push back into me with a tighter grip. “Hm, just like that. So fucking good to me, aren’t you?”

 “I need more dick, TJ. Fuck me harder, baby. I can take you,” she moans. 

 Begging for cock she’s already paying for… Shit, I get a kick out of how pathetically sexy she sounds. 

 I repeatedly slammed into her wet cunt, thrust after thrust, pussy creaming even further than before. If it’s one thing I can listen to for the rest of my life, it’s how Y/N sounds when she’s being fucked. 

 My name drips perfectly from her lips.

 Our skin smacking fills the air in the room along my hand striking her ass until I guarantee it’ll bruise in the morning. 

 “Look at this fat ass moving when I pound into this pussy. Fucking beautiful,” I growled.

 “Toji, please. I… I don’t care how much… I’ll pay more. Just keep fucking me like this.”

 I chuckle. “Atta girl.”

 I see why motherfuckers catch feelings when fucking pussy. I almost feel tempted to tell Y/N that I love her while fucking her. She has pussy that’ll make a fucker crazy… Possessive… Jealous.

 I applied more pressure to Y/N’s throat and pulled her against my chest. “You know who this pussy belongs to. Right, princess?”

 “God, yes, Toji. You… it belongs to you.” Her voice comes off as a faint cry and I know she’s on the verge of cumming. Especially with how her pussy is pulsating around me. 

 “Mhm, that’s right. Dreamed of my fucking dick pounding this tight little cunt, now I have you mindfucked. Huh?” I pinch her nipples with my free hand and increase my thrusts. “You’re about to come for me. Aren’t you, Y/N? I know you are. I can feel it. You should see the mess your slutty pussy is making between us.”

 “Fuck, I didn’t mean to, baby. It’s just… you feel good. So fucking good,” she whimpers, bouncing her ass back into me to meet with my thrusts. 

 “Maybe I should have you clean it with your mouth. Hm?”

 I release Y/N’s throat to shove her face into the bed and deepen her arch more than before. My single hand returns to her hips to grip, pulling her round ass back on my cock to kiss her center. 

 Can’t get over how wet—how tight and warm this fucking pussy is. The harder I fuck her, the louder her pussy gets and I grunt, curse underneath my breath at hearing the sound of her muffled moans. 

 I don’t give a fuck if one of us catches feelings after this. Actually, I want her to. I want Y/N to be dick hungry only for me. 

 I want her pussy to smell like I’m the only fucker that’s been running through her. I’m even fucking tempted to breed this pussy just so she’s mine.

 Why the fuck would I want to have sex with any other women after knowing what Y/N feels like? 

 “You take cock like a fucking pro. Look at you gripping me. Look at how this pussy is mine.”

 She spreads her ass cheeks to feel every inch of my dick. “Fuck me, Toji. Harder. Fuck me harder, I’m about to cum.”

 “Shit, me too, sweetheart. Such a perfect fuck toy. Going to fill you all the way up,” I rasped. “Fuck me back. Keep taking this dick.”

 My thrusts are sloppy. I throw my head back and swear into the air and moan her name. My balls grow heavier and heavier until I fucking but and empty my cum inside her pussy. 

 And she’s right there with me, crying my name and thanking me for giving her toe-curling orgasm. 

 Fucking enjoy hearing my pretty girl thank me for giving her cock. She just looks so damn pretty when she cums, too. 

 Dark brown skin sweating. The sight of her ruined makeup with mascara running down her cheeks. Moans sounding like a broken record. 

 Yeah, she’s a perfect fuck. 

 My favorite customer. 

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