#truly i only need him because im not strong enough to put holes in the wall

[saekkas]

RINRIN EUGH EUGH I JUST HAD SOME TIME TO READ YOUR NEW KAISER PIECE IM SCREAMING CRYING SLIDING DOWN A WALL

It truly is how I can picture a relationship with Kaiser would go. The worst thing in scenario is that in the end there is really no one to blame. The worst mature realisation is that love sometimes is not enough. It can be as strong as it wants but if it does not come with matching expectations from both people in terms of other aspects, it hurts more than it is worth for most. Kaiser is a star, true prodigy and it is natural to have this ambitious drive. The question is if you have the same vision of your life, chasing your own career and having a strong separate life from your lover or slowing down to enjoy domesticity and prioritising it. Neither is wrong but only one would match him.

I need three to five business days to recover from this.

- 🗿

ah but that's the thing, isn't it? sure, love isn't enough but if two people are desperate enough to keep the flames going, only pride and ambition are standing in the way, no?

i see kaiser as someone who is incredibly selfish. this isn't a bad thing, not at all, sometimes greed is needed to propel yourself into your dreams. he's going to put himself first in the relationship, career wise and all but when you choose to do the same? i don't think he'd be the kind to let it slide. he'd want you to be there when he comes home, to cuddle with him and tell him that he's done a good job. to let him take his frustrations out on you, even if it means shouting matches at 3 am. because you love him, right? that's what a good lover does.

i also see him as a coward, someone who only fixates on one thing (this being soccer) because that's what he's good at. that's what he's supposed to do. you need to understand that it's the only thing he has. he doesn't care if it tears a hole between you, either you take it or leave it. and that's where his cowardice lies, he's afraid of wanting you as much as he wants soccer. so, he'd rather push you away than admit it to himself. he'd rather avoid, run from the thing that actually has him happy because failure? that's not something he can tolerate especially as a so-called prodigy.

you know what, anon? i might need three to five days to recover from this, too.

[whorelaud]

nem you fucker did you put drugs in this what the actual fuck i feel like an absolute whore this shit has my knees wobbling im literally going insne fuckck fuck fuck FUCK

i have so much shit to say this is genuinely one the best things ive ever read and its my second fav piece (after milf reader duh 😜) of yours lordd!! such a talented girl the way you included all the goodies oooh dad!rafe hes such a girl's dad idc this was written to perfection im nauseous i will be rereading this and crying to you about it in your dms i MEAN it like what rhe hell PLS I NEED PPL TO READ THIS ILL CRY 😭😭😭😭😭😭 nem... the fluff... the teasing... how toxic he is... dare i say hes my man oh god sorry ill shut up anyways!! thank you for blessing me with this gen felt like the BIGGEST reward after such a long day 🩷🩷💕💘💓💝 everyone say thank yiu nem for blessing our eyes and brains

even when he was not at home, it was always with the toys he gave her that she played, the dresses he gave her that she wore, the hairstyles that he validated by facetime that she asked you to make, the meals he delivered that she wanted to eat. she was truly daddy’s girl. even in her facial features.

bye id be so bitter if that was me sorry we are competing over our daughters love IDC (jp ahahshs)

you didn't need to work. you had access to all his cards. at first you spent tons of money on unnecessary expenses hoping it would drive him crazy but the next day you saw that even more money had been added to the bank account.

a MAN.... i need him to dive in my ocean shitttt thats so hot

but rafe cameron didn't give you access to his banking data out of pure kindness and affection alone.

Oh.

“don't want to see me, but you dress yourself like you want me to give you a second baby ;) ”

I FUCKING SWUEAKING THATS SO HOT NEM OMG WHAT ARE YIU DOING TO ME

bear my children pls oh HUSBAND 😩

but that didn’t stop him from smiling at you, the insatiable white colgate smile. his clean and fresh mullet was long enough that hair brushed the back of his neck. he was wearing one of his perfect black suits with the sleeves rolled up to show a glimpse of his nice shirt. a Rolex was tight around his veiny wrist, and the same rings he always wore were wrapped around his fingers.

im crying hes so cocky it makes me wanna 😊😊 🖕🏼😭🩷💕❤️💕💗❤️💕❤️❤️💕❤️❤️ ahahaha haahaha AHAHAH im losing it i swear i think i just found my fav rafe...,

“that's my little girl.” he welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek, making her chuckle.

move its my turn

"We should ask every part of your body if they're okay with this. Maybe it would put you back into your place to feel betrayed by your own self. "

shut up omfg im not okay

"Mine , baby. you mean, my bills. these are my cards that you use for your pleasures so I have the right to have an eye on them. even more so when I receive bills for sex toys. you should call me instead of handling it? yourself.”

IM FRAMING THIS AND PUTTING IT ON MY WALL OH YKGOD THIS WHOLE FUCJING PARA IS PERFECT LEGIT TWEKINF OUT RN

jesus, you knew how to provoke him and it worked. he had sniffed the air loudly, trying to contain himself because honestly, he only wanted one thing at the moment, a strong urge that was to fuck you dirty on that counter until he was sure to see your hole tearing to death and dripping to get his cock in. jesus, yeah, he would give anything to see you grimace because it will never fit in but prove you wrong by giving you a second baby.

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MEEEE OMFG THIS IS CRAZY 😭😭😭😭🤕🤕🤕🤕

sorry for the long review sigh... i couldnt help myself omff

sweet babyface // toxic!bbydaddy!rafe x reader

summary ; rafe was decided to make your little one, a kook princess. and if it means to spend a million of dollars on a diamond swarovski tiara just to see it on the head of his daughter, you can be sure he's gonna do it.

warnings ; basically fluff but i would add +18 bc of a little bit of suggestive content but not real smut. mention of breeding kink. kind of toxic relationship. a bit of stalking. financial dependence. be aware of the warnings.

author's note ; i just wanted to mention @princessbrunette for the bbydaddy!rafe verse. you can check it on her account <3

even if you tried every time to keep him away, push him away, avoid him or chase him, rafe always came back. you could be cold, distant, suspicious and even cruel, he didn't care. by the way, he was better than you at that game anyway? it wasn’t for nothing that you always lost trying to fight him. he was winning while you were just exhausting yourself out. sometimes you wonder why you let him into your life, why you thought it would be a good idea to have a baby with him when everyone on the island told you he was unstable and uncontrollable. some even laughed at your situation, saying it was like giving something to the devil and hoping he doesn't use it against you.

you couldn't say rafe was a bad father. your daughter had always been outrageously spoiled. he always gave her the biggest and greatest gifts. nothing was ever good enough for his princess. he always thought big when it came to his baby. even if you were a pogue, he wanted to raise her as a fucking kook.

and sometimes you wondered if he did all this out of pure fatherly love or out of narcissism or ego.even if you hated him so much, he absolutely needed to make sure your child was on his side. every time he was there, it was like you no longer existed. the house was full of "dad," "daddy, “ or “ papa, " and babbling and laughing. it was always his name, she never called you. and you always felt a pang in your heart every time he grabbed her in his big veiny arms, making her the happiest little girl before taking her away from you to go on some weekly trips.

even when he was not at home, it was always with the toys he gave her that she played, the dresses he gave her that she wore, the hairstyles that he validated by facetime that she asked you to make, the meals he delivered that she wanted to eat. she was truly daddy’s girl. even in her facial features.

so no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he was still there somehow . through the demands of your daughter, the hundreds of deliveries a day to your door, the objects in this house and even its walls because he was obviously the one who paid for it.

you didn't need to work. you had access to all his cards. at first you spent tons of money on unnecessary expenses hoping it would drive him crazy but the next day you saw that even more money had been added to the bank account.

but rafe cameron didn't give you access to his banking data out of pure kindness and affection alone. he was also looking for a way to control you, and stay in your life. then, with that, he could also stalk you and do inappropriate things like when you bought lingerie and he received the bill. he couldn't stop himself from sending you a message. “don't want to see me, but you dress yourself like you want me to give you a second baby ;) ”

the only rule was that you were forbidden from going to see another man and even less from inviting him to the house. he manipulated you by saying it was for your daughter's mental balance but it was purely out of jealousy. and you knew it very well. you weren't the stupid naive girl he had gaslighted in the past and who he could lie to so easily anymore.

one day, you were giving your kid the extremely expensive cupcakes rafe had bought for her breakfast, trying not to comment on the ridiculousness of the prices but especially the situation, and there was a knock at the door. when you saw through the blinder that it was him, you stepped back discreetly, swallowing hard to not clench. your heart was beating fast in your ribcage as you were trying to silence your stepfoots.

“I know you're here.” you had heard his loud firm raspy voice through the door. “baby, i can hear you breathing and backing up from here. come on, i thought we both get over the time i scared you. ”

he continued to knock on the door until your old neighbor called you claiming that a crazy madman was in front of your house and didn't want to leave.

you had been forced to open up to him which made you even angrier.

but that didn’t stop him from smiling at you, the insatiable white colgate smile. his clean and fresh mullet was long enough that hair brushed the back of his neck. he was wearing one of his perfect black suits with the sleeves rolled up to show a glimpse of his nice shirt. a Rolex was tight around his veiny wrist, and the same rings he always wore were wrapped around his fingers.

he had his ear pierced recently with your daughter. you had been against it, but she still wanted to do like her father so you had no authority over the sweet monster. but you had to admit that the jewelry suited them both so well. especially on rafe, you couldn't help but think about kissing his ear, but especially biting his earlobe while caressing the silver piercing until it's wet and rolling against your tongue. all this perhaps while thinking of having a baby again.

“I should be allowed to come here whenever I want. " he had sworn under his breath, staring at you with his evil blue eyes.

“tell me what you have to say or I’ll call the police.” you replied shortly.

"I want to see my girl. I mean, the one who likes to call me daddy. "

“It’s not funny and she doesn’t want to…”

you hadn't had time to finish speaking before your babyface's little footsteps were running on the floor to come into the hall.

“daddy! " she exclaimed before being carried off the ground to snuggle into her father's strong arms, her little frame being hidden by the size of his biceps.

“that's my little girl.” he welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek, making her chuckle.

"I missed you! please, stay !" your kid had asked with bubbly face and pleading eyes, her childish pout so irresistible to say no.

“of course, I’m staying.”

“raf…” you started but he ignored you, walking in the house without your permission into the living room.

“I have something for you, peaches. ”

he took a present out of his bag and you rolled your eyes. you already knew it was going to be something crazy like the giant dollhouse he built in her bedroom, or the huge dinette in the playroom, or a scary tall comfort teddy bear that she couldn't even carry in her tiny hands. sometimes you wondered what he could offer to her because she already had everything. he had literally built her a heaven.

your daughter's eyes widened in surprise, while a smile floated across her lips in excitement. she opened the gift and took out a silver tiara set with diamonds and stunning crystals signed by Swarovski.

“she’s a baby, rafe…” you commented.

"no, she's a princess. " he corrected you and fixed your little one's hair before putting the tiara on her head, and placing a smack on her forehead. “ don't you see that kook babyface ? ”

she giggled before wrapping her hands around his neck to thank him.

“we need to talk.” you said.

"later. i have a princess to honor for now."

you wanted to fight back and kill him but you couldn't resist your daughter's face. she was happy to be with her father. and you knew it was important for girls to establish a strong bond with their father. and there was this bright spark that shone in her eyes every time she saw him that made you melt.

so you let him stay at home. he stayed with her all day. she managed to make him do whatever she wanted, and that's how he found himself playing with dolls, watching the princess and the frog, doing karaoke to barbie songs, serving as a client for a makeup session, and judging all of her princess dresses while she was making him a haul.

No matter how angry you were that he showed up like that and decided to stay, you couldn't deny the fact that he was damn good, that in the moment, you couldn't find any reason not to like him, even when he caught you spying on them and sent you a smirk to remember that you had no control.

you had decided to do some cleaning, to leave them both for a bit until the end of the day. after a long moment, rafe decided to leave her alone for a bit.

you were downstairs, and you were making food. he raised an eyebrow when he saw you. “don’t forget me.”

“no I’m sorry, I’m cooking for two and you’re not included in it.”

“I was included in this pussy to make you a baby so you can include me in this meal for one night, baby. ‘s nothing. ” he shouted back, chewing some gum arrogantly.

“don’t be trashy.”

"you used to like this..." he carefully said, because he knew he was treading on sensitive ground.

he stood in front of you, picking a taste of the ranch sauce from the bowl before putting it in his mouth. you watched him do it, glaring at the smile on his so fucking evil lickable lips.

“ taste's good. ”

“I want you to leave. “

"We should ask every part of your body if they're okay with this. Maybe it would put you back into your place to feel betrayed by your own self. "

“You’re not good for her.” you confessed.

“I am her father. And from what i know, she's very happy with me. You're the one to have a problem with my presence here. ”

"Please, leave the house. I don't want to call the police."

“exactly, baby.” he moved to stand behind you, rearranging a strand of your hair, his breath hot on the back of your neck. “you don’t want to do it. And you're not forced to do it…” he caressed your hand, slowly putting the knife away from your fingers.

“Step back.”

"I want to stay here tonight. Just this night. She really wants me to stay and would it be cruel to make her sad? You don't want to be the villain, right ? "

“don’t try to manipulate me.”

" mmh, just telling the truth and it makes you mad. you can hate me if you want but she needs me. i'm her dad and you know if I wanted to, I could make her come with me but I love seeing you together. you're a great mom.”

"you will sleep on the couch. and that is non-negotiable. you don't try anything with me, is that okay?"

“Come on, we can sleep together. We are mature and consenting adults.” he replied. "There's nothing I haven't seen before, baby. I know all that lingerie as well as that body hidden behind it."

“about that, stop stalking my bills.”

"Mine , baby. you mean, my bills. these are my cards that you use for your pleasures so I have the right to have an eye on them. even more so when I receive bills for sex toys. you should call me instead of handling it? yourself.”

"After trying them, I'm not sure that you're big enough now. “

jesus, you knew how to provoke him and it worked. he had sniffed the air loudly, trying to contain himself because honestly, he only wanted one thing at the moment, a strong urge that was to fuck you dirty on that counter until he was sure to see your hole tearing to death and dripping to get his cock in. jesus, yeah, he would give anything to see you grimace because it will never fit in but prove you wrong by giving you a second baby.

his jaw was tense and his nostrils were flared. he was forced to clench his fist to avoid touching you. " the day when your babygirl will want a little sister or brother, you better be begging on all fours on my fucking doorstep to convince me to give you another baby. so better to start now and stretch that hole very hard before it's happening because i'm gonna make sure to be breeding you enough to change your whole dna. ”

“ aren't you tired of thr…”

“mom, dad, what are you talking about?” the little girl burst into the kitchen, still with her tiara on her head. a smile appeared when she saw that her dad was still there. because it was rare for him to stay that late.

you warned rafe with your eyes, slashing violently at pieces of vegetables with the knife back in your hand.

“ we were thinking that i could stay tonight. what's your thoughts on this, little one ? want daddy to stay ? ”

“ yes ! i don't want you to leave. stay foreveeeer with me. ”

“ but you know, he can't. he's a businessman. ” you replied.

“ what do you mean, baby ? my only business is right here. ”

” Rafe. ” you said.

“ Baby ? ” he replied with a cocky smile. “ Why don't you tell us what you're cooking ? Seems delicious. Maybe we could get a taste. ”

“ Sweetie, can you go to your room for a second ? I need to talk with your dad. It's not gonna be long. ”

She pouted but agreed after Rafe promised her something if she was listening to her mom.

“you know you can’t stay. "

"All I know is that there is my name in the papers of this house, on your bills, and even on your documents. If I can't stay, you can't escape. So what's better ? ”

[vettelsbitch]

On the second to last day of my vacation, instead of resting and doing nothing, I built a shelf.

[kylie-writes-stuff]

Too Far

pairing: rodrick heffley x gn!reader ; greg x platonic!reader (but it's mostly a sweet family fic between rodrick and greg)

warnings: cussing, rodrick thinks greg ran away/is missing, rodrick's probably ooc, uh idk what else

word count: 1.7k (why is this the longest thing i’ve written-)

summary: (takes place during rodrick rules) y/n has been a good neighbor and friend for a while now. either of the heffley boys can go to them for anything.

a/n: im a strong believer in the fact that rodrick has a soft side and he truly cares about his little brother. he doesn't show it a lot but it's there. i love rodrick so much so i wanted to try writing for him. sorry if it's ooc but i dunno, i like it. let me know what you think :)

--

You were watching tv, no clue what just happened in the house down the street, when there was a knock on the door.

You got up, groaning. Who would be here this late? 

You opened the door, somewhat annoyed, until you saw that it was... Greg? 

It was Greg, the young boy from down the street, with tears in his eyes.

You immediately wrapped an arm around him, leading him inside, “Woah, kid, what’s wrong?”

As the two of you sat back down on the couch, he choked out an answer, “R-Rodrick.”

“What did he do this time? Want me to beat his ass for you?"

A small smile crossed your face when you were able to make the boy chuckle.

He explained that him and Rodrick had a great night together but things went bad once they got home. He said that their parents found the pictures from the party last week, which you had attended, and both the boys got it trouble. But that wasn't why Greg was crying. He was crying because Rodrick was disappointed in him and said some hurtful things.

You didn't push any further. Greg was a tough kid, most of the time, so whatever Rodrick said must've been really bad.

"Wait," you said after a few minutes, "Do your parents know you're here?"

"N-no. I snuck out."

"Greg, you can't do that," you said sternly. You weren't angry, just worried.

"You and Rodrick both sneak out all the time," He tried to reason.

"That's different. We're both old enough to take care of ourselves. No offense, but you're still just a kid. If your parents find out they're gonna be worried sick."

"Can I just stay for a while longer? Please? Besides if they find out I'm gone, they'll probably check here first."

It was true. Greg and Rowley would come to your house sometimes, just to have a different place to hang out. Your parents were away a lot of the time so it worked out.

You were Greg's babysitter when he was in 5th and 6th grade. Ms. Heffley knew you were a responsible kid and she didn't exactly want Rodrick in charge. Now he's in 7th and he's trusted a bit more so you didn't have to take care of him anymore. During that time was when you and Greg got close. The two of you became friends.

You had gotten pretty close with Rodrick too. Especially since you had a lot of the same classes in school. The two of you had similar interests so you would hang out sometimes.

Of course, you couldn't say no to Greg.

You two sat and watched whatever he wanted to watch. You told him that he could have whatever he wanted from the kitchen, it didn't matter. He immediately searched for ice cream, making you laugh.

Soon there was another knock on the door. This time you looked out the peep hole.

"It's Rodrick," you whispered to Greg.

"I'm not here!" He whispered back, running up the stairs.

You waited until he was all the way upstairs, before you opened the door, "Rodrick? Hey, what's up?"

He looked back at you with panicked eyes, "(Y/n), you gotta helped me."

You ushered him in, just as you had done with his younger brother not long ago, and you two sat down. "Of course, what is it?"

"Well I- me and Greg got into a fight I guess? I said some stuff I shouldn't have. I- Fuck, (Y/n), I messed up... I took it too far."

You gently put a hand on his knee, "Hey, relax. You're okay. What do you mean you took it too far?"

"I told him that... I said 'you might be my brother, but you'll never be my friend'. W-We got in trouble for something and I got mad at him. Obviously I don't mean it, i-it just kinda slipped out."

"Okay, well, we both how Greg is. I'm sure he'll understand if you just tell him and apologize. You two will be fine," you offered him a soft smile.

To your surprise, he shook his head.

"That's not what I need your help with."

"Oh," was all you could say.

"I went to check on him a while ago because he's never been in this much trouble, I wanted to make sure he was okay. Mom and Dad were already asleep. I- I went into his room and... and he was gone. (Y/n), I don't know what to do."

You pulled him into a hug, him quickly latching onto you. You gently ran your fingers through his hair. "It's okay Rodrick. I'll help you find him."

Of course, you knew where he was. But you wouldn't give away Greg's spot if he didn't want you too.

Rodrick looked up at you, "You will?"

"Of course, let me get a jacket and we'll go."

You went up the stairs and into your room, where Greg was sitting on your bed.

"Dude, he-"

"I heard all of it. I understand."

"Oh good," you said, waking to your closet to get a jacket, "So, do you forgive him?"

"Of course, he's my brother," The two of you smiled.

As you pulled on your jacket, you asked, "Well what do you wanna do? He's ready to go searching for you."

"Maybe you two can drive around for a while and come back, and i'll just be on the sidewalk around here? I don't know, I just don't him to get at you for lying." He suggested.

You thought about it, nodding.

"Okay... but be careful, alright? Stay in here for like 15 minutes, then you can go out."

You went back downstairs and grabbed your keys. Rodrick followed you out and into your car.

"He couldn't have gone far, right?" He asked, bouncing his knee up and down.

"Nah, i'm sure he stayed close. Lets just check the neighborhood, yeah?" You said.

You drove around, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the center console where Rodrick was holding it tightly.

--

"H-he can't be gone. (Y/n), he can't!"

Of course, you haven't "found" Greg yet. Rodrick was freaking out.

You pulled over and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, his hand still in yours.

"Hey, Rod, it's okay. We'll find him, I promise."

Rodrick shook his head, his eyes becoming glossy. You felt bad for letting him believe Greg was really gone for so long, but you told Greg you'd stick with his plan. And you were true to your word.

"What if we don't?" His voice cracked.

"We will, I promise. But it's getting late and you should rest. We'll go looking for him first thing in the morning. I bet you he probably went to Rowley's house."

"Yeah... yeah, that makes sense," Rodrick nodded. "Thank you."

"You know I'd do anything for you. For Greg, too. I love that kid."

Rodrick smiled, hearing you speak so fondly of his younger brother. In that moment, he knew everything would work out.

You started driving back to the cul-de-sac you guys lived on. Rodrick leaned his head against the window and started to dose off, his hand still holding yours tightly.

Then you saw it. Greg walking on the sidewalk, just like he said he would.

"Rodrick! Dude!" You shook him awake.

"Huh? What?" He woke up, startled.

"Look!" You pointed over to Greg while pulling over.

Rodrick saw him and as soon as you stopped the car, he opened the door and stumbled out.

"Greg!" He called out to his younger brother.

Before Greg could even turn around, Rodrick had him engulfed in a hug. The display of affection obviously took Greg by surprised.

"Don't ever do that again," Rodrick paused, trying to come up with some sort of insult, "... dumbass."

"I won't, I promise."

You watched as the two brothers smiled at each other. A rare occurrence for sure, but a nice one.

Rodrick lightly pushed Greg towards the car and they both got in.

"Hey (Y/n)." Greg said from the back seat.

"Hey, kid, glad you're safe," You smiled back at him.

"Yeah."

"Had this guy close to bursting into tears," You snickered, gesturing towards Rodrick and trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't tell him that!" Rodrick mumbled as he nudged your arm. This only made you and Greg giggle more.

You saw a smile form on Rodrick's lips, despite him trying to hide it. Laughter was, indeed, contagious.

You poked his cheek, making him chuckle.

You started to drive towards the Heffley house, the mood in the car now light and playful. You pulled into their driveway and unlocked the doors.

"Go inside, twerp. I'll catch up." Rodrick said.

"Okay," Greg smiled, getting out and heading towards the door.

"(Y/n)... thank you." Rodrick said, his voice softer as he looked down at his shoes.

"For what?"

"I dunno, everything. I mean, who would get up in the middle of the night and help some loser look for their little brother?"

"Oh c'mon, Rodrick. I'd go to the ends of the earth for you or that kid. It's no big deal, really." You said.

"It is to me. Thank you," He finally looked up at you, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Anytime."

"Can I- um... can I try something?" He asked. His eyes darted away from you for a split second.

"Well, uh, yeah. Sure." You said, curious to as what wants to do.

Suddenly, Rodrick put his hand on your cheek and leaned in. You felt his lips press against yours softly and closed your eyes. The kiss lasted only a little bit, but it felt much longer.

You couldn’t lie. It felt amazing. Kissing Rodrick just felt so... right. It’s like your lips were made for each other.

He pulled back a little and you smiled, laughing softly.

"Is- Is that a good thing?" He asked.

"I dunno, you tell me."

You leaned in and kissed him again. He was quick to kiss back. Eventually you leaned back.

"You should get inside," Another kiss, "Don't want you getting in more trouble."

Rodrick's usual confidence came back and he smirked, "If it's for you, it's worth it."

"Shut up!" You laughed.

He chuckled and pecked your cheek, before walking to the door.

As you pulled into your own driveway, you smiled.

Your relationship with Rodrick Heffley had changed tonight. But you know it had changed for the better.

[plush-rabbit]

Aphrodisiac Induced Villains

Request: im obsessed with your aphro induced brothers !!! can i request the same scenario with the leave of villains + overhaul and chrono?

Word Count: 1K each

A/N: Sorry for it being so late!! I love aphrodisiac plots and I think I’ll never stop thinking about them. (esp moth shig and spinner during a heat)

-

Every breath is like water that fills his lungs, suffocating and one step closer to some hellish end. They aren’t usually so clumsy, so blindsided by rage. They’re tactical, able to evade heroes for as long as they live and yet- here they are, slumped over some alleyway, dirt sticking to their clothes and the noise of the outside so deafening that they can’t even hear their own blood rush in their ears. It’s horrific, even more so than anything they’ve ever endured in their life; this need to feel so cold and hot at once, their body so off putting that you’d think he’d shed his skin and become a new man simply because they are unable to think of anything coherent at that very moment.

Their hand cups over their face, bumping and squishing their nose and the scent of the damn quirk is still strong, still heavy against their body. It’s sweet like vanilla, and strong like peppermint, sticking to their skin and invading their body. His eyes flutter to a close, thinking of the scent that is consuming them, burning them from the inside. The sweet aroma that filtered out of the hero’s body like perfume. The way that their defenses dropped, how their mouth salivated, and the only thing on their mind was primal, something so animalistic that has now taken over. What type of fucking hero even has an aphrodisiac quirk? What good is it unless you want a bunch of salivating and aroused villains in your custody? The other hand clutches over where their heart should be, where they hold on so tightly to their shirt that they stretch the fabric and ruin it. His heart beats erratically, pounding and bruising their ribs, and this quirk truly is ruining them from the inside and out.

Slowly, their hand falls from their face, bumping into their other hand that falls from their chest and they rest heavy on the ground, weighing him down like anchors. He can’t think straight, not with this burning desire inside of him that makes it so impossible to think. With a groan, he stands from the floor, uncaring of the dirt and mess that has stuck on him, uncaring of how sweat falls and drips from their nose and chin. The only thing on his mind right now is to rid himself of this quirk, to ease the ache between his legs and stomach, to finally think straight. At this very moment, the only thing on his mind is to go to you, to stagger and kiss your lips and have his own desires just flood out of him.

Bubaigawara Jin:

There hasn’t been a time in his life where he hasn’t had to fought for survival. He’s been in desperate situations before. Clawed and fought his way through and for survival, for the sake of not only him, but for his sanity. He’s been through the worst of it all. He’s felt betrayal, felt blood rush and blind him as he stayed strapped to a chair, unable to even realize if he was real or not, and yet, it’s the aphrodisiac that makes Jin fall to his knees just before your door. He’s knocking rapidly against it, banging the end of his fists against your wooden door and your name is a godforsaken cry that tears through his throat. He can’t think of anything else but you at this very moment, to collapse onto you and rest his weary head on your shoulders. The only fear that courses through his body is the fear that you won’t answer the door. Jin is at your door, his erection bulging against his suit and every movement is sweet friction that his heart racing and blood rushing. You open the door to him and he does just as he pictured- he falls into your arms and holds you tight while he kicks the door close and pushes you further into your home.

When you bring him, your hands wrapped tightly around him, it doesn’t take much for the man to confess what happened. All the details told to you without question- the scent of the aphrodisiac, the strong sensation, the way that he feels so pulled apart and grounded all at once. He is a weak man at the very end of it, wanting nothing more than to bring you and him down to your knees, as he;s held in your arms. You pull him to your room, telling him to not worry as you’ll be here for him and he knows that you don’t know the severity of the aphrodisiac. The way that it pains him, how nothing is on his mind but the way that your lips look so cute when in a pout, the way the soft pink muscle flashes out to wet at your lips and he can only nod. The back of his knees hit the bed and your hands are coming up to his neck, peeling off the mask and he’s so drunk on lust, that he doesn’t even realize that the simple graze of your knuckles against his neck is enough for him to fall to his back on the bed.

Depravity is not the thing that ails him. It’s the burning desire to be by your side, to continue to feel your hand knits through his and the gentle way that you call his name. He can’t remember when his name was said with such adoration, and now, it just makes his cock throb and he’s thankful for wearing black or there'd be such an obvious stain on him. The bed creaks under his weight and the scent of you on the sheets is enough to replace the scent of vanilla and peppermint. It’s much sweeter, stronger and much more intoxicating. You reach over and your hand is curved over his forehead, the scar pressing against your palm and when you pull away, he grabs your wrist. He can’t be alone. Not right now. Not when his erection is aching and causing the worst pain that he’s ever felt. Everything is too much at this moment. Coming to you was a mistake, but it was the best mistake that he ever made. You’re the only thing keeping his grounded at this very moment.,

With your wrist in his hand, he pulls himself up, and pulls you closer to him, your knees bumping against the edge of the mattress and he pulls you down. His lips are on yours and it’s messy, spit slipping between the corners of the lips, his hands clawing and tugging off your clothes and he doesn’t have the patience to take off his. His bulge is pressed against your thigh, rocking back and forth. It’s a steady motion at first, something so sweet and slow that it leaves him groaning out your name filled by a lovely curse. Soon, everything becomes filthy. Heavy rocking motions that leaves him panting and drooling over your shoulder as his hands palm over your breasts and tease at your nipples and his face i flushed, a deep red that paints him in a heavenly glow and he’s begging for you to remove his suit, to touch him and kiss him. You cry underneath him, try to latch onto him for another kiss but his eyes are half lidded, his hips thrusting until he’s he’s crying your name and holding you close, his breathy moans echoed into your ear and it’s the sweetest thing when he looks at you, and his first thought is kiss you once more as he shudders above you.

Jin wonders how he must look to you. So desperate enough that you’d listen to him without another command. You’re quick to pull his clothes off, the black suit leaving nothing to the imagination already exposes his muscular body, but without it, he stands proud with a dark blush over him. He’s beside you, and his cock springs free, pre-arousal drooling onto your stomach as he rises above you. Sweat is already on his body, faded scars that curve around him and he’s toned, sharp and rugged while you are soft and everything nice. It makes his heightened arousal feel all that much filthier. He’s a gentleman no matter the situation, his lips on yours as he shares a passionate kiss with you, sucking on your pink tongue as he fingers at your hole and he’s so close to spilling when he hears you squeal and open your legs, stretching your hole to fit more of his thick fingers and he spills over your stomach in hot seed, painting you white. His fingers leave you and he can feel your hole flutter against the tip of his cock and it takes just a single push to bury himself inside of you, your back arching and hands clamping down on his biceps as you call his name. His smile is wide, charismatic and holds all the charm of the world as he ruts against you.

Dabi:

Dabi is burning, his body is hot and it’s absolute torture. His erection is pressed against the inside of his jeans and His body is hot and it’s not in the way that it is, so consuming so heavy, full of dread and he goes to you because in the end, he has you all to himself. The man who tries to hide all his emotions is breaking, ripping apart- figuratively- and he’s racing towards you, running and pleading to make it you and he’s knocking on your door, trying to fight the urge to seem so desperate and pathetic when you don’t answer. He can’t seem desperate, not when you’re so close, not now. He’s lasted for this long, he can last for just a few more seconds. The moon is high above him, and his clothes smell like vanilla and peppermint mixed with cheap alcohol and smoke and it makes his stomach churn and acid laced on his tongue. He knocks once more, his nails scratching at the door and he doesn’t beg, but the plea is so thick in your name, that he might as well be on his knees and ask for forgiveness if it meant you’d welcome him into your arms.

The door opens and half his face is shrouded in shadows and the other is illuminated by the dodgy street lamps in your neighborhood. You welcome him inside and he brushes your touch away and he’s never been so thankful before to wear a jacket. He isn’t sure how he would react to having you touch his bare skin, not when it's painful enough for him to touch himself. Concern is laced thick in your words and he shakes his head, trying to fend off your worry as goes to your bedroom. His straps are staggered, his hand on the wall as he walks to your room, and in the room, the scent of the aphrodisiac shifts into else- something more than the basic churning in his stomach and into him having to sit down and remove his jacket, the heat finally catching up to him. Your shadow stretches into the room and when he looks up, you’re already walking towards him, kneeling before him and grabbing his hands in yours. He isn’t sure how to tell you that he got hit by a quirk that’s making him lose his mind, that’s making him picture you dressed in nothing, and when your hand slips from his to cup gingerly at his jaw, he leans into your touch. It takes nothing more than for you to call his name, a soft whisper that he can barely hear through his beating heart that echoes and pounds in his ears, to confess what it is that's making him act in such a way. It’s embarrassing for him. He doesn’t want your worry, he doesn’t want your gentle touches and the way that you coo his name. He can’t stand how you sit beside him and refuse to leave him. It's making him feverish and you gently nudge his face so he’s looking at you.

Even looking at you proves to be too much. It’s too hard for him- his erection pulsing in his pants, the lack of air in his lungs, and his mind so foggy that the only thing he can do is stare at your lips that move in soundless words. He can’t focus. Not one bit, not with the quirk and you being so prevalent in him when he’s this close to you. There is nothing he can do but to kiss you. His lips meld against yours, his hands twisting into the shirt and staining the fabric with his hands, and he keeps you close, not wanting to pull air for air even if his lungs really are starting to burn. You’re so close to him, so soft and delicate under his touch and he’s lowering himself, bowing before you just to kiss your lips. You’re beside him, the bed dipping under his weight and you’re just here with him, so real and touchable, he can’t help but rush to touch you.

Clothes are removed, limbs entangled and knees bumping into each other. It’s sloppy and rushed, and it’s enough for him to climax and leave his thighs in white and dark purple and peach. His hands hold onto your body, never once leaving your body without his touch. His body burns and there’s a stinging pain in his abdomen, and he isn’t sure if it’s the aphrodisiac or his quirk that’s making him so feverish. Your hand wraps around his cock, massaging at his balls and slipping upwards to the base. Your thumb slides the arousal down, slicking it around his cock until he’s pleading in your ear to touch him. Everything is just too much- there’s too much emotion that is bubbling inside for him to even fathom, the sensations making his head spin, and the taste of you fading from his tongue. He wants you, he wants you in a way that is dependent and obsessive. Ever so needy, he’s kissing you harshly, sucking on your bottom lip and orgasming from a simple handjob. He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes half lidded as he nudges you with his shoulder, falling into his back, his cock still erect and bubbling with semen that drips off of him in shining pearls. He’s naked on your bed, his climax strong and enough for the lights to blind him and he can’t think of anything else when you climb above him.

You run your hands against a trail of staples, and it’s enough to make goosebumps appear over his body as you lower yourself onto him. His entire body is sensitive and sex fills the room and he can taste just how sweet you are, and he’s deep inside of you. He smiles sweetly, and you feel so good on him, so nice and soft, and he’s swiveling his own hips, aching to feel you deeper and deeper. His climax is flush, his body burning and hands reaching for your thighs, holding you close to him. When you lean down, he captures your lips in a kiss, smiling against you. Dabi’s own climax is burning against his skin, his scars tingling under your touch and your lips pressed against his jaw and his eyes are wide, his hands clawing around you and he pushes himself deeper, and even with you on top, he’s doing the work. Deprived of everything sweet and overflowing with bitterness, he can’t help but keep you close to him. Scarred and muscular, his arms wrapped around you and keeping you close to his chest, as he just soaks his cock in you. There is nothing but pain that feels, and yet, he feels all of you, so warm and soft compared to him.

Iguchi Shuichi:

With the aphrodisiac settling inside of him, he rushes towards you, eager and fearful of all the arousal that is bubbling and consuming him. Shuichi is running through the night, his legs sore and muscles begging for rest, but he can’t stop, not until he’s by your side, not until he’s safely nestled in your arms. The burning desire inside of him is making his lungs burn, more so than all the running he did. It’s a chill that enters him and makes every breath sharp, a chill that runs through his body. He stands in front of your door, and he’s catching his breath, hands on his knees as he breathes in and out, his claws digging into his knees and when he stands, he’s already knocking at your door. He’s shakily grabbing and jiggling at the handle as he calls your name in a hushed whisper. There isn’t much that he can say other than he needs you to open the door, quickly, before someone other than you sees him in such a shameful state.

There’s many advantages to having a mutation quirk- especially one that’s a variant of an animal, and that is that most, if not all, your senses are heightened. He can hear your careful steps before he can see your shadow between the door and the floor. He can faintly smell your dinner, the sound of the television in the background and he can smell you, something mixing with the aphrodisiac until it’s just you at the very end of it. You’re the one filling his lung with the shape and painful scent, replacing the vanilla and peppermint, something so thick and wonderful gone in just a simple breath, only to be replaced by you. The effects of the aphrodisiac are still in effect when you open the door and they're heightened even more. You stand in front of him, the light illuminating you in a heavenly glow and with worry creasing your features and he’s the one to take the first step and lean into you.

It’s the gentle look that you give him, his name on the tip of your tongue, and already so weak, he falls into you, letting you hold him as you struggle to close the door and he’s little more than dead weight against you. His hand already having snuck to cup his sex in an attempt to avoid having you feel it, but the pressure is more than enough for him to hiss. You ask what’s wrong and he doesn’t know how to tell you what happened to him, but when you run your hands through his hair, the words are already rushing past his lips. He speaks faster than he can think, the story mixed with events as he rushes through it, while he palms himself through his jeans. He can’t look at you while he does something so humiliating, but he can't pry himself away from you either, his snout pressing against the soft curve of your neck as he presses the heel of his hand further into himself. He’s gasping, and whimpering, acting so painfully shy that he even whispers your name is something perverse. You continue to stroke his hair, and it’s panting, whining and humping against your leg that he can’t take it, that the sensations are just too much at the moment. He needs for you to touch him, to just do something more than pet him.

The points of his teeth nips at your shoulder and he’s struggling to keep his moan muted as his body shakes against yours. He’s apologizing and he’s ashamed of his actions to palm himself in front of you, that he can’t look at you. When you cup his face and have him look at you, he’s apologizing, and telling you that it just felt too good and that he can’t think with you so close to him. You pull him onto the couch, the television shutting down and for a brief second, silence fills the room. You sit on the couch, the cushion soft underneath you and your hands grab at his as you pull him close to you. The aphrodisiac is making his mind muddy and slow, and he can only watch as your hands carefully and tantalizingly slow undoing his zipper and he’s flustered. With tears in his eyes as his own shaky hands grabbing at your wrists but it does nothing to stop you. You undo him, and you're so soft against his cock, freeing it from the confines of his pants. Your warm hand is wrapped around the base, giving it a few slope strokes where the friction makes his leg jerk. His head is thrown back, hands covering his mouth as you wrap your lips around his cockhead. Soon into the rhythm, his hands are on the back of your head, pushing you down to the base of his cock, your spit soaking him and something salty and thick squirting down your throat. The soft feel of the inside of your cheeks press against his side, hollowed cheeks as your hand grip onto his thighs and your little whines and whimpers make him thrust haphazardly into your open mouth. He keeps you there until you pat against his thighs and when you look up at him with tears in your eyes and drool running down your chin, his eyes go dark.

Shuichi goes for you, pinning your back down on the couch as he captures you in a kiss, his tongue thick and slimy inside of you, and he’s pulling your shorts down, rubbing his coarse fingers against your slit, spreading your arousal around the entrance of your hole. He’s animalistic, holding the traits inside of him, dominant and needing to breed, the want to push himself deep inside you overtakes him and he muffles your moan with a kiss as he unsheathes himself in you. Your sex pulses and throbs under him as he frantically ruts himself against you. He’s nipping at every exposed inch of skin, ripping your clothes off and suckling on your sweet breasts, his head buried in your chest and when he rises, your chest is covered in a thin layer of drool. Your hole is soft, gummy walls that wrap around him, twitching when he hits a certain spot and he can’t think, can’t even make out a sentence, and only your name is the most coherent thing that is said as he fills your hole with his seed.

Sako Atsuhiro:

There is nothing worse for Atsuhiro than what is happening now. He holds an image to the public, to his comrades, to you- and that is that he is composed, he’s a showman and when in the public eye, he maintains his appearance. Yet, the quirk, something like a perfume that wrapped around him, has stuck. The aroma was- or rather is- sweet and no matter how far he runs, it just won’t leave him. It’s humiliating. This is one of the worst things that has ever happened to him and he’s seen and participated in his own share of hell. His pants have become too tight, his cock straining and begging for release and even just the idea of pleasuring himself leaves him with a hot face. Without a second thought he rushes to you, his steps quick until he’s running and sweat beads and makes his clothes stick to him. He doesn’t want you to see him in such a disheveled state, but then again, you’re the only one that can see him like this, that can see him as anything less than him. He’s running and breathing roughly and his heart is pounding against him and there is nothing more that he can think of than to go to you, ignoring the stares and fighting his way through his own personal inferno just to be near you.

The lights are on and it gives him all the motivation to rush to your door and knock frantically; he’s begging to be let inside like it’s death that is chasing him. The lock clicks and when you open the door, he’s quick to rush past you, removing his mask and giving a kick to close your door as he captures your lips in his. Everything is so easy with you, and yet, standing just in front of you and kissing your lips proves to take his breath away, it drains him, and he’s drowning all over again. Peppermint leaves his lungs burning, and with your lips on him, it’s replaced by sweet hibiscus, flooding and sprouting from his lungs and he never wants to let you go. He holds you close, his hands on your waist and when he parts from you, you look at him stunned and he can’t help but laugh. It’s soft, a simple chuckle that grows as he buries himself in the curve of your neck as his laughter grows. Your hand rests at the nap of his neck and your fingertips tease at the edge of his balaclava. The simple graze of your skin against his has him press his weight against you. His hands haven’t left your sides and with a tired voice, he tells you what happened- the quirk, the scent, the way that his only thought was to be with you. It’s all so draining to just be in front of you, and with his erection tucked in his pants, he isn’t sure how much longer he can wait until he’s creaming and staining the inside of his clothing, to be so humiliated in front of you as he pleasures himself, but he can’t hold back, not when you’re in front of him and the feel of your tongue is making his length throb in his palm.

Your nails scratch along his neck, trailing over the bumps of his spines and a shock runs down his body, his breath catching in his throat and his hands squeezing down on your sides. Slowly, he lifts his head as his balaclava is lifted and removed, his hair is left ruffled and curls left messy. He leans towards you, trying to capture you in a kiss once more, but when you pull away, he lets out a groan, bowing his head and resting it on your shoulder. He’s begging for you to touch him, to just let him kiss you one more time. It's too much heartache to go without you for a second longer. You coo his name and lift his head, brushing back his hair that is stuck to his face. It’s too much to feel your gentle and cool touch against his burning body and he’s shaking his head, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his chest where his heart beats against your palm. It’s too forward of him. He knows that this isn't him whatsoever. He’s a gentle lover, your needs are put first because even just seeing your blissful expression is enough for him to feel the familiar knot in his stomach. This, however, is just too much, to have you touch him so softly, a ghost over his skin and your lips brushed against his, he’s dying and gasping for breath, reaching towards you as a hand unbuttons his pants and he’s massaging his cock over his briefs.

It doesn’t take much for him to spill in his briefs, to his hand moist and sticky and his body shaking and moans filling your mouth as he continues the motions. He needs the sweet friction that is making everything much too sharp and too powerful for him to just lay there. He’s dying and pulling you close and the way to your bedroom is messy. You’re already on his lips and he won’t lose that feeling again, not until the bed is underneath you and his hands are on either side of your head. The covers are wrinkled and his clothes are discarded as he eagerly touches you, having them disappear into nothing but glass in his palm. You’ll pout and reprimand him for ruining your clothes, but for now, he’ll muffle your annoyance with a kiss as his lust clouds his mind.

Nimble hands tease against your slit, spreading your nectar around and massaging at your entrance, the tips of his fingers slowly spreading you and familiarizing the stretch of your hole.. The feel of your plush walls has him tight, his muscles tense and body feeling as if it were about to curl in on itself. His cock is erect, standing at attention, his tip tinted with red, blushing and bashful as milky white pours from him and drips against your entrance. He enters you with a euphoric moan, so sinful and depraved, that he stills for a moment, his muscles rigid as he tries to not to ejaculate so soon. Atsuhiro has just entered you, he can’t waste this opportunity when your hole is cushioned around his cock. The moans that leave your lips are rich in lust, his own muddled with sobs as if entering you is pure ecstasy. Ever the gentleman, he's always made sure to give you the first orgasm, but he can’t now. He’s already taken away that first pleasure, and as greedy as it is, he can’t stop. His hips move faster than he can think, skin slapping against skin as he moans your name, filling you with his seed and continuing even when you squeeze around him and claim that you’ve already reached your own climax.

Shigaraki Tomura:

It’s terrifying to know how much control one can have on another. Tomura is upset, a frown on his lips and the anger in him is quickly snuffed out, replaced as soon as it came with lust. It wraps around him in a thick smoke, encasing him and filling his lungs until he’s unable to breathe. An aphrodisiac is such a cheap trick, and he hates it. Embarrassment courses throughout him and he’s left doubling over, his hand so close to his erection until something metallic is on his tongue. He’s a man of many depravities, but he’ll be damned if he touches himself in an alleyway simply because of a quirk. He already has you and he’s chasing you, running through the street with you on his mind and his hand outstretched as if he could actually touch you. The friction of the seam of his pants has his breathing more rugged than if he were just running. He knocks, and he tries to avoid raising his voice, but the pressure is building, and he’s already undoing his jeans and reaching past his briefs to release his erect cock.

The door opens and you stand there with a smile to greet him only to recoil in surprise when you see what he’s in the middle of. You make a joke and if it were any other day, maybe he would laugh and reply with something of his own, but he can’t. He pushes past you, kicking off his shoes and removing his clothes, sweat so heavy on his body and his body so hot that the cool air of your air conditioner is leaving him in goosebumps. It’s cruel how you touch him, your hand over his bicep and when he looks at you, his cheeks are pooled red. Every touch is electric, his mind numb and body moving on its own before he can register what he’s doing, he leaves your touch behind him. He goes to your bed, collapsing and removing his clothes on the way, leaving a trail for you to find in your home. You follow him, his name on your lips and hearing you call for him just leaves him laying on your bed, removing his briefs and fisting his hand around his cock. Your hand curves over his forehead and you tell him how he is burning as if doesn't know that. You date a killer, and you’re still so naïve and it’s adorable in a way that makes him want to ruin you. He doesn’t waste time- he tells you what happened and grabs your hand, moving it beside to touch the side of his face and he watches how your lips part ever so slightly, commenting on how red his ears are. He laughs and moves your hand closer to his mouth. You’re real, touching him and there is worry laced into your features and words, and it’s so genuine that he feels a heavy hand wrap around his heart.

Time is ever passing, continuing on and never returning and he’s hot, and begging, his cock erect and balls full with unspent semen. Pain is etched around him in scars and bullet holes, and he’s telling you in a broken whisper how it hurts, how he’s in pain and with how reddened his cock is, you have to believe him. Your fingertips touch against his chapped lips, his tongue peeking out to lick at the tips before he slides your hand down. Your hand curves around his neck and you linger for a moment where his heart is beating eagerly, rapidly as if threatening to pound out and leave him bleeding before you. Lust is clear in his eyes, his mouth parted and you kiss him, and he eagerly returns the gesture, releasing your hand to grab your face and deepen the kiss. Your hand moves on its own- sliding down his chest, brushing against his pebbled nipples and lower against his stomach and falling to his crotch to wrap around his pulsing cock and tug on it, spreading the pearling bud over him until he’s panting with his head resting on your chest and mouth open.

Thick ropes of white coat your hand and your name is sung out in a groan, depraved and everything bad. It isn't enough to just have your hand wrapped around his cock, to be given a handjob, he wants more. He craves it like a sinner to their vice. He’s erect, and his breath fans against your lips. Begging has never been so immoral as it is right now when he pleads to you, begging for you to touch him more, to let him do more than kiss you. It’s you that he cares for you, and even with your kiss and his climax, he wants something more, he needs to feel you underneath him. He pulls you close to him, your body clad in just your underwear and he's grinding above you, his spent cock over your underwear, his mouth latching on a breast and toying the nipple with his tongue. He grinds and it’s harsh, your underwear slick with your and his arousal, a string of semen connecting him to you as he pulls away and hastily removes your remaining clothes.

Your face scrunches in pain and you let out a whimper when he grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest, his cock aligned with your fluttering entrance. He watches as your expression changes from pain to pleasure, your sex tightening around him. Clicking fills the room, your entrance allowing him to slip in his body twitches in response, every nerve and hair on it’s end as he feels your insides wrap around him. It’s animalistic, his hips moving on their own, the rhythm barely there and he’s only interested in his own climax. His mouth is slick with saliva and he’s above you, with your legs bent on your chest and his hips rocking back and forth. The inside of you is gummy, molding around the shape of his cock. It’s as if he’s going to leave your sex in the mold of his cock, never to have you forget who it is that is making your heart beat and sex tighten. Your hands entangle in his hair, threading his hair together as he buries his cock inside of you. He’s chasing his high, mouth open in a moan as a thick trail of drool drips from his mouth and coats over your collarbone. It’s filthy and degrading, but to him, seeing even a small portion of you covered in his spit has him spilling his seed inside of you. Tomura kisses you and it’s wet and messy, but it’s perfect as his lungs are deprived of oxygen and he gets to feel your hands claw at his back.

Chisaki Kai:

Filth clings to him so easily, that painstaking amount of time that he wastes to keep himself pristine is all for naught at the end. All ruined because of a simple quirk. His mask is lost, a casualty of the fight and all that he can breathe in is the air of the sick and depraved, the air of something sweet and intoxicating. Kai hates it all. When the drug is perfected and in the masses, he’s sure of who will get one of the few. The damn reminder of what and who it was that brought him to the floor of some alleyway so rotting that it makes his anger boil, his face hot and whether it’s from frustration or anger, he isn’t quite sure. He covers his mouth and nose, and the poor attempt at a mask is just that- a poor attempt. He can still breathe in everything, still taste the air that is filled with smoke and the dewy weather of the night. It’s horrific. He forces himself to go to you, because at this point, it’s either touch and ruin people and risk getting himself covered in more filth, and go to you and do what the quirk is making him do.

The cheap paint touches his knuckles as he knocks at your door. He doesn’t want you to be late in answering the door, you have to hurry up. Hurry up and get him out of this sickness outside. Hurry up and bring him inside where he can shower and rid himself of these clothes that have been sullied by everything but you. You open the door the second he raises his palm, a frantic and desperate attempt to let himself inside, to fix some cheap wood just as quick. Why he hasn’t moved you in with him yet is unbeknownst to him, but after today, he’ll start to push for it. When you open the door, he walks inside, kicking his shoes and ridding himself of his clothes before you can lock the door behind you. You call his name and his eyes snap towards you, bright golden irises that hold the fury of the sun behind them and he’s breathing heavily. He’s not in the proper state of mind, but damn it all. He tells you, and with every passing second, he becomes angrier. Stalking and following you throughout your home, until you’re backed up against a wall. At this very moment, he has lost his control.

You’re scared and that should be his top priority but he can’t think. He can’t focus on you when his erection is strained between his pants and your breath that smells like mint is against his own. Your eyes flutter to his crotch and when you catch a glimpse of his erection, his name a soft murmur of your lips, he pushes himself into you. His erection presses into your thigh and he can feel the shift of your muscles, the tightening and the jump, the feel of your breath changes into a shaky gasp and exhale and he’s in front of you, silent and face spoiled red. You reach out to touch him, your hand slowly going upward but just as you're there, just as he can feel the warmth of your hand hover against the side of his face, you retreat. He reaches for you immediately and places your hand against his face and he’s out of his mind, too consumed with lust to ever focus on the filth that once touched him, and too focused on you and the way your fingertips flutter against his cheekbones.

It’s an intense moment where you touch him without the feel of the mask or gloves, and he’s so soft. And when you blink, his mouth is on yours. Everything about him is all about control and precision, and yet, with this simple act of kissing, he’s sloppy, too forward and bumping his teeth against yours, trying to nip at your bottom lip only to give up and focus on your neck. Your hands have moved, cupping his face to curving against the back of his head and knotting your fingers into his hair, your own body grinding into him and pressing against his erection. His own hands wander through your body, touching underneath your shirt and cupping just the underside of your breasts to leave and trying to undo his own zipper, aching to release his dripping cock. Exploring your body in such a drunken state is new to him, every movement slowed down and leaving his knees weak and body filled with needles and pins- he can’t get enough. Your hands bump against his and the friction is enough for him to spill onto your shorts, staining it with a pearly white that is thick like cream and drips onto the floor.

His cock is in your hands, slick with his cum and just the right amount of friction to leave him moaning into your mouth. Clothing pools around you and him and his bare skin is touching yours. It’s rushed, knuckles bumping into each other, his cock teasing against your sex, and the sensation is elevated with the aphrodisiac of the quirk and it’s making his mind blurry and jaw wet with saliva. Your body and his are sticky with sweat, sweat pooling in joints and crevices and he’s disgusted but when he pinches around your pert nipple and you let out a sweet moan that has your nails digging into his biceps, he ignores all of it and focuses on you. Kai is high with lust, elevated and drunk and his lips are on yours as he enters your hole. It takes nothing more than a few pumps to get him to spill, to fill your sex with his cream and let it drip onto the floor as he pounds into you, too focused on his release and your quivering sex to focus on how you call his name. His face is flushed, sweat that curves down past his cheeks and drips onto your body as presses you deep against the wall and lets the aphrodisiac take control.

Kurono Hari:

There is no time to waste as he rushes to your home. The heel of his shoes click against the concrete and he must look like a madman as he runs through the night. The night is humid, sweat causing his clothes to stick to his body and the mask is held in his hands, the confinement of it all making him unable to breathe. Hari needs to go to you now. He needs to see you before his legs give out and he collapses onto the ground before him. It’s the damn quirk that is making him act so unlike himself, ruining his image and tainting his composure with such filth that perhaps there is truth behind eradicating quirks just for being wicked. He’s lost, his mind hazy with lust, corrupting the very essence of him, and it’s perverse. He doesn’t know how to take it. He reaches your door and he stands, catching his breath, his heart beating against the confines of his body, and he’s standing there, willing for the door to open, and unable to move his hands. It’s just then, that he notices his cock that throbs in excitement. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the key to your home in his pocket and quietly, he opens the door.

The inside of your home is cool, and it feels as if he’s been transported somewhere else, everything moving in slow motion as he walks through it, wading against the pool that is your home, his hand touching and never leaving the wall as he follows your singing. It’s loud and at certain points you mumble, but it's you. He’s growing closer, and closer until he finds you with your back turned, undoing a blanket and laying it down on the bed. You don't hear him as he walks behind you, and when he wraps his arms around your torso, you yelp and laugh when you realize that it’s just him. He isn’t sure what the aphrodisiac did to his mind to make it feel so out-of-body, but he enjoys how you press against his erection, how the sensation is doubled and when you give him a cheeky smile, he captures your lips in a kiss.

His hands are clawing at your body leaving lines in its wake, removing your shirt and grabbing a hand that cups his face to his erect cock. His lungs are burning, the kiss hasn’t broken since you’ve removed your shirt and he’s currently kneading at your bum, his hands removing your shorts and when you step out of them, he only pulls you closer to you. His fingertips tease at your rim, and you’re already dripping with arousal, staining the tips of his fingers with your sweet essence. You’re the one to pull away first, gasping for air and falling to rest on the bed, and you look up at him, your eyes wide and body naked as you glance down to his erection giving him a kitten-like grin. His hand reaches upwards and wipes at his lips, thick with saliva and full of the taste of you. Slowly, he removes his clothes, not wanting to waste time on such little things and he lets them fall onto your floor. His lungs crave for air, taking in as much oxygen as they can fill, and he’s leaning towards you, his hands on either side of you as you rest on your forearms, your grin now a mixture of nervous and excited as you ask what’s gotten into him. It's true, he's not so obvious in his advancement, not so needy to touch your body, much rather having you beg for him and grind yourself on his thigh, but with the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins, his composure is lost and damned to hell. His smile is sadistic, eyes piercing into yours and his answer is simple, as he whispers it to you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear- “the cause of an aphrodisiac quirk.” He’s above you, jerking himself off in front of you and within just a few tugs, he’s spilling his seed over your stomach, watching it spurt out of his cock and slowly end in a drool that falls onto your pelvis.

It’s so damning to see him as anything less than who he is and how he presents himself and yet before you is a degenerate who gathers his semen in two fingers and pushes it inside your mouth, letting the taste fall onto your tongue. His grin is wide and he’s above you, pushing you down on your back and he captures you in another kiss. He wants you. He needs you at this very moment, more than he needs air, more than he needs anything. It’s just you that he wants. He ended you to kiss him and to run your hands down his body. He’s a degenerate, but he’s desperate, whining for you and grabbing your hand and letting it curve over his breast. He says nothing, but it’s a big enough clue to let you know to inch his nipple between your index and thumb and pull on the sensitive bud. His whine is echoed in your mouth and his erection is drooling on you once more. A blush creeps from his chest and onto his face, coloring him pink as his lower half is tipped with red and pearls that adorn his shaft. He aligns himself until his erection is pressed against your thigh, warm cream dripping and sliding off of you.

Your pillowy thighs pinch around his cock, and he hides his face in your shoulder, his hands gripping at your biceps as he pleasures himself using your thighs. Soft clicking sounds sound from him using you, his orgasm shaking through his body as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck, grabbing you and pulling you close to him. To lose himself in pleasure is something he’s never allowed himself the pleasure to do. Hari would much rather prefer you with a drunken look of ecstasy on your face, your face in a heavenly blush and your hole leaking with his semen, but now he realizes the pure joy of it all. To mindlessly hump at your body and kiss your mouth and touch your warm body that squirms for him. Your hand curves over his cock and he moans your name, arching his back and hiding his face as you press it to your entrance. He slips inside, and the feel of your gummy insides makes his mind go blank, only the need to release is clear in his mind. He rocks himself inside of you, and the degenerate is gone, only a desperate man who wants to orgasm remains with a blissful flush and your name on his lips.

[burnedbyshoto]

hole in the wall

In a party for the ages, Shouto comes across a room with hole in the wall that has him coming back for more.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, PWP, cult activity, drug mention, alcohol consumption, glory hole, cursing, degradation, praise, possessive jealous!shouto, stuck in the wall, spanking, overstim, bruising, bleeding, breeding

word count: 7,831

a/n: read the fucking warnings bro, im tired, I hate formatting, here’s to finally writing what I wanna write! also, this is for a lovely bnharem collab that kept getting pushed back... make sure to read the intro to understand my story! anyways, gloryholes is peak anonymous sex and I just,,, if thats the only way imma get to suck shoutos cock, I will. I had something else to say... I forgot. oH THIS IS WRITTEN IN A NEW STLYE-ISH??? porn from shoutos pov!!!

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Traditionally, when people think of the connection between heroes and cults, they expect that the heroes eradicate the cults, not that the heroes are a part of a cult.

It was somewhat ironic that a group of people who advocated for public safety, for the wellbeing of every citizen of the country - the world - would demand compensation in areas that didn't involve financial compensation. Heroes saved the day countless amounts of times, but when they needed... help at night because they've been so busy saving the world, there needed to be compensation.

It had shocked nearly everyone within the hero community when none other than Yaoyorozu Momo brought them a solution. For nothing more than loyalty to saving the day, all heroes granted the benefit of joining the Savior of Eight Million, an… organization brought forth by the prodigious hero. It had shocked the hero community at first that the once thought of a modern-day princess, putting together a wicked group that served the beastly needs of heroes, was almost laughable. But as time passed, as trials tested the organization (cult), the more heroes realized how lucky they were that it was Yaoyorozu who created this.

The Yaoyorozus, in all their riches and connections, made this group untouchable.

Police were bought off, apprehended, silenced.

Heroes with the savior complex were put down.

Villains were never believed.

The Savior of Eight Million held ties with the greatest, the most esteemed people in the world. The parties were unworldly, dripping with diamonds and gold, the sweet smell of champagne barely drowning out the bitter acidic and burning plastic smell of the drugs used vicariously at their gatherings. All heroes joined, politicians and celebrities fought to get in, and commoners wished they could be the servants of the night, whether that meant they would be serving food, drinks, or drugs, or allowing the heroes to do what this was all started for: to fuck them.

Of course, it didn't help that each commoner was paid for their service, discretion, and loyalty. Those who attempted to give away the secrets of the nights were always taken care of, and every gathering after someone tried to snitch, there was always a complaint that a sex slave just wasn't good enough.

Yaoyorozu Momo was a sweet girl, a helpful woman. She was a hero.

Heroes far and wide grovel at her feet in thanks, and even more surprisingly, even her old class supported this. Oh, how great life was when you were the most significant, greatest, and most untouchable cult in history.

To Todoroki Shouto, well, he didn't really have an opinion on this all, not really at least.

The cult - the organization, was created to help out heroes such as himself live comfortably while having such a busy lifestyle. His sex drive had never been that high, with his twenty-fifth birthday approaching, he could count on his two hands the number of times he'd been attended to with the help of the organization within the past five years.

Yes, two years after debuting as heroes, Momo had approached the graduate class with her plan. Todoroki Shouto could never deny a friend, especially not someone as smart and intentional as Yaoyorozu Momo. He had been one of the first - if not the first - voice to approve of her project.

However, the fifth-anniversary gathering (it was not a party) was finally here. Two months ago, the first round of reminders came around in the form of a beautifully handwritten card by their fearless yet kind leader. Shouto wondered if she really had handwritten each and every card, or if she had created it with her quirk - while he wasn't that heavily involved, he was not ignorant to the numbers of the cult, group, organization.

TO TODOROKI SHOUTO,

I WRITE THIS LETTER TO ASK IF YOU WILL BE JOINING US IN TWO MONTHS FOR ONE OF THE MANY GREATEST CELEBRATIONS WE - THE MEMBERS OF THE SAVIOR OF EIGHT MILLION - WILL HAVE FOR OUR FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF BEING SUCH A WELL RECEIVED AND INFLUENTIAL ORGANIZATION. I AM GRATEFUL TO RELAY THAT OUR ESTEEMED MEMBERS BAKUGOU-SAN AND MIDORIYA-SAN WILL BE HOSTING OUR EVENT!

I FEEL AS IF WE HAVE NOT SEEN EACH OTHER IN SO LONG, TODOROKI-SAN, AND I MISS YOU SO DEARLY. I HOPE THINGS IN YOUR LIFE HAVE BEEN FINE AND THAT WE SHOULD MEET UP AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! PLEASE MAKE SURE TO RESPOND TO THE RSVP TO EITHER JIROU-SAN, KAMINARI-SAN, OR ME!

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN, YAOYOROZU MOMO

The letter had been kind, inviting, and so fleeting it made Shouto feel like he needed more from one of his most missed and trusted friend. Still, there would be time to catch up with everyone, no use in pushing now.

Grabbing his phone, Shouto typed in Momo's contact name into the search bar, tongue swiping his lower lip while he typed in his message and sent it. He had never been one for these parties. Too often, there were just too over-the-top. The festivities and friends were fun, but having to fight the impossible crowds for a moment of peace kept him from attending.

A truly mundane member.

But this was different after all, it wasn't every day that they celebrated five great years of service.

I'll be going, Yayorozu.

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Two months went by before Shouto had even realized it.

In those two months, he had received a formal invitation with a day and time. 

2X28, OCTOBER 23

STARTING FROM 20:00

Of course, the lack of an address is a precaution for keeping their organization out of the limelight should they be betrayed. Events of all shapes and sizes were always planned by the upper board of the organization. Only a specific few knew the place where the night would befall, and the rest of the members would be brought to the festivities by a chauffeur provided by the Yaoyorozu's. Getting to and from the party was always stressfree, no matter what befell that night, their safety of getting home was still safe.

The invitation was tucked away into the inside pocket of his jacket, it was his ticket to getting into the party, and it was best to not leave it behind. 

With the invitation now securely placed into his jacket, the smooth inflexible material stiff against his chest, Shouto stared into the mirror he stood before.

An elegant full-length mirror reflected his image to him, and truth be told, he was impressed with his presentation.

A charcoal grey Italian suit trimmed glinting silver nearly gleamed against the white light; the jacket was undone, exposing the white-collared long-sleeved shirt underneath. Typically, Shouto was a tie man, but the sleek black tie he was to wear lay hanging on the hanger, the first few buttons of the shirt undone. It highlighted his toned chest, the few pale scars on his chest just visible enough on his exposed skin to look like it was intensional. He looked good.

His fingers touched his hair, the once long style had been cut in a recent fight with a villain. It hadn't mattered much to Shouto, and in fact, the sudden haircut had spiked his overall ratings. It was short now, just long enough for his fingers to graze through the locks. It was slicked back, the swirl of red and white mixing and strands of red falling into his sight.

“Todoroki-sama, the car is here.”

Shouto didn't bother turning to the attendee, his gaze taking him in one last time.

"I'll be there."

His footsteps were quiet in the hallway, his waxed shiny black shoes gleaming in his hands as he walked to the front room. He slipped on the tight shoes and looked up to his servant, who stood at the front door with a patterned, black mask.

Nodding, he grabbed the mask and slipped it inside of his jacket as well.

A kitsune.

"Safe journey."

"I'll be back tonight."

And into the car, he went, the warm smell of leather and spices filling the backseat of the self-driving car. Shouto relaxed against the black leather, his eyes staring at the road while he slipped the mask out from his jacket. There was no reason to don the mask while stepping out of the house, being caught with it at his home always smelled trouble. 

In the car's silence, his fingers rested onto his lap, his lips set into a firm line while his thoughts lingered to what was to come at this party. 

The last time Bakugou and Midoriya hosted anything, it had ended with an overall disaster. Thankfully then it had been for their agency's founding party and not something dealing with the organization. But before he could muster the will to seek out further information on the private event, he realized that the car was already pulling into the large mansion where the event was being held.

People emerged from the cars before his own, the sleek masks donning on their faces, keeping their identities from unwanted eyes. The covers were specially made by none other than Yaoyorozu with the assistance of Hatsume Mei to ensure that those who wore it would be unrecognizable unless they were within a certain radius.

A small puff of air escaped Shouto's lips as his car pulled up to the unloading zone, and his strong fingers slipped on the mask before the car door opened. With the confidence and power, only those who worked as a top-ranked hero had Shouto emerged from the car immediately greeted by the entrance staff. 

With his hands moving to button his jacket, he nodded his head when receiving information on what to expect upon entering. Shouto felt like he nodded forever while making his way up the entrance of the event, his hand reluctantly offering his phone and wallet over and receiving a ticket for retrieving it. Of course, the ticket came the bundle of condoms.

An eyebrow arched under the mask, and Shouto couldn't help the amused smirk that befell his lips as he pocketed the condoms.

The fuckers made this a sex party.

Why they even bothered to deny that they were a cult was beyond him at this point.

But as the grand doors opened, Shouto couldn't help but tense at the room's mixing aroma.

The sweet smell of champagne bubbled in his nose, wafting in powerfully with the perfumes secreting from every person in the room. If it had been his first time at an event like this, Shouto would have missed the undertone of burning plastic in the air. His eyes followed a civilian dressed up in a zebra zentai bodysuit holding a silver powder with most definitely not cocaine to who looked like the Prime Minister since he had his mask on.

Rolling his eyes, Shouto walked further into the room, ignoring the offers of drugs and alcohol as he carried on. 

"Todoroki, my man! You made it!" came the loud and energetic voice of Kaminari Denki.

It shouldn't have shocked Shouto to immediately be swarmed with who looked like Kirishima (who wore a mask resembling a bear) and Kaminari (who had his mouse resembling mask resting on around his neck), who by the smell at least, were not sober.

"You're the last one to show up, dude! We almost thought you were gonna flake!" Kirishima added, his hand coming to land on Shouto's shoulder, his lips perked into a broad smile. "Everyone else decided to join the orgy room a few minutes ago, but this guy here—" he made a pointed jab at Kaminari's chest. "Was causing a large enough disturbance that we were kicked out."

"Bro, it's not my fault that those dummy civilians can't handle a few jolts of pain!"

"You literally electrocuted everyone in that orgy and left everyone unable to speak for a solid minute, bro!"

"Everyone else is here?" Shouto interrupted rather impressed to here that even Mineta was invited to this party - or maybe he had snuck in - choosing to ignore the mention of an orgy room.

Typical cult things, he reminded himself.

"Yeah, Denki and I don't have to go in tomorrow, so we pre-gamed at his place before coming. Sero did too, but after a few minutes of talking with some trapeze girl, they went into a room and well…" Kirishima trailed off, letting Shouto put two and two together. "Mina is flirting with the crown prince, Yaomomo and Jirou are in the orgy room, Bakugou and Midoriya seem to be micromanaging everything—"

"Those two need sex the most out of the entire class! Have you ever seen a bigger work pole up anyone's asses than in those two?!" Kaminari groaned, his fingers roughly rubbing the skin of his face, and Shouto laughed softly in agreement. It was somewhat ironic that their virgin classmates were the ones who organized and put together a sex party.

"I can't begin to imagine Midoriya having sex. Although that man is basically becoming sex on legs," Kaminari continued to gripe, Shouto grunting softly in thanks when Kirishima handed him a cup filled to the near brim with a copper liquid that burned smoothly down his throat. Shouto grimaced as he managed to down the entire thing. "I can see Bakugou just blowing a hole into the wall and fucking it and considering that sex. Ain't nobody normal who can — OH MY GOD!"

Shouto looked at his friend with nearing annoyance; however, the alcohol already taking a humming effect over his body made the annoyance slip easily.

"Bro, you're gonna get us kicked out of this party, and that's gonna be the shittiest thing!" Kirishima groaned while Kaminari spazzed with what seemed to be the biggest lightbulb of an idea.

"The hoes — the holes! For the glory!" Kaminari slurred with how fast he was speaking, his hands fisting into both Shouto's and Kirishima's jackets, his yellow eyes burning bright in his excitement.

Shouto tried to keep his annoyance down, and the itch to rip Kaminari's iron grip from his shoulder.

"I don't know what you're talking about—" Kirishima tried again, his hand resting on Kaminari's ribcage to steady him. 

"Ei, the gloryholes!"

Gloryholes? 

Shouto numbing mind searched the banks of his memory to figure out where that word came from and why it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Oh, fuck," came Kirishima's strained approval, and Shouto looked at his two friends who were grinning pervertedly at each other.

"What's that?" Shouto asked, his lips buzzing slightly as the alcohol was fully absorbed into his bloodstream, and somehow the smell of sex filled his nose, and the noises of unadulterated carnal lust filled his ears.

"Oh man, Todoroki, if you don't know," Kaminari trailed off, his lips pinched into an elfish smirk, and electricity coming off his hair in his evident excitement. "Just trust me, you gotta experience this shit!"

Shouto wasn't sure if it was the alcohol that thrummed merrily in his veins or the knowing glint in his friend's eyes that whispered to him to find out just what it was, but he felt his head nod without his full awareness. The feeling of their hands on his upper shoulder felt fuzzy as they took him away, intent heavy in every step they took.

He could barely take in the passing rooms as they went, the aerial artists, the sex rooms, the orgy rooms. There were so many rooms designated for just about every kink imaginable that even the stoic Shouto felt his cheeks flaring in embarrassment. With each passing step and opened room, the smell of sex, pheromones, and lust grew in Shouto's nose; the more the sticky sweet moans and screams of the cult members clung to his skin.

For a hero that was never too hot or too cold without his own ministrations, his skin was feeling feverishly hot with cold feet when they finally stopped in front of the only closed door in the hallway.

"Welcome!" came a cheery voice, Shouto blinked, and a woman appeared from nowhere.

She wore a powder blue ava tea dress; it was elegant, sleek, yet too old-school for an event such as this one. Shouto immediately assumed that she was not partaking in the sexual activities, but was instead acting as a hostess of sorts.

"Just you three patrons tonight?" she asked, her head tilting to the side and Kirishima speaking up in agreement for the group of three. "Good, good. We do have enough openings for the three of you, most people haven't found our little… hole in the wall, if you would," she took a moment to giggle joyfully, her gloved fingers pressing to her ruby red lips and Shouto fought the urge to walk away. "So please, feel free to look around and stay as long as you want!"

Her words were light and breezy, but still, there was rising suspicion and tension in Shouto's spine at her small quip.

With an innocuous smile and a glint in her eyes, she opened the door with a gentle, "have fun," and Shouto's friends ushered him in.

His initial reaction? What. The. Fuck?!

The room they entered was large and spacious, or well, at the very least, Shouto assumed it would have been if it wasn't for the obviously installed maze of walls. But with every wall, there was a collage of pictures. Faces of women, men, humans, mutants, everything you could think of plastered above a hole. Curiously enough, the images above one hole were of the same person.

His eyes swept the room, and he saw a few spots already taken, men with their pants and underwear dropped to their knees pressing up against the wall so that their noses were smushed to the makeshift walls.

Shouto blinked.

Gloryholes? Pictures of random people?

Were they fucking ghosts?

"This is paradise!" Kaminari groaned in pleasure, his arms spacing out as if he had come with fantastic news. "These normies always look at you so weirdly when you fuck at orgies, here… you get the nut and don't have to have them staring at you!"

Paradise?!

Shouto stared as his electricity wielding friend approached a hole that adorned photos of a girl with hooded eyes and a tongue piercing. He dropped his bottoms before sticking his hardening cock into the waiting hole with two raps of his fist. At this point, Shouto wasn't sure if what he had drunk was actually alcohol now. 

"These aren't dead people, are they?" Shouto couldn't keep himself from asking, his palms sweating while Kirishima laughed deeply in his chest.

"Not at all, man, it's real people, I promise! Pick your hole and have fun!" Kirishima encouraged, placing a solid pat on Shouto's shoulder before approaching a hole with a picture of a girl with bright eyes and a bright smile.

Nodding numbly to himself at this point, Shouto meandered the different walls, his eyes absorbing the various pictures on the walls.

But he fell on the spot with a picture so vivating that drew him in. The chasms of your eyes defiant yet shy, a smile that called him in, and lips that looked supple and strong.

He stood no chance in defying the itching, burning need to follow suit of every other person in this room. Shouto approached the hole, his fingers pulling at his belt, quickly lowering his charcoal grey slacks and black boxer briefs. He stared into your pictured eyes, mesmerized by them, and grasped onto his hardening cock.

A soft shudder invaded his skin as he pressed his cock through the awaiting hole, the skin of his heated cock scraping against the hole, making him strangle a grunt in his throat. But when the wet heat of your mouth enveloped his cock past the hole in the wall, Shouto's face nearly crashed against the wall.

Shouto wasn't sure what to have expected, but he had summed up that this was some over-glorified handjob, a vigorous clumsy jackoff he could have done himself. But he did not expect, in any sense of what this was, to be met with warm, wet lips and a tongue that pressed underneath the head of his cock.

A guttural noise slipped past his lips, and Shouto's palms pressed against the wall, his head spinning dizzyingly from the sensation.

Shouto's breathing was erratic, his cock hardening more, twitching within your mouth as he felt your head begin to bob against his length at a slow, leisurely pace. 

His hips thrust toward the wall, his vision spinning from what this heightened sensation of what he always thought to be a mundane act. Shouto's slacks were too far up his thighs; however, the fabric spread to his max despite his attempt to lower down. He wanted to get closer to the wall, get whoever you were past this wall to take in his entire cock without an issue, so mindlessly, instinctively, he shoved the slacks further down, grunting with relieved pleasure at being able to spread out further, at getting closer to you.

"Holy shit," Shouto grunted, his forehead pressing against the cold wall, undoubtedly crinkling the paper of your photos. His hips came forward, hitting the wall dividing him and you with low, vibrating thuds, and you let him, allowed him to keep his rutting hips at the pace they were. You took him in as if it was nothing, the smooth skin of your lips gliding against his throbbing length, your tongue running alongside the bottom of his cock, tracing the veins of his skin, twisting against the sensitive skin, providing new sensations and shivers.

Shouto knew immediately that you were letting him fuck your mouth however he saw fit.

He felt you moan around him, a long, deep, undeniable noise that somehow drifted through the hole, vibrated against his cock, and could be felt against his curling toes. The sound and sensations were proving to be effective, a pooling heat building in his balls, simmering up and down his spine and neck. How he wished to grab you by the back of your head and drive his cock down your throat without mercy.

Snarling in the back of his throat, suddenly fueled by the image of fucking you, the thought of you on your knees, tears built in your bright eyes and tears rolling down your cheeks feeding him. And as if you knew what he wanted, Shouto's knees near bucked out when your mouth took him in even further, the soft choking noise, the feeling of his cock pressing against the back of your throat sending his fingers digging into the wall.

He drilled in faster, grateful for your ability to keep up, the feeling of his cock pressing down the back of your throat sending his jaw flying open, curses and praises spilling past his lips with every inch you took him further down your throat. The area of his cock unable to be taken in your mouth was surrounded by your fingers — by god, what fucking fingers you had — warm and robust, they held his skin, sliding effortlessly against the spit lubricated skin.

"You can hear me right, whore?" Shouto growled against the wall, the hot air of his breath almost fogging the area he was standing in. Somehow, he heard the choked noise of agreement, the bobbing head vigorously nodding, sending you into a sputtering choke from the awkward angle. But Shouto liked hearing you choke, liked hearing the needy tone in your whining agreement, and he swore he was feeling his heartbeat in his balls. "You're not here entirely on your own will, are you? Came here for money, to suck some rich mans' cock?" His hips stammered when you sucked your cheeks in around his length, his eyes rolling in the break of his concentration, his blood pumping in his hormone pumped euphoria. "I want you to fucking choke on my cock, you hear that? Take me all the way in, don't be scared, I know you probably don't see much cock, but I promise if you can handle me, you'll never want other cock, slut. Take me all, and I promise you, you won't regret it."

A hiccuped breath came from your side of the wall, and Shouto almost wanted to simply burn the wall down to claim you for all his need and glory, someone with a mouth as gifted as yours definitely needed to be fucked correctly. Still, his hips reigned down, slamming against the wall so that the thuds of his impeding hips were heard softly in the other areas. 

And you? Behind the wall?

He could feel the weight of your head pressing forward, the feeling of his length sliding further and further down your throat. The pulsing of his cock ridiculously stilled with the restrained muscles of your throat, and the almost excessive drool and spit that dripped from his length with your choking movements.

More, he wanted more, he needed more.

"Fuck, slut, you're taking me so fucking well. You almost have me entirely in your mouth," Shouto growled, an inch or so of his cock still not entirely in your mouth, but not letting your tight fist work his cock. "Don't give up, take me all, I know a whore like you who shows up to be a sex slave can take my cock."

A whine (was that a horny or a frustrated whine?) emitted from the wall, and with a strained noise, Shouto felt your wet, hot lips make contact with the base of his cock as he continued to drill into you. Spluttering groans poured from his throat, the feeling of your hot cavern and resisting throat, sending him over the edge.

"Yes," Shouto gasped, the smell of sex, electricity, and barely burning walls simmering in his nose. "Fuck, yes, just like that."

Shouto could feel his nerves being shot out, the feeling of the compliant mouth keeping him pumping into the hole, his fingers digging further and further into the wall into it cracked and crumbled, his grip trying to keep his shaking legs from giving out, to break through the wall to get to you. He was almost there, so close, but needed to get over the hill. And then Shouto was swallowed completely when his slamming his stopped, he could feel your lip press to his skin hidden by the hole. He had no doubt that it must have been sorely uncomfortable for you, yet you were doing it to the point where he was fumbling for words, fumbling to keep his head on straight as your tongue wrapped around his cock, massaging the skin. Fuck, fuck, "Fuck!"

His head dropped back with the shooting electricity in his blood, sweat dripping from his temple and you, the stranger behind the wall, gave one vicious, strong suck, your mouth only surrounding the head of his cock, your wet tongue flicking the slit on his head, and he was spilling over.

Hot, thick, heavy ropes of white cum spurted from his cock and Shouto shuddered, his shaking breath echoing in his ears, and he could still feel your tongue moving, coaxing out the finality of his orgasm, teeth scraping against his sensitive cock just enough to have him seeing stars.

But the giggle that erupted in your throat was well noticed by Shouto, and he grunted in slight annoyance. Pulling away, a soft, almost unwanted pop echoed on the other side of the wall.

Shouto watched as his spit and cum covered cock pulled back to his side of the wall, and he grunted unwillingly. His forehead still rested against the wall, and he looked up to his left side with a disgruntled noise to see that he did, in fact, scorch his fingertips into the wall.

As he tucked himself back into his underwear and slacks, Shouto's blissed-out eyes fell onto the hole where your hand was perched out of it, your pinky the only finger visible.

"Pinky promise you'll come back later?" your raspy voice asked, and Shouto wondered if that was how you usually sounded or if it was from what happened.

"As long as you promise to do something like that again," Shouto smirked, his pink taking yours anyways.

He could promise that to the hole in the wall.

Shouto slips out the door and is immediately greeted with a bummed out Kaminari and a profusely apologizing Kirishima. He later finds out that Kaminari let out yet another round of voltage of electricity (he's banned from fucking anyone that can't absorb his quirk without damaging themselves), and that Kirishima in his blissed-out state accidentally went into his unbreakable mode and tore a hole into the wall. Shouto didn't bother telling them of the scorched walls and left with his friends.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It only felt like a few minutes before Shouto found himself outside the same closed door of the room with gloryholes. The alcohol had long since been burned from his system, he is practically positive that you managed to suck it out from his bloodstream.

For the past two hours, he had been around the mansion, aiding Kirishima in his objective to keep Kaminari from accidentally killing a sexual partner. It had been for the best, Shouto believed. He was no prude and definitely didn't hate indulging in the occasional orgies - especially at parties like this. But for some reason, as strangers attempted to shed him from his clothes, lips, and fingers roaming his scarred, heated skin, he thought of you and only you.

Your tantalizing mouth and fingers.

He had exited the orgy room faster than All Might at his peak. 

He was strangely obsessed with a stranger, a person who was no more than someone past a hole in the wall. Who knew if your picture was what you looked like, but he sure hoped it was.

But when Mina had appeared out of nowhere, her perfectly manicured fingers pressing against Kirishima's chest as she emerged from behind him. She was, obviously, one of the few easily discernable members of the cult. 

"So, the crown prince does not know how to use his dick, and I am disappointed in men all over again!" Mina pouted, but her usual sly grin was back on her face before Shouto could ask if she needed help scouting potential 'dick appointments' as she so fondly calls them.

This was where things got strange in that Kirishima pointed out that Mina should just fuck a woman to teach men how to fuck women properly. Kaminari filled Shouto in with a horribly done stage whisper that the two of them had fucked before and that despite the experience of any man, Mina was never truly satisfied. 

"Alright, student Kirishima," Mina had thrust her finger into Kirishima's chest. "Follow me to the hole-y wall and watch the master do her job!"

Once more, Shouto was outside the door, the woman seemingly materialized from thin air in her same powder blue ava tea party dress and ruby red smile. 

"Welcome back! For four patrons this time?" the woman gleefully smiled, her gloved fingers clasping below her chin.

"For one, actually," Mina spoke up first, "I'm teaching these boys—"

"I've actually never had a problem," Shouto spoke up, his calm and collected gaze unwaveringly met the hostess despite the chilling horror and embarrassment of his words that crawled up his spine. At the same time, Mina looked up him and down with a small, small smirk. "I'll be taking a spot."

"Ho ho, well, excuse me," Mina giggled, turning back to the hostess with a brightness to her stance. "Two spots then. I have boys to teach!"

"Of course!" the hostess spoke unaffectedly by the group's dynamics. "Please enjoy yourselves! This part is a special treat for you lovely patrons, don't forget to be mindful of our poor angels stuck in the wall!"

The door opened, and in the group of four walked in.

If Shouto had been taken by surprise the first time, he was beyond belief the second time he entered this same room. His first time coming, there had only been those beautiful glory holes, but this time? There were no material holes.

Where the holes used to be, there were only large holes where the person assigned to the area was now presented to the public.

Asses curved to the sky, asses pointed to the ground. Cocks leaking, limp, and red with overstimulation, cunts soaked, throbbing, and swollen with overuse. It was indeed as if these individuals had been stuck in a wall, and Shouto already felt his cock twitch in his carnal lust and need to see just how you were positioned. How he prayed that you were at your spot, laying on your stomach, ass hanging out to the world waiting for his cock to claim you, waiting for him to ruin you. He wanted to feel your liquid lust drip from your cunt, splashing and trailing down your inner thigh.

Shouto didn't bother saying goodbye to his friends, the smell of sex, and his own lust switching his brain onto a one-track mindset with the growing need to get to you immediately. 

And almost to his raging hormonal anger, he came to the aisle where you were parked, and while his heart hammered with the growing pleasure to see your ass hanging in the air, your thighs pressed to the wall, his vision turned red at the sight of some no-named man rutting his ugly cock between your dry folds.

In no time flat, Shouto was behind the man, his hand fisting into the collar of the man's shirt and tearing him away from him.

"Mine." he all but growled, his aura darkening while he glared at the red-faced idiot who attempted to cover himself up in the act of running away.

It didn't matter that what Shouto did was probably entirely rude and could result in him getting thrown out, you were his, and no way was someone going to fuck you when he was there. The weirded out gazes that fell upon him temporarily did nothing to Shouto, his focus back onto your squirming bottom, no doubt weirded out by the sudden lack of contact.

But with a sigh, his fingers combing the few falling free strands of hair out of his face, Shouto stood centimeters from your shifting thighs, watching you continue squirming until he finally moved. His hands pressed against your supple, smooth ass, enjoying the way you fit against his hands perfectly. 

He stepped forward, allowing the bulge of his strained cock to press against the top of your ass — the perfect height for him. Shouto leaned forward, his forehead once more pressing against the cold wall, his eyes taking in the still visible scorch marks he had left behind and chuckled deep in his throat.

"I'm back, my precious whore, I bet you missed me," Shouto spoke through the wall, hoping that you would respond back to him. He thought he could hear an agreeing sound on the other side of the wall, another layer of muffled, and he wondered if maybe you had been gagged. The thought made him exhale slowly, his hips strained from rutting against you, but against his belief, your ass ground against his hardening cock, sending waves of pleasure through him. "You did miss me, huh?"

His calloused fingers moved from your supple ass to the outsides of your thighs, feather-soft touches skimming your skin, leaving behind trails of goosebumps and twitching nerves. Shouto's gaze remained hard on your body, watching how you completely stilled when he found his fingers against the inner part of your thigh and just shy of the excessive heat that was radiating from your cunt.

And he leaned down, his lips pressing against the curve of your ass, his eyes partially hooded when he felt you relax against his hold. But the relaxed position you held quickly erased the moment his teeth sunk into your skin, and his finger pressed against your swollen clit. 

Immediately, your body arched, a weak attempt to buck out of his hold while he heard a muffled cry from the other end of the wall. But Shouto was a hero, he was some with extreme control over his body, and as his tongue moved to soothe your throbbing ass, one finger continued to delicately dance against your clit, while the other shifted over to your softly beating cunt. 

Shouto groaned against your skin, his pants feeling too tight, the material of his underwear too hot and stiff for how strained his cock was right now, yet it was nothing to the feeling of your tight, wet, hot cunt. In and out, he pumped his finger, curling the long digit against your puffy spongey walls, the thumb on your clit circulating in slow, intentional figure-eights until you were pathetically rising and falling against his finger, a garbled whine for more barely audible through the wall. He chuckled at the feeling of your inner walls forcible clenching against his intruding finger, and he rewarded you with a second finger.

"Doesn't this feel good?" Shouto groaned, his body straightening back up so that he was flushed against your ass, his forehead resting on the wall, and his now free hand slowly grinding your ass against his crotch.

He watched you with the intensity of a predator stalking their prey, his mouth twitching into a smirk when your toes curled with a sudden drag of his fingers over a ribbed area of your core. Growling in need, Shouto's hips slammed into you, mindlessly fucking you even with his clothes on. His fingers doubled in speed and intensity until the rapid clenching of your walls was unignorable around his fingers.

His forearms ached slightly with his continued fingering, his thumb almost stiff as he continued to assault your clit, but with the arching of your back, the stuttering of your hips as an impeding orgasm was growing bigger and stronger. Shouto barely registered the sight of his own hand rising and falling heavily onto your ass, the sound of the spank echoing loudly, but that had pushed you over the edge.

A loud mewl sounded from the wall, your legs trembling entirely uncontrollably against Shouto, who still drove his hard crotch into your soaked cunt. He didn't care if you were to wet the expensive suit, his mind now solely on the fact that he needs to claim you, needs to sink his cock all the way in, and make sure you were bruised for days to come. 

Wasting no time, Shouto sheds off his pants and his underwear, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud before aligning his already hard and swollen cock head to your clenching, sopping cunt. Shouto nearly shivers as he grips his fingers into your ass, his eyes mesmerized with how your flesh molds to his grasp, moving and shifting accordingly. With only a moan as a warning, Shouto wasted no time in pressing his cock to your cunt, and thrusting in with a single, sharp thrust.

If he had thought your cunt was tight with just your fingers, if he had thought the instance where you had vacuumed your mouth while sucking him off was tight, he was in a world of surprises when he came through from entering you. Your cunt was hot and oh so fucking tight around him, milking him dry of all and any precum that he had gathered at his swollen slit. Your inner walls flutter around him, intensely and quickly trying to adjust to the monstrous thickness that he was, and he could hear the pained panting pleasure of you through the wall, and he almost lost it at the keen whine on your tongue.

He shifted, moving his hips just so slight as to regain what little sanity he had left to ensure that you were thoroughly and roughly fucked. 

"Fuck," Shouto moaned, his fingers digging bruises into your skin, his skin feeling sticky and sweaty as he felt you continue trembling beneath him. "For a fucking whore, you have a really tight cunt. I bet you wished I had used fucking lube, huh?"

Shouto took a tentative thrust into you, his legs quivering at the feeling of the way your cunt gripped his cock, making it almost impossible for him to move as he did. "Should've made your pussy wetter then," he spoke in a near whisper to the wall, unsure if you had heard him as he began his conquest in fucking you.

With his fingers gripping your hips, he enjoys the way you bruise against his hold, almost as much as he enjoys the way the wall rocks with every slam of his brutal hips.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping cunt send loud, wet noises ringing in his ears, sending a few other nearby patrons to turn their heads to look at him - to look at him in his conquest of claiming you as his. It only fueled him on, and he picked up his pace until there was a medley of sounds: his thighs crashing against your ass, the squelching of your wet cunt against his thick cock, and your thighs slapping the wall. 

Shouto growled at the feeling of your cunt stretching for him, the tremble of your legs, the way your feet twisted and curled against his knees, almost as if in a silent beg to get him impossibly closer, to make him fuck you impossibly faster, harder. 

His gorging fingers break your skin, and Shouto delights in the painful, garbled scream from your side of the wall. Your body is weak against him, yet he can still feel your hips jutting against his rutting hips, your body desperately trying to keep up with his insane speed and lust.

And when his hand presses to your lower back and the other right above your crotch so that he can raise you higher, the new angle of penetration sends Shouto fumbling for strength. It's then he can feel the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, your toes digging into his skin as he continues to pound away at your cervix, and he takes the rolling shrieks and moans from your mouth like a good thing. 

"Such a good fucking whore, I never found many of you who enjoyed when I literally rearranged their guts," Shouto huffed, his fingers tweaking and yanking at your clit until you were shaking in his arms. "You're enjoying this so much, I bet you wanted this the entire time after I left, didn't you? You wanted my cock in your pussy, I wanted to have my seed pumped into you until everyone knows that you're mine. You'd look so pretty pregnant with my babies, your stomach swollen, and your tits just fucking leaking milk for our children, huh?"

It's then that your cunt around his cock becomes a vice grip, and Shouto shudders at the feeling of your orgasm rocking through you, your pathetic keens barely audible in his blood rushing ears. And he continues, Shouto could feel the familiar sensation of his nerves being shot out, the feeling of your cunt desperately trying to milk him of his seed and worth as you grew limper in his arms, his fingers raking raised lines against your ass, forever marking himself against you, his grip trying to keep his shaking legs from giving out, his mind solidifying over the need to somehow appear where you were now so he could fuck you with no restraint. He thought of your crossed eye gaze, the possible spit pouring from your mouth as you took his every drop of seed greedily into your cunt. He imagined seeing your eyes spilling with tears, seeing your fingers rip into the fabric as he fucked you with no restraint, and with his imagination, he lost himself.

Shouto continued to blindly ram his cock into your cunt, a savage, insane last attempt to spill himself into you, fumbling to keep his head on straight as your cunt pathetically clenched against his hammering cock, finally sending his left hand to the wall, fire bursting from his palm as finally his orgasm tears through him. Shit, shit, "Shit!"

Shouto's temples are damp with sweat, and his vision swims with his overwhelming desire for you and the need to get to your room without destroying the wall to completion.

He picks up his pants and underwear, quickly fixing himself up so that he's almost remorse in the way that he can't appreciate watching his cum spill from your cunt, but the lack of you on his cock is enough to have him zipping up his pants and racing to where the hostess appears.

She doesn't stand a chance when both fire and ice bite against her neck.

"How do I get into the rooms?"

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

After being caught flirting with whoever you had pinky promised, you had been gagged. It wasn't a bad thing per se, that man had been the last person to visit you when the room was still functioning as glory holes. With the new stuck in the wall theme, it only invited men and women to be aggressive, and a part of you guiltily and ashamedly enjoyed how rough they would get in there attempt to hear you against the gag.

But you couldn't help the flutter in your cunt and in your heart when the familiar voice of the pinky promise man sounded through the wall. Right now, however, your body felt wholly and thoroughly used. Every inch of your asscheeks and cunt was abused, but the orgasm that came with his fucking was otherwordly. 

There was still nothing to prevent the shameful clog in your throat when he abandoned you after a single orgasm, but then again, you didn't expect the door to your cubicle to be thrown open, and a man stood there with a black kitsune mask. You wondered who it was, but there was the distinctive, infamous red and split white hair behind the cover, and you whimpered at the sudden shame at being caught like this by a Pro Hero you absolutely adored. 

The mask was torn from his face, the door closing behind him, and you were ripped back into the tight cubicle, pressed flush against his chest as he sealed off the hole with his ice. You were speechless as his obviously hard cock pressed against your diaphragm, and you trembled upon hearing the zipper of his pants coming down.

And the voice of one Todoroki Shouto sent shivers down your spine, reigniting the flame in your cunt.

"I got to fuck your mouth and your cunt through other people's rules, I think it's about time I get to fuck you however I see fit."

[darkmulti]

Death of You

Yandere ex bf!San x female reader

This is a re make of “Satan” bc it was deleted and also happen to be my favourite piece of writing:) also I mixed in a request in here!

⚠️Warnings: humilitaion, filth filth filth filth filth, spitting, spanking, degradtion, bondage, rough sex, oral (male recieving), slapping, theres a lot of kinky shit mixed in here, cum eating, cum play, choking, overstimulation, fear kink, possessive behaviour

——————————————————————————

“San that’s not my fault.”

“Yes it is. It’s entirely your fault. You cheated on me and I caught you. I saw the messages on your phone.”

“San, you don’t even fucking trust me. It’s not what you think! He’s my bestfriend! Our conversation wasn’t even inappropriate in anyway, you’re just mad another boy texted me!”

“Yeah, exactly! What if you two have been fucking behind my back this whole time?”

Your eyes roll back and you mentally slap yourself.

Why were you trying to save something that was already broken?

San’s behaviour was outrageous. What kind of man, what kind of person would think of such things? Being frustrated, you blurted out,

“Do you want to break up? Tell me what you want to do San. Because I truly don’t know anymore.”

San looks at you but doesn’t say a word.

“Fine. I’ll go pack my shit.”

While massaging your forehead, you walk past San and go upstairs. After you finished packing, you head downstairs with your carry on suitcase, and slam the door shut, leaving your now ex boyfriend San, alone in the enormous house.

You will not tolerate his behaviour. You simply can’t stay with a man who doesn’t trust you. With quick thinking you decide to stay the night at a nearby hotel.

With some money saved up in your bank account, you would be able to afford staying in the hotel for a little amount of time. So it was very important for you to find a job, as soon as possible.

After checking into the hotel, you take a cold shower to wash away your tears and make up a plan.

You were strong.

You didn’t need a man.

Before you met San, you were a strong, independent women. Not that you aren’t anymore, you just lost your momentum. Now it was your chance to get it back.

Finally your head fills up with positive thoughts and you get out of the shower with a bright smile plastered across your face. The cold water that hit your body and washed away all your tears, triggers your restart button.

Although you couldn’t exactly forget about him, you were still capable of not ever thinking about him. While cleaning your face with cold water and washing your tired, red, puffy eyes, you start to calm down a bit. Your heartbeat became steady and all the negative thoughts floated away. Another breath of relief leaves your lips.

You change into your pyjamas that San had given you.

Well this wasn’t going to be the easiest process. Almost everything you packed was either a gift from San or bought with his money.

Right there and then you made a promise to yourself that you will return all the money he spent on you. It was only fair, which meant you can move on with your life without feeling guilty. 

After planning out your next steps you jump onto the mattress and snuggle in. You take your plushie into your arms and hug it since San isn’t here anymore.

Right when you close your eyes your phone lights up, waking you up. You lazily pick it up and see the miss calls and messages San had left you.

107 messages and 36 missed calls

Y/N

Answer your calls

We can fix this

Y/N we can fix this

I’m sorry please come back.

I love you angel

Please we can’t end like this

We were suppose to get married and have kids

Now who am I supposed to get married to?

Y/N please answer my calls

Sweetheart I need to know if you safe

Please I’m so sorry for what I did and said

Sweetie please

Babygirl I miss you

I love you so much please don’t do this to me!

Why aren’t you answering my calls

Are you with another man?

Y/N ANSWER MY FUCKING CALLS GOD DAMIT!

YOU FUCKING WHORE, ALREADY SLEEPING WITH ANOTHER MAN!

WE HAVEN’T EVEN BROKEN UP PROPERLY!

FUCKING ANSWER MY CALLS

I WILL KILL THE FUCKER IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME!

STOP LEAVING ME ON READ!

CALL ME

ANSWER ME!

STOP BEING A FUCKING CUNT AND COME BACK TO THE HOUSE!

WHEN I FIND-

You put the phone faced down on the nightstand. That message was enough to make you tremble and cry from fear. You bite down on your lip and wipe away your tears.

Your nails go into your mouth and you lay down, thinking that sleep will help. Even though your heart was about to beat out of your chest, you close your heavy eyelids and you drift into a peaceful sleep.

Approximately 3 hours into your sleep, and knocking on the door woke you.

Shit! You forgot to put on the ‘do not disturb sign’

Crawling out of the warm, cozy bed, your feet touch the cold floor and you walk to the door, opening it.

A very big mistake you made. Standing in the doorway is a very angry San. You shut the door and lock it before running into the bathroom.

Shit shit shit, fuck your phone! You left it on the nightstand!

You open the bathroom door and make a run for it to your phone. But you freeze in your tracks when you hear the ‘beep’ the front door makes when it unlocks. You turn around and San walks in and locks the door.

Paralyzed you were. He walked over to you and without a word you pushed you down onto the floor.

You snap out of the phase and snap at him.

“What the fuck? You can’t treat me like a rag doll San. We’re done!”

“No. I’m not done with you until you tell me why your not answering your phone. You always have it shoved up your ass, so tell me why you chose to ignore me.”

Your eyes look on the floor, not wanting to answer. The idea of breaking up will never get into his sick head. It’ll go in one ear and out the other.

“Not responding? Let’s try this again.”

San gets on his knees and pushes you down onto the floor with a hand now around your neck, in missionary position.

“WHY DID YOU IGNORE MY CALLS AND MESSAGES?”

“BECAUSE SAN, IM FUCKING DONE WITH YOU!”

San raises his hand and slaps you across the face leaving a sting on your cheek.

“Don’t you dare fucking yell at me, you brat. You ungrateful, cock slut brat.”

The man grabs the base of your jaw and spits in your whining mouth. His hands pull your thighs up onto him and he grinds his bulge.

San knew how much control he had over you, and used it to his advantage. Whenever he showed any type of loving or caring affection towards you, you would instantly explode.

“You want me to stop?”

“No, please!”

San smirks at you. Hasn’t been 9 hours and you already want him in your pussy.

“Sit on your pretty little knees and wait for daddy’s order.”

Hurriedly, you get up and sit on your knees. You pull your hair back and wait for your daddy’s next orders.

“Good girl. My cute little puppy. I bet if you had a tail in that ass, it would be wagging side to side because you’re that excited to suck my cock.”

He said teasingly with a sly smile spreading across his face.

Your lips pout and you look at him with widened eyes.

“Take your clothes off darling, I wanna see the lingerie you’re wearing.”

Fortunately or maybe unfortunately, you were wearing his favourite lavender lingerie. The design on the bra and underwear was beautiful and fitted your body perfectly.

“Oh darling. Everytime I see you in that lingerie, it keeps getting better and better. I don’t ever think I’ll ever get tired of this view.”

His sweet words wander out of his lips and into your ears, causing you to smile.

“Come to daddy babygirl.”

Your hands go on the floor and you crawl to him with sparkles in your eyes. San scratches you underneath your chin, and brings your hands up to the hem of his pants.

“You do the honours baby.”

You adjust yourself and pull his pants and underwear down, with his help. San brought your face closer to his lower stomach. You were confused on what he was doing, until his cock sprung up and hit your face, startling you.

Tilting your head up, you admire his long, thick, veiny, red cock, that had pre cum dripping down from the tip. You could’ve come right there just by the sight.

“I know my cock’s superior, but it’s not going to suck itself.”

Your hands quickly take a hold of it and roughly strokes it up and down. San runs his fingers through your hair and tilts your head up so he can look at you while you stroke his cock. Your eyes still in contact with San’s you lick his shaft all the way up to his tip.

San rolls his hip, and thrust into nothing. He wanted to whine so badly, but it would make him look weak, which he didn’t like. Having enough of your teasting he pulls your hair back and slaps you across the face, leaving his hand print behind.

“You don’t tease me darling. Take it in or else I’ll put a ginger up your ass. As I recall, you hated that punishment with all your heart.”

He then got closer to your face.

“Don’t make me do it again.”

Both your holes clench, as you remember the severe pain that punishment had caused you. Not wanting to risk it, you shove his seven inch dick down your throat, while playing with his balls. San holds your hair back for you, and praises you for taking him so well. You pop a smile around his cock and your teeth brush against his dick, making him shiver.

Though, you were happy to satisfy him, there was one thing that wasn’t satisfying you. Your daddy was a hard dom and never moans. It always got to your head that you weren’t satisfying him to the fullest. So with a determined mindset, you get in the right position and dig your nails into his thighs. You shove him down your throat and start to suck the life out him. He jolts up and lets out a loud groan, followed by a soft, but sensitive moan.

You start grinding on the air, after hearing his beautiful, sexy moans.

Oh god, what would you have to have your clit touched right now.

The dom's cock starts twitching in your throat and you bring his tip up into your mouth, sucking it until his cum releases.

“No no no darling. Spit it out.”

You tilt your head at san and he cups his hand in front of your mouth. You spit it up in his hands, and he also spits in it. The males other hand pulls your hair back and rubs the cum all over your face. It drips down your neck into your exposed clevage.

“Baby, rub it all over your breast for daddy.”

You take both of your hands and rub the cum all over your tits.

“Good little whore.”

With your face, neck and chest covered in cum, San takes his belt and wraps it tightly around your neck making a two in one collar and leash. He gets up and pulls you with him to the door.

“Daddy where are we going?”

You ask innocently, but deep inside you were petrified.

“Let’s go on a little walk”

He pulls your leash, yanking you across the floor to his feet.

“Crawl on all fours like the good little puppy you are.”

He pats your head and grabs the door card.

“Walk beside me, in sync with my feet okay slut?”

“Okay daddy”

San walks to the elevator where we met our first victim. He looked at us in shock. You keep your head down low, while San started making small talk with the confused and genuinely concerned male. San then bends down to you and tells you to stick your tongue out. You do as told, but he didn’t do anything to you. Instead he just stood up. Your mind puts two and two together and realizes he’s trying to make you act like a dog.

The elevator dings and you both are now in the front lobby, where there was much more people. San looked out for any kids, but when he saw the coast was clear, he walked out like nothing was wrong.

He pulled you to the couches in the lobby, while people stared at your exposed body. San sits down on the couch and you sit on the floor. He sighs, and picks you off the ground slightly and puts his shoe underneath you.

“Fuck my shoe, you thirsty whore.”

He points his toes up, hitting your clit and making you flinch.

“Grind on it you shameless whore.”

You hips starts moving on the tip and your cheeks turn pink from embarrassment. San from behind spanks your ass a couple of times, and you let out soft moans. Your eyes roam around until it makes eye contact with an old man, who was checking you out. He shamelessly takes his dick out and starts to jerk off, coming closer and closer.

You turn your head the other way and let your mind wanders off. You start to think about how you look like. The cum and spit mixture gliding down your face picking up droplets of sweat, before falling onto your breast. The lavender lingerie that was exposing all your private parts. Your red face, that still had san’s handprint on it. Last but not least, the overly tight belt around your neck, that was causing your breath to slow down.

You bring your attention back to the shoe and went a little harder on your clit, until san reaches to your shoulder to make you stop. He sneaks his arms under your armpits then wraps it around your body, pulling you up onto his lap. You feel his face turned to your right, so you also look and see the old man sitting next to you both.

“Can we share,,,,,, please?”

The old man whispers and reaches towards your arm. San stands up with you in his arms.

“No. I can’t. Mind your own business and keep your dick in your pants.”

San carries you to the elevator, where he kept you in his embrace the entire time.

“I'm so sorry sweetheart, are you okay? I didn’t know I’m sorry, are you scared? We can leave.”

The man’s heart aches at the cringe worthy scenario that took place a two minutes ago. He felt so guilty. You didn’t peep a word and only stuffed your face in his chest.

He carries you back to the room and lays you on the bed once he was inside.

“Shall we continue?”

You ask with a teasing smile, and your hands on the hem of you pantie, bringing it down.

“You still want to-”

You crawl to his guilty figure and place a finger on his lips.

“Of course. You can’t just stop there.”

You pull San onto the bed and jump on top of him. His bulge was hard again, and your cunt aches at it. You bounce on his clothed shaft, while undoing the buttons of his shirt. San places his hands onto your hips and lets you enjoy yourself.

You wrap your hand around his throat and grind harder, until your pussy clenches around nothing and you let out a high pitch whine. This was San’s cue. He switches the position, pulls his pants down, and shoves his giant cock, into your warm, wet pussy. He immediately pounds into your g spot making you squeal and squirm under him. Your tears start rolling down your face from the overstimulation.

“Holy shit, sannie baby daddy, fUCKK RIGHT THERE!”

You became a hot mess. Crying and whining under the male, begging him to go faster.

San hushes you and pulls on the belt choking you. Your eyes water up and your face becomes extremely red, until you tap out. He loosens the belt and throws it to the side, while you try and catch your breath.

“Daddy please hit it again.”

San accepts your challenge and hovers over top of your small figure and fucks the life out of you.

“Whore whore whore whore! You wanted this along. Did you really think that I would let you go that easily? Stupid cum fuck”

His hips move in a high speed into you, and he wraps both of his hands around your neck, putting weight on it. Eventually you scream out and burst into tears, feeling your orgasm punching through. Your pussy twitches around his cock and he gives you one last thrust, making you cry all over again.

It almost like your pussy glitches every time San made you cum. You grab onto the bedsheets and cum for your life. Spitting it out all over his cock, your eyes roll back and hips arch because Sans tip was right below your gspot.

“Sannie sannie sannie.”

San pins your hands down and thrust harshly in again, hitting the spot again. Sobs after sobs leave your mouth, and your body starts shaking at the sensitivity. He goes a little faster, and you start to zone out and only hear his balls slapping your cunt.

San leans down and sucks your lips, giving one last thrust making both of you cum. Both of you were now panting inside each other's mouths. His arms snake around your waist and he gets in bed with you still in his arms.

He pulls you close and makes sure you fall asleep before he does. Whispering sweet and caring words his final words made your heart explode.

The sincere “I love you” followed by his goofy smile.

This man..this man right here, was going to be the death of you.

——————————————————————————

To bad I’m not his girlfriend and he’s already the end of me:(

I hope you enjoyed, I’m going to bed now❣️🥺

xoxo

n❣️

[intojatp]

when I was your friend (Natasha Romanoff one shot)

I got this idea while listening to when I was your man by bruno mars. this will be more sad, and even though I know this is a Bucky Barnes 'book' this will more revolve around Natasha, leaving the reader heartbroken after her best friend passed away. This also takes place after Tony's death, leaving you to hope he'll take care of Natasha from now on. I hope you enjoy this.

____________________________

It's been weeks since your best friend had passed away, but you truly couldn't seem to get over it. You were sure that this feeling would never go away. You'd always miss her. She left a hole in your heart you didn't know how to fill in again. You were glad you still had most of your amazing friends and your lovely boyfriend, Bucky. They tried everything to cheer you up, and sometimes it actually got easier for a while. But as soon as you entered the room you two used to share, your world came crushing in again. But you know that it could be worse. Without those people in your life you would have definitely ended your life a long time ago. They gave you that kind of strength to keep going with your life, and you had no idea how they did it, but you were glad that they did. Mostly Bucky.

You once again entered your now so quiet and almost empty room. When Natasha was still around it always felt like a party in here. And god, it annoyed you most of the time. But now that she wasn't around anymore, you'd do anything to get this back. But no matter how hard you'd try, she would never come back. And you had to live with that for the rest of your life.

You walked up to the piano you used to share. You didn't play often, mostly because you didn't have time for it anymore. But when you played, you only played for Bucky or Natasha. They would always have to beg you for hours to play, and you'd just get annoyed by them after some time and started playing, hoping they would leave you alone afterwards. You sat down on the bench and put your fingers on the keys. You didn't know if you were ready to play again, but you were hoping it would make you feel closer to her again.

"Are you okay, doll?"

You turned your head to the door, seeing your boyfriend leaning on the door frame. He gave you a soft smile, which you replied. You didn't know how he did it, but just having him close to you lifted your mood most of the time. You were so happy to have him.

'Yes, I am. I wanted to play again.. I was hoping it'd make me feel closer to her again.'

Bucky started walking towards you. He sat down next to you and laid his arm around you. It gave you a feeling of comfort and safety. As long as he was around, you knew you could do anything. Anything was possible for you. And dear, did you know he felt the same way about you.

'I got you, Y/N. I'm with you for the end of life. Whenever you're ready, I'll be there for you.'

You gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek and put your fingers on the keys again. You took a deep breath and started playing, already leaving a smile on Bucky's face.

"Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now

Our song on the radio but it don't sound the same

When our friends talk about you, all it does is just tear me down

'Cause my heart breaks a little when I hear your name"

Tears already shot up your eyes. All the memories you had with her in this room, all the late night talks, all the little fights, they all came up. She was here with you from the beginning. She saw how you fell for Bucky, she was the first who found out about you two dating, she listened to you whenever you had an argument with him. She always helped you. She was your rock when things got tough and you were hers. Who would do all of this with you now?

Bucky noticed the tears in your eyes and started rubbing your back. He didn't want to interrupt you, but he somehow wanted to show you that he was there with you, and he would never leave your side again.

"It all just sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, hoo

Mm, too young, too dumb to realize

That I should have bought you flowers

And held your hand

Should have gave you all my hours

When I had the chance

Go with you to every party 'cause all you wanted to do was dance

Now my baby's dancing

But she's dancing at a better place"

Nat always wanted to go to parties with you, but you were the kind of person who'd rather stay in. You were too scared to meet new people, you always let your social anxiety get to you, even though you didn't want that to happen. Nat always understood, but she sometimes got quite annoyed by this. She would never tell you this though, she knew that it wasn't your fault. But she never had to tell you, you just knew. And you couldn't be mad at her for that.

"My pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways

Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out my life

Now I never, never get to clean up the mess I made, oh

And that haunts me every time I close my eyes"

Shortly before she went on that mission with Hawkeye, you two had a little argument. You should've went on that mission, but since you and Hawkeye never really seemed to get along you wanted to go with Steve, Bruce and Tony. You obviously regretted not going now, it should've been you instead of her. You felt like it was your fault she died, and you'd feel like this for the rest of your life.

Bucky knew how you felt. He'd always tell you that it wasn't your fault, and that it shouldn't have been you. But no matter what he told you, you never believed any of it. Bucky hated that he couldn't change your mind, but he knew he wouldn't stop until you finally believed him. It broke his heart to see how you slowly fell apart, but he couldn't do anything except hoping that one day you'd recover from this. And he'd be there for every step of that way.

"It all just sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, hoo

Mm, too young, too dumb to realize

That I should have bought you flowers

And held your hand

Should have gave you all my hours

When I had the chance

Go with you to every party 'cause all you wanted to do was dance

Now my baby's dancing

But she's dancing at a better place

Although it hurts

I'll be the first to say that I was wrong

Oh, I know I'm probably much too late

To try and apologize for my mistakes

But I just want you to know

I hope he buys you flowers

I hope he holds your hand

Give you all his hours

When he has the chance

Take you to every party

'Cause I remember how much you loved to dance

Do all the things I should have done

When I was your friend

Do all the things I should have done

When I was your friend"

The only thing that truly gave you hope was that now Tony was with her, and he would definitely take good care of her. You missed him almost just as much as you missed her, but it was still easier on you.

You took your fingers off the piano keys and just sat there for a few seconds. Bucky didn't say anything, he just looked at you to see any kind of reaction on your face. He wanted to be ready for any kind of emotion, he wanted to be there for you, now more than ever.

After a minute or so you couldn't hold it in anymore. You started breaking down right into Bucky's arms. He pulled you closer to him, letting you cry into his chest. He held onto you as much as he could, because if he'd let go you would just fall onto the hard, cold ground beneath the both of you. You have never cried this hard, especially never in front of him. You knew it hurt him every time he'd see you like this, which is why you kept feelings like this away from him as much as possible. But right now, you couldn't do it anymore. You had to let everything out, even if it would hurt him.

And it did hurt Bucky. Holding you in his arms, hearing the hardest sobs he has ever heard, coming from the girl he loved the most in this whole world, ripped his heart in two halves. He also had tears running down his cheeks now, but you couldn't see that, which was kind of relieving to him. He left some kisses on the top of your head, before he slowly got up. He still held you in his arms, but he was too scared to keep sitting like this, because if his arms would get weak, you'd fall. And he didn't want you to get even more hurt. He carefully picked you up in bridal style and carried you into his room. He wanted to get you out of there, you were hurting enough today.

As soon as he got to his bed, he carefully laid you down and rushed right next you. He pulled the covers over the two of you and pulled you closer too him again. You felt his metal arm around your waist, and it gave you the feeling of home. You  buried your head into his chest again, and even though his whole shirt was wet because of your tears, it didn't bother you. But you thought that it might bother him, so you quickly helped him out of it.

'You know, it didn't bother me at all, right?'

You just shook your head in response and bury your head into his now bare chest again. Bucky left some soft kisses on your forehead once again, and he soon realized it might've helped you a little bit. Your sobs quiet down, and before you knew, you fell asleep.

'I know it's hard, doll. But you're not alone. And you'll never be. Im with you 'til the end of the line.'

[skittles1229]

Old Expectations Die Hard (Dashie x Reader Fanfic)

Chapter One: Weird Circumstances

You know your life is complicated when the friend you always complain to says "you never have a dull moment do you?" I sigh as the weight of the world seems to make it impossible to breath. You see recently things have been rough. I lost my job and my fiance all in the same day, that itself was an unbelievable story. I was so upset and strung out on thoughts of what to do that once i got home early from work i didn't notice the extra car in the driveway. i stepped into my home and my own floors felt as if they'd given way when i saw the guy i thought i'd be spending my life with in bed, with my sister... my sister and i hadn't been on good terms for a while and for a good reason! The drugs she took either made her unreliable and selfish or crazy and murderous. He, of course, pulled the its not what you think, id never hurt you, it was a mistake, and honestly i could write a book out of the excuses i heard in the time of two minutes but maybe another time. Needless to say i left. I never thought about going back and to be honest my sister looked more hurt then i was. I took a job in California a few weeks ago and moved in with my friend (BFF Name). They always seemed to know what to say and honestly i truly believe They  knew me better then i know myself. 

California gave me the biggest culture shock I've ever had. I came from Mississippi, the bible belt and the most rural part of the world. California was sooooo different then what i was use to. The weather is awesome. There's lots of jobs for technical people, at least until you're 45 and then you're considered ancient and you can't possibly know anything when some 23-year old out of Stanford tells you that they know it all. (a little bit of sarcasm there) It's a great place to start a new company, money is available as is talent. The risk of starting a company is lower since you can always find a new job The politics are insane, if you aren't towing the progressive party line you should just STFU. If you even once say that Trump has done something positive, or that Obama did something negative prepare for the wrath. Read the stuff behind the recently filed lawsuit against google for a taste of what it's like. Seriously, don't say a word. The state if structurally bankrupt, although the finances look good because so much stuff is off of the balance sheet. The public pension liability dwarfs the "good" part of the budget, and some day it is coming home to roost. Watch out when it does. The cost of living is absurd, really absurd. I'm not talking just a place to live but gas, electricity, haircuts, milk, pizza, you name it. The traffic is absurd too. (can you tell i like the word absurd) The public transit, although usually on time, is a mess. People are pigs, they throw trash everywhere, the cars are overcrowded almost all the time. 

I've got to say, from how much it sounds like i hate California, i actually don't.  Mainly because its so far away from my original family, leaving really helped me start to grow up and feel like maybe i was getting a hold of my life again. Only problem has been getting to my new job on time. I work as a barista and a waitress at a brunch place a good minute away from the apartment. The money is good, otherwise i wouldn't waste my time with the commute everyday. i keep being late to work because i still haven't adjusted to how terrible traffic is and so my boss was "nice" enough to switch me to the later shifts. The hours are long and boring because my shift starts in the middle of rush hour to the slowest hours at the end of the day meaning you have to find things to keep yourself busy with. the only good thing is, we can wear pretty much anything we want as long as its black. all i wear is dark colors so i didn't have to spend any extra money on a uniform and i didn't have to wear the same thing everyday. Today i decided i wear a v-neck shirt that with an emperor waist (body forming) with black skinny jeans and my regular converse. i decided against driving to work and decided it would be far smarter to catch a bus to the nearest destination. My (hair color) hair was done is a fishtail messy braid, i always liked this style because it made me look like i had a head full of hair when in reality i thought i was going bald. 

My personality was a little odd, you see some days i felt like the beautiful nerd who has no confidence and wants to hide away in a hole. other days i feel like a model from Victoria secrets, of course those are the days i get the most tips. today was honestly a mutual day, where id rather be at home in my bed asleep, or listening to music. The bus finally stopped a block away from my job and i sighed obviously not wanting to go into work. surprisingly there wasn't nearly  as many cars as there usually is around this time but i wasn't complaining. i walk in to see that most of the downstairs was empty but whoever was upstairs definitely had a loud mouth. i walk to the back in order to clock in and i bump into melany ( the girl im shifting with). "wow you actually got here on time! Maybe the boss's mood will cheer up." i huffed a little. "yea, i dont know why i thought id need a car in California, say whats with the low level of customers? its NEVER this slow." she looked at me in disdain, "some guys reserved the entire upstairs and we had to make this huge table out of all our tables up there, glad im not gonna be the one fixing it later." i rolled my eyes, i hated when a huge family came in and they just had to move everything around because little johnny wants the sit next to suzzie and suzzie HAS to sit by her parents bc she likes to throw her food on the floor, all fake names but a real situation ive been in before. "well have they at least been fed so that i only have to clean up after them?" she shook her head while hanging up her apron. "nope, they've only ordered their drinks and they are getting those onto trays now." so today was gonna be like every other day. "guess i better go help them take those upstairs then, have a good rest of your day." i walk away and slip on my apron, grabbed one of the trays of drinks while another waiter grabbed the rest of the drinks. Once i got upstairs, that's when i met him...

Chapter Two: Last Will and Testament

          He was sitting on the far end of the long table of people laughing and joking. everyone seemed to be loud and all had their own inside jokes. This guy, he stuck out. i changed my attention to the task at hand, finishing this shift. i hated when people moved all the tables and seating around. all the waiters and waitresses have to go back behind them and look at the layout of the floor to put them all back exactly as they were before. it was a struggle and because of this nobody actually wanted that job so usually the manager gives it to her least favorite workers and i happened to be one. "who all had coke?" nobody answered me so one of the men bellowed out the same line and somehow was able to get a show of hands. i walked around handing  out drinks, catching the lingering smell of strong liquor. i could tell by the end of tonight they would all be wasted and loud. please, just don't make more of a mess then you have to, i thought to myself. i had one drink left on my tray, "sweet tea?" the guy i saw before at the end of the table waved his hand and i dreaded going over there, i always seem to make a fool of myself when it matters. 

     i make my way slowly down the table with the tray under my arm and the tea in my hand. i lean over to sit his drink on the table.."here's your t-" *CRASH* while joking with one of his friends his elbow crashes into my hand sending the tea flying all over me and the cup crashing to the floor, thank god i wore black. he turned around and looked more horrified then i did. "i'm sorry! i'm so sorry!" his voice was deeper then i imagined it'd be. "no, it my fault i'm sorry ill get you a new one." i turned away to hide my embarrassment and walked away really just trying to get away from the situation. i could tell from the silence behind me that all eyes were on me. i ran to the back where the lockers were for the service. i went to the bathroom and stripped the sticky clothes off throwing them aside. i sat on the toilet  trying to catch my breath, my social anxiety had struck me  hard. a feeling of worthlessness and dread fell over me like a blanket. after the past few months i've had just one day without something terrible happening would mean the world to me. i heard a knock on the door, it was melany, she walked in with a towel from the kitchen. "hey, i heard what happen upstairs are you ok?" i covered my breast trying keep myself as unexposed as possible. "oh yea im fine, im just cold, and sticky, and... covered in tea." melany and i made eye contact and both laughed just to lift the dread in the air. "let me guess, all the guys are getting a kick out of watching me fumble again huh?" i said a little less concerned and more annoyed. she rolled her eyes "they are boys, they get a kick out of picking their own nose. we both slid to the floor beside each other, she hands me the damp towel. i get most of the sticky off as possible, throwing my hair up to make it look less clumped together by the sugar. "i have an extra black t shirt in my locker but i don't know how it will fit you. your breast are at least a size larger then mine." i shrugged my shoulders, "who cares ill make do. thanks for your help melany." she smiled her weird anime girl smile and ran to get the shirt from her locker.

     ill have to admit, she was right about the size thing. it was far to small around the chest area but the rest fit fine. after the incident my boss stuck me down stairs wiping tables and sweeping the floor, i dont mind though because i get to experience the day coming to an end with a beautiful sunset over California. i secretly kept the the window to watch as the sun fell from the sky. the sky seemed to burn and darken while the clouds began to glow with the last bit of sunlight left. the sky filled up with burning Burgundy and faded orange and yellows, the tallest buildings seemed to reach for the skyline as if it were a sunflower moving to the last drip of sunlight. moving here had been hard, and this had become one of the things i looked forwards to. living in the apartment with my friend was nice, buts its not the same as coming home to someone you use to lay with every night. sleeping alone seemed so much colder and emptier then i remembered from childhood. my mother would be so disappointed in the way i turned out, in the places id gone and the decision to spend my life with someone who was most obviously the wrong one. she would have told me to slow down and to take my time, that growing up wasn't everything. she would have said love isn't something you just wake up and have, its something you make. i wasn't anywhere close to where i thought id be by now, and i could see that. it tears at my heart everyday, not being able to see her or any of my family. sometimes it felt as if they'd all died in the fire that night. 

     i suddenly heard a boom of voices making their way down the stairs, i hadn't realized how close to closing time it had become. all of them walk out stumbling and laughing at their own jokes, seems they all got a good bit of drinking in, all except one. The guy i ran into on accident seemed as sober as ever, designated driver i think, he was much taller now. he seemed muscular but in such a fitting way for his body. his teeth sparkle because their so white, his smile complimented him best. his high cheekbones made his chocolate brown eyes his best feature. His skin was glowing with a sweet honey hue and before i could notice that i was staring he turned his head. his eyes met mind before i could think twice and that's when i felt the heat rise to my cheeks. weather it be from embarrassment or silly school girl shyness i didn't know . i turned my face away but it was too late, i turned my face a little just to catch a glimpse of him before he made his way out of the door and that's when i noticed his cheeks had gone from a burnt caramel to a rosy color. i felt my body shiver at the thought that maybe, just maybe he found me as attractive as i found him. i shook the thought from head realizing they had began locking the place down. as i helped close up shop and wash dishes i couldn't help but to let my mine wander to all different kinds of thoughts, funny thing was they always fell back to him and his rosy  cheeks. i couldn't help but smile as i felt my heart race at the thought of him, even though id made a fool of myself today i was glad i hadn't ruined my chances. Even if he'd never get with me or i wouldn't ever see him again, i'd still take it as a compliment that he even looked my way. 

     before long we were all outside laughing and talking about today. The manager locked the doors and said his goodbyes. i turn to walk towards the bus station when i see a man standing aside awkwardly between the restaurant and the parking lot. suddenly my eyes adjusted and once they did, the joyousness butterflies came back and the blush suddenly reappeared on my cheeks..

There are lots more chapter after this if you are interested you can find them here

https://my.w.tt/sosFRmianbb

[nikkigrand]

There’s no easy way to say this, but I’m abandoning all of my works. Everything.

This post is going to be long, honest, triggering and deeply personal. So for those who don’t want to read through all of my bullshit, the gist is that I’m not emotionally or mentally capable of writing anymore.

TW ARE IN PLACE.

If you’ve followed me for a while, then you know that my boyfriend was killed in Afghanistan last year. Since then, my life has been a breathless decline into self destruction. I didn’t know—I still don’t know—how to recover from happily waiting for his return to painfully knowing he never will. I swear that some days I feel like he’s still out there and some day he’ll come home and this will all be just a bad dream. I want to wake up to a reality where he steps off that plane and into my arms, where I don’t keep a crumpled old t shirt that smells more of me than him under my pillow, where the shock of hearing certain songs doesn’t make me throw up. A reality where I don’t have to sit in front of his ashes every time I visit his mother and look at his singed necklace around her neck.

I wanted nothing more than to wake up. Just wake the fuck up and feel alive again because for so long I had felt this choking pain and grief and misery and then nothing.

Everything became an escape, something to fill that void in me. I tried all the healthy things. I ate, I worked out, I ran. I talked to people about how I felt and reached out, but nothing helped. I volunteered, i planted trees and flowers, I channeled my grief into kindness. I tried to take all this pain and turn it into something beautiful, and still I felt nothing. I was falling falling falling into this black pit and was reaching for anything to keep me from hitting the bottom.

So I started chasing highs. The standard shit at first. I drank so much alcohol that I’d wake up in bushes with my friends, limbs tangled in ways that left me sore and stinging for days because who the hell passes out in a Rose bush?

At first, drinking was fucking hell, because no matter how much I drank I’d always end up with my head cradled in the palms of my hands, fingers digging into my scalp as I screamed and wailed and asked why why why why when he was so close to coming home and why was life so goddamn mean??? I’d be in bar bathrooms, just curled in the corner and sobbing like a dramatic princess until my friends carried me out. This happened about a dozen times before it just stopped, because I figured I wasn’t drinking enough if I could remember everything.

So I drank more and more and more and then I realized that it wasn’t making me feel better, it wasn’t doing anything for me.

So I started smoking. Just weed, you know. Nothing too crazy at the time. But all that did was make me hyper-fixate on all of my failures and short comings. It made me hate myself so viscerally, so deeply that I wondered if this is who I truly am at my core. A mean bitch who drinks, smokes, parties. A maneater who fucks these poor kind hearted men to fill that hole her dead man left inside her and still finds herself cold and numb after because it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

I’m sure you know where this is going. But I hated myself. I’m a beautiful girl, I’m not blind, and yet I found myself to be so fucking ugly. So fucking ugly and grey and all I wanted—all I needed—was something to breathe life into me the way life itself did before.

I just wanted to feel happy and normal. Only for a little while. That need was so encompassing it would grip my insides and I’d cry from how much I wanted it, how much I had convinced myself I needed it. It was all I fucking wanted.

So the bumps came. And then the lines. And then whole baggies to myself. And it felt amazing, it was wonderful. The world was alive, things were different. I had more energy, more life in me than I had in months. Then the other type of lines came and it made me feel like I was floating away. There was no pain, no misery, no death hanging over my shoulder to remind me that the strength of your love can’t make people stay.

But soon, that too wasn’t enough. Like every other thing, I felt there was something better, something that could make me feel more. So here is where I tell you about all the pills I popped, all the different colored presses and how each one pulled me out of that hole I was falling into and deposited me above the ground —much higher than I could have ever dreamed of—and filled my grey world with beautiful gorgeous colors.

Then I can tell you about all the tabs I let dissolve on my tongue, or fully swallowed out of impatience, all of the lines of ketamine I combined with ecstasy and acid in one night. The things I saw, the way I felt—it took me far from this dismal life and was addicting. I was chasing something every weekend until it became every other day, chasing some feeling I still can’t name, and I knew that it was ruining me.

My grief and my drugs were killing me, and I knew it. With every cotton mouth, every clenched jaw, every pounding headache, I fucking knew and didn’t care. I’d look at my friends faces and I knew, I knew they loved me and would be devastated if they knew what I was doing, and I still didn’t care. What was life if it felt this empty?

My grades dropped, i turned down a contracting job I wanted for years, I spent all my money on psychedelics and stimulants, and it had gotten to a point where I’d pop a pill while sitting at home just because I didn’t want to be sober and didn’t want to think about how fucked up my life was becoming.

Then one day I was at a concert, high in the clouds with a joint settled comfortably between my lips and frizzy hair piled messily atop my head, when I saw a girl get carried out the venue by medics. She was probably a few years younger than I am, and i remember looking at her face impassively as they pushed through the crowd with her body thrown over this bear of a man’s shoulder as if in slow motion. She was pale and foaming at the mouth, with her arms dangling limply down his back, and she looked dead—she was dead. I knew in that same way you know that the sky is blue when the sun is up, I just knew.

And in that moment—those few seconds it took me to acknowledge that she had most likely overdosed and died—this intense yearning shot through me, so strong that I felt it in the crooks of my fucking elbows, like I wanted to embrace whatever the fuck it was that I desired to live inside me, and this voice cried out, “I wish that were me.”

And you know what, I didn’t even know I had spoken until the guy next to me shoved me in the shoulder and said, “no you don’t.”

And that terrified me. I remember dropping the joint, fumbling it in my shaking fingers, burning myself on the lit end, before handing it off to that same random guy and running off to get some air.

I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. I know I’m depressed, I know I’ve got issues, but I had never said something so suicidal out loud up until that point. I’ve never vocally wished for death and even as I sat there, as I looked out at the people outside the venue huddled together doing whip it’s and killing brain cells, I still wanted to be that poor dead girl on that man’s shoulders.

That was it for me. I remember calling an Uber home on the spot and taking everything I had and flushing it. Im not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you that it was easy. I had convinced myself that I needed these things to make me happy, and i don’t know if I can ever see life the same way after them. The feelings you get off these things are otherworldly, it’s so damn good, but they come at a price. You dont feel the same way you did before you took them, and you never will. You’ll never be who you were before that high, but you can almost convince yourself that it’s worth it. So it was pretty damn hard to take my neon presses, my rocks. my capsules, my bud and my tabs, and flush them down the toilet.

Almost immediately after I did it, I cried. Mostly because i had flushed hundreds of dollars down the fucking toilet, but also because I had become that girl in those cheesy college movies. You know the one, the one where the party girl gets addicted to drugs and goes on a bender and her whole life is just one big goddamn tragedy that won’t end. I hate those fucking movies and I, for the life of me, could not believe I was that girl.

I had been military, straight laced with a good head on my shoulders and a hard worker. I was smart, respected, the girl everyone wanted to bring home to mom. And now I was a hot mess crying in my bathroom because I had just flushed my addiction down the shitter.

Now I’m just home, trying to gather the pieces of myself in a way that doesn’t cause long term damage when I’ve yet to hit my 27th birthday.

I still go out with my friends. They know nothing about what I’ve done because I’ve always gone out and done things alone. This is the first time I’ve ever spilled my guts.

So where does FanFiction come into play in all this. Well, it’s simple, really, if you’ve gotten to this point and picked out all the mistakes in grammar. My brain is so fucked up that I can barely write a passable 3 page essay. I can’t remember words, much less how to string them together to form something beautiful in the way I used to. Trust me, it kills me and I’ve agonized over it for hours. I once tried to take this amazing idea I had and put it to paper but it would just not flow. Nothing made sense. Where before writing was effortless and focused, now my brain could barely concentrate on forming a sentence that didn’t sound like gibberish.

My attention span is so short that I literally have to isolate myself with no internet and my textbooks to get work done. It’s so bad that I have anxiety and panic attacks about the fact that I feel like a whole dumbass with one brain cell, where before I was proud of my intelligence and could hold decent conversation.

I’m still pretty, as if that fucking matters, but now I’ve got a stutter and can’t hold eye contact because my paranoia makes me think they’re judging me. And let me tell you, I’m so fucking pissed about that because I know it’s just my fried brain thinking these things, and there’s no one to blame but myself.

And I still feel empty and numb. How can I write about love and human emotions when I don’t feel anything? How can I write about looking at someone and loving them when the memory of love faded like my lover’s ashes in the wind? I just can’t.

I know love as it whispers against my skin with each interaction between me, friends, even other men, and yet I look at them and feel absolutely nothing.

So Yeah, I can’t write my stories if I can’t get my brain or my heart to work.

I’m really sorry to all my loyal readers. I really am. I wish I had been stronger. Thank you for all of your support throughout the years.

Don’t do drugs.

[temarisnara]

sannin

oh,,,,mess,,,,

jiraiya

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life   hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang |  hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff (points to meta on naruto’s post) best quality: oh boy. ok. without a doubt it’s his heart. i wanted to hate him, i did hate him, but i saw him with naruto. with tsunade. with the ame trio. how he never gave up on orochimaru. he loves deeply. he’s also like, such a lowkey caretaker because of it, and i’ve talked before about he’s the steady one when things go to shit. just, god!!! everything about his bonds with other people GETS to me. worst quality: HIS SEXUAL HARASSMENT OF WOMEN LMAO like GOD. there’s meta about how jiraiya uses sex to cope, about wanting intimacy but fearing loss, and THAT is fun. but kishimoto was like what if we make it a RUNNING GAG because jiraiya is so fucking horny!!! FUCK. ITS BAD. also, taking away shitty writing, this man is a goddamn sagittarius in the WORST way. he runs away from responsibility like no other! his refusal to accept the hat, the fact he CLEARLY avoided the village for 12 fucking years so he wouldn’t have to Deal with the fact he’s naruto’s godfather, HE JUST ABANDONED 3 FUCKING 12-13 YEAR OLDS IN A WARZONE AFTER BEING THEIR ONLY CAREGIVER FOR 3 YEARS WITHOUT EVEN ASKING IF THEY’D WANT TO COME BACK TO KONOHA WITH HIM????? JIRAIYA IM COMING FOR YOU   ship them with: tsunade and orochimaru are his SOULMATES brotp them with: tsnunade and orochimaru are his GOVERNMENT ASSIGNED BEST FRIENDS. also naruto, minato, and the ame trio. needs to stay away from: uhhhhhhhhhh genuinely anyone besides tsunade and orochimaru. no one deserves this disaster man. misc. thoughts: i’m So mad how much i love him. like it’s fine i’m a comics stan i’m used to picking and choosing which parts of canon i accept. but i truly lost a lot of self respect when i was forced to admit i stan jiraiya.

tsunade

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff best quality: her strength. like, obviously she’s physically a powerhouse, but emotionally she keeps getting knocked down and getting back up. and it’s like...not even a trait she acknowledges? i think because of her years of drifting, drinking away her pain, gambling to feel the adrenaline rush, she doesn’t consider herself emotionally strong,  but like. she lost dan, and nawaki. she lost orochimaru to his quest for power, she lost jiraiya to his worldly adventures. she did what she could to cope. and when she agreed to become hokage, she put all that on the back burner. when orochimaru died, she didn’t let herself feel it. when jiraiya died, she let herself breakdown privately, and then pulled herself back together. when pain attacked the  village, she kept everyone alive. she never buckled under her own grief, her own pain. she’s so fucking strong!!!!!  worst quality: god i WISH canon would show tsunade is JUST as messy and awful as jiraiya and orochimaru. like i saw someone going off about how it’s not fair to compare tsunade’s addiction to jiraiya’s horny bullshit or orochimarru’s literal war crimmes and that’s true! but it is fair to talk about how tsunade is an INSANE PERSON who trained a 12 year old child everyday until her bones broke and made her KEEP GOING WITH BROKEN BONES. like, i’m NOT LETTING THIS ONE GO TSUNADE!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! ship them with: jiraiya and orochimaru!!! brotp them with: jiraiya and orochimaru, sakura, shizuune, kakashi, naruto needs to stay away from: anyone besides jiraiya and orochimaru. like, technically, there’s nothing wrong with tsunade/dan, except it’s the most boring ship i’ve ever laid eyes on. misc. thoughts: she really is such a cool, well written, underutilized character lmao. i really wish we’d gotten more of tsunade’s complexity and messiness. 

orochimaru

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang (I AM TALKING STRICTLY BORUTO AND SANNIN ERA OROCHIMARU. OG NARUTO AND EVEN SHIPPUDEN NARUTO IS UGLY!!!) hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff best quality: none <3 i love orochimaru because he’s an incredibly complex character, not because he has good qualities! like if i had to name his best quality, it’s his love for mitsuki. orochimaru and mitsuki are the ONLY reason i acknowledge boruto because everything else is BAD. worst quality: LITERAL! WAR! CRIMINAL! ship them with: tsunade and jiraiya!! brotp them with: tsunade and jiraiya!!! i like fandom acting like he’s sasuke’s annoying godfather.  needs to stay away from: literally anyone besides the sannin. misc. thoughts: bro kishimoto dropped the BALL here. orochimaru is so fucking complex, there’s LAYERS here. like, we have this little war orphan, the last of his kind, who never learned or understood morality. but he had jiraiya and tsunade to guide him. he trusted them. they were loud, and annoying, but he trusted them. but war happened. war happened, and orochimaru led the mission nawaki died on. he stood and watched, unable to do anything, as dan bled out in tsunade’s arms. death surrounded him. he became desensitized to it, while also being terrified of it. the timeline is wonky, but in MY head jiraiya leaving was the start of orochimaru pulling away. he and tsunade didn’t talk as much those years. he became obsessed with forbidden jutsus. when jiraiya came back, orochimaru was willing to kill him so he and tsunade could get away. danzo started manipulating him, encouraging his desire for power and knowledge, his lack of morals.  neither tsunade or jiraiya noticed or reached out. hell, they might’ve already left at this point, which is also a blow for him- i truly think their abandonment hit orochimaru Hard. and the final blow came when sarutobi chose a CHILD over him to become hokage. he’d dedicated his life, he’d killed and bled for the village, and still it wasn’t enough, sarutobi still didn’t trust him, didn’t see him worthy. just. FUCK!!!!!!!!!!! OROCHIMARU IS SO INTERESTING AND ITS NEVER EXPLORED!!!!!!!!!!!!

[maple-keenes]

they wanted heaven from me, i gave ‘em hell

summary: heaven pays no attention to the actions of those in hell. roman isn't sure whether he's doing the right thing anymore, but he's certain of one thing - that his father isn't fit to be king. and he'll do whatever it takes to make sure that he won't be anymore.

pairing: logicality and prinxiety

tw: murder, death, discussion of murder and death, remus, deceit, morally grey deceit, weapons, criminalization of gay people, homophobia, cursing

wc: 5837

a/n: this took me THREE MONTHS to write and i am ashamed of how bad it turned out 

read it on ao3

general:

@analogical-chaos @theflatpancake @ilovemygaydad @alltimevirgilant @virgiliananxiety @romanticsanders @theincediblesulk @wroammin @creativity-killed-thekitten @bitchyybabyy400 @wooflesthatwoof @lyditist @heck-im-lost @max-is-tired @demurphart @thelowlysatsuma @land-of-dragons-and-frogs @theeternalspace @magicallygrimmwiccan @weirdsthenewnormal @romansleftshoulderpad

--

The king looked down coldly upon his son, who, despite being ordered to his death, was oddly cheery.

“Roman Delacour, you are nothing but an embarrassment and a traitor to this family. You and that… boy… have brought shame upon our kingdom and you tried to murder me, you wretched man.” The king turned up his nose, refusing to look at his son.

Roman smiled crookedly, glancing up at his father. “Daddy, please. Forget about the whole sodomite thing for five minutes, won’t you?” He laughed. “Personally, I find it ridiculous. I think the fact that I’m being executed should fall entirely on the arranged coup, not the boyfriend.”

“ENOUGH!” his father roared, gesturing for the executioner to slap his son. “You are shameful, boy.”

“I’m aware.”

The king wrinkled his nose. “I do not want to have this disgusting creature in my sight any longer! Take him to the dungeons."

Roman caught the eye of a regal man standing to his father’s left and winked. The executioner stood up, grabbing Roman by the arm and wrenching him away until they were out of sight, down in the hallway to the dungeons.

“You know, you didn’t have to actually slap me,” Roman remarked conversationally.

“It was part of the facade,” the executioner grumbled. “Now shut up or we’re gonna get caught.”

Roman grinned, walking side by side next to the executioner as they made their way to the dungeons. As they finally were out of anyone’s sight for certain, he shook off the loosely tied ropes binding his hands and pulled of the ‘executioner’s’ mask, giving his boyfriend a wry smile. “You’re clever, Virgil. I didn’t think you could pull off the executioner act.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You have no faith in me, my dearest prince.”

Roman kissed him deeply, wrapping himself around Virgil. “Oh, I’d have you on the dungeon floor if I could, Virge. Many thanks for rescuing me from a terrible fate.”

"Well, I couldn't just leave you to die, my darling."

about five months prior

"A toast!" the king cried, "to my dear son, Prince Roman. May your victories be plenty."

Roman beamed as his father and the rest of the court applauded. He stood up, raising his glass to the rest of the court, the ladies giggling and swooning as he smiled at each of them in turn. “Father, you honor me. I hope to bring great glory to this kingdom!” The crowd let out a raucous cheer, clapping and hollering for their beloved prince.

Oh, their beloved prince, the savior of the kingdom. An amazing title to have bestowed upon oneself, but Roman despised it. Oh, he despised it. He was trapped, caged in a life he didn’t want. His dad was a dictator, his mother was dead, and he was… he was Prince Roman. He was the symbol of hope for this twisted kingdom.

Late one summer evening, Roman saddled up his horse and rode out into the woods, the lantern swinging in front of him as he cantered through the forest. It was practically dark when he decided he should really start to head back, though his plans were interrupted by strong hands grabbing him around the waist and pulling him off his horse. Roman’s cries were muffled by a gag slyly placed around his mouth as the edges of his vision dulled and then everything…

Stayed vaguely in focus, because he wasn’t going to black out. Gotcha.

As he was dragged, his vision slid in and out of focus. Roman supposed that was on purpose, though he wouldn’t have been able to tell you where he was anyways. When they reached the hole that this hooligan was dragging him to, the prince was promptly tied to a chair and then, only then, did Roman realize that the hooligan currently in the process of binding is legs to the chair was unreasonably attractive. Oh, he had skin like a perfectly roasted coffee bean, and gorgeously tousled brown hair all pulled together with grey-blue eyes. Roman could fall right then and there.

Of course, he wouldn’t. Because he was a man, and therefore he would marry a woman, not a beautiful kidnapper. But oh god, those eyes…

What was the harm in flirting a little? Especially with a man who was certainly going to be executed once his father found him. The kingdom would never stand for its beloved prince being missing, and Roman would be grateful, even though his father could only truly be described, as the author would say, as a word that begins with a and ends with sshole. And tyrant. Murderer. Etcetera.

“I don’t suppose you’re only on your knees for my viewing pleasure?” Roman asked lazily, retaining that ridiculous confidence he’d become known for.

His captor looked up. “Oh honey, I only get down on my knees for attractive princes.”

Roman was quite put out by that. Never, in his life, had he been insulted and rejected so thoroughly in the same sentence. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why I’m bound hand and foot.”

“Nah,” his kidnapper replied, flashing him a cheeky smile. “I’m going to go fetch my friends. And then we’ll see about your fate.” He bit his lip, still laughing. “Personally, I was all for execution. My friends are less cold-hearted.”

“I don’t think I could ever see someone as attractive or humorous as you are as cold-hearted,” Roman remarked, grinning at his mysterious captor.

The man winked. “You’d be surprised.” With that, he turned and walked into a room off to the side, returning a minute later with his friends, Roman assumed.

One was taller than the other by quite a bit, sporting a royal blue bandana tied fashionably around his neck. Roman could have sworn he’d seen that face before, the pale skin contrasted against dark brown hair and dark freckles. The picture of regality in posture and poise, but a boyish face nonetheless.

The other was shorter, bouncy, and smiling. This was not a situation where one should be smiling, so he had to admit he was impressed. He has long curls… come to think of it, Roman was fairly certain he had also seen this young man before. God, he really needed to start paying attention to the servants’ names.

“So, my dearest prince, these are my friends. They will decide your fate.”

Tall glanced at him, annoyance and disdain evident. “You have far too much of that ridiculous flair for the dramatic in you.”

“Aww, I think it’s sweet,” Short cooed. “Hi, Prince Roman. I’m Patton, that’s Logan,” he pointed to Tall, “and your captor is Virgil. He’s kind of a... well, he’s a nice jerk, but we love him no matter what.”`

Roman gasped, attempting to point at Logan. "You! I know you! You work for my father!"

Logan nodded. "I am an advisor to the throne. Surely we've met before, prince."

"Once or twice. You are a spy, then?" he questioned.

"Certainly. The former duke - or king, now, I must call him, may trust me, but I know the man is a tyrant." Logan sighed. "I didn't mean to live a double life. I have been Remus' advisor since he was 25 years of age and I 18."

"So�� you're old, is what you're saying."

He let out a short, barking laugh. "What I'm saying is that I know your father very well. And his brother, when he was still alive."

Roman opened his mouth in protest, ready to call the older man out on his faulty memory, (his father never had a brother) when Virgil interrupted with a loud "Anyways. Life stories later, prince murdering now. Any last words, Roman?"

"Now hold on a minute -"

Patton placed a calming hand on Virgil's arm. "Virgil. He is not our enemy. Nor are we going to murder him for the actions of his father. The servants I meet are fond of Roman. He is kind to them when his father is not. And the court nobles… well, they know that he is different, if nothing else."

Realization dawned on him. "Patton… do I know you too?"

Patton gave him a small smile. "From a long time ago. It makes sense you would not recognize me, but nonetheless, I still think you are kind and I would much prefer you as an ally and friend than dead on our floor."

(It is months later that Roman finds out the truth about Patton. When the secret is revealed, Roman will think back to this moment and wonder how he missed it, because it was all in the eyes and he just wasn't looking hard enough.)

"So I'm outvoted?" Virgil asks, scoffing. "Fine. But he could still run off and go tell his father and we'd all be dead. We don't know him."

"I do," Logan and Patton chorused.

He shoots them a glare. "Well, I don't." Virgil walked over to Roman and poked him in the chest rather harshly. "How do we know you won't rat us out to Daddy?"

A million reasons ran through Roman's mind.

Because he's a horrible tyrant.

Because he starved thousands.

Because he treats his council and family like we are less than dirt in private, and as if we are gods in public.

Because he murdered my mother and he'll kill me too.

"Because he doesn't deserve the throne he sits on. No country deserves a land ruled by someone with no one's interests at heart but their own." Roman sighed. "And… because I hate him more than you do."

Virgil leaned back, seemingly satisfied with Roman's answer. "Well. I guess that's okay." He reached out his hand to Roman as a gesture of "I guess it's okay if I don't murder you today".

Roman took it. "Good to be a part of the team," he responded. "What do we do now?"

Virgil raised his eyebrows as a smile overtook his face. "Now you learn how to fight."

--

It was two days later when Roman returned to the place he'd met the other three, mumbling something or other about Virgil being a bitch and also unfairly attractive for such a bitch.

Virgil was already standing outside, twirling a dagger between his fingers and smirking at Roman. There was a straw doll set up a few yards away from the hole marking the entrance to the secret lair or whatever.

"Guess who finally showed up." Virgil sheathed his dagger. "Thought we agreed on 4?"

"Had to convince my guard not to follow me out," Roman said, dismounting from his horse (who had, luckily, wandered back to the castle after Roman was kidnapped).

He nodded, and Roman took that to mean that this was an acceptable excuse. "What'd you tell them?"

"That I had a hot date with a cute boy," he answered along with a wink.

Virgil turned bright red. "I - I can't - " he stuttered, before quickly regaining his confidence. "I feel sorry for the man. His company is quite unattractive."

Roman scowled. "I'm gorgeous, thank you. And I told them that I would like to hunt and i would prefer to do so alone. They were much more keen to believe that excuse than a woodland tryst with another man."

"Oh, I wonder why?" he muttered sarcastically, tossing Roman a plain dagger. "First lesson, close combat."

He held the dagger in his palm, studying it. "It's… well, frankly, Virge, this dagger is boring. And I already know how to fight!"

Virgil shot him an exasperated glare. "Firstly, defending your life or someone else's is not supposed to be a glamorous affair, Roman. Secondly," he continued, ticking them off on his fingers, "you know how to fight like a royal, which means you know how to fight sword fighting instructors and that's about it. And finally, don't call me Virge."

"Jesus, okay." Roman rolled his eyes. "Okay, master sword fighter, teach me your ways."

"No more snark outta you." Virgil grabbed Roman's hand amd balled it into a fist. "Is this the right way to make a fist?"

"Touchy, aren't we?"

"Stop talking and answer my question."

Roman sighed. "No, it isn't. I'll break my thumb if it's inside the fist."

"Correct," Virgil said, smiling. "You're not as useless as I thought."

"Thanks," he replied, annoyed, though he grinned back at Virgil.

Maybe this would be fun after all.

A month passed of combat training with Virgil, potion-making and medicine with Patton, keeping track of the king's movements with Logan, and planning. What for, he didn't know. But they sure as hell did a lot of it.

“So, Logan.”

"Roman."

Roman leaned back in his chair. “When we first met… you said that my father had a brother. And... I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I just - I've never even heard of an uncle."

Logan's face softened, just a little bit. "I suppose your father wouldn't have wanted you to know about him, no."

He went quiet for a bit, mindlessly flicking through their notes. "What was his name?" he asked, avoiding eye contact.

Logan glanced at him, then looked back down at his papers. “It was Damien.”

“Damien,” Roman repeated. “He was exiled when I was little. I never knew he was my uncle.”

“He was better than your father, but that’s sort of a low bar.” Logan chuckled a bit at his own joke. “Damien was… he wanted people to respect and admire him, and he wasn’t always great at telling the truth, but he was a decent man. You deserved to know him.”

Roman gasped in mock astonishment. “Logan… is this your way of saying that you liked someone?”

Logan glared at him. “I like some people plenty. Currently, you’re excluded from that minority.”

“Well, thanks for telling me about my uncle.” He shifted in his seat a bit, shutting the book in front of him. “It was nice of you. Now, on to more important topics, since you mention that you do, in fact, like people -”

“I would prefer to end this conversation here.”

“And I wanna talk about your love life, because we’re friends now and I want to. So, guess we don’t always get what we want.” Roman shrugged. “I remember one story about you at court that you weren’t married yet, and one of the ladies in Princess Madelyn’s kingdom - you know, the one about a thousand miles east from ours - was quite interested to learn this.” He winked, not subtley, as Logan rolled his eyes.

“Roman, I do not want to talk about this. Also, this is quite the change of topic. How long have you been waiting to ask me?” he said, decidedly looking anywhere except Roman.

Roman grinned. “Since I met you. Come on, I’m a prince. I never get to gossip with my friends!”

Logan shut his book and sighed. “Yet instead of talking to the other 20 year old, you come to the 35 year old advisor?”

“Well, I’m curious, Logan. To the rest of the court, it’s a big deal you’ve never been married because it's so uncommon -"

"Roman!" Logan exclaimed sharply. "As far as legality goes, I am not married, no. Is that good enough for you?"

He gasped. "Does that mean you're married illegally? Is it a princess from another kingdom? Or is it someone higher ranking than you and the court doesn’t approve of the marriage?” Roman continued to speculate as Logan slowly tried to open up his book and continue to read. It was a few minutes later that Roman noticed Logan had completely tuned him out and he began to pester Logan into telling him why he wasn’t married legally.

Logan, sensing that this conversation wasn’t going to end until he told him the truth, sighed and set his book down, saying, “It’s not a legal marriage because I’m married to a man, Roman. And as forward-thinking as the king claims to be, that marriage is not legally recognized in this kingdom. If you’re going to tell your father, remember that we’re all very good with a knife.”

“Oh my god, that’s so obvious!” Roman shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t guess that. You know, there was this prince from Valdovia who visited when I was like 17 and we ended up making out instead of going to the dinner -”

“It’s great that I don’t have to stab you, but for the love of all things, please stop talking.”

“Who’s your husband? Would I know him?”

He blushed. “Virgil! Come collect Roman, please!”

Logan refused to take any meetings with Roman for a few days after that.

Since it had been a couple months since Roman had joined their motley crew, Virgil and him had developed a rhythm to their day-to-day fighting. Most of the time, Virgil won, but Roman was starting to catch up. This particular time, it had been a couple days since Roman’s conversation with Logan, and he was just excited to see Virgil.

Neither man would ever admit (Virgil especially, since he maintained a steady cover of constant annoyance with Roman) that they looked forward to these daily lessons.

And they would never, ever admit that they looked forward to seeing each other.

They started off like this -

Strike.

Parr.

"So, did you know that Logan is married?" Roman asked.

Kick.

Block.

"Yeah? Him and Patton have been married for like, five years."

This caused a sufficient break in Roman's concentration, and Virgil was able to land a punch on his shoulder.

"You're kidding," he responded, regaining his balance and aiming a kick to Virgil' side.

"I'm not." He rolled his eyes, easily blocking the kick. "No more talking now."

Dodge.

Punch.

Roman got distracted enough watching Virgil fight that when Virgil kicked him next, he lost his balance and fell down, though not before he tried to grab onto his opponent’s arm to pull himself back up, which ultimately resulted in Virgil falling on top of Roman.

Virgil blushed, hard. “S-sorry -”

“I usually prefer my men under me, but this is nice…” Roman said, grinning.

“Don’t say things like that,” he mumbled.

Roman raised his head up and gave Virgil a quick kiss on the cheek. “There. End of conversation. We can get back to -”

The rest of his sentence was cut off by Virgil kissing him full on on the mouth. Roman grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, wrapping his leg around Virgil’s and that is when Patton walked out.

“Oh!” he exclaimed softly. “Er, boys -”

Virgil rolled off of Roman. “Sorry! We were just… um…”

Patton raised an eyebrow. “Making out on the forest floor?”

“Little bit, yeah.” Roman flushed. “We were fighting and things got a little bit out of hand.”

“You two are so cute!” he said, giggling. “Aw, I was rooting for you guys. I’m gonna go back inside now but just know that I totally approve and -”

“Patton!” Logan called from inside the hole. “Get back here, I need your help!”

And that was the end of that.

--

Two more months passed of holding hands under the table and kissing each other at the end of fights, of Logan’s stiff congratulations and Patton’s overwhelming acceptance, of training and planning and planning and training, when Logan gathered them all in the main room of the hole and announced formally that the time had come to murder Roman’s father.

“Really, huh? Five months of all this planning and it’s finally time to kill him?” Roman asked, trying to hide the panic slowly creeping into his voice.

Patton laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Roman, you know we’d never make you -”

“No,” he interrupted, voice hardening. “I - I apologize. It feels weird that thing we have been planning for some long has finally come to pass, and I guess it’s just a bit overwhelming for me.” Roman took a deep breath, collecting himself. “What’re we going to do?”

Virgil smirked, standing up. “I’m glad you asked, darling. It requires you to get arrested.”

“Arrested?”

Logan nodded. “We need you to try to kill him and get caught.”

“...why?” he asked.

“If someone were to kill the king, wouldn’t the first in line be the first to suspect? You can’t be there when he dies for real,” Patton explained. “And I can’t either, so when -”

Roman cut him off. “Why can’t you? They don’t know you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You still don’t know?”

“Save it for later, Patton. Now, I would also be highly suspect, but no one knows who Virgil is. Virgil is our lynchpin. Now, for the rest of it…”

Roman listened intently to his part of the plan (which involved getting caught, escaping, fighting some guards loyal to his father probably, and then being king. Simple, really, if you thought about it) but he was still hung up on Patton’s ‘you still don’t know?’.

Of course, Roman didn’t know a great many things. Roman didn’t know that he’s actually the fictional creativity of a 30 year old man from the year 2019 being written about by a teenager with nothing better to do. He didn’t know about Cup O’Noodles. He didn’t really know what exactly his relationship with Virgil was. Despite all this, the most important thing that Roman does not know is the identity of Patton, who is sitting to his left.

After the meeting, Roman cornered Patton and insisted they talk.

“I - you seemed confused when I asked why you would be suspicious. Why should I know you? Is this some great oversight on my part?���

“Well, a little bit, yes,” Patton said, leaning back against the wall. “You said you never met your uncle. I know for a fact that’s not true.”

Roman folded his arms across his chest. “Fine, so I met him once when I was three. Why do you - oh.”

He smiled a little bit. “Do you remember me now?”

“You - you’re my cousin! You’re Damien’s daughter!” Roman flinched. “Er, I’m sorry. You’re Damien’s son. That’s why - that’s why I knew you - I knew I had met you before! You were my favorite cousin!”

Patton was practically beaming now. “I really have missed you, you know. It was kind of weird, not telling you who I was. But I thought it was for the best…”

“So you are my cousin. Damien’s son,” Roman said, inclining his head towards Patton, who nodded briefly. “But… when I met you… you were a girl.”

“That’s all correct. My dad was never really one to hold me to gender conformity.”

“But my father - he doesn’t like your dad. And… Damien was supposed to be king but he convinced the court to banish him so he could be king, which happened when I was around three so you left with him when you were what, 15? Did I miss anything?”

Patton shook his head.

“And nobody told me this.”

“Apparently not,” he replied.

“I… I’m really sorry, Patton. I feel like I should’ve recognized you earlier,” Roman apologized.

Patton stepped forward and hugged Roman tightly. “Hey, none of that. You know me now. And you’re gonna be king, right? So my father and I will be allowed back into the kingdom.”

Roman smiled a bit and hugged him back. “I promise.”

A little while later, Roman was preparing to mount his horse and head back to the castle as Virgil approached him. Roman set his saddlebag down and turned to him, tilting his head in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

“I - no, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to ask you - before we go through with all of this…” Virgil trailed off, looking sheepish.

He placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “If this is about the fact that you’re going to have to kill my brother, then I promise I find that a much more attractive quality than you think.”

“It’s not, but duly noted,” he said, laughing a little. “Um, I wanted to ask if you would maybe want to be my boyfriend? I know our relationship is a little weird, and we might die in a couple days, but I -” he coughed, as if it was hard for him to get the words out, “I really like you. You’re the first person I’ve felt this close to ever.”

Roman smiled. “Did you just say something emotional? With no sarcasm at all? Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Virgil perked up, looking at Roman. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes, my love,” he responded, giving Virgil a chaste kiss. “Now, I have to get home before dinner, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Alright?”

“Alright.”

--

Dinner was uneventful. King Remus hadn’t deigned to join them, so Roman struck up a conversation with Logan, who had thankfully attended, about foreign policy or something.

It was when Roman was headed to bed that things got interesting, so to speak.

As he was putting his crown on its cushion, there came a knock at the door. “Come in,” Roman called, stepping back to be able to look at himself in the mirror.

“Roman, what are you doing?”

Roman whirled around to face Remus. “Father! I - I was just putting my crown away. It’s getting late, and I wanted to be rested for my hunt tomorrow.”

The king nodded. “I noticed you’ve been hunting a lot lately. Is there a particular animal you’ve found hard to catch?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you must know, Remus, there is a deer who is being quite stubborn,” Roman lied. “I had a query for you…”

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath. “There was a man with a daughter that visited when I was very little. Who was that?”

Remus blanched. “I - I cannot tell you.”

“Do you not recall?” Roman pressed.

“It’s not important, Roman,” he snapped. “Come on, get to bed. I will see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow passed in planning, planning, and more planning. Roman was set to fake the attempt on his father’s life tonight, and Virgil to rescue him by posing as the executioner. Logan had access to the dungeons, so he would meet them down there with Patton after the king had died for real, and they would escape from there.

So when nighttime fell, Roman tucked a knife into his clothes and went to the king’s room. However, when he approached, he heard voices from inside… one his father’s, and one that he remembered from a long time ago.

“I refuse to let you come back. There’s no fun in being king if your dumb old brother is here too.”

Roman stifled a gasp with his free hand. Damien.

“I’m not the dumb brother! You’re the one running this kingdom into the ground!”

His father harrumphed. “I’m leaving, and you best not be here when I get back.”

Roman reached for his knife as the door swung open and he was face to face with his father.

“Roman?” Remus’s eyes flicked down to the knife clutched in his son’s hand. “Well, I figured you were plotting something. Shame it’s gone so badly for you,” he said, feigning pity.

“Father, I -”

Damien walked over to the door, leaning against the frame. “You know, Remus, I always liked your son better than you. I can’t blame him much.”

“Brother, get out of here. Guards, take my son to the dungeons.”

The exiled king’s eyes glittered. “Oh, I will. Roman, do say hello to Patton for me. He hasn’t stopped by in a while. And congratulations on finally getting together with your boyfriend, Patton was quite excited about it the last time we talked.”

Remus turned to Roman, his curiosity overwhelming his fury. “Your boyfriend?”

Roman held his chin high. “Yes, my boyfriend.”

“Well, I guess you’re to be tried for two things tomorrow. Guards!”

At noon the next day, a guard Roman didn’t recognize dragged Roman out into the Great Room, and he was forced to kneel in front of his father and the rest of the court.

“Behold!” Remus cried, “My horrid son!”

You know what happens next.

Roman didn’t seem to mind one bit that he was about to be executed. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

“Roman Delacour, you are nothing but an embarrassment and a traitor to this family. You and that… boy… have brought shame upon our kingdom and you tried to murder me, you wretched boy.” His father turned up his nose, refusing to look at his son.

Roman smiled crookedly, glancing up at his father. “Daddy, please. Forget about the whole sodomite thing for five minutes, won’t you?” He laughed. “Personally, I find it ridiculous. I think the fact that I’m being executed should fall entirely on the arranged coup, not the boyfriend.”

“ENOUGH!” Remus roared, gesturing for the executioner to slap his son. “You are shameful, boy.” The flicker in Roman’s father’s eyes suggested that while Remus appeared furious, he was actually quite enjoying this.

“I’m aware.”

The king wrinkled his nose. “I do not want to have this disgusting creature in my sight any longer! Take him to the dungeons."

Roman caught the eye of a regal man standing to his father’s left and winked. Damien raised an eyebrow in response. The executioner stood up, grabbing Roman by the arm and wrenching him away until they were out of sight, down in the hallway to the dungeons.

“You know, you didn’t have to actually slap me,” Roman remarked conversationally.

“It was part of the facade,” Virgil grumbled. “Now shut up or we’re gonna get caught.”

Roman grinned, walking side by side next to the executioner as they made their way to the dungeons. As they finally were out of anyone’s sight for certain, he shook off the loosely tied ropes binding his hands and pulled of the ‘executioner’s’ mask, giving his boyfriend a wry smile. “You’re clever, Virgil. I didn’t think you could pull off the executioner act.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You have no faith in me, my dearest prince.”

Roman kissed him deeply, wrapping himself around Virgil. “Oh, I’d have you on the dungeon floor if I could, Virge. Many thanks for rescuing me from a terrible fate.”

"Well, I couldn't just leave you to die, my darling."

Roman giggled. “Okay, handcuffs.”

“Kinky,” he mumbled as he locked Roman into the cuffs, pocketed the key, and put him in the cell. “Now, I’ll be back in about 12 hours and we’ll kick some guard ass.”

“Bye bye.”

Roman wasn’t entirely certain of how long 12 hours was, but one thing he was now sure of was that it was a lot longer than he had previously thought.

By the time the sun rose the next day, Roman was starting to wonder what had happened to Virgil. He hoped that he wasn’t caught or worse, dead, but he couldn’t be sure -

His thoughts were interrupted by Virgil rushing in as if on cue and dragging Roman out of the cell, unlocking his cuffs on the way. “You run to the fight! I have to get out of here before they catch me.” Virgil pulled him in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you when you’re king, Roman.”

Roman followed Virgil’s instructions and ran towards where he could hear the yelling, keeping his head down as he barrelled through the corridors. When he reached the front lawn of the castle, he saw a million flashes of silver as supporters of his father fought those who opposed him. He saw Patton battling a couple of guards and Logan punching another nobleman in the face, and Roman bit his lip and flew into action.

Strike.

Parr.

Keep your thumb inside your fist, Virgil’s voice reminded him.

Kick.

Block.

You’ve got this.

Dodge.

Punch.

Find your rhythm.

He was getting tired now, and the fight seemed like it was never going to end. As a last ditch resort, Roman cried, “Am I not the king?”, attempting to get everyone’s attention. A couple of people nearby turned their heads, so he continued to talk. “You think you know my father but you don’t! He was a madman!”

“He knew what was best for us!”

“He wanted what was best for him!” Roman snapped. “Remus starved hundreds so he could torture more! He murdered the queen! He is not your king, my people.” He took a deep breath and yelled, “I am your king! And I command you to stop this right now!”

The field fell silent, and Roman made his way through the battlefield. Some of the court he had known best were staring at him with hatred in their eyes he had never seen before. Still, he held his head high and kept walking.

“You know my father as the man who brought you peace after Damien was exiled! You know him as our fearless leader!” Roman yelled, walking through the throngs of people. “But he never knew you. Remus never cared about you!”

“And you do?”

Roman started, a bit taken aback. “I -”

Did he?

“Of course I do,” he said, softer. “I don’t want people to fear me. I want you to respect me. I’m young. I have more time to learn. I won’t be perfect, but I will be better than a man who only wanted the throne to take it from his brother.”

There was a soft murmuring among the people in the crowd, and then a voice called out, “All hail King Roman!”

“King Roman!”

Roman smiled to himself. We did it, guys.

epilogue

“A toast,” the king said, “to the birth of the heir to the throne!”

The rest of the court cheered, the king’s most favored advisor the loudest of them all.

Roman smiled and set down his drink. The child him and his husband had decided to adopt had just been born, and so called for a celebration.

It had been about ten years since the death of his father, and though some people were reluctant to accept Roman at first, he had quickly become favored by the public. (Especially after the legalization of gay marriage and increase in civil rights.)

He walked around, mingling with a few of the guests until he reached his cousin and Patton hugged him as tightly as possible, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” he cried, and Roman laughed.

“Thanks, Pat. I’m sure you will absolutely be his favorite uncle.” He smiled. “I promise Virgil is around here somewhere…”

“Right here, darling,” the man in question said, putting an arm around Roman’s waist. “Hey, Pat. Hey, Logan.”

Logan nodded. “Prince Virgil.”

Virgil stuck out his tongue at him, and Roman laughed. “Love, he’s just being formal.”

And so Dukes Patton and Logan, Prince Virgil, and King Roman, talked together and laughed together, and not a single one thought about what had happened ten years ago.

After all, those in heaven pay no mind to those in hell.

[flos-timore]

Send me a  🥃 + a question for my muse to answer. If they refuse to answer, they have to take a shot // Still Accepting!

Anonymous asked : 🥃 Habit, here's a hypothetical question for you. If your Habitat started to go way downhill, but wasn't a lost cause yet, and you had to resort to more extreme and harmful measures to keep your Habiticians in line, what wouldn't you do?

At once, almost on instinct, Habit feels his breath hitch. Was it possible for air to get caught in somebody’s chest? Well, the question hadn’t even been fully processed before everything decided to lock up, on him. 

‘Why was that?’, he wondered briefly. Uselessly. In fact, he wasn’t even sure WHY he’d bothered to let himself pull the wool over his own eyes; if even for only a second. He KNEW exactly why his hands balled up into fists, exactly why dread was solidifying in his stomach. 

And yet... he had to glance away, towards the balcony. It was just natural, really, whenever anybody mentioned the Habiticians while he happened to be in his office. 

Or. Well. 

‘His’ Habiticians, as they had so eloquently put it. 

The thought made him laugh. He forced himself to hate that fact.

Keeping the smile held tightly on his face, out of a necessity that he hadn’t even realized WAS a necessity, he took a moment to steel himself before walking over to where his line of sight drew him. 

His heels clicked along the floor- an unwelcome change to the encompassing silence from just moments before.

--- “Hmmmmm.... You kno... That”s a “Good” question! Where 2 start with that...” 

Content warning: Brief suicidal ideation, blood, and mentions of murder/corpses under the cut.

Heights had never been a problem for him. He never even really considered them enough for them to BECOME any sort of issue. While he could understand where the fear came from, for some people, so long as he knew the ground he stood on was relatively sturdy, he could be as high as the clouds and not have any cares in the world. 

... Which is why he was confused when he came to a brief pause as he neared the balcony’s edge. Something about the location had begun to set him off, lately.. 

Perhaps it was the finality that such a fall would be responsible for. To say that he’d never considered jumping would be a lie, but- 

He was quick to shake his head- push those thoughts away. Those were for another life. Not this one. 

Habit “easily” (why couldn’t it be easy?) settled himself on the railing, eyes trailing down to the fairground below. 

--- “What WOULDN”T I do, u said..?” 

Maybe he’s stalling, maybe he’s not. You have no proof, as far as he’s concerned. 

--- “Well...” He leans down further, practically resting his head on the cold metal. Although his attention darts around as he observes the day’s activity, he registers next to none of it. 

--- “I suppose I wouldn’t wamnt them 2 think I”m trying two hard. Peeple tend to “Talk”, U see. Nothing like barb-ed wire or anythign sillie like That. The Habi-Tat is notn’t a Prison.” 

Isn’t it? 

--- “Perhapbs the “Curfew” wuld need to be much earlier..? I woould need to be patrolling more oftn than usual, that is 4 certain. Surve-a-lance would be “Upped”, also, of cuorse, but I thimnk I wouldn”t need to be TOO mean...” 

--- “Even if the Habiticians TRIED to eskape, th Carlas would handel everything!” 

Right. The machines he’d created to do his dirty work for him, because Heaven knows that if he had to be the one to subdue fleeing Habiticians, he wouldn’t stand much of a chance. 

And not because he worried that he wouldn’t be strong enough! Really, if THAT was the only concern, he needed to only let himself forget just where he was putting his hands, and, well- 

No. He disliked having to use brute force- especially when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Call him what you’d like. He can guarantee that none of it would be too far off the mark. 

What the Carlas lacked in speed and intelligence, they made up for in numbers. The ones always actively present on the grounds were FAR from the only ones in The Habitat. 

Even though this situation was only hypothetical, Habit felt himself smirk, nonetheless; oddly proud of his own genius and security. Normally any talk of unrest among his “guests” sent him into a panic. He just simply would not have it! 

Not in HIS domain. HIS creation. If something isn’t working, then!!! He’ll FIX it, and move on!! 

But... ah... He had yet to really adequately answer the question at hand... Right..? 

--- “..... I”m...” 

Something felt- unfinished, here. Did he have more to truly SAY on the matter? 

The sounds of Martha were louder than he remembered. He rationalized the reason behind that being his close proximity to her, as anybody would. 

It just didn’t make them any less overwhelming, at the moment. 

--- “I... don’t think violence is.. nece-ssary.. to maintain the “Peace”, I mean. The way that Im running things right now is good. Yes??” 

Habit allows a brief lull to enter the “conversation”- just out of politeness. When no answer comes to his question, he can’t but to feel foolishly disheartened. 

Only a little bit, though. Just a teeny tiny bit. 

--- “I know this is only a “what if”- I get that. But the question is ridic-u-lous, 2 begin with!1!! Absurd!!!11! This groo-some scenariio will NEVER come two be!! So!!!! Why WORRIE about it!!!!” 

And that’s where he INTENDED to quit talking. Honestly, he did. With every second that passed, he could feel the dam begin to break. 

No, the topic itself didn’t bring him ANXIETY, per-say.... 

... but he WASN’T letting his thoughts lead to their obvious conclusion. That was the missing puzzle piece. That was the reason behind his sweaty palms and urge to be sick. 

Habit was good at blocking out all of the unpleasant things about life. Sure, they almost always inevitably resurfaced, anyway, but the goal was never to be rid of them for good. 

Merely to stall. Always to stall. 

But that’s NOT what he’s doing, right now! Because there IS nothing more to discuss!! Nothing! Nada! Zilch! 

--- “...” 

He hadn’t noticed how tight his grip on the railing had gotten- had barely registered the tension in his shoulders as he leaned further. Further... JUST so he could look down, better. That’s all. 

The daily lives of the Habiticians meant little to nothing to him. He was able to seamlessly gloss over Punching Girl as she pretended to, predictably, fight something. Or someone. He completely ignored Broccoli Child- nearly rolling his eyes at a less than pleasant memory regarding the trash he once tried to sell to him. 

Nearly.

He hurried to turn away, to head back inside. He knew that if he lingered for any longer that the incessant WHINING of a certain resident would start back up, again. Perhaps it already had and he’d merely gotten beyond used to it. 

Great. Cool. Love that.

--- “I THINK yuo are under-estimnating the work I”ve put into Thee Habitat. I know verie well how 2 control MY Habiticians, and if push comes two shove, I”m SURE I could-” 

--- “........ I... could........ .................. ah...” 

Something about his wording froze him in his tracks. He would’ve clamped his jaw shut if he had the gall to; would have bitten his tongue just to keep any more comments on the matter to himself. 

The smile from before never once left his face. He disliked how heavy it felt- disliked the fact that he apparently felt the need to keep falling back into the hole he was so DESPERATELY trying to clamber back out of. 

He’d said all he needed to say. He’d done his part! 

Habit lowers his head, back turned to the outside world. A chill seeping into the room reminded him that he’d forgotten to close the door. He normally wouldn’t care about such a minute detail, but- 

One quick glance towards the “operating room” is all he needs to change his mind. It’s bad ENOUGH that he’s allowing himself to become so overly fixated on everything that could go WRONG, and not go RIGHT!! Nobody else needs to accidentally overhear something they shouldn’t. 

Hand shaking (shaking??), he pulls it away from the glass; job done, and steps unsteady as he attempts to backtrack. Literally. 

Habit whirls back around, action abrupt as he gradually loses his initial train of thought. His breaths are a bit labored, like he’d just been running, somehow, and he wants to fix that. He wants, more than anything, to fix this entire situation. 

Pathetic. One simple hypothetical had sent him into such a state?? Disgusting. 

If he couldn’t handle the fire, then he shouldn’t have walked directly into the flames. He had what it took to run The Habitat. He took every precaution necessary. 

‘If your Habitat started to go way downhill, but wasn't a lost cause yet, and you had to resort to more extreme and harmful measures to keep your Habiticians in line, what wouldn't you do?’ 

‘What WOULDN’T he do?’ 

--- “. . . If. . . push comes to SHOVE. . .” 

He changes trajectory. Wandering around aimlessly certainly wouldn’t help anything, and suddenly, he feels very much so like cleaning something is in order. How often did he do that, anyway? 

Not often enough, he decided, eyeing the grotesque red splotches.... just about everywhere he thought to look. On the chair, some on the floor-

HOW did he manage to get blood on the walls??? 

Habit reaches forward to grab the nearby mirror on the tray, having already pulled a cloth from one of his pockets. Yes, a cleaning day was definitely in order. A dirty workplace leads to a dirty outlook on life. 

No wonder he’s so stressed. 

--- “... Well,” he shrugs, “who is 2 say that there will bee any Habiticians TO keep in line?” 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he doesn’t find any relief in them, whatsoever. So he continues. 

--- “Let me elab-or-ate. CORPSES have teeth. Right?” 

He turns his head, then; absently searching for the spray bottle he swore he had sitting on the counter. 

--- “Who cares if “The Big Event” is SKIPPED, all-2-gether? I would not be above that. No “waitiing” and no “gettiing their hopes up” 4 something that was falsely advertized.” 

--- “So,” ah, there it is, “to answer you”r question:” 

--- “Nothing!11!!! There are absolootely NO lengths that I womn”t go in order 2 enshure that I gather More Teeth!!1!! So WHAT if I need to “take out thee trash” all at once?? So WHAT if I “accidentally” get the dosage wrong? They will bee happily and giggily, and then....” 

--- “......... they will not.”

“Sick” doesn’t even begin to cover how he feels, right about now. Does he sound casual while discussing this? How is he coming off as while he so flippantly talks about murder? 

Cowardly? Psychopathic? ... Terrifying? 

Is he terrifying? He must be. There’s no other explanation, in his mind. 

--- “No skin off MY back!! At leest CORPSES do not cry!!” 

Habit twirls back around to the counter where he’d grabbed the spray bottle, content smile betraying him as he gently sets it back where he found it. 

--- “At leest CORPSES do not struggle!! When they FIN-A-LLY stop moviing, they cann”t tell me: “Yuou womn”t get awaY with THis!!!1!”. They can’t skream and run- they can”t do any-thing At All!1!!!” 

And that’s the beauty of it. Or, at least, it SHOULD be. 

--- “Once they set “Foot” into The Habitat, it isn”t like theyre Going 2 bee LEAVINGG it, anyway!! I”mmn not beeing CRUEL!!! What I do- it’s BRILL-I-ANT!! So WHY should I feel BAD??!?!?!” 

Why, indeed?? Yes, WHY should he feel bad about cracking a few chickens to make a brand new healthy egg? What is the harm in it? 

Nonexistent, as far as HE can tell! 

--- “Thee answer is: I shouldn”t, annd I don’t! I hope thiss conversatioon was en-lit-ening 4 U! :-)” 

So... there. He’s done. It’s over. Rant over. He- He’s said his share. Had his fill. 

Of course, NOW he’s gone and gotten himself all riled up. Who knows how long it’ll take him to calm back down? Once he allows that little box in the back of his mind to open, this always happens. 

Why do you think he’s so keen on keeping it nice and SHUT? 

Autopilot becomes comforting after the hundredth time you shift into it. Habit continues about his business, cleaning the operating room while humming a jovial tune to himself. 

The fact that he stumbles in his steps every now and then is unimportant. His pounding heart barely matters. 

So long as he’s smiling, it’s IMPOSSIBLE to be upset! 

Maybe if he believes that hard enough, it’ll be true. 

[goddamnmuses-a]

Dan Watches: Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back

I’ve done this for these Episodes so far:  Episode I Episode II Episode III Episode IV So here’s the one for Episode V:

Gotta love Remote probes. 

Star Wars has the best ships. 

Tauntuns make weird ass noises. 

How do those binocs work, they have one eye hole on the one side but when he looks through them it’s two.. magic.

Damn Luke you just got jumped. The force is with you, how’d you let that happen?

Engineer Chewie.. I approve. 

Was that a white C3PO

Okay so Han is leaving to pay off his bounty which is fair and Leia is like PFFT FUCK YOU! STAY! Alright lady, chill, maybe just let him go pay off his bounty and then ask him to come back when he has? 

Also lbh he’s only leaving because he’s a big sap and in love with Leia but she’s not giving any love his way. 

Han just covering C3PO′s mouth is glorious.

Also sometimes i question if its PO or P0 but im pretty sure it’s PO.

Tauntans are kinda cute. 

Why does it hang Luke? Like... what? 

Truly a scary yeti thing, i cant remember the name... Wampa?

Force pulling the lightsaber, iconic. 

First time a lightsabers been shown to cauterize the wound? I think? Maybe?

Chewie being upset about Han not coming back truly is the greatest sad moment. 

More focus should be on bro friendships than love interests. 

Ben doesnt even doubt for a second that Lukes gonna die. He’s just like “Luke, I know you’re cold but you’re gonna go to Degobah and you’re gonna meet Yoda and he’s gonna be a crazy little guy but its gonna be sweet.”

Also “The Jedi master who instructed me” makes it sound like Obiwan is Yoda’s padawan but i guess he’s just referring to how Yoda just instructs all the younglings and jedi and stuff. 

Why the fuck did that Tauntaun just die? 

Ew guts. 

Man these speeders bring me back to the games and taking down the walkers and nostalgia goodness. 

Good Job Rogue 2. The true hero of Star Wars. 

Cool Bacta tank.

Chewbacca looks good. Like the effects on how he looks for the time, impressive. 

Uh oh. I know this scene. 

Incest, it’s in all your favourite media, Game of thrones? Check. Star Wars? Check. Back to the Future? Pretty much check. 

Luke looks so happy he made out with his sister. 

Das one big boi ship. 

Darth vader doesnt even need to look at the camera to be intimidating. 

The fact they explain why they don’t just bombard Hoth is brilliant.

Luke still has that boner from kissing Leia. 

Man the cable scenes good stuff. 

Why dont the walkers just shoot at the generator instead of walking all the way over to it? 

It’s crazy how much of this film is Hoth. 

There goes the power generator.

Did C3PO just do a turn to camera?

Hoth has like 3 moons just casually no biggy. 

I like that R2 basically texts Luke. 

Asteroids never seem as deadly as people make them out to be. 

I kind of want Degobah to be one of the planets you go to in Fallen Order 2. More so for what cool lifeforms could be there and the cool enviroment than to actually see Yoda. 

Good thing R2 can swim. 

Leia asking to be let go of.. this whole things a bit.. yikes. 

Cool a Snake. 

YAY YODA

That Ration box looks interesting, you can actually buy it at Galaxies Edge which is insane.

Yoda is such a little shit. 

I keep doing this thing where i watch and then go “Oh shit I haven’t made a comment in a while” guess that just shows that its good. 

Holy shit that hologram dude just died. 

WHAT IS THY BIDDING MY MASTER. It’s a disaster skywalker we’re after! .. Anyone? Just me? okay. 

You know what if you didn’t get wtf that last this was.. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ij4w7ChpuaM

“Was I any different when you taught me?” Well.. yeah yeah you were Obiwan. .. Unless we need a prequel to the prequels. 

He’s been training Jedi for 800 years? Does that check out? 

That bat thing is cursed. 

Mynocks can gtfo with their gaping anus mouth.

I think Yoda helps cause the vision in the cave. 

Casual Komodo Dragon. 

Bossk you sexy son of a gun. 

I played Star Wars Galaxies ages ago as a Trandoshan Jedi. 

Yo Mark Hamill is sexy. No homo. 

Do or Do not there is no try. Cool line.. not a very good lesson to teach kids. 

Yoda is the best. 

Being an Imperial is dangerous you never get fired, just killed. 

How did nobody notice the Falcon get there? 

I love that they just turned C3PO off. 

Also how come Han and Leia haven’t questioned whether Luke is okay or not at all. 

Lando could be a system if he wanted to be, don’t hold him back. 

Casual look into the future, shame no Jedi saw Order 66 coming. Well i’m sure some did but like.. not enough to do shit about it. 

Cloud City is pretty looking. 

Landos the best. 

Donald Glover was such good casting for young Lando. 

Not even other C3 units like C3PO

RIP C3PO

These Ugnauts are little shits. 

Okay I can accept a lot but how the fuck did Vader just block blaster fire with his hand, c’mon. 

Lando’s rude but tbf i get why he did it.

Un-RIP C3PO

How come he’s just in Chewie’s cell?  I know theres a comic where Vader recognises C3PO but.. why put his parts with Chewie? 

Torture in Star Wars is always electricity. 

Awwwh Han and Leia moment. I know. 

C3PO is actually the worst. 

Freezing in Carbonite is such a cool idea. 

I forgot they only freeze Han because they want to freeze Luke. 

How did Luke get onto Cloud City with no issue?

Lobots cool. 

Leia just stole Ackbar’s line!

I love that Jedi just seem to be able to feel the force and how strong people are with it I want a scene where a jedi is like “OH SHIT YOU GOTTA FUCK TON OF FORCE!”

Chewie. Let him go you eejit.

R2 just casually rolling around and bumps into them. 

Holy shit that Vader glide, majestic. 

WTF was that jump

Luke just knocked Vader down and i cant believe that. 

Why does this place look like the Death Star. 

Man Leia is hot. 

That surprise Darth Vader attack

We’re at the location of the reveal. 

Man Vaders not as good at fighting as any other Star Wars media makes him seem. 

The reveal! 

Fun fact: He doesn’t say “Luke, I am your father” 

Vader is just like “Oh ffs” when Luke falls. 

Anddd here we see that Leia also has the force. 

Man Luke looks like shit. 

I like that Vader actually cares about Luke and it’s shown. 

So that was a pretty good film, it’s not a complete story which is always bold for a sequel to do because you never 

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP.4

Last time on Beverly Hills 90210!

Hibiki begins to understand the true nature of the Sam Reimi Spiderman trilogy as she lives the life of a superhero by night and a normal student by day in the most miserable way possible. Constant cockblocking from the duties she explicitly chose to do distance her from her significant other Miku, as it drives wedges into their friendlationship. As Hibiki breaks off a plan prepped weeks in advance to see rocks fall from the sky, she takes out her frustration on the local Kamen Rider villian rejects before coming up to see Tsubasa, only to be greeted by a new face...

Let us continue!

As the situation tenses between the three gi- hey! Hey, wait a minute! This is a flashback! That’s no fair. You’re just going to throw this to us while we’re trying to do this stuff? Get it together, show.

The show hauls our asses to a flashback, because God knows we needed one right now. It’s not just any flashback, though. It’s a flashback of our favorite redhead, Kanade!

In a straightjacket.

While everyone is staring.

“i dont usually do this but you’ve got a bad case of catch-these-handsitis”

“oh god, she’s so wild, and angry... i... why am i hoping she’s single...?”

“aye. this is the fate of all rabiosexuals out there.”

Kanade is tied down because she’s the sole survivor of a Noise attack, and more importantly, she really, really wants to fight the Noise. What she doesn’t know is that she is potentially a new candidate for a Symphogear relic.

“oh... we’d pair so well... our colors are diametrically opposed...”

“GIMMIE A FUCKING GUN AND A TEN PIECE CHICKEN MCNUGGET MEAL YOU GUY FIERI LOOKING ASSHOLE”

Genjuro, who suffers from Compulsive Child Adopting Syndrome (CCAS), immediately comes to the conclusion to adopt this tiny gremlin. It helps that her parents are, well, dead.

Fatherly instincts vibrating intensely.

Genjuro talks to this small child, who is currently 99% anger and 1% chicken fluff, scanning their conviction towards working to the goal of fighting the Noise.

In retrospect, his methods are a bit weird. Feeding into the extreme edginess of a 14 year old scorned isn’t exactly the best thing in the world. Unfortunately, as we established before, the only thing that can fight Noise are Symphogear, and the only reason he’s not in the front lines is because he can’t wield one.

Kanade naturally obliges this deal, her braincells having long since perished alongside her parents. Then Perish indeed, Kanade.

“buddy im being trained as a samurai in modern times and i still could not fathom going as hard as you”

The pact is sealed. The child is adopted. Genjuro’s adoption addiction relapses, and he’s going to have quite a long talk at AA (Adopters Anonymous).

The thing about Genjuro that makes him an interesting character is that he actually really, really, really hates the idea of having to pit children in fighting these horrible threats. Unlike a lot of male characters who have a strong sense of manliness but a poorly written way of expressing it, Genjuro manages to be a compassionate person in the face of all this terribleness. He’s the only person to think about throwing parties for these girls, and trying to give them any sort of sense of happiness and normalcy to their lives, now changed forever by machinations he has been put in charge of. He’s the Anti-Gendo. He doesn’t tell Shinji to get in the robot. He makes sure Shinji is well enough to be in the robot, and would never do so otherwise, knowing the mental toll.

That’s why ultimately, he is The Dad.

So, with that in mind, they prep Kanade to recieve the relic assigned to her. One of the major elements of using relics is compatibility. Kanade is not naturally compatible to Gungnir; they have to slowly ease her into it.

“mumble mumble cant wait to kick their asses mumble mumble”

This is a process that takes years. The show doesn’t do well in showing this, but it takes many, many years for her to be compatible after endless medical examinations and controlled situations.

The experiments, naturally, hurt like a bitch to boot.

“genjuro she’ll be okay, right?”

“flip a coin on it, tsubasa”

“oh shit yall see this news? pornhubs gonna buy tumblr! damn, i can make an all in one profile now.”

When you’re forced to watch your newly adopted daughter torture herself to be compatible with an ancient, musty cursed relic.

After all that, Kanade still isn’t compatible. Of course, nothing is simple with Kanade. You may ask yourself, “Why did Genjuro have to tie up Kanade in a straitjacket? That seems pretty abusive.”

Simply put, it’s because Kanade has never fucked around in any second of her life, having taken off all the devices on her, taken a direct syringe of the stuff she’s trying to synchronize with, and directly inject it into her, herself.

Fear.

“i am so SICK, and TIRED, of all this namby pamby wimpy ass standard shit. YALL MOTHERFUCKERS THINK I WONT GO FULL THROTTLE?! MY LIFE IS FULL THROTTLE. I! AM! GONNA! GET! SHIT! DONE! TONIGHT! BOYYYYS!”

Tsubasa, likely already going through puberty by this point, simultaneously understands both the concepts of fear and arousal witnessing this near suicidal display of absolute madness immediately.

Holy shit, Kanade.

You know shit’s bad when even Ryoko is afraid.

Turns out, however, that Kanade did the right move in becoming compatible with Gungnir, at a very physically demanding price.

Really, physically demanding.

“shouldnt have had that massive spaghetti carbonara before doing all this shit but fuck i really liked that fuckin’ spaghetti slorp slorp go the sauce ooooooooh god this is bad”

“HAHA IM FINE- IM FINE EVERYONE- THIS- THIS IS JUST THE SPAGHETTI- I HAD BEFORE THE- BEFORE THE PROCEDURE IT’S NOT- IT’S NOT BLOOD I SWEAR- OH I AM FEELING LIGHTHEADED- DON’T WORRY YOUR PRETTY HEADS IM GOOD! OH- OH FUCK-”

The scientists, who have been easily staring at this entire situation for more than 5 minutes or more, have not stepped in to do a single damn thing, as if overpowering a 14 year old to stop her from injecting a dangerous thing that could directly kill her is completely out of their paygrade. Genjuro wakes them the fuck up and likely briefly contemplates firing some of these morons.

“so this is what’s called... getting lost in the sauce...”

The scientists scramble to keep Kanade from vomiting more marinara sauce but Kanade exerts but a mere fraction of her now developing Symphogear abilities, knocking them all out with ease.

“this is some shit right here, damn”

Kanade pulls some Independence Day theatrics on everyone, as a 14 year old on the verge of death typically would if given the opportunity. Death may be certain but you at least get to go out in style. Will Smith would be proud.

The half-life of Tsubasa’s fearousal reached completion as it has mostly decayed into fear at this point.

However, the relic pendant begins glowing. This is likely the one thing that keeps Kanade from dying. An interesting comparison given Hibiki’s own survival and gear manifestation.

Kanade achieves super saiyan.

“THEY ALL SAID I WAS LOST IN THE SAUCE... AND THEY ALL THOUGHT THE SAUCE WAS LOST IN ME. BUT NOW... I AM THE SAUCE!”

Tsubasa’s fear directly transmutes itself back into arousal per the first law of alchemy. Something to note is that Tsubasa was naturally receptive to her own gear; she didn’t need to go through the medical process Kanade went through. It’s because of this that Kanade earns Tsubasa’s admiration for life, even long after she dies.

“THE SAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUCCCEEEEEEEEEE”

And so, the unambiguously gay duo known as Zwei Wing formed. Singers by day...

Noise slayers by night.

Saving the country, singing in the country, bonding together... in the country. Truly, there is no more iconic duo than these two.

“yall sing pretty”

“anyway bye”

Kanade’s initial motivation for getting Gungnir was to kill the Noise indiscriminately with no hesitation. It slowly dawns on her, though, that helping people... is good?

“the sauce lost me. i got lost in the sauce. i became the sauce. but... why don’t i... share, the sauce? because... people like sauce... and i like sauce... and we can bond together... liking sauce!”

Kanade and Tsubasa have a Captain America moment running together as Kanade muses about how singing for other people feels way better than just pure murder funtimes.

“hey, uh... tsubasa... it just hit me. i like sauce. and... you, you like sauce. do... do you want to share sauce together?”

“kanade as your girlfriend ive literally heard you talk about sauce metaphors for the last several years and if you dont think i wont slurp your sauce down without hesitation you’ve got another thing coming”

“hell yeah! ive still got some of my original leftover marinara to share!”

No heterosexual explanation whatsoever.

Not a damn one.

Oh yeah...! Because by shedding tears, the reality you face is...

Nehushtan? Weird end of a sentence, but okay.

We’re thrust back into the present time, present day, as we’re back in our three way throwdown.

Genjuro is an extra large McFuckingPissed with Large Fries and a Shake, supersized.

“you want some sauce with that? lmao, sorry, too soon”

As the werewolves come out in full force, the tension strengthens while a battle brews nearby...

“yall think you’re getting your hands on this goddamn armor without realizing im officiating this here gay pride parade. and guess what? you’re cancelled.”

“didn’t know clowns were part of the acronym, let alone capable of managing it. either way, you’ve gotta be at least this tall to use the armor.” 

“so why not make like a hobbit, drop the armor, and burrow back to whatever hidey hole you came from, bimbo baggins!”

“guess you didnt read the books, moron. last i checked, bilbo doesn’t lose his traveling partners.”

“that low blow only comes at the cost of outing yourself as a fucking nerd.”

“im not ashambed. im gonna blow your mind with some math: my foot, plus your face, subtracting the teeth from your mouth, equals an ass kicking.”

“NOTHING IN THAT FORMULA INVOLVES ANY ASS WHATSOEV-”

Hibiki gets in the way immediately, citing the ethical ramifications of fighting humans as opposed to talking to them, conveniently forgetting this was the same person ready to body her merely an episode or two ago.

“hey first of all please don’t say bimbo thats really degrading, and second of all clowns aren’t actually in the acronym but im sure there are some gay clowns out there so please dont talk like that and thirdly im sorta short and that hurt my feelings and fourthly killing is fucking bad, tsubasa, let us not commit human on human murder”

both of them, in unison, i shit you not:

“yo, you like murder? shit. i like murder too!”

“like oh my god! murder is my favorite hobby. i take it back, you’re chill. still gotta die, though.”

Hibiki is casually tossed aside from this fight, given her very ideas are anti-thetical to fighting as a whole.

A real sick battle ensues.

Something to note is that our spunky opponent has another relic at her disposal which summons Noise. This relic is called Solomon’s cane. You’ll learn more about it later.

Not a pretty sight.

Tsubasa is losing. Not only is she losing, but the enemy cool kid reveals a very notable detail of her plan: She was distracted Tsubasa on purpose. The real plan...

Was to kidnap Hibiki.

In an ironic twist, Tsubasa’s inability to work with her teammate not only put her teammate in danger, but explicitly allowed her opponent to fulfill her mission of trying to capture her.

“i changed my mind kick her ass please oh god”

Hibiki still has not learned her lesson.

Tsubasa gets her ass kicked. Her opponent pulls every punch in the book, with some lowdown dirty fighting.

Unfortunately, Tsubasa, having learned from the Kanade Amou Private School Of No Brain Cell Combat, she pulls the last ace from her sleeve.

“lmao bitch whatre you gonna do, sing?”

“i didnt design my hair like a fucking 8th note for nothing, you cabbage patch kid”

“then let’s hear it, motherfucker.”

[shadymultiverse]

I remember laying on my bed in highschool, sophomore year. I was exhausted. I had reached the point where every person id managed to scrape out of the hell hole that is middle education had turned against me. Rumors, as they do, flooded my small community. Things like lesbianism and sluttery being the least of it and incest and beastiality the worst. Theu were also convinced I was either possessed or the spawn of hell, which remains to be a point of pride for me.

My delicait social circle had collapsed under the strain of one thing, teenage hormones. Not my own, but that of my brother and his girlfriend, the girl coming from my group of friends. Their relationship had been incredibly toxic, but as Im realizing, everyone who comes into contact with my brother experiences the same kind of manipulation and fear. Not that she was innocent, none of them were. Ive always known a bad person when i meet one, but I also have the fatal flaw that cruelty and misguided affection will always taste like home to me.

They were the school bullies, though I would have shot you if youd said it at the time. I suppose by extention I was probably a bully, though I dont remember being one. It just explains why there was not a soul to catch me when I fell. There nnever was, not once in my entire life has someone actually caught me when I needed it, so its not like K was suprised.

'Oh but you were' My mind so helpfully supplies. I always viewed myself as kind. Sweet. Loving, even.

Yet there I was laid across my bed, too tired to get up, too tired to cry. It was after an episode from my brother.

It stands to reason I should describe him, he was not a small man. No. He stood at 6'1 back then, a weight lifter through highschool, he was a physically imposing person. Being the malnurished, overweight, gaslighted and generally abused little girl that I was, I was never any match for him. I had one fought against him, and my sister- who was always thin as a fuse and leading to something dangerous- but it was always them that were rewarded and I who was punished. My mother, who I struggle to speak ill of even now, was an enabler. She refused to see the cruelty that my siblings put me through as anything other than normal, but any kind of defense that I levied for myself was something of an act against the pure, Goddly love that was my siblings.

Now Ive realized that it was just too much for her to bare, too much for her to understand. She is a very fragile woman for how strong she is. She knew that as long as I was taking their abuse, she wouldnt have to think about it. She didnt want me to get better.

That said at that point my sister was long gone. It was just me and my brother.

He was in the bedroom next to mine. A trailer, so any sound or move I made was hyperly monitored. I was too tired to do much more than breathe and even that was a fete. He must not have been satisfied by that because his door opened and then so did mine. He stared at me, I looked in his dirrection, at his eyes. He was still angry. This was the fifth or sixth day in a row that hed chased me ariund the house, screaming at me and cornering me. He hit me all the time, always in the same spot over and over so that it wouldnt look like Id been beaten, but I was being beaten.

I remember thinking how much I was struggling. In everything. My school work, my home life, my social life, everything.

He told me to make him something to eat. I told him no.

I almost always did. I hated the way that he spoke to me, hated that I was nothing more than a slave.

I didnt have the energy tk try to fight or get up or get out of the way but he jumped on top of me and wrapped his fingers around my throat.

I remember thinking 'I just wanna go. Let me go, please just let me go' I didnt realize it at the time but I was praying that he would kill me. I was so tired....

He would put his knees on top of your hands and sit in your chest, then squeeze your throat just hard enough to not actually bruise. Cut off the circulation but ot actually kill me. Its this strange in realm between pain and peace.

This time, however, he was squeezing so hard I thought my head might pop. His eyes told me he wanted me to die. Truly intended to finally end the charade that was my life. I wasnt scared. Just tired. Ready.

I was almost gone when something changed. I was there, floating up put of my body and his face felt slack, his eyes lost their psychotic glint and he let go. He got off of me and left the house. I can still feel the gasp that tore through my lungs. If yoive ever blown up a baloon and held it against your hand to feel the way it sticks to your skin then you know whay it feels like to breathe into empty lungs.

Its most painful part of being choked

Strangely enough, I started thinking about what I should do with my life. If he wouldnt do me the kindness of finishing the job, then I needed to plan how I was going to escape.

I was tired though, and the one thing i jad always wanted seemed absolutely impossible to attain. Brain Surgeon.

I could barely pull myself through a day in highschool, the idea of two decades of college was impossible to imagine. I decided I needed to do soemthing else. Something...easy. I had earned easy, hadnt I?

It was Tom Hiddleston that made me decided I should go into theater. Ironic, since it was earlier that same year that I had been in theater, had auditioned for a monolouge and a duet for our state competition, gotten it, only to have it ripped away because I wasnt good enough. Ive always had trouble commiting to things like afterschool practice. Though, maybe ita because out practices were just delaying the inevitable abuse Id be put through at home. I only ever wnated to sleep, to stay after shcool for three hours and practice was like eating broken glass before going home to drink rubbing alcohol.

But Theater was the way to go. I liked acting, I preferred make up and set design. That way, maybe Id get to meet Tom Hiddleston. Silly, looking back. What a way to decidee the fate of my life.

He seemed caring, you see. Like he wouldnt let anyone hurt me. Not even in a husbandry kind of way, just in the human way.

He would see whay was happening and say 'This isnt ok'. He didnt have to rescue me or anything. He would just understand.

By extention, the world would see me, delight in me, applaud me.

So I started focussing on this fantasy of becoming famous.

At every turn the rug was yanked out from under me. Every time i got a line or a song or something that I craved, it was taken away before it could ever be preformed.

Just like my home life, I kept being told that I did not matter. I didnt deserve to feel anything but disapointment and anguish.

Maybe thats why Ive run away from every job that Ive ever had.