#what the fuck am i supposed to put here lmao

[etherealhoneypie]

i notice things TOO much like so much it hurts

[lesbiansanemi]

I am so fucking sick of living with my roommate and his fuck ass boyfriend. Also watching my roommate burn every single one of his (already rather minimal, I might add) bridges for this guy is also kind of painful but also his relationship with me is one of said bridges so I'm almost past the point of even feeling bad for him lmao

[toomuchsky]

i hate cooking meat so much. what do u MEAN it's underseasoned i've never underseasoned something in my LIFE

[g0dr0t]

this is fucking crazy my debt is gone and then some because one person decided to be Nice and help me out. What the fuck faith in humanity being restored a little

[vagueiish]

no, ha ha, dont kill yourself, you're a valued member of society!

we don't actually care enough to learn about you and become more than polite acquaintances nor do we actually want to interact with you beyond empty platitudes and the requisite amount of small talk to seem polite, so we don't actually know your real value or what you might actually have to offer or anything about you really. and your obvious emotional pain is making us feel bad, so if you could find some other way to relieve it that doesn't involve exposing us to it in any way shape or form, that would be preferable....

oh, but don't kill yourself, ha ha, that'd be bad! because you definitely have worth! and people definitely care about you!

[julesnichols]

Y'know. There were several ups and downs when I was working for the mouse, and the downs were always really, really bad. But like also I'm glad for them because four years ago I absolutely would not have said SHIT about being given a shift that conflicts with my availability and just worked it hoping it never happened again. Now I will talk to all four fucking managers who work throughout the entire day I've been here until one of them listens instead of pushing back and getting pissy about me saying it's not my fault and sure, I'll try to find coverage to be nice, but not my fucking problem if I can't find it, can't work the shift, they can't mark me as a no show and they can die mad about it because they should've thought about it before giving me a shift I can't work 🤷

[kuiinncedes]

;-;

[astonmartinii]

fatherhood looks good on you | george russell social media au

pairing: george russell x fem albon reader

there comes a point in the relationship where you take it to the next level

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

- part of the brother's best friend series -

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 783,409 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: looking so good i want to give you a baby

view all comments

user1: WHAT

user2: we really be saying anything on the internet these days

alexalbon: SHUT THE FUCK UP THE LITERAL ONLY RULE OF THIS RELATIONSHIP WAS THAT YOU KEEP THIS SHIT TO YOURSELVES

yourusername: gosh a girl can't have baby fever in peace these days

alexalbon: unless that baby is coming by stork you can put that talk on hold real fast

yourusername: just because lily is busy does not mean you have to take it out on me and george

georgerussell63: alex is it illegal for a man to be handsome?

alexalbon: if it's illegal to be handsome, you'd have the cleanest record known to man

yourusername: STOP RIGHT THERE DIDN'T YOU KNOW THAT LYING IS A SIN

alexalbon: i'm not going to say YOUR boyfriend is hot, no.

yourusername: just because i got in there first 🙄

user3: i don't think she's serious but also george with a baby is just too cute not to happen

user4: george is the perf instagram boyf like he's so ready to pose

landonorris: well that definitely is something we all want to know

yourusername: i know you would LOVE to know ALL the details norris

georgerussell63: she's never going to let your crush go lando, you gotta just hold it

landonorris: i was THIRTEEN

yourusername: you don't love me anymore? 😕

landonorris: i don't know why i always get in these arguments with you

user5: i love how george just instigates things for y/n lmao

user6: your boyfriend should always support your mess

liked by yourusername

georgerussell63

liked by lewishamilton, alexalbon and 1,209,458 others

tagged: yourusername

georgerussell63: fatherhood is a different beast

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user8: alright i am so confused

user9: there's no way y/n can actually be pregnant i saw her down at least three pornstar martinis in hospitality this weekend

alexalbon: this better be a joke or i'm gonna kick you so hard you get a free non-reversible vasectomy

yourusername: stop the violence!

alexalbon: THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR GLEE REFERENCES

yourusername: someone is channelling some serious sue vibes right now

georgerussell63: let it be known i like my reproductive systems the way they are

alexalbon: that's kind of the point of a threat, you aren't supposed to want it

yourusername: he likes threats if they come from the right person

alexalbon: i am about one more comment away from knocking down your hotel room door and throwing george from the balcony

yourusername: and deprive our child from a father... alex i expected better from you

alexalbon: that's it i'm on my way

georgerussell63: @mercedesamgf1 PLEASE PROTECT ME I AM PRECIOUS CARGO

user10: these bitches got me actually combing through tiktoks and hospitality menus to see if y/n was actually drinking

user11: i'm gonna be real angry if this is all a big joke

user12: i know kimi antonelli is young but this is NAWT the way to announce him for 2025

charles_leclerc: guys i need you to spell everything out i am confused

georgerussell63: no can do charles you gotta follow the breadcrumbs just like everyone else

yourusername: it's right there sharl

charles_leclerc: actually alex, wait, i'm coming with you these hoes are annoying me

landonorris: don't forget me

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, maxverstappen1 and 1,409,556 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: our baby is here!

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user15: A CAT?

user16: i just knew george russell would be a ragdoll girl

georgerussell63: they were right i AM a girl dad

yourusername: finally dilf status

georgerussell63: a title i do not take lightly

yourusername: i can confirm libido has gone UP since becoming parents!

landonorris: shut THE FUCK UP

yourusername: you'll understand in time lando

georgerussell63: you just found yourself at the bottom of the babysitting list

landonorris: i don't want to look after it

yourusername: IT? IT? HOW DARE YOU?

georgerussell63: she can hear you lando that's so disrespectful :(

landonorris: ??? i'm not saying sorry to a cat over instagram comment

georgerussell63: expect the same courtesy when i take you out first corner next weekend

user17: i fear that was not a threat but a promise from george

user18: it's kinda hot

liked by yourusername

alexalbon: NEW ALBON PETS LORE AND NONE OF YOU TOLD ME

yourusername: ella can't wait to meet the gang

alexalbon: no offence but ella is kinda a shit name

yourusername: short for mozzarella

alexalbon: i take it back

georgerussell63: cause she's the lil pearl of our life

alexalbon: i love her already

user19: so we went through all this tomfoolery for a cat? a cat called mozzarella?

user20: you have to agree it's iconic

alexalbon

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 889,304 others

tagged: georgerussell63 & yourusername

alexalbon: i knew @albon_pets would get george at some point

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user22: i love how alex became the chill guy again after it was revealed he was not yet an uncle

georgerussell63: hard on the yet

alexalbon: too soon george

user23: the albon pets signature of approval is a bigger sign that george is in the gamily than if he actually proposed to y/n

user24: they've got a baby now he's an albon

yourusername: horsey is going to kick off over having to share george with me and mozzie

albon_pets: bring it on - horsey

yourusername: alex i'm not arguing with you pretending to be horsey, this ain't roscoe and lewis

lewishamilton: rude

roscoelovescoco: meanie

yourusername: did you just call me mean as your dog?

lewishamilton: you were extra mean

yourusername: fine lets let mozzie and roscoe scrap it out at silverstone - she's got the sass of both me and george btw x

lewishamilton: stay AWAY FROM MY DOG

user25: the merc garage gonna be a whole petting zoo at silverstone i can't

user26: you wanna catch up with red bull? sell meet and greet tickets to the petting zoo

maxverstappen1: this is my official invitation to a play date with jimmy and sassy

yourusername: WE'LL BE THERE

maxverstappen1: is mozzarella civilised?

georgerussell63: of course my child has manners?

maxverstappen1: you crash into people all the time, i had to check

georgerussell63

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 896,045 others

tagged: yourusername

georgerussell63: all of the family here for the home race

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user27: y/n wearing mozzarella in a baby harness i need to be put down

user28: that really is their child oh my

yourusername: make our baby proud georgie

georgerussell63: anything for you two xx

alexalbon: why do i never get these nice comments

yourusername: they're transmitted through our genes x

yourusername: also george more important 👍🏻

alexalbon: i'm literally your brother? your flesh and blood?

yourusername: george cuter

georgerussell63: can't argue with that

alexalbon: well of course he is this ain't alabama. (sorry logan)

logansargent: i'm from florida?

yourusername: even worse, my condolences

georgerussell63: can we get back to talking about how dashing i am?

yourusername: yes!

alexalbon: NO. SAY GOOD LUCK Y/N

yourusername: good luck y/n

alexalbon: what if i crash and you never said good luck, think about it y/n

yourusername: good luck alex (you're an asshole for weaponising the sport (and you being shit at it))

user29: i think i had about three strokes trying to follow this argument

user30: poor logan is just a victim of the albons at this point

landonorris: have a baby and forget about the rest of us, i see how it is

yourusername: you will never measure up to mozzie lando i hope you know that

georgerussell63: what y/n means is that i love my friends, but a child is a gift from god

landonorris: it's a cat. she can't even talk

yourusername: and yet she makes better points than you, makes you think

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 834,019 others

tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: fatherhood looks good on you

view all comments

user31: mozzarella is so big already 🥹

user32: maybe i'm worse than them cause i'm attached to mozzie as well

georgerussell63: no one else i'd rather be cat parents to

yourusername: you're such a romantic

georgerussll63: such a pleasure to take this next step with the love of my life

yourusername: i love you more

georgerussell63: not possible

alexalbon: you being gross about mozzie was better than what ever the fuck this is

yourusername: @lilymunhe does he not treat you right?

lilymunhe: he's a romantic really, he's just exhausting the protective big brother act until george finally proposes

alexalbon: sue me

maxverstappen1: still waiting on the play date ...

yourusername: monaco?

maxverstappen1: done

yourusername: jimmy, sassy and ella will be like the charlie's angles reincarnated

georgerussell63: can't wait for you to see her IMPECCABLE manners

maxverstappen1: okay princess george

yourusername: hey only i can call george princess

maxverstappen1: you keep that to yourself

user33: disappointed that with all the tomfoolery around mozzie that there was no maternity photoshoots

yourusername: oh do not give me a challenge...

fin.

note: NEW SERIES ALERT? i'll create a masterlist after i post this. i hope you enjoyed, this one is more of a tame brother's best friend take but dw they can get more beefy and more sassy - send me any pairings you might like to see! thanks for reading x

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Melt

"And if I die because you made me melt, oh well."

Summary: You and Frankie spend a hot summer day by the pool

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, semi-public shenanigans (we're assuming there's a big, tall fence around the pool lmao), Frankie being our 🐱 eating king, Frankie being the sweetest and so obsessed with you, poor Pope probably needs to clean his pool after these two leave, reader wears a bathing suit, can swim and can get sunburned

A/N: HEY HOMIES, IT'S YA GIRL!!!!! What better way to celebrate National Catfish Day than with a lil poolside Frankie 🤪 It has been hotter than Satan's ballsack out here in the midwest, so this song is dedicated to this ongoing heatwave and this song that I am absolutely obsessed with and is SO Frankie coded 😭 This is the first thing that I have worked on since May so apologies in advance for bein' a little rusty, but I'm excited to finally be back on the writing train again!!! ily all, big forehead kisses for each of you MWAH!!!! 🥹 poorly beta'd bc that's how i roll

Love it or hate it, if there was one thing that you could always count on, it was the fact that summers in south Florida were hot. 

Really fucking hot. 

So when Pope had offered up his pool for you and Frankie to use while he was out of town for the week, it was a no brainer that the two of you had ecstatically accepted his invitation. 

“We really owe Pope for this one, huh?” You smirked, setting down your beach bag on one of the lounge chairs spread across the pool deck, pulling out some sunscreen and towels for you and Frankie. 

“Yeah, I guess we do.” Frankie sighed, nodding his head in agreement, admiring the crystal blue water sparkling in the heat of the hot summer sun, hands on his hips as he looked out over the pool. 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you stood behind him, secretly whipping out your phone to take a picture of Frankie inspecting the pool before quickly texting it to Pope, knowing what a kick he’d get out of it. 

You: Thanks for letting us use the pool! New pool boy is taking his job very seriously. 🫡

Pope: Haha. Would have looked better if he showed up in a bikini. Have fun u 2. 

“What are you laughing at?” Frankie asked, turning around to the sounds of your sneaky snickers before feeling his own phone buzz in his pocket, looking down to see a text from Pope. 

Pope: Your wife thinks you’d make a good pool boy. Told her you need a bikini first. Have fun with Mrs. Fish today.

Pope: Not too much fun though. 🤨

Frankie: Sorry to disappoint. 

Frankie: What’s that supposed to mean? 

Pope: I just cleaned the pool before I left. Don’t need any baby fish swimming around in there if you know what I mean 🐟 💦 lol

Frankie: Jesus christ, Pope.

Frankie shook his head as he slipped his phone back into his pocket as he made his way over to you, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest. 

“You think I’d make a good pool boy, huh?” He smirked, planting a chaste kiss in your lips as the two of you laughed. 

“The best. But only if you give me another kiss and put some sunscreen on me so I don’t turn into a lobster.” You teased, kissing him right back before pulling away to grab the sunscreen bottle, passing it off to him. 

“Fair enough.” 

As he took the bottle from you, starting to shake it up, Frankie couldn’t help stop and watch in awe as you began to remove your coverup. Underneath, it revealed the little, strappy, bright yellow bikini you had just bought, deciding that today would be a good choice to show it off for the first time with just you and your husband together. 

“Fuck me…” Frankie whispered under his breath, his tongue darting out of his mouth and swiping over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down, admiring every sun-kissed inch of your soft skin and the way the fabric of your swimsuit hugged your curves. “Is this- fuck, is this new?” he asked softly, his sweet brown eyes just about popping out of his head, trying to use every ounce of self composure to even form a coherent question. 

“Do you like it? I got it a few days ago when I was out. Figured I could use a new one.” You blushed, biting down on your lip at Frankie’s reaction, wondering how in the world he still managed to make you feel as beautiful as he did the first night he’d met you after all your time spent together. 

“Can I show you?” Frankie asked, running his hands along your waist, gently toying with the strings holding your swimsuit bottoms together. 

“Show me what?” 

“Show you how much I like it?” He responded, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers slowly began to undo the bow tied around your hips while he gently nipped at your neck, making your stomach swell with arousal. 

“Mhmmmmmm.” You nodded, carefully backing up until your legs hit the lounge chair behind you, Frankie gently guiding you to sit down and lay back while he nestled himself between your legs, draping each one over his bare, broad shoulders, his tanned and freckled skin glowing in the blazing afternoon sun. 

Frankie wasted no time planting soft kisses up the inside of your thighs, the familiar scratch of his beard and mustache against your skin making you moan in eager anticipation as you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your swimsuit bottoms. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that? I’m so lucky.” He whispered between kisses along the meat of your thighs before stopping at your core, letting his fingers brush against the fabric of your swimsuit, sneaking under the material just enough to feel how wet you had already become in the few short moments since you had sat down. 

“Seems like you're pretty wet for not even getting in the pool yet, Hermosa.” Frankie teased, the ghosting of his fingers along your cunt making you whine as you propped your head up to see the devilish smirk between his cheeks. 

Almost painfully slowly, Frankie untied the first, then second bow holding your bottoms together on each hip, watching your swimsuit fall to the ground, revealing your pussy, slick and puffy, worked up from Frankie’s touch. 

“So pretty…” He cooed, letting his fingers drag across your cunt, collecting your arousal and rubbing at your clit, already aching to be touched. 

Frankie was nothing if not a methodical man, memorizing every twitch and hitched breath beneath his touch, learning all the things that absolutely drove you wild.

Knowing that he could be the only one to make you feel this good got him off more than anything else ever could.

He couldn’t help but grin at the way your lips fell to a perfectly parted “O” as he pressed more pressure against your sensitive nub, and how they fell even wider as he pressed two of his fingers into your entrance, gently curling them to bump against the soft, spongy spot inside you that had you clenching around his hand. 

“Oh Frankie… Fuck…” You whimpered, your head falling back as Frankie’s fingers were soon followed by his tongue, licking a long, broad strip across your cunt, ​​putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to make that all too familiar sweet tingling sensation to start build in your stomach. 

Frankie’s tongue danced in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you with just his fingers. That, combined with the meticulous and skilled motions of his tongue had the coil in your belly beginning to tighten further and further. 

Your hand shot down between your parted legs, reaching to grab a fistful of Frankie’s brown, curly locks, thick and sweaty from the heat, tugging just hard enough to force his gaze up towards you, your eyes locking with his rich, brown ones. 

“F-Frankie-” Was all you were able to mutter as he continued with his fingers to press against your g-spot, slick coating his digits with each stroke. He licked one more strip along your pussy before placing soft kisses on your clit and the inside of your thighs, peeking up at you with a boyish grin. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. Wanna taste you all over me.” Frankie moaned, the low rumble of his words making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as he dove back between your legs, wrapping his free arm around one of your thighs, firmly holding you in place. 

Curving his fingers ever so slightly and latching his lips around your clit, you knew it was only a matter of moments before Frankie was about to make you fall apart completely. You could feel your legs begin to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter around his fingers, able to utter nothing but a “F-fuck…” as you felt your orgasm rip through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins and soaked Frankie below you. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum for him with everything that you had in you, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become. Your pussy was slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the way Frankie had fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” You whispered under your breath, still trying to regain your composure as you looked down at a satisfied Frankie, wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand with a smirk. 

“Always taste so sweet, Hermosa. You’re so fucking hot, I swear you’d make me melt faster than the sun.” 

The two of you both couldn’t help but snort at Frankie’s cheesy comment, sitting up as you giggled to grab Frankie’s face and bring him in for a long, deep kiss, the taste of you still fresh on his tongue. 

“You are such a cheeseball, Fransisco Morales. I can’t believe that- Frankie! Frankie! Put me down! No, no, no, no, you better not-” But before you could finish the rest of your sentence, Frankie had already picked you up out of your chair, flung you over his shoulder and had you flailing your arms and legs as he carried you towards the edge of the pool, jumping in with you mid-way through your poorly fought protest. 

Your heads bobbed to the surface, still in a fit of laughter as you floated in the refreshing cool of the sparkling pool water, you wrapped your legs around Frankie’s waist, draping your arms over his shoulders while he pulled you closer to his chest. 

“Sorry, mi amor, what were you saying?” Frankie teased, raising a playful eyebrow at you as he grinned with his goofy smile, making you over dramatically roll your eyes at him. 

“One, that you are the biggest goof I’ve ever met and I love you for it,” You snickered, plating a soft kiss on his plush lips, “and two, I think I can practically hear Pope screaming at you for the fact I’m half naked in his pool.” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”   

Taglist

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby

@fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha

@jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed

@pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns

@missladym1981 @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color

@persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow

@vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller

@mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring

@itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[finniestoncrane]

Date, Digger Style

KTJL!Boomer x Fem!Reader, word count: 6k hi i am sorry, this was supposed to be like. a lil silly thing about what a first date with george might be like. and it ended up being 6k words. i just want him so bad it makes me look stupid quite honestly and i am ok with that 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: sleazy behaviour, groping, tongue kissing, just the tip and then not just the tip but agreeably so, lots of physical affection, reader has tits and a vagina, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, descriptions of a gross kitchen, also let's pretend that he's always a lil bit drunk so his drunk driving seems like the normal state of things. he's a villain. he's allowed to break laws lmao (and it's fiction, so i'm allowed to decide what alcohol does to him)

Sitting on the edge of your sofa, you took a quick look at your phone to check the time and to see if you had missed any messages. Nothing. Not even a quick courtesy text with "on my way" typed hastily, or auto filled. You'd been sitting there for twenty minutes already, with no sign of George. If this was what he considered a good start to your first formal 'date' then you two were perhaps too different after all to make this work. He was laid back, to a flaw. Horizontal. And you were more organised, at least more so than George Harkness.

Just as you began typing out a message, you heard the tell-tale screech of the tyres on his van, followed by the rumbling of the engine as he put the brakes on and came out of the creaking door. The sharp buzz at your door was enough for you to know your suspicions were right, and without answering it, you headed downstairs. At the door, you could see Digger, picking at his teeth and tucking the stray strands of hair back under the rim of his hat before he noticed you and struck a pose, goofy smile plastered onto his face.

He moved to grab you when you met him on the steps leading up to your building, but you dodged him, spitting his nickname at him.

"Digger."

"Aw, are you mad cos I'm late? You're not some bloody princess, I think you can wait five minutes!"

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty, the- Twenty!?"

His eyes were wide as he looked to you, and you offered a solemn and unimpressed nod in response.

"Fuck... alright, that is a bit much. This'll be worth it though, I promise."

Raising an eyebrow, you silently questioned that. You'd known him for a while now, skirted around the conversation, flirted constantly, but turned him down at every offer of a date. And now, when you had finally agreed and given in to his constant pestering, he was going to show up late and not even dressed differently or in clean clothes? You weren't sure it would be worth it. But, if all else failed, you could always count on him to make you laugh, or at very least conjure up a smile. And despite wanting to still maintain an exterior of disappointment, you could feel the corners of your mouth lifting as he opened up the passenger door and gestured to it with his arm, bowing low.

"M'lady, your carriage awaits."

As you stepped up and into the front of the van, the smell was the first thing that hit you. Stale beer, sweat, and about five other scents just indistinct enough to elude your keen nose. Trying not to think about it, you turned to grab your seatbelt and noticed, out of the corner of your eye, that the back of the truck was filled with empty beer cans and bottles, piles of clothing, some dirty and some clean. And in the middle of it all, a mattress, some pillows, and a scattering of sheets.

"Do you live in here?"

"Don't worry about it, babe."

Before you could ask him any follow up questions, he pulled away from the kerb with a stuttering acceleration, and carelessly pulled into traffic. After a few minutes of teeth grinding, life-threatening driving at high speed, he pulled off the main roads and began taking back streets.

Granted, you didn't know where you were going yet, since Digger was insistent on keeping it as a surprise, you still assumed that after ten minutes of nothing but roads dotted with potholes and routes plagued by speedbumps that it was surely quicker to have stayed on the main route until you were closer. However, it became clear that there were intentions behind this path after all, when you turned to question George about the route and found him quickly glancing from the road to your chest, smiling wider every time a bump jostled your body, causing your breasts to jiggle. With a heavy sigh, you turned to look out of the window, concealing the smile that threatened to give away your façade. There was no way you could let him know how oddly flattering you found his constant gawking, that would be a nightmare.

When the van stopped at a red light, you spoke, still looking out of the window, to try and get Digger to tell you where you were going.

"I just would feel better knowing how long we've got left to drive is all."

He reached over to you, placing his hand on your thigh and pressing his fingers and thumb together, squeezing the ample flesh.

"Listen, don't worry about it, we're almost there."

His palm pressed down and skimmed further up your leg, and as you turned to catch his eye, hoping to at least shame him into not continuing his bold heavy petting, you were instead met with his lopsided, careless grin. With one hand on the steering wheel and one permanently on your thigh, he continued driving for another ten minutes, until you were well on the outskirts of the city. When the van finally stopped, you could still hear the tinny rumbling and sharp clinking of the empty bottles and cans bashing around in the back, feeling like it had shrilly inserted itself permanently into your head. But once you had stepped out of the van and the fresh air, plus the odd stench, hit you, you could hear yourself think clear enough to know that you were definitely beginning to regret this decision once more.

"Told ya we wouldn't be much longer! We're here!"

"Where is here?"

"About twenty minutes outside Gotham."

"Digger."

He slapped his hand on your back and pulled you into a side hug, dragging you along as he walked towards the door of the flat roof building with broken neon lights that stood in front of you.

"Ah, come on babe! Get a sense of humour, or you'll always look fuckin' miserable!"

You weren't sure if he could hear your sighing over the sound of the gravel as you made your way to the front door, and he definitely couldn't hear the louder second one you let out when you got inside. The one that was cut short when you realised you could taste the smell that lingered on the air.

Taking your hand, an oddly gentle move from Digger. The moment was gone quickly when he smacked your ass as he ushered you into the dingiest looking booth at the back of the bar.

"George, really? Here?"

"Yeah, babe! This place is great. Cheap beer, good food. I promise, you just gotta trust me, alright?"

Taking a quick look around the place told you otherwise. But there was just something about him you found hard to say no to. Which you imagined would land you in much bigger problems later on, but for now, potential food poisoning and a hangover of the worst order seemed like a fair risk for what would no doubt be a fun night regardless. It always was with George.

"Aw, I know that face! You're on board! Right, I'm gonna go to the bar and get us some drinks and food."

"I don't know what I want though, I haven't looked at the menu."

"Don't have to, I'm getting us the usual. You'll like it, tr-"

"Trust you, yes, I know."

With a wink, he slid out of the booth and you watched him make his way to the bar, leaning on it with his oh-so-cocky attitude as he ordered for you. And when he sat back down, he slid a pint in front of you and began chugging at his own. Looking over the tip of your glass as you sipped, you tried to get a glimpse at the kitchen. From what you could see, it looked like the kind of place that might give any decent health inspector an aneurysm. The chef's clothes were dirty, the walls were a stained yellow colour that seemed as though it was dripping down the walls, and every surface had a strange assortment of crumbs and stains on it. But still, you persevered.

And still, when the plates were slammed down on the table in front of you by the uninterested waitress, you were optimistic. Because you were determined to have a nice time. It was likely that which annoyed you the most of all, because the moment you bit into the greasy sandwich you didn't care in the slightest what kind of health hazard it was prepared in. You just wanted more.

"See, told you it was good."

Nodding in agreement, mouth too full to speak, you swallowed down the rest of the sandwich, although by the time you had finished it and your accompanying beer, Digger was already onto his third pint, and the sandwich was but a memory. Until he burped and you could smell it on his breath, something he found hilarious.

"Lighten up! You try, give it your best shot."

"I'm not having a burping contest with you, George. We're on a date."

"Yeah, but you're on a date with Digger. Way more fun, far less stuffy. Go on."

You mustered up the best you had to offer, cheese and beer and lettuce the most noted flavours in the air you expelled. Closing his eyes for a moment, Digger reached out across the table and took your hands.

"That was, without a doubt... the most pathetic fuckin' burp ever. We gotta get you another drink!"

Before you could say anything, he was already shuffling out of the booth and shakily making his way back to the bar. A bad decision being made and you couldn't really stop him. He could handle his alcohol, definitely, you'd seen him do it a number of times before. Digger could put away what might kill a lesser, for want of a better word, man. But it didn't make him any easier to be around. You'd already found yourself flushing hot, cheeks darkening, a heat building in your stomach with each lingering touch or flirtatious stare. So far this evening, you'd almost kissed him twice. It wasn't going to be any easier to prolong what you felt was the inevitable if he got far too drunk and became his usual, handsy self.

Of course, that's exactly what did happen. One more pint in and Digger was all over you in the booth. He'd leaned in at first to say something to you, speaking over the noise of the bar, close to your ear, his arm reaching up and around you and pulling you close and then keeping you there. As his fingers stroked at your shoulder, the other hand fell to your thigh, periodically squeezing it between his fingers and thumb. And every time you got distracted by how far up your thigh he was snaking his palm, fingers splayed out, pinkie grazing over your crotch, his other hand would pull your attention away as his fingertips skimmed over the top of your breasts.

It was difficult to try and hold him off. You were both tipsy, or at least you were tipsy, Digger seemed to be wasted. No good decision could come from that. But the way he touched you, the way he smelled as he leaned in, sweat, cheap body spray, acrid beer, it was intoxicating. If you'd been any less sober you might have leaned in then and there in the booth to kiss him, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, letting him put his hands all over you, anywhere, anywhere. But luckily, before you could make what you knew was a mistake, he sat back and laughed, one loud and sharp 'ha'.

"I fuckin' love this song, babe! C'mon!"

Before you could argue otherwise, you were being dragged out of the booth to join Digger on the tiny dance floor in front of the band. The song was difficult to dance to, at least you had assumed, given the heavy rock riffs that underlined the inaudible, high volume lyrics. But George wasn't deterred. It was almost endearing, how horrendously embarrassing he was, standing there with his air guitar, throwing goat horns at the band as he bounced on the spot. Cute, nearly. But mercifully cut short as the song ended.

"Aw, just as I was finding my groove."

You smiled at him, rubbing his shoulder in sympathy, biting your inner cheek as you felt how strong he was, impressed by his muscular arm as you let your hand slip down to graze over it.

"A real shame, George. Let's go back to- "

The band started up again, this time, a slower song, one that lent itself well to the kind of 'end of prom' vibes all young lovers were hoping for. And before you could finish your suggestion of heading back to the booth, Digger had pulled you close, his arms around your back, falling to your waist as he swayed back and forth. It could have been dancing, it could have been the uncoordinated shuffling of a man who had one too many beers, but either way, you leaned into it, allowing your head to rest against his chest while you placed your hands, linked together, at the nape of his neck.

It was almost too romantic, in its own, strange way. The dim lights, the other couples around you, the unique twang on the guitars, the stench of the greasy food, and the way George kept his hips, his crotch, pressed tight to you as you leaned against him. Not particularly from a storybook romance, but perfect all the same. You'd known this would happen. One date, and you were already falling for him. Not because of anything he'd done, but because deep down you knew you had been into him, since almost the moment you'd met. But you'd fought it, because men like George Harkness, you assumed, weren't the kind of nice boy you dated.

But here he was, holding you, swaying you, sighing softly as the music swelled. Granted the movements weren't exactly graceful, but they were surprisingly fluid, as though he might be good at dancing when he was sober. Yet another surprise for you to learn about, but obviously not right now. He was trying though, his hands at a respectable height, his head leaning on your shoulder. Every so often, he nuzzled into your cheek, placing a soft kiss to it when the notion took him. And when the song finished, you could hear his words clear, spoken gently into your ear.

"You wanna head out?"

You weren't sure if that was "out" as in "get some fresh air" or "out" as in "let's head home, yours or mine" but either option seemed good. The last remaining bit of sun and a soothing breeze might be enough to sober George up before you brought him back in for more dancing. And if it didn't, you were happy to take him to your place for a coffee, nothing more. Although, you were potentially considering letting him sleep on the sofa. You couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to nurse a hangover in the back of his van.

Outside, finally able to breathe without choking on the stench or the thickness of the air, you watched as Digger shielded his eyes from the sky. His stumbling stopped, and he began walking with his usual confidence, almost sobering up immediately in the light of the day.

"Christ! Still pretty bright out here..."

"Yeah, it's not that late. You tapping out early, George?"

"Nah, nah. Not at all! If I've got you for the night, then I'm havin' you for the night. C'mon, I know a place."

Admittedly, and strangely enough, you really hadn't had enough of him yet. It was one of the few things you agreed on, actually. This was supposed to be a date, you'd set aside the evening for it, so you were keen to make it last as long as possible. You couldn't let George know that, though. Keeping the upperhand seemed to be key with him, so you offered him a reluctant smile and rolled your eyes dramatically.

"Well, I suppose so."

Stepping up into the passenger seat of his van you caught him smiling back at you, knowingly. You weren't kidding him, he wasn't as stupid as he seemed at first pass, but he was kind enough to let you keep up the ruse. It didn't stop him getting a little dig in at you, however.

"Are you sure? If you're not keen I can take you home, babe. Wouldn't want you to be bored or something."

"And where are you planning on taking me that isn't boring, then?"

"Eh... just a little spot I know of. Quiet, secluded. Up that back road to the overlook. But again, if you're not into it..."

"No, no. It sounds... well, it doesn't sound boring, anyway."

Digger laughed, starting up the van which groaned horrendously before sputtering to life. Before he drove off, he turned to you and winked.

"Definitely won't be, it never is with me, babe."

Pulling out of the parking lot, he turned away from the city and onto the quieter roads which led out past the city lines and into the expansive countryside that secluded Gotham from the rest of the world. From the window, you watched the sun slowly setting, clouds turning purple and navy as they pushed in from the sides like curtains on a stage show. You had all the time in the world to gaze peacefully, as George was driving in complete silence, way below the speed limit, focusing intensely on the road. He'd seemed to sober up once you were out of the bar, but you didn't want to distract him while he was doing his best to keep you both alive.

The van bounced along a short dirt trail until it stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides and far above the dim, intrusive glow of the city, which buzzed against the now deep, navy sky. Shutting off the engine, George turned and shot you a smile, eyebrows raised playfully, before he leapt out. He walked quickly to the back of the van and you followed, waiting patiently as he opened the two back doors wide, finally giving you a better look at what had been rolling around there the whole time he had been driving.

There wasn't much you could think to say, being of the opinion that you should only speak if you had kind things to say. From where you were standing, you could definitely tell that you had been correct in your earlier assumptions. This was where he lived. His rolling apartment. Convenient, yes. But it was a long way away from being one of the trendy 'tiny homes' you'd seen. The walls were adorned with four posters in total, all of them the kind of cheap standards you would expect in the bargain bin of some ancient music store, miscellaneous women in very little clothing gazing out as seductively as they could from the airbrushed backdrops. On the floor, there was a stick and poke tattoo kit that looked like it might be the source of several new variants of hepatitis, and it was littered with empty beer bottles and cans, some of which may have been half-full at the point he decided to drive off given how sticky the surfaces looked. And to top it off, there was a worn out mattress. No sheets on it, no sheets around it save for one scruffy blanket. It was covered in stains that you couldn't quite place, which matched the single, dented and almost flat pillow that lay haphazardly to the side.

"You live like this?"

That was what you had wanted to say, but again, your polite nature stopped you.

"Handy to just get in the van and sleep, or get out of bed and go."

George smiled, looking oddly proud of himself.

"See, you get it. You won't believe the amount of people who have been put off by- uh... well..."

He looked to the ground, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand.

"Not that there's been that many people I've invited into- A-and not that there haven't been any people that have been-"

"George."

You placed a hand on his shoulder and raised your eyebrows, offering him a sympathetic grin. He took the out, thankful that you'd put an end to his suffering, and reached in for the blanket, placing it flat over the top of the bed before offering his hand to you. Taking it, he helped you shift yourself into the back of the van, watching as you got comfortable on the mattress as best as you could, at which point he joined you.

Leaning back on his arms, he looked to the sky, sitting in silence for a few minutes. You had joined him, watching the stars start to sparkle as they became visible against the darkening backdrop. At some point, you realised that he was staring at you, and you wondered how long you'd had his gaze trained on the side of your head. Not on any other part of your body, you noted. He was looking at your face, gazing at your eyes. When you turned, you caught his stare immediately, smiling softly when he blinked and looked away with a cough meant to clear the air of the awkwardness he was bringing about.

Rooting around behind him, he eventually found two unopened beer cans, both of which were loose amongst the rest of his belongings. Keeping one for himself, he passed the other to you. He raised his, tipping his head with a 'cheers' and then cracked it open. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, a small trickle of foam slipping past his lips and down his chin. The urge to lean in and lick it off was disturbing, most of all because you felt yourself moving towards him before you even realised it. Settling back down into the strange romance of the moment, you pulled the tab on your own can.

The immediate explosion, the build up of pressure and gasses from the can being jostled around as you drove up the bumpy, dirt track to the spot you now sat in, left you in shock. Your shirt was soaked, completely, and the cool air was already beginning to chill your body. You blinked in shock, watching as Boomer tried to conceal his giggles while he stood up.

"Take your shirt off."

Looking to him, you raised an eyebrow, a look that said "is this really how you're going to make that move?" in a way that he read almost straight away. He began unzipping his blue hoodie, turning from you and passing it behind him, generously, and uncharacteristically, offering you some privacy.

Taking it from him, you quickly made the swap, your body exposed to the cold night air only briefly before you zipped up the hoodie, still warm from Digger's body. You tucked your bra and shirt under the mattress, making a mental note to collect them before you were home, hoping they would be dry. Making sure the zip was up completely, not offering any suggestive cleavage for Digger to hook his ideas into, you settled yourself, noticing that you were smiling. You could smell him on the fabric that covered your body. Beer, sweat, lingering smoke, an acrid smell you couldn't quite place and a sweet one on top of that. As the fabric grazed over you, you could feel your nipples hardening. It wasn't the cold though, it was faint arousal at the way you felt so close to him.

"You done yet, you're only putting a hoodie on!"

"Shit, yeah, sorry."

"I can look?"

He raised his hands, pulling them from his pockets and holding them up to his side, questioningly.

"Mhm, yeah."

When he was facing you again, he let his lips turn into an appreciative expression.

"Looks good. Suits you!"

Thudding back down beside you, George immediately lifted his arm up, wrapping it around your body and pulling you close. You found yourself settling into the hug, a natural embrace, one that made your heart flutter slightly as you let your head rest entirely against him. And then it happened, the moment that secured your confusion about him and his intentions. He sighed wistfully. So deep and joyous, his fingers digging into your arm to let you know you were the reason for the warmth spreading through him.

"It's nice out here, you can actually see the stars. Couldn't tell you what any of them were though."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

He turned slightly to look at you.

"What?"

"What? What are you doing? You brought me up here to look at the stars?"

George narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing in confusion and slight irritation.

"Yeah! I thought it would be romantic!"

"Exactly!"

"Exa-... what?"

"You're so confusing. This whole evening, you yourself, it's not how I thought it would be. I mean, it wouldn't be you without the occasional grope and cheeky wink, but you've been so... You're so... It's weird to see you being so..."

Digger's hand fell to your thigh, a light pressure aiming to calm you down.

"So what?"

You couldn't answer it, because you weren't even able to settle on a definitive answer yourself.

So confusing?

So disgusting?

So gentlemanly?

So romantic?

So hot?

All of that and more.

And when words had failed you, you decided that you'd have to express your feelings another way.

It was less of a romantic, graceful move and more that you sank into him, falling against his body, your lips luckily making contact with his as you both found your way in the kiss. Neither of you expected it, both of you surprised. The tenderness, the hunger behind it. You could taste everything about him, smell him even better than you had when you had put on his hoodie. You expected he was experiencing the same.

Digger fell back, his hands catching your waist as he pulled you with him, both of you laying now on the mattress in the back of his van. His hands pawed, grabbed, skimmed over you, oddly restrained in fact. That was until you shifted yourself up and onto him, straddling his hips and staring down at him, panting heavily as you both caught your breath and took stock of the situation you were now in. His hands on your waist made their way up to your shoulders, your neck, cupping your cheeks as he grinned at you. Watching your face, your expression, for any subtle changes as he let his hands trail back down your front, fingers catching on to the zip of his hoodie and pulling it down slowly, opening it to expose you to him before he cupped at your breasts as you bit your lip.

"Fuck me..."

Digger let out a low groan that followed his short, to the point statement. His fingers circled your nipples, tightening around them as he teased you. His hips bucked up, jostling you, letting you feel how hard he was. You could tell just from that motion that the rumours about how gifted he was had truth behind them.

Bending down to kiss him again, you let your tongue slip past his lips, his own meeting in your mouth. He tasted divine. Sweet, but acidic. Earthy almost, definitely addictive. Everything felt dream like, surreal. Mostly, you assumed, because you were doing something you'd never dream of, something you knew was ill-advised, a little bit silly, embarrassing in the right company. But it was hard to care.

You were quickly brought out of the dream like state however, as you felt Digger's hands between both of your crotches, unbuckling his belt and fiddling with the zipper on his jeans.

"Wait... on the first date? You think you've charmed me enough for that?"

With the smug, self-satisfied grin you had grown oddly fond of, George looked into your eyes as he spoke.

"I think you started this, so it's a pretty good indication of how much I've charmed you."

He winked as he let his fingers tug at the waistband of your own pants, pulling at them as you leaned in to another kiss. Your attempts to stop him, or at least to pretend that was your intention, were put to one side as your body reacted to the feeling of the cool air against your bare skin, his hands, rougher than you expected, holding your thighs, pulling your pants down further until he needed you to move.

"Well... have I charmed the pants off you at least?"

Smiling back at him, you nodded your head from side to side as though you were weighing up his efforts over the evening.

"I suppose you have charmed the pants off me, yes. But... I'm not sure how much further your winning personality has gotten you."

"There's plenty of time for me to catch up, then."

Clumsily, and with very little grace, you shifted and removed your pants, blushing as you noticed Digger watching you intensely, taking note of every movement, every second of you undresssing, as though you were offering him the performance of a lifetime. As you steadied yourself, he hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear and pulled you back to him, landing you flat on top o f his body, your hands on his chest.

Teasing at the band of your panties, he dipped two fingers underneath the fabric, skating over your mound and down to your lips, stroking them gently before spreading them apart. He rubbed one finger up and down, collecting your slick as he licked his lips, desperate to know how you tasted. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he ran them on his tongue, sucking them with his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me."

He continued unzipping his pants and pulling them down, boxers included, to reveal his more than impressive cock. At least ten inches, easily, thick, perfect, topped with a tuft of almost flaming red hair. Trying to control yourself, you leaned back.

"What are you planning on doing with that, Harkness?"

He squirmed, pressing his eyes shut and biting his lip before he managed to strain himself enough to speak.

"I just want... I want you... touch it... feel you... something... come on, please!"

Shuffling forward, teasing him knowingly as you felt his head, his length, against your thighs, you mused out loud, humming as though you were actually considering it, as though you hadn't already made your mind up yet.

"I suppose... this was a pleasant enough date. I could give you something, throw you a bone."

He nodded furiously below you, muttering his words of agreement.

"But! Just the tip. I'm not sure how much more of that I could take. It should come with a warning."

George actually blushed, looking away from you for a moment, as though the comment had genuinely embarrassed him. It did seem odd to you in that moment that he wasn't constantly bragging about his prowess in that area. He struck you as exactly the kind of person who would mention the size of his cock at any opportunity. You wondered if had the effect on others that it had on you. It was daunting, a little bit nerve-wracking. How many of the few people who had made it this far had given up at the sight of it, you wondered.

Most, you assumed, as despite how desperate he seemed to fuck you, he agreed enthusiastically, happy to be offered any opportunity to get as close to you as possible. He was already pulling at your underwear, grasping at it, trying to pull it down before deciding to push it to the side as he lined up the head of his cock with your swollen lips.

Looking directly at you he maintained the intense eye contact as he slid himself between your lips, pushing at your tight entrance slowly, carefully, only allowing his head to enter you. It felt amazing. So good, better than you thought. It stretched, filled you up, and that was ten percent of what he had to give. He hissed, gritting his teeth in concentration, trying his hardest not to move his hips, to buck them, to push himself any further inside of you.

As you balanced yourself, trying to contend with the little of him that was inside of you, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it, making you twitch, contracting against him, tightening the grip your cunt had on his head. As he groaned, you couldn't help yourself anymore. You wanted him, all of him. You were willing to risk it.

"God, George... just fuck me."

"Wh-what?"

"Fuck me! Just..."

Realising you might need to take matters into your own hands, you let yourself slide down his cock, each inch stretching you further, a shockwave of pain followed by dull throbs of ache and arousal coarsed through your body, the pit of your stomach feeling pressed, your insides stuffed with him. Llike you were being entirely consumed, enveloped, in George Harkness.

"Christ..."

It was all he could manage with the limited breath he had, his whole body stopping any other function to focus on not letting himself cum inside of you immediatel. The sudden warmth, the tight, wet embrace, the way you leaned back, breasts bouncing as helped yourself to him, riding his cock as he lay back and held your hips. His thumbs, stroking against your skin, where the top of your thighs met your lower stomach, feeling your own desperation as you worked him harder, faster, palms resting on his chest to balance yourself as you took everything he had.

Brows furrowed in concentration, pursuing your orgasm, you wailed as his fingers found their way back to your nipples, teasing them, grabbing at your breasts as you rolled your hips and felt his cock twitching agaisnt your walls. It hurt, but in a way that was delicious, a way that felt like it should be borderline illegal, like most things that provided such a wonderful, addictive experience were. But there you were, enjoying it. Loudly, explicitly. And very publicly. It didn't matter to you, and it really didn't seem to matter to George. You were quite happy to scream it from the rooftops then and there, how much you were enjoying it. Being fucked by Captain Boomerang, as ridiculous as his name always seemed to you. You'd be quite content to tell everyone that he was making you cum, that he was one stroke of his thumb against your erect nipples, one tap of his cock against the exact spot inside of you, from losing all composure.

"George... George..."

"Yeah... yeah, it's good... eh? I'm good."

"Fuck, you are. Yeah. Yes! Yes!"

One final, loud, resounding 'yes' echoed around you, filling the air, bursting through the trees. You imagined that anyone within a five mile radius might have heard Digger coming. His cock, falling from you against his body, still dripping with your slick, still spurting streams of his thick, white cum all over his abdomen, covering his thick pubic hair. His hands, still embedded in your skin, creating deep, red marks where the grip was far too tight, stinging so perfectly pleasantly.

Your own notes of pleasure hadn't exactly been all that much quieter than his own, but still drowned out by the amped up grunting and wailing of George. At least you could hold that saving grace. Allow yourself to cling to that modicum of your dignity.

Because you certainly weren't bothered about any other facets of it, as you slid down beside George on the dingy mattress, curling around his body, hand on his chest, smugly satisfied to know that you had contributed to the stains that would no doubt be a permanent feature.

[sumeruin]

bad idea, right?

♫♪: pairing: toxic ex! scara x afab! reader (modern but still in universe au)

♫♪: warnings: written by a minor, kind of dubcon but reader is very obviously into it, slapping, spitting, bondage, degradation, slight humiliation, toxic relationships, pet names, fingering, female anatomy but no pronouns or gendered terms used, i think that’s it but if i missed any please let me know!!

♫♪: a/n: originally meant to post this like. weeks ago lmao sorry <3

♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!

fuck. you don’t know why you keep doing this, if you’re being completely honest. he’s bad for you. so, horribly, unbelievably bad for you. and yet, as he sits on your couch, leaning back and propping his feet up on your coffee table like he owns the place, you don’t want to kick him out. all you wanna do is slap that stupid smirk off his face and let him fuck every single thought out of your mind.

his voice breaks you from your thoughts. “are you planning on saying anything, or am i supposed to just stare at you?” his eyes linger on your waist, following the curves of your body and leaving you feeling much too exposed for your liking.

you cross your arms over your chest defenseivly, returning his smug stare with a glare of your own. “why are you here? i thought i made it clear last time that i never wanted to see your face again.” unless it’s in between my legs, your brain adds silently, and you desperately try to shoo those thoughts away. if you start thinking about how good he is in bed, you’ll never be able to make him leave.

he clearly notices your internal struggle, raising an eyebrow and letting out a laugh that’s only slightly mocking. his condescending gaze makes your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. how does he always manage to make you feel humiliated when he’s the one who keeps crawling back? “you did, but we both know that’s not true. i bet if i looked between your legs right now you’re wet just from looking at me. you always were into the weirdest things. you found another guy willing to slap you around yet?”

your face burns at the reminder of the things you’ve asked him to do, all of them depraved and perverted in nature. from the times you’ve begged him to spit on you, to the times you’ve placed his hand on your throat and silently urged him to apply pressure while he was fucking you. it’s clear he enjoys your humiliation, a fact that only makes you more humiliated and only sends yet another pang of heat in between your legs.

“th-that’s none of your business, *scaramouche*. just- what do you want?” he flinches ever so slightly at the venomous way you say his name, and that fact that you’re calling him that at all. you never call him that, it’s always “kuni” or “scara” or some random pet name. never “scaramouche”.

after a few painfully long moments of contemplative silence, he slowly stands up and walks towards you, and you can’t help the way you reflexively lean into his touch when he grabs your chin. he chooses not to answer your question, simply tilting your head to face his as he speaks, tapping your cheek with two of his fingers. “open.”

despite your best judgment, you obey, silently opening your mouth and gazing up at him in confusion.

he simply admires the sight for a moment, then, without any kind of warning, he spits directly into your open mouth. his grip tightens on your cheeks so you can’t close your lips, and he smirks to himself as you grimace at the feeling. “you done being a bitch yet? or am i going to have to fuck it out of you?”

you glare, though he only laughs in your face at your attempt at intimidation. “you look pathetic, trying to intimidate me while my spit is sitting on your tongue and your drooling all over me like a dog. is that what you are? my pathetic, stupid little mutt? maybe i should put a leash on you. then you wouldn’t think you could leave me.”

he lets go of your cheeks, though he gives you a threatening look that promises consequences if you try to do anything other than swallow. you do, sending him another barely threatening glare as your voice comes out. “fuck off. ‘m not yours anymore.”

scara only gives you a mocking smile at your words, gripping your wrist and dragging you over to the couch before practically throwing you on the cushions. you’re suddenly thankful for that throw pillow phase you went through a few years ago. maybe celestia did have a plan besides making you waste your money.

he hovers over you, his eyes furious and his mocking smile gone, seemingly having decided to drop the faux nice facade and embrace the dominance he holds over you. his hand curls around your neck, not tight enough to choke you yet, just enough to cut off a little bit of oxygen and fill your brain with that fuzzy, soft haze. “fine. you wanna be like that, huh? i can deal with a brat.”

he yanks your pajama shorts and underwear down your legs, carelessly tossing them to a random corner of the living room before working on your shirt. he doesn’t even bother trying to take that off the right way, he simply rips the fabric down the middle and exposes your perfect tits, which he then decides to start massaging with his left hand. with his right, he takes his belt off and restrains your hands behind your back. you can’t control the moan that falls from your lips as your back arches into his touch, and you’re only a little ashamed of how desperately needy your voice sounds. “fuck, scara-!”

he grins in response, his eyes trailing from your exposed cunt to your eyes as he responds, his free hand trailing down to rub little circles against your clit. “yeah? i’m right here, doll. not going anywhere.”

scara relishes the way you jolt under his touch, body shaking as whines and mewls fall from your lips. fuck, it’s been so long. you hadn’t realized how deprived you’d been until someone was finally playing with your pussy. no one’s ever as good as scara, not since you slept with him the first time. he knows very well how much he’s ruined any other guy for you, how he’s the only one who can make you cum this hard. and he loves it.

he deems you wet enough after a few more moments of him rubbing your clit, and then he slides two of his fingers in your twitching cunt, not even bothering to take off his rings beforehand. not that you’re complaining, you both know how much you love the feeling of the metal rubbing against your insides. he notices the way you start to drift away, and lands a heavy slap to your cheek, snapping you out of the pleasure induced trace he put you in with a predatory grin. “are you trying to hide from me? you should know better.”

you can only whine in response, trying to blabber out a coherent response while on the verge of cumming your brains out all over your ex boyfriend’s fingers is much harder than it looks. all you manage is another little mewl, gazing up at him with teary eyes as you whine out the words. “not- not tryin’ to hide, kuni… p-please, need more- need- need to cum, please let me cum!”

scara only gives you another grin, clearly pleased with your performance, and he slips another finger inside you, scissoring them and making you cry out as your back arches and your legs twitch from where they’re resting on either side of his body. your moans get less coherent, but he doesn’t seem to mind. he just pulls his fingers out of your pussy and holds eye contact while licking them clean, then pulls his pants down just far enough to take his cock out. he slaps it against your clit a few times, and pats your, quickly reddening, cheek condescendingly as he speaks. “i don’t think you’ve done anything to deserve getting fucked.”

his soft pats switch to a harsh grip on your chin abruptly, and he forces your face to make eye contact with him while he continues. “why don’t you convince me, hm? tell me how sorry you are for pretending you wanted to leave me, how much you missed me. then i’ll consider it.”

scara’s grin is wicked now, staring deeply into your fucked out eyes as your face scrunches up and you start to sniffle at his denials. he’s the one who started this, why is he making you seem like the desperate one? you wouldn’t be this desperate if he had just kept his stupid hands to himself. still, though, your cunt aches from the overwhelming emptiness, little drops of slick drooling out and making a mess of your favorite blanket.

so, you obey like always, the words flowing from your lips with an ease that makes it seem like something you’ve always known, a deep rooted fact that you can’t possibly deny as you stare up at him through thick lashes with glossy eyes. “p-please, kuni, need you so bad, it hurts! i- i was wrong, wasn’t- wasn’t thinking… missed you so much, please!”

scara smiles, baring his teeth in a way that you distantly know should terrify you, but as he thrusts deeply inside you, filling you up so well with one deep stroke, you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

you aren’t sure you ever did.

[dystopyx-blog]

with the ask about all the characters that overblot, you mentioned we’d be better off when they’re regular yanderes as opposed to overblotted yanderes—so who do you think would be the easiest and who do you think would be the worst in their regular yandere state? and do you think some of their yandere tendencies would be different pre-overblot compared to post-overblot?

gonna ramble for a second here… i am honestly not too sure with leona, vil, or idia but i kind of imagine riddle lightens up significantly after it. probably more lenient with his darling in general, but especially regarding the whole following rules thing. i see azul being a 50/50, it probably depends on your reaction. having his darling witness his overblot, aka seeing his deepest darkest insecurities, and react poorly might validate his not-so-good tendencies, i.e., blackmail, lies, manipulation, gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. but if they react more positively, i assume he would feel more inclined to establish a relationship in a healthy… or at least in a more normal/conventional way. with jamil, i am under the belief it wouldn’t necessarily improve or worsen, it’ll just change. prior to the overblot, his methods likely follow a more sneaky approach, i’ll let you decide what that means lmao, but afterwards, he just becomes more blatant and likely won’t even attempt to hide it anymore. malleus is the only one i am almost certain will become even more difficult. the fear of losing you is still very prominent, but now he also fears hurting you again. he definitely thinks that he is the only one capable of keeping you safe, or at least he did think that, but now that delusion is… essentially shattered and he knows it’s all his fault. i don’t even know what he would do, but i just feel like it will be 10 times worse. stop i didn’t realize how much i’d yap hope you don’t mind…

mmmm, I love ramblings <3

Tbh I was already thinkin of doing a general “what kind of yandere are they?” Post, this gives me a lil head start on it, teehee.

Riddle - riddle is WORSE pre overblot! Because overblot teaches him to be less strict. So after overblot, he’s more forgiving with you, even if he wants to just keep you locked up. But pre overblot riddle is an extremely strict and possessive yandere! You are his king of hearts, therefore you must stay beside him and FOLLOW HIS RULES! No exceptions, even for his darling! Especially for his darling, you are supposed to help lead by example! He can’t stand it when you misbehave in front of the others, no matter how much he loves you. It’s only after his overblot he becomes far more lenient, and it is only after his overblot that he starts treating you with exceptions. He doesn’t want to be like his mother, after all. So he shows you proper love and affection, instead of just rules rules rules. And post overblot riddle feels so so so fucking bad for basically putting you through a speed run of what he GREW UP WITH, which gives you an extra bit of leniency, as well.

Leona - Leona is pm the same pre or post. Like at most he will try a little harder after his overblot to have you. He also will likely be more interested in you after his overblot.

Azul - Azul could very well be worse after his overblot. He watched all his contracts go up in sand. And he went from being fairly confident in himself to once again feeling pretty self conscious, as you said, he had all his insecurities on display. I imagine that after his overblot, more of his confidence is for show. He is SHAKEN after that, in a way that the others aren’t necessarily. All this greatly increases his desire to have you, and have you completely, in a way that leaves no room for doubts. He’ll find somewhere even more secure than where he kept his contracts just for you.

Jamil - I agree, I see Jamil as far more blunt. Pre overblot, tbh I imagine you’d be a secondary goal. Like he’s been waiting so long for this opportunity, he’ll deal with romance later. And/or romancing you is a goal he views as going hand in hand with his takeover—like replace Kalim, charm the girl, that’s not two steps, that’s one and a half, y’know? He’s charming you while he ruins Kalim. But after overblot, he’d probably just walk up to you, no bullshit, just “I like you. I am asking you out.” But if you reject him… well, wtf else is he supposed to do besides try to slither his way into your a heart? Oh but one way to guarantee he’s worse post overblot is if you prefer Kalim. That is the one thing absolutely un allowed.

Vil - Vil is worse after overblot. Pre overblot he honestly doesn’t think about you that much, sorry. He has competition against Niege and like a million other things on his mind. But you… you make him better. In more ways than one, even. He NEEDS you, his overblot only proves that. He is worse after overblot, because pre overblot he will give you quite a lot of freedom (as in he’ll let you go as you please, but he’s still controlling in the same way he is with pomefiore students), but after his overblot he requires you by his side 24/7 or he will freak the fuck out.

Idia - idk much about his overblot :’) Idia is one I see getting worse tho, in a similar vein to Azul.

Malleus - idk much about his overblot :’) but I very much agree with you.

[kaiju-krew]

So I know this is like, a month late (forgot to ask when you posted the pic lol), but what's up with Labra? He got like a backstory, lore, or something like that? I'm curious and wanna know more abt him.

drew him again :3c

UHMMM yes i am lore building for him........ i haven't decided everything yet but i know i want him to be a distant cousin species of goji's. everyone's fangoji lore is different but i def imagine him as a part of my personal monsterverse au rather than existing in his own world with no friends haha loser

putting a cut here so i dont spam people's feeds lmao

likeeee for comparison it's probably similar to Crocodylia encompassing crocodiles, alligators, and gharials?? labra is in a similar niche to zilla for me. goji is the largest/apex species of the gojiran order, whereas zilla & labra are smaller and occupy a different niche. Big bruiser lion vs. carcal or lynx type thing.

my hc is that the vast majority of labra's species (pre-mutation art is what they looked like) was wiped out when ghido got into hollow earth. which is also the same time he wiped out most of the divine moths and a couple other species :''(

it ended with ghido iced but it fucked up the hollow earth ecosystem for a while and led to a lot more radiation leakage since he tore the place up real bad. labra was Almost Dead and ended up hibernating to recover by a radiation vent, but he'd laid down in feldspar vein that kinda grew to cover him and turned to labradorite and idk magic radiation nonsense it fused with him and caused him to grow/mutate.

the ghido massacre also caused battra to hibernate/mutate too so it's a Big Event in my silly au world. most of the kaiju that are clearly a result of mutation fuckery (biollante, kessho too) may be related to it as well but i haven't fully fleshed it out yet. it would mostly be based around goji's hyper-regeneration doing the thing where like.. if a big enough chunk of him gets lobbed off and has access to energy it mutates and tries to regenerate and causes a fucked up clone siblings thing idk omg ok i'm in tangent city good god sorry i was supposed to be talking about my gay son

ANYWAYSSSSSS for more general hc/character stuff: >labra is genuinely terrified of ghido and even gets freaked out when he hears wing beats without warning. (mosu beats rodan's ass bcuz he divebombs labra for fun sometimes) >he lives on monster island and ventures down to hollow earth sometimes, but he won't return to his old home because it just reminds him everyone else of his species is gone. (he isn't even his own species anymore bcuz of the mutation. so they're basically extinct.) >he loves swimming and sometimes just lays in the shallows to absorb sunlight. stretches out like a lazy ass cat. cat boy behaviour >he's loyal to goji and doesn't start shit with humans unless they attack first. even then he does his best to steer clear. >mothra likes his dorsal plates and talks with him sometimes (Moth Therapy) they can bond over ghido hating it's a good time >he has a mutually bitch-bother dynamic with rodan where rodan bothers the shit outta him until he manages to grab that turkey and idk sits on him or something. but if rodan really pisses him off he doesn't mind actually throwing hands because he knows goji won't care if he puts the bird in it's place. >he also likes angy, zilla, and bio a lot too.

there's more but i'll stop there for nowwwww

tldr: big gay lizard is traumatized but doing ok ig

[diremoone]

written in fine print | r. sukuna

moving to japan to get a breath of fresh air was supposed to be one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. it still may be, but now you’ve got a problem and you don’t know what to do about it. the problem? ryomen sukuna, one of the wealthiest men on the planet, being… enamored with you. you’ve come fairly far with him as “friends” while keeping him at bay, but after you both spend christmas together, you know that things have changed. and come the first day of the new year comes a surprise that forces you to face your bottled-up truth.

[ Ryomen Sukuna Masterlist ] | part three

w — slowburn, age gap, modern au, older man/younger woman, fluff, mild? angst, this time we get reader’s pov bc it’s time ;3, insecure! reader, self-indulgence, A KISS (but just one for now sorry y’all), reader and sukuna lay their feelings on the table (I’m sorry I couldn’t help but finally get to this part), sukuna gets kinda prose-y lmao, slightly unsatisfied with this fic but I hope y’all enjoy anyway, sprinkle of bittersweet at the end

God, have mercy upon my soul.

The dozens of text messages from your cousin have you sitting on the edge of your bed in absolute disbelief. You haven’t even had any coffee yet, or any sort of something in your stomach. It’s sheer willpower keeping you from throwing up the stomach acid in your belly.

But you do need something. You make your way into the kitchen and nab the biscuits you made yesterday from the bag they were in. You shouldn’t, but you eat all four of them anyway. Then you drink something.

You were wondering why everything was going too good, why life had been so… easy as of late. Now you understood why. It was the calm before the storm. It was the universe allowing you to have some semblance of peace before it decided to throw you into the pit of mental and emotional turmoil that you’d been so great at avoiding.

Why in the world did the universe decide to put Ryomen Sukuna into your life?

That’s the question you have been asking yourself over and over again ever since you decided to take him up on the offer of a first date six months ago. Even worse, why did you even think it was a remotely good idea to get involved with someone over ten years older than you? Universe aside, you should’ve had the good judgement to keep Sukuna away. Your good intuition was something you’d always prided yourself on, so why did you decide to even let Sukuna keep coming around?

You go back to your room and get the phone, rereading over the messages. One in particular your eyes stay on:

A benefactor has paid for nana’s care and set her up in a really fancy, upscale care and rehabilitation facility here. They came and got her this morning to transfer her. When I asked about it, someone from registration said it was a gift for you. Who the fuck did you meet in Japan? 5:16 am

And you know, deep within your soul and in your gut that Sukuna was behind this. There’s no one you know that has the money to pull off something like taking your grandmother from where she was to a facility where she’s going to get more constant help, cleaned, proper rehabilitation. No one else but him.

The coffee maker suddenly beeps, beginning to brew a fresh pot of coffee. You almost jump out of your skin from it. You wait until it’s done before digging out one of the banana nut muffins Shoko brought over two nights ago to pre-celebrate the new year.

You truly don’t know what to feel. You’re unsure about everything. Coming to Japan to get a breath of fresh air from the strain your old life was supposed to be one of the best choices you’ve ever made. But now, all it’s become is a whirlwind of even more, even deeper emotional confusion.

Meeting Yuuji was great. Meeting his older brother? The entire source of the emotional confusion.

You lean against the counter and gaze outside. The snow has finally ceased and you’re sure dozers are out clearing the roads. You can’t help but fall into your thoughts.

For awhile, you’ve had… feelings. You’re not quite sure what they are, but you know that they revolve around the older, rich man you’ve befriended. You know that whenever he’s around, you feel more… open, lighter even. You know he makes you feel flustered, to which you’ve learned to seal said fluster inside of a bottle and remain indifferent in his presence. Every time he looks at you or speaks to you, it makes you feel… giddy. Happy, dare you say it.

And it’s something you swallow down and hide every time it bubbles to the surface, fearing that it’ll be nothing more than the same story as your mother: a heart broken by the letdown of not ever being enough, not being what the man actually wanted, and not being genuinely cared for.

The mug of coffee in your hands grows hot, almost scalding against the skin of your palms. It brings you out of your own mind, just in time to hear your phone vibrate with more text messages, all still from your cousin.

Because apparently fate dropped a man in your lap that was more than ready to give you anything and everything you’ve ever wanted: unconditional love on a gold platter; fate decided that you finally deserve a break from strife and grief, that you deserved to stop eating humble pie, because lord knows you’ve done choked and damn near suffocated on that shit; that you deserved to be cherished and loved and made to be someone’s number one in their life.

You know. You fucking know what Sukuna does to you, how he makes you feel inside. You also know how he wants to treat you and the things he wants to do to you. And perhaps with you, if your gut instinct is right and he wants more than a body to warm his bed.

Who are you kidding? You know you’re right.

But it’s unfortunate for you that all you’ve learned to do is bottle up your feelings and act like they don’t exist. Because you’ve never been loved, not romantically anyway. Especially not like this, from someone like this.

How were you supposed to love? What did it really mean to be in a relationship? You’ve never been in one. Not one that ever really was going to go as far as this. Was what you were feeling all temporary? And if you did get into a relationship, what if he didn’t like you when you got comfortable? What if he didn’t like it when you laughed too hard, or any of the habits you have? What if he was just wanting to play savior and ended up leaving you a few months from now?

You toss your head back and groan. Why? Why was this happening to you?

You opt to spend the day inside, rather than go out like you had planned. You have to text Shoko and Utahime, letting them know that you’re not going to be able to participate in their plans of going out and visiting shrines for the new year. The latter is reasonably mad, but Shoko calms her down in the group chat. Although she does make an innuendo about spending the day with someone else “cozied up in bed” rather than them. You send her a side eye emoji in return on her personal thread.

You change out of your pajamas and into some casual clothes — a dark red long sleeve and some black sweatpants, switching to house socks to regular socks — despite not intending to go out for the day. You do end up on the couch for most of the day, switching your attention from the TV and the messages on your phone more than you care to admit. You hardly eat, and don’t realize it until you can feel your stomach against your spine each time.

All day is basically wasted in front of the television, trapped in your own mind. Trapped in the whirlwind that Sukuna has made of your heart and emotions.

You graze through your entire stock of sweets in less than a day, uncaring if it was unhealthy. Dusk settles on the horizon before you know it and you’re anything but tired. In fact, you’re wide awake.

“What do I do…?” you ask into the open air. You feel stupid doing it, but apparently fate has a response for you.

It’s 9:18 at night when several strong knocks rap at your door.

It’s 9:20 when you decide to finally answer the door.

It’s 9:24 when you realize you’ve got a guest at the front door, the very same man who’s been making you question yourself and your whole life ever since coming to this country.

It’s 9:30 when you question to yourself why you let him in. You didn’t think it through, that much you’re sure of. How could you be when he’s thrown your heart all topsy-turvy and mushed it into goo?

Just looking at him from his back floods your mind and makes your heart race, something you hope you’re able to hide by what you hope is a face of indifference and calmness. You can see the tattoos peek out from his turtleneck, and you have to gulp down your nervousness.

The large mug of fruity tea you’ve poured has now chilled, the ice just barely clinking in the glass. You quickly open the cookie jar on the counter and shove two snickerdoodles in your mouth to stress-eat being prepared for what was coming next.

“I…” you begin, and embarrassingly realize you have to swallow the cookies to talk. “I wasn’t expecting you to… show up.”

Sukuna’s silent for a moment, then replies stoically, “Neither was I.”

You gaze at him longer than you intend to. Your attention is mostly on his tattoos, the little bits that are peeking out from the deep crimson of his form-fitting turtleneck. You watch him readjust the watch on his wrist, partially revealing the tattoo inked onto his wrist. To your surprise, Sukuna actually doesn’t like showing off his tats. He used to in his younger years; he’s still proud of them, but he isn’t as much into flaunting them to the world nowadays.

Sukuna’s deep voice cuts through the air. “Have you… gotten my gift?”

You bite your lower lip. You nod even though he can’t see you. “Yeah… If you mean the one involving my grandmother, then yes.”

“I do apologize if I crossed any lines doing such a thing,” he says. “But I don’t regret it.”

“I can imagine you don’t,” you reply, knowing full-well that him regretting anything was a very rare occurrence. “But… Why? Why would you do that? Go through such trouble to help me… and my family? Just… Why?”

His ginormous frame turns to face you to look into your eyes and answer with nothing short of honesty, “Because I want you to be cared for. I’ve seen happiness in your eyes and I want to keep you happy. I want to be the one making you happy.”

“Buying my love will only get you so far,” you say.

“I know. I want to do more for you. I want… to be more for you. Not just… this. Whatever we have going on,” Sukuna admits casually, crossing his burly arms over his chest. But he doesn’t make eye contact. In fact, he keeps his eyes to the floor, away from your gaze. “I know what I want, although I’m not quite sure how to describe everything I feel… when I’m with you and when I think about you. It’s… I know what it is, I’m pretty sure, but at the same time… I don’t.”

“It’s new for you,” you mumble. Surprisingly, he actually hears you and nods. He doesn’t lie. Not with you.

“I’ve been with many women over the years, all for the same reason. I’ve never felt like falling in love or that it would ever matter. I know lust, I know what comes with that. With you, it’s anything but. At first, yes. But your immediate rejection, you continuing to keep your distance from me and your distaste known made me stop and think.”

You raise your brows. “All it took was a girl with some strong boundaries to make you realize you can’t live off being just horny for then rest of your life?”

Sukuna laughs. He actually laughs. A bright smile crosses his handsome face as his shoulders shake with laughter. He tries to cover it up with a hand, but all it does it muffle it into loud chuckles. It takes a good couple minutes before his chuckles finally fall into a simple smile of amusement. That’s when you admit your own truths. If you were going to be hurt, you might as well get it over with.

“In a way,” Sukuna admits. And then he admits even more, opening his heart and putting it on his sleeve. “You’ve reminded me that there is more to life, that I can be genuinely happy beyond office walls and red light districts. You have made me remember what feeling excited, what being on my toes feels like. You make the air lighter… happier, every time I see you. You… I care for you.”

Sukuna’s last words of admission are watered-down and you both know it. Then again, he says he is new to these kinds of feelings. And at this point, you believe him. You wonder if he knows that you’re just like him — exactly the same: that you’re new to the feelings of love, what it means to be in love. It’s confusing, really. You’re not sure where to begin when it comes to saying the things that Sukuna has seemingly had no problem admitting to you. You can’t just say, “Ditto” and make out with him.

Well, you could, but that’s beside the point.

You swallow the frog in your throat and look at him. He isn’t looking at you but at the ground, almost like he’s unsure of himself.

“You’ve made yourself a cozy place inside me, too,” you speak softly. Your hands don’t leave the mug as you set it on the counter. “We’ve only known each other for barely half a year, you know? You make me wonder if what I’m feeling is love, most of the time. I enjoy you; I enjoy your company. I enjoy the thrill you bring into my life. I… enjoy how weightless you make the world feel. I… I like the thought of being… prioritized. I’m just… confused on whether or not these feelings are rooted in love or something else entirely.”

“And I apologize for making you feel that way,” he replies. “That isn’t my intention.”

You’re quick to your words before he can continue. “Don’t apologize. Please. It’s not your fault. I… I’ve never been in a relationship. I don’t know what love is or what it’s supposed to feel like. I’ve never been loved, and I’m not quite sure how to reciprocate it. I’m afraid I’ll fuck up. Say the wrong thing, not do something right.”

Sukuna’s brows furrow. “There is no right or wrong way to be in a relationship — just yourself.”

“I’ve heard that, just as much as I’ve heard otherwise.”

Silence fills your apartment. You tap your nails against the glass mug, little tinks! resounding. You can’t look at Sukuna now. Not after just admitting to having never been in a romantic relationship. Now, you must seem more of your age than you ever have in his eyes.

“Any insecurity you have is not invalid. I would never disrespect them,” Sukuna finally says, sheer conviction making you shiver.

The giant man stands to take his place not even a foot from you. Magnetism draws you to his face and you cannot look away. His hand comes up and brushes his large fingers across your cheek.

And like an open book, he reads you from the front cover to the very last word, reading off your exterior cover and the interior pages you’ve hidden away. “You’ve carved yourself from early maturity, into someone that your loved ones have needed you to be. You’ve never been able to truly be yourself, be free. You’ve always had to be the rock that everyone has needed, when no one has been for you. You desire to be loved, but not at the expense of heartbreak nor sacrificing the person you’ve molded yourself into for the people you love. You desire to be free above all else, not wanting to be loved unless there’s someone who can love you and give you your freedom at the same time.”

You gape, eyes almost as wide as saucers with your eyelids lined with burning tears. You dip your head and sniffle.

“I want that. I want that for you. I want to be the one to give that to you,” Sukuna continues. “The time we spent together not even a week ago, I want more of that. I no longer want to live the way I’ve been living. I want to live with you, do those kinds of things with you. That sounds corny as fuck coming from me of all people, but that’s the truth.”

You can’t help but laugh. His tone of exasperation at himself was just too funny not to.

“And what happens when you give me those things? Will you be done with me? Move on to the next person?” you ask. “Once you’ve played the part of the savior, won’t those feelings end?”

“I’ll never be done with you,” he answers instantaneously, like it was nothing short of law. “You’ve captivated me, all of me. I’ve already tried pulling myself away a multitude of times. But then one little word of anything about you and you’re all I think about for the rest of the day.”

You sniffle again and laugh. “Did you practice this? You sound like a poet.”

“I can be one if you’d like.” You giggle at that. It’s silly, but you feel like Sukuna would oblige you if you said yes. “But I mean it, every word.”

You nod and whisper, “I know you do.” Because it’s the truth. He’ll never not mean anything he says. Brutal honesty is apart of Sukuna.

The emptiness of your apartment is deafening, it’s silence almost palpable to the point where you feel like you might being to suffocate. But large, firm hands cup your cheeks and bring oxygen into your lungs again.

His hands are warm, so warm. The feeling of being touched like this, so intimately, makes all the blood flow to your cheeks to the point where you think you’ll overheat.

“May I kiss you?” he asks, tone quiet, voice deep and baritone that makes shivers roll up your spine. “At least once?”

You can’t help but bite into your lower lip. The suffocating feeling has returned, just for a different reason. But your instinct goes first — action taking the initiative over the brain — and you nod once more, mumbling out a small “yes” that you chastise yourself for being so meek.

Sukuna’s free arm wraps around your waist and gently pulls you to your tippy-toes. You’re running on instinct, one hand resting on his chest, the other circling behind his neck, eyelids slowly closing as he dives in for the kiss you’ve allowed. And when his hand cradles the back of your head, his lips meet yours, and you swear to everything from heaven to hell that you’re about to explode and die in this man’s arms.

Everything feels like it’s on fire… until it doesn’t. That fire slowly simmers down to a gentle flame, one that brings a sense of contentment.

Sukuna tilts his head, moving your lips and deepening the kiss. You allow it, and it feels like the kiss has sunk to a new depth of desire. Dare you even think or say it be devotion. His lips are warm and sweet on yours; his kiss isn’t one of urgency, but perhaps the desperation of longing. It’s not slow and controlling, not greedy. Whatever this kiss is and all the emotions contained within, you know it makes you at peace and content.

Everything feels perfect.

You both part for air, lips slow to disconnect. You can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed being so out of breath, but hearing the slight heaviness of breath coming from the large man makes you feel less awkward.

“Thought you said you hadn’t been in a relationship before?”

Your reply is breathless, “Never have.”

“Then you must be a naturally good kisser.”

That makes you laugh. You press your head to his chest and giggle away, to which you hear what you think is a chuckle from his throat.

It’s 11:20 at night by the time you look at the clock again. It’s too late for Sukuna to go home. That’s the excuse you use anyway. He’s seemingly more than happy to use the excuse right along with you to spend a night with you.

Come morning, however, things shift back to the way they were before: confusing and lonely. The couch was just as empty as the apartment. Under you was not Sukuna’s body, but a stack of pillows from your bedroom.

The note on the counter about being called in for an important meeting doesn’t do his absence justice either, instead sending every one of your walls back up, twice as high and just as thick as they were before.

Your phone dings with new messages. Utahime and Shoko, both of which declare they’re coming over to drag your ass out of your apartment to go shopping like you should’ve yesterday.

You text them back, telling them you’ll meet them at the mall, that you’re going to get ready and this time you aren’t going to miss out.

You don’t know what to do or what to think. You don’t know if one night of vulnerability means anything more than just being open with another human being. All you know is that you need a break, from yourself, your confusion, from life, and especially from Sukuna.

You need the clarity of a shopping trip and good friends for company, because your hopes for what’s coming next are getting far too high and you’re beginning to really fall in love with Sukuna Ryomen.

taglist: (no longer adding)

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @yuujispinkhair | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss

[bakugo-softski]

The dub putting “so the poor kid had no idea this scary girl was in love with him” and “he may be super strong but he’s still a damned nerd” in the same air space is FUCKING INSANE

I’m now wholly convinced it was supposed to be Katsuki’s voice instead of Mic’s depicting this scene but when they recorded this line it was just entirety too fucking on the nose so they scrapped it and used Mic instead lmao.

Nobody else has ever ever EVER called deku a damned nerd. Never ever ever except bakugo katsuki. Why is this here. Why is it there. It shouldn’t be there, in this conversation about love and boyfriends. While the only person who has ever called izuku midoriya a damn nerd is across the ocean literally being targeted and murdered for being the one and only person closest to izukus heart. What the goddamn everloving fuckity fuck. Why. Why. Someb knock me the fuck out i am begging

[ceasarslegion]

Now that I'm on a 5 hour train ride before my airport run I can outline a few thoughts about America I've had over the last week:

-everything is so big. Like canada far beats you guys in regards to raw land mass but there's like 12 of us up there. You guys really minmaxed how much you can fit into one place. Meanwhile you leave an urban center in canada and it's just nothing for the next half hour upon which you hit a gas station warning that the next ones not gonna be for another 2 hours so fill up now

-Ive seen more Amish people in my like 4 days in upstate NY than I have in my entire life before now

-ive also seen more confederate, trump, and general American flags in the last 4 days upstate than in my entire life before now. NYC was not that bad. Are you guys okay down here

-why do you have war vets advertised on street lamps

-why do you put your flag on EVERYTHING... im pretty sure there's a part of your constitution that says you're not supposed to do that lmao??

-i bought a big gulp with my last few USD bills yesterday. It gave me a nuclear level tummy ache but the hubris of having that much pop for 2 dollars made it worth it. I get the appeal of Big Drink now

-I was asked how I want my burger cooked when I went for a good ol' american cheeseburger. You guys are just raw dogging rare ground beef here like e coli can't touch you. There was a burger that had mozzarella sticks on it on the menu. Your frankensteinian approach to food captivates me

-i hate how you have 1 dollar bills here. That's wrong to me. 5 is the proper place for bills to start. To me. But the CAD to USD exchange rate is HEAVILY weighted in your favour so it's whatever I guess. Your grocery prices make me want to scream, cry, and throw up in that order. Canada's not much better but at least the prices have the same number on them in a comparatively worthless currency

-there is something so capitalist about this country. Every second of my day I am being blasted with ads from every flat surface. At least we don't have ad screens in our taxis???

-I bought an Arizona tea flavour we don't have in canada and upon glancing at the nutrition label it had 84% of my daily sugar intake in it. If that's what your convenience store iced tea is like I think whatever sweet tea is would just kill me

-I think the guns in Walmart are perhaps contributing to the way the tankies on this webbed site think guns are cool and not dangerous at all. My god I was uneasy seeing that shit

-i got a big box of american sugar cereal that we dont have in canada and they can pry it from my cold dead hands at the airport I'm qualified to work our TSA checkpoint and I know damn well it's allowed to go in the case of personal consumption this shit fucks so goddamn hard