#which is a horrific endeavor
Text
Idk what scenario this would take place in but I think about Sarah describing being hanged to Dani and Max.
Like, how uncomfortable the rope was, how it wasn't as fast as the ledgens of them made it seem, and the three of them basically suffocated. Rather than their necks snapping and dying quickly. (Or at least Sarah's neck didn't snap. They can't be sure about their sisters'. They never talk about it). How it was all so scary, and they still get nightmares about not being able to breath.
And Daniela finds it so fascinating, because she's never considered hanging to be such a slow way to go.
But Max is lowkey horrified because he's tried to hang himself before (and failed) and has a vague idea of what Sarah is describing. And now he's kind of glad that never worked out for him because Sarah talks about how long it felt in that moment, and he's not sure he could have handled all that very well.
#sardaximus#cw suicide mention#cw death mention#cw hanging#max relating a little too hard to his partner talking about getting hanged#this idea based off the fact these womenwere not hung from a very high place#meaning there pribably wasnt enough for to snap their necks#which means they most likely were strangled rather than getting a quick death#which is a horrific endeavor
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
『♡』 Brittle is Devotion
♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader
♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)
♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)
notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!
Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.
It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.
And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.
He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.
He knew that and got greedy.
To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.
Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.
“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.
A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.
“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.
“Mhm.”
“Will you change?”
“No.”
That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.
Maybe you never mattered in the first place.
It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying.
You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday.
Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.
You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs.
You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over.
The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.
“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat.
“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off.
“I love you too, Shoko.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty.
“Mm, I’ll manage.”
“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight.
“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair.
“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.”
“‘N how’s that gonna help?”
“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.”
“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny.
“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.”
“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.”
“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.”
“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.”
“Nothing wrong with shellfish.”
The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.
You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings.
Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene.
The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.
A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself.
So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.
It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching.
You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result?
After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real.
In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”
You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night.
And you burst into tears.
Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you.
You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.
“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside.
“Wh’re you?” you garble.
“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?”
“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.
“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light.
“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child.
“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.
“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm.
“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge.
“L’ve me alone”
“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-”
Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you.
“C’mon, sweetheart.”
You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew.
Then, you shoot up.
You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.
Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose.
“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.
You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand.
“Finally up?”
It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried.
You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears.
He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you.
“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.
“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.
“It was fine.”
There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance.
Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?”
“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?”
“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times.
“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication.
“Had business”
“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment.
“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy.
“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation.
“’M not lyin’.”
“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?
“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.”
He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.”
“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.”
“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-”
“You could barely keep your eyes op-”
“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!”
You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone.
“...I know.”
You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone.
“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze.
“Are ya hungry?”
You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances.
Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.
“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.”
“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity.
“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride.
“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.”
“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest;
“Pervert!”
There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.
They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”
Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top.
It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.
Not my business. You're nauseous.
Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table.
Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it.
“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.
“You lost? Take her order” he spat.
The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you.
“What’s funny?”
“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.”
Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors.
"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say.
"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."
"S'good. Livin comfortable?"
"As comfortable as I can be"
"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"
"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests.
"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."
"It did pay well."
"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?"
“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."
"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household.
"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"
You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."
His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."
"Don't get used to it."
You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.
He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof.
You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality.
The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”
You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.”
“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.
You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”
He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again”
“Toji, there can’t be a next- “
“Give me your phone.”
“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists.
You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.
“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.
The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today.
You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself:
dumbass ex
tick, tock, tick, tock
The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip.
Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him.
He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.
Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji.
A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.
“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.”
“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...”
“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.”
“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?”
“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”.
“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?”
“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them.
“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.”
You sigh, “It’s no one new.”
“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops.
“Do not fucking say it.”
“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!”
“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.”
“You felt lonelier with him than without him!”
“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath.
“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place.
“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.”
At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app.
Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:
'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn'
'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?'
'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?'
'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes'
This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”
Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.
Oh god.
You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.
“…Hello?”
“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“
“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction.
“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.”
“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you.
You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs.
Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no-
“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.”
“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.
But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.
There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.”
“They’re for you.”
You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless.
“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you.
“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.”
You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.
“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan.
“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere.
“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”
“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right?
“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle.
“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups.
Toji raises his glass, “A toast.”
You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?”
“Us.”
Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words.
He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.
Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie.
Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.
It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.
The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.”
Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.”
“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.”
“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:("
You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.”
“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.”
This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm.
Loving.
It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks.
“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything.
“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”
You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”
“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip.
“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.
“I don’t need healing. I need you.”
You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation.
You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.
You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.
You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?”
“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”
Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.
“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement.
You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip.
You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue.
An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.”
He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.
Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans.
Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?”
He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.
You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow.
Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-”
He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.”
You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.
He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.”
“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.
“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.
You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.”
“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.”
“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence.
“And what else?”
“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk.
“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you.
“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”
“Mhm!”
He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.
Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.
You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”
“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth.
“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come.
“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air.
“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm.
No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.
Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight.
“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close”
“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.”
Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.
He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”
“Just go slow, okay?” you meek.
“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear.
Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.
“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”
The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.
Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?
Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go.
Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”
He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.
“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs.
Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.
Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?”
You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?”
“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain.
Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other.
“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?”
“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.
“So, you’re the decision maker now?”
“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.”
“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.”
A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”
“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.”
The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?”
“No. You need nobody but me.”
You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”
“I love you, too.”
#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu toji#toji fushiguro#toji smut#toji x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#toji fushigro x reader#jjk
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Warm
Wings of Fire occupies this strange meta-textually dissonant niche. There are a lot of disturbing and even grotesque things happening in it, like people's eyeballs getting dissolved by acid, characters compelled by mind control to ritualistically disembowel themselves, families getting torn apart by war, several attempted genocides, and an alarming amount of parental neglect and abuse.
But then, due to its nature as a book series aimed at children, the story finds itself unable to dwell on these horrific events that would realistically do irreparable damage to anyone experiencing or witnessing them. The narrative just kind of stands at the side and tries to look away, waiting until it's over. Characters remain oddly chipper and unbothered by sights that would ruin an average person.
This is not an accusation. I understand why it is that way. Sutherland desired to write a story about dragons for kids, which is a valid and admirable endeavor. In such a framework it would likely be inappropriate to do a deep dive into the psychological depths of a cast of traumatized characters.
But as a fan of her work, I find it an enticing thought exercise to look at the events of the story and examine them in a way the original text doesn't. To dwell on these experiences and the emotions they would beget. You'll find that Pyrrhia is filled with millions of little stories that haven't been fully told. A mother, displaced in time through torturous imprisonment, finds everyone she knew and loved is dead, safe for a son whose trauma has warped him into a twisted, murderous monstrosity. A nephew loses his beloved aunt to illness and his abusive family likely will not allow him to attend her funeral or gain any closure. And many other tales that aren't really relevant to this silly comic page, but still equally as fascinating.
#wings of fire#wof#dragon#digital art#wof art#flawseer art#flawseer talk#flawseer story#wof foeslayer#wof winter#wof nightwing#wof icewing
841 notes
·
View notes
Text
Log of the Multiverse: The Guardian of Positivity
A miracle, a wish-granter, a god, I've been called all of those things.
My actual title is "The Guardian of Positivity"
But my friends just call me "Dream" because that's a mouthful. Sometimes Ink calls me T.G.P though.
My role in the multiverse is to spread positivity. Making sure everyone is happy is my goal. It's a pretty tough job, I'll admit! Or I guess it doesn't really count as a "job". That insinuates that I was hired and that I can quit. Jobs also have breaks, I think, which I don't have because keeping people positive is a constant endeavor.
I take the form of a skeleton, specifically a replica of "Underswap" Sans's form. I'm not too sure why, sorry. At the very least, I know that having skin would be terrible! My life force flows all throughout my body constantly. It'd be too much for something like, say, a human body, to handle. My body would probably explode if it had skin trying to contain my magic, hah! Imagine that! It'd be like a firework.
And then you might get caught up in the explosion and you'd have to clean yourself up but we'd laugh about it as you wash the blood and gore away.
Blue just proofread the above statement and said it was "horrific and disturbing". I apologize, I didn't see it like that.
It's a good thing I'm a skeleton so nothing of that matter would happen!
Moving on, I have the power to calm people down with this aura of mine. It shines a pretty pink color that, upon gazing at it, calms people down. Unfortunately, the effect tends to backfire after too long of exposure. Another use of my aura is emphasizing people's positive emotions, of course I could do the reverse of preventing people from feeling positive emotions, but that would be horrible! That's something The Guardian of Negativity would do.
However, I cannot prevent people from feeling negative emotions like The Guardian of Negativity, that is not of my caliber. The best I can do is provide support and comfort—or drown it out with enough positivity.
Sorry to cut this short, but I've already spent too long writing this. I hope this supplies sufficient information!
Sincerely, Dream
I've just been told that signing things off like the above is usually only for letters. I hope this blunder does not annoy you and rather is humorous.
This is the end of the entry -Dream
43 notes
·
View notes
Note
The reason why I can't behind any of the characters or things they do is that they're made into hypocrites.
You got Mina and Eijirou who're against bullies yet are friends with Bakugou don't do anything when he gets onto All Might.
Hawks who had a past with an abusive father and when Endeavor is exposed as one, he doesn't react or say anything about it.
Izuku with his quirkless past yet doesn't offer any sympathy towards those like him, like how he tried to make Nighteye laugh or Aoyama.
And then there's Aizawa... the guy's a walking hypocrite so I don't feel like going into any of the things he did.
All this makes it difficult to really get behind and like these characters when they contradict their characteristics this much all to make the worse characters look good.
Hi @theloganator101 👋,
Exactly this. Hori's characters act how HE wants them to to service the plot rather than what would fit their characters. So we have situations like this where they become hypocrites and bad things are implied about them. We have talked about Aizawa before so I'll focus on Izuku, Kirishima, Mina and Hawks.
Izuku - was quirkless, was horrifically abused by Bakugou for this as well as daring to try to help him out a river once.
Also Izuku - is NOT allowed once to reflect on the similarities between Aoyama and himself. Is NOT allowed to think one bit on his quirkless past or the horrific bullying (abuse) he went through. Does not seek to change the status quo now that he is a part of it. Or think about how HE could change how quirkless are being treated. This in my most charitable interpretation could be Izuku's self hatred coming out full force, he doesn't want to think about when he was quirkless so he doesn't. But this could also be construed as arrogance, stupidity and narrow minded-ness.
Izuku - knows in graphic detail the Todofam situation, is best friends with Todoroki Shoto and confronted Endeav for being a POS when he first met him.
Also Izuku - Acts like a fanboy of Endeavor in the agency arc and defends Endeavor to Dabi's face (another of Endeavor's victims.) - This puts a sour taste in my mouth not going to lie, this reads as Izuku thinking, 'because he's nice to me and he says he's going to change all is good now!' Also (unlike defending Shoto) defending Endeav just isn't necessary here. No one is denying Endeavor's mentorship or heroism skills. Dabi is saying he is an abuser and a shit dad which - you know - he is. Izuku reads as a naive, narrow-minded teenager at best here. There are better ways Hori could have worded Izuku stepping in - this wasn't it.
Mina and Kirishima: 'We hate bullies!' 😠 Very vocally anti bully, their heroism stories each center on it.
Also Mina and Kirishima: look on as Bakugou acts like the BIGGEST bully for all of the academic year and decide to become his besties. - This can be read as them being too thick to work out Bakugou is a bully at best. At worst... They read as cowards and hypocrites. The 'It's ok as long as he's not picking on me or my friends,' type.
Hawks: has an abusive father that was taken into custody by Endeav before being taken by the HPSC and enduring more intense training (likely abuse.)
Also Hawks: Despite his past abuse as an adult licks the boots of another abusive father, Endeav (Endeav's boots must be super shiny.) - Are we still pretending Hawks is an actual character at this point? All he is now is an Endeav Simp with some 'I killed Twice' angst sprinkled in. But I will save the major pieces of salt regarding Hawks for the ask I have about him. Least charitable interpretation - Hawks has LOW empathy thanks to his abusive childhood and latches on hard to a select few (Endeav) who he will protect, screw everyone else. Hawks doesn't care about Endeav's past child abuse, spousal abuse and literal crimes just what he means to him. Most Charitable - Hawks is an abused messed up person who never grew up past his idealisation of Endeav and clung to anything that meant he could keep the 'hero Endeav' in his mind intact.
With all of these deductions in mind, characters we are meant to root for feel flat, hypocritical, OOC and just downright bizarre at times.
Why? Because Hori bends characters to his script rather than writing the script for what works for the characters.
#mha critical#Bnha critical#Anti Ashido Mina#Anti Kirishima Ejiro#Midoriya Izuku critical#Anti Hawks#Sorry but it had to be said#The writing is to blame#Anti Bakugou#Anti Bakugou Katsuki#Anti Endeavor
82 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! Can I request something?
I would love some fluff with Frank with these prompts: thunderstorms, pillow forts and cuddling under a blanket
I hope it's okay that I picked three... I couldn't decide on just one :) Thank you 💕
Hello lovely! I made this a hurt/comfort/fluff fic. I hope that’s ok! I am so happy to give Frank all the gentle things. (Title based on Hold On by Michael Buble)
Stronger Here Together
pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader
summary: Frank receives comfort after a nasty mission.
Warnings: swearing, implied depression, non-graphic descriptions of violence
w/c: 1.8k
Keeping his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, Frank desperately tried not to let the pounding raindrops drive him past his current stimulation threshold and into total insanity. This mission was the worst he’d had in a while, with the universe kindly throwing every possible worst case scenario at him despite his growing irritation.
First, the target zipped across state lines mere hours after he’d gotten set up in a vacant motel room, meaning he had to completely reevaluate his stakeout location and do a whole other recon session in a new area. Then, the bastard made the brilliant move of teaming up with a local sex trafficking ring to peddle the drugs he’d been selling all over the tristate area. Which, fine, Frank was always ready to rid the world of some fucking perverts but these particular perverts happened to be toting massive amounts of guns, which was why he now had 4 crudely sutured wounds aching across his torso.
Of course this was far from the end of his horrific three week endeavor. After nearly passing out from blood loss, the overwhelmingly understanding agents of the CIA and homeland decided to blame him for shit going south. And that meant he’d received earful after motherfucking earful from Madani about every little misstep he had apparently taken. All of this made up the shit sundae—top that with the pulsing aches from injuries and stiff muscles, the sheer exhaustion from the stress and intense lack of sleep, and the fact that he hadn’t seen you in 19 fucking days? Yah. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe his current mood.
He’d sent you a short, discrete text from his burner, just letting you know that he was coming home and where his mind was at. At the beginning of your relationship, he’d come back from an equally long, equally stressful trip and exploded on you when you tried to dote on him. Though he’d never admit it, he still has nightmares about the hurt in your eyes and the sound of your sobs after he screamed at you to leave him alone. He’d man up and talk about his feelings if it meant never seeing you that upset again.
Letting his mind wander, the tension in his body faded slightly as his thoughts drifted to images of you. His gorgeous, gentle, thoughtful girl who deserved so much better but refused to let him go. After that first rough experience, you’d learned to be less persistent with him, to treat him almost like a feral dog. Lay out some things and let him care for himself before coming to you.
And that is exactly what you were doing while Frank drove home to you—busying yourself with household chores as you tried to make the space as cozy as possible. Though you were a bit nervous about his reaction, you had a few tricks up your sleeve to cheer both of you up on this gloomy Sunday. Once the living room was set up, you finished wiping down the counters, lit a scented candle, and nestled into an armchair while you waited for your boyfriend to arrive.
After a 7 hour drive, and a mile long trek through the pelting rain from the one free parking spot he could find near your apartment, Frank was ready to collapse and block out the world for a week. The rough, soaked denim of his jacket was rubbing at his skin, making him downright miserable as he trudged the last few blocks to your place. Hauling himself up the stairs and in front of your door, he knocked once before resting his head against your door frame.
Opening your door, your sweet smile morphed into a concerned frown as you took in the stiff, sopping wet man before you.
“Oh Frankie, what happened?” Carefully pulling him into your apartment, you let him remove his boots while you snatched your softest towel from the linen closet. Handing over the cloth, you helped him strip off his drenched outer layers as he cleared his throat to speak.
“Couldn’t find a spot. Had to walk a bit.” His voice was more gravelly than usual after being silent for so long. You tutted in sympathy, taking the damp towel and clothes from him.
“Bet that was exactly what you wanted after the past few weeks. I’m sorry, honey. I’ll throw these in the wash. Did you want to shower?” You resisted the urge to pull him into a hug, not wanting to overwhelm him.
Frank nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face as he shuffled to the bathroom. Turning the shower on and removing the last of his saturated clothes, Frank sighed and rubbed at his strained eyes. Taking a moment to look around, his spirits lifted slightly as he realized you’d clearly prepared the space for him. The small tiled room was pristine and scrubbed of any debris, with a clean towel and fresh set of clothes hanging over a towel bar. Christ, he loved you.
The sounds of water bombarding ceramic walls soothed your nervous heart as you started your coffee maker. If you’d been the one to walk a mile in a torrential downpour, you’d be craving a hot drink and some soft fleece blankets when you got home. Thankfully, you already had the latter covered.
There was a small squeak from the bathroom as Frank turned the shower off, shuffling around behind the door before emerging in a tee and sweats. Nodding his head at you, he grunted. “Thanks for the clothes.”
“My pleasure, pumpkin. Make yourself comfy, I’ll have coffee ready in a bit.” Pulling two mugs from the cupboard, you bit back a smile as Frank turned and finally surveyed your hard work.
“The hell is that?”
You couldn’t stop the giggle that burst out of you at his grumpy confusion. “It’s a pillow fort!”
“A…pillow fort?” Frank scratched the back of his head, looking inquisitively at the structure you’d built.
Nodding eagerly, you came to stand next to him. “Yup. When I was little, my siblings and I would always make forts on rainy days. I haven’t done it in years, but I thought we could both use a pick me up today.” Shifting from foot to foot, you looked up at him through your long lashes. “If you don’t like it, or it’s too childish, I can put it all back and we can pretend it never happened.”
“Hey, no, you don’t need to do that, doll.” Frank wrapped his arms around your hesitant form, drawing you into his chest before kissing the top of your head. “I wasn’t expectin’ it, is all.”
“Would you like to sit with me? Or did you need some time alone?” Your words were slightly muffled by his muscular torso.
With a snort, Frank tilted your face towards his. “Fuck no. Spent enough time with myself the past few weeks.” Kissing you tenderly, he brushed a thumb over your cheek. “I’ve missed ya like hell, sweetheart.”
“God, I missed you too, Frankie. So much.”
Resting his forehead against yours, he pressed a kiss to your nose. “Why don’t you show me around the new setup?”
Giggling happily, you took one of his hands in two of yours and tugged him over to the towering stack of cushions. “Well this is the entrance, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Frank’s mouth twitched, feeling the dark cloud over his shoulders begin to fizzle away as you showed him the comfy nest you’d built.
“And, if you come inside…” You scrambled into the fabric cave on all fours, Frank followed in a more rigid manner, his aching joints not pleased about the new posture.
The structure you’d built was quite impressive. You’d utilized damn near every piece of furniture in the living room, but that meant it was tall enough for you both to sit up and sturdy enough to not collapse on top of you. There were strings of small lights hanging from the makeshift ceiling, and a pile of the softest blankets and pillows you owned waiting to be burrowed in. Everything about it was so unbelievably you that Frank could have cried.
“So…” Sitting back on your knees, you gazed at him with wide eyes. “What do you think?”
“It-it’s perfect, doll face.” He pushed past the crack in his voice, hoping you wouldn’t question it. “I love it.”
“Would you like to lay down?” You offered, pulling back the duvet at the base of the pile of blankets.
“Fuck yes.” Frank groaned, making you laugh.
Plopping down on the squishy surface, you made grabby hands at him, earning you a hearty chuckle before your broad-shouldered love crawled on top of you. He peppered your face with stubble-rough kisses as you squirmed beneath him.
“Frank!” You laughed, placing two fingers over his lips. “As much as I love your kisses, you should really lay down. I can see how much tension you’re holding.” You punctuated your murmur with a soft hand placed between his shoulder blades, fingers massaging the resolute knot beneath his skin.
With an appreciative groan, Frank’s chin dropped his chest, his body inadvertently sagging downward as it stopped resisting gravity. Towing him atop your own horizontal body, you gently positioned him so that you could continue to knead at his upper back while he melted into a puddle beneath your fingers.
Letting out a soft sound that was more moan than hum, Frank squashed his face against your neck. Kissing his forehead, your free hand came up to card through his damp hair.
“Better?” You teased, knowingly.
Nodding, your stoic boyfriend remained silent and pliable in your embrace.
Carefully pulling the blankets over the two of you, you grinned as Frank shuddered with a satisfied groan. The poor guy was practically falling asleep, head pillowed on your chest as you tugged at his hair gingerly. “Did you want something to eat or drink before passing out? I think the pot of coffee I started is about ready.”
“You made coffee?” The muscular lump of boyfriend that was splayed over you rumbled hopefully at the notion.
“Course I did. Wanted you to have something to drink when you got home. It’s decaf though, figured you’d also want to sleep.”
“Mmm love you.” Was the only response you received. With a giggle, you nudged Frank so that you could see his face, which had gone peacefully slack thanks to your ministrations.
“I love you too, pumpkin. Sleep first, or coffee first?”
“Sleep. ‘M tired as fuck.”
Chuckling, you pulled the blankets tighter around the two of you. “Sleep well, handsome. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
#frank castle x reader#frank castle x you#frank castle imagine#frank castle#frank castle fanfiction#frank castle x female reader#frank castle angst#the punisher x reader#the punisher netflix#the punisher imagine#the punisher#jon bernthal#fc#my writing#leah answers
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
So last night was the first session of my new Lancer campaign, using @vexwerewolf 's In Golden Flame. This iteration of the Hell's Gate Strategic Response Team got a chance to socialize while doing maintenance work, chatted with residents and had lunch at the Happy Noodle Bar (with this version of the proprietor based on Maya Killsixbilliondemons), and were briefed on the station's woes and their next assignment by the terminally stressed Jerry. Next week, they will sortie in a brave endeavor to break the pirate blockade of the station!
This squad includes:
-Sétanta "Set" Hawkins, Callsign 'Cornfed', heir to a family that has been part of the Hell's Gate militia since the pyrite age, passing down the callsign and their mech ever since (the latter of which has long ceased to contain any original parts, grandfather's axe style). He's aiming towards monarch parts to enact that one Megas XLR gif.
-Meadow Reaper, Callsign 'Reaper', a bubbly farmer from Asphodel with a militarized farming rig (counts-as a caliban) who joined up for adventure at the advice of a mysterious patron.
-Pale Sage, Callsign 'Porcelain', a hell's gate foundryworker who suffered a horrific industrial accident, only kept alive through donated HORUS tech. She awoke with a transformed body, a knowledge of a strange language of clashing metal, and an appreciation of the purity of the machine. Her new favourite podcaster (who is definitely not an Elesh-Norn-coded deimosian) occasionally sends her gifts. She will
-Hara Stevens, Callsign 'Junkyard', a feral little creechure of a raccoongirl with incredible tech skills, a cyber arm with integrated multitools, dubious personal hygiene, and an NHP puppygirl gf. Her ride is a salvaged IPS-N Kidd missing some core parts (counts as an Everest for now) which will be brought up to full spec, and she is so so eepy.
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay but y'know who would've been the perfect character to use as a secondary foil to Dabi in addition to Shouto being the first instead of Bird Bitch?Momo.Their upbringings are significantly different but not entierly-Momo was abused by her parents with adultification and verbally abused by them in a way that's so normalized that she has no clue of either of those things even happened to her,Dabi was abused by Endeavor in the classic way with constant verbal degragation and physical assaults.And they both had the same motivation and justification behind them:They wanted them to be the perfect child.Momo's abusers in the sense of her becoming the ideal proper 'mature' woman,Dabi's abuser in the sense of the most powerful hero.They parallel eachother in a contrasting way and so do their trauma responses by extension and their dynamic has so much untapped potential that i genuinely think it's one of Horikoshi's dropping the ball moment's that he never had them share a bond or at least pointed out their different similarities
It's shown that despite his lack of care for strangers generally,Dabi looks out for his own.He treats Toga like his little sister because she had a rough childhood due to her quirk too and his best friendship with Jin is so tender and strong that it borderlines on romantic and we all saw what he did and said to Hawks for his ableism motivated murder of him and it's not a coincidence that he's even more brotherly to Toga and unhinged after that event specifically.In addition to their shared history of parental abuse,Momo herself also has a bunch of disorders which unlike with Jin were not intentional-Let's be honest,if Horikoshi had made her autistic,adhd,anxiety and ocd intentionally,i don't even wanna think about how horrifically she would've been treated by both other characters and the narrative-but are too intertwined with her story to remove them and still have her be in-character so it's fun and interesting to think of Momo and Dabi having to interact with eachother due to her being a heroine in training and him a villain who's team's main enemies are friends and mentors
Both of them have also not fully escaped the treatment they got growing up-Momo was given a costume that was blatantly meant to sexualize her and gets put in charge of leading her classmates into war as literal child soldiers,Dabi still dosen't get believed as a victim of his father because he's 'too mean' to count as one.I would love to see stories of them slowly accidentally befriending eachother right after the Bakugou rescue arc and Dabi helping Momo see hero society isn't fair or kind to her either and Momo realizing just how often it is that situations like Dabi's happen-Hell,she helped rescue someone who's the same as Endeavor,only on a smaller scale.I don't think she'd instantly go villain nor that Dabi would force her to but the prelude to the war arc has her getting kicked out by her parents for standing up to them and because they found out she's been doing vigilanteism so she joins him because she knows he's right and because he's treated her better than almost every other adult in her life and in turn,she's made him realize that not every hero is thrown into it willingly and are just hurt kids like he used to be and that they're the real ones.'Creati' becomes 'Destruct' but before this all unfolds,we get Shouto and Momo being closer than ever as the series progresses due to the differences in Momo's plot and Dabi's involvement in it pulling Shouto into their orbits and Todomomo goes from a subtle but potent romance to a constant and in your face 'They're soulmates by choice' type of beat in the best and healthiest way possible
Momo gets to be written as a multidimensional teen girl character with no demonization for being an anti-heroine and not be erased as the second real first friend Shouto made in favor of a lifelong bully who told his number one victim to kill himself and Dabi gets to redeem himself by being the good older brother he never got to be as Touya and entering rehibilitation after the war ends because he refuses to die after getting to save Jin from Hawks so they can live out the rest of their lives together.Breaking the cycle of abuse is a much better story than shonen fuckery bullshit disguised as superhero homages when in reality it's disrespecting the history behind and core of comics
#it's been four years and they've never left my left.the found siblings ever#s'mores siblings#momo yaoyorozu#dabi#anti hawks#antidabihawks#anti endeavour#jin bubaigawara#twice bnha#anti bakugou#todoroki shouto#antitodobaku#dabitwice#t4t dabitwice#todomomo#t4t todomomo#group:freezerburn wonder woman and jason todd#with a side of twice#blasian latina momo#half bangladeshi rei agenda#pastel punk momo yaoyorozu#bnha geekery#bnha salt#two heroes#world heroes mission#my heroine academia#ultra impact#���#summerposting
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
the thing about project 2025 and associated fear tactics on social media right now is that... project 2025 itself does not need trump to work.
like, it's very obviously built around a coalition base that supports trump, and the ideology that has arisen from that coalition--but like, 1) the heritage foundation literally cannot legally promote any presidential candidates, which means that 2) the plan they have outline & the structures they are building to support said plan can work with, well, literally any candidate who wants to participate in them.
this isn't a one-and-done "this election is the most important one of our lives, gotta vote blue and then we can move on!" thing, project 2025 is a massively funded endeavor that involves building infrastructure and will be relevant again, every presidential election the republicans are involved in, until either they carry it out, they get bored and try a different tack, or some secret third option where it gets derailed through whatever new batshit political upheaval of the year comes up. like, trump can get convicted of federal crimes and removed from every ballot in the country, and project 2025 would still be of concern.
personally i think it'd be ridiculous to say we have to actively support any democratic candidate, no matter who they are, no matter how conservative they are, no matter what horrific regressive policies they platform, because of project 2025. but like, that's essentially what you're saying if you argue that the voter base has to platform biden and actively support his run this election cycle on the basis of preventing 2025; it's not going to just go away after the year 2025. the nonprofits will still exist, the funding will still exist, the people will still exist, and the infrastructure will still exist.
(i will not be responding to derailments along the lines of "what are the other options, it would be worse if trump won," etc--i am not laying out a plan to simultaneously abolish project 2025 and end the palestinian genocide in this post. i am pointing out that this proposed plan does not work; project 2025 is not dependent on trump specifically, and it will not improve matters domestically nor overseas to write a blank "votes" check for the democrats in perpetuity so long as the ideology behind project 2025 persists and is materially relevant. you are free to posit other ways to address the issue, but "aggressively support any and all democratic candidates, regardless of what their policies actually are" is not a good solution. it will not address the problem.)
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Mass Evacuation of Soviet Factories in Early World War II
1941 was certainly a bad year for the Soviet Union. Within a matter of months after the start of Operation Barbarossa, German forces marched deep into Soviet territory, even advancing to the gates of Moscow itself. Loses were horrific as hundreds of thousands of soldiers were killed and hundreds of thousands more were captured. City after city fell to the invaders making it seem like nothing could stop the German blitz. Worse yet the German military burned, raped, and pillaged it's way across Eastern Europe resulting in hundreds of thousands of civilian deaths and millions of refugees in the first year alone. In the face of such wanton destruction economic and industrial damage might seem unimportant but regardless the loss of industrial infrastructure severely hindered the Soviet Union's ability to wage war as factories which produced war materials and important resources were either destroyed or came under German control. The Soviet Union had a great advantage over Germany because of it's massive industrial base and plentiful access to resources. If the Soviet's wanted to maintain that advantage they needed to enact a monumental plan to ensure that said industries and resources remained far behind friendly lines and out of the reach of Germany.
The plan was simple, so simple that it can be summed up with this classic Spongebob meme,
The plan that was enacted was to dismantle and uproot Soviet factories in the west and move them east past the Ural mountains, thus recreating an industrial heartland out of the reach of German occupation and even long range bombers. To say that such a movement of people and things was monumental would be an understatement. In 1941 the Soviets evacuated and moved 2,593 industrial and agricultural enterprises, among them were over 1,500 large factories. Buildings were demolished and rebuilt, tools and machinery were packed up and moved, almost everything that was not bolted to the ground was taken and redeployed or rebuilt in the east. This included the people who were needed to work the factories, which amounted to 18 million people. This endeavor required the use of 30,000 trains hauling 1.5 million cars. In addition to the task of moving stuff, new infrastructure had to be built to service these factories. Infrastructures such as railroads, roads, canals, plumbing, electricity, food distribution, medical services, and worker housing. Basically everything needed to run a factory town. Most incredibly most of this was done in less than a year.
By 1942 most of the factories and enterprises that were evacuated from the west were up and running. The result of this endeavour meant that when the Germans advanced deeper within the Soviet Union, they failed to capture the resources needed to keep their own war machine functioning. By 1942 seemingly endless numbers of tanks, planes, and guns would flood out of factories east of the Urals, and there was not a damn thing the Germans could do about it.
198 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi Abby, I am uncomfortable saying this off anon for a variety of reasons, please do not think one of them is cowardice. I have followed you for years and years. I’ve come to love so much media because of you and always appreciate your takes. I have chosen to unfollow you now. I am a Jewish person who has been so scared and upset about what the state of Israel is doing to Palestinians and am disgusted by the war crimes committed by Israel. At the same time, I have numerous Israeli friends and family members who have been murdered by Hamas in the last few weeks. Civilians visiting for educational and cultural exchange programs, horrifically killed. Your recently reblogged informational post about how Hamas is not a terrorist organization was deeply upsetting. This may not matter at all to you, but I ask that you consider empathy to all people involved in this issue. Decolonization is important. My friends and family are dead. These two facts can coexist. Just wanted to share this with you because I know many people see your blog and are affected by the information you share.
probably shouldn’t answer this at 1am and you’ve already unfollowed so you probably won’t even see this but i just want to ask you why my sharing resources and information about the reality of hamas and it’s current functioning within gaza / its original charter immediately made you think that i don’t care about loss of human life. there was not a single phrase in that post that minimized victims of the october attack, in fact, not a single phrase in that post took a stance on anything, it was purely informational. frankly, i think it was so measured to dissuade from reactions exactly like this, and if i had written it myself, i would’ve done a worse job.
and if you had been able to push past your knee jerk reaction to reading “they are not a terrorist organization” you would recognize that clarifying language and correcting misconceptions is one of the most important things we can do, both going forward in ending this genocide and looking back on how and why lives have been lost in both israel and palestine.
i have personal empathy and grief for your situation, and i’m so sorry you have suffered loss amongst your community and loved ones. but your loss does not form a shield behind which you are allowed to hide from truth, or force other people to close their mouths when trying to educate themselves and others. we are currently witnessing ongoing mass death, us-backed genocide, and a hugely successful (in the west) propaganda campaign to make this endeavor as Unknowable as possible, especially to those who have never looked into the reality of life in the region. grounding ourselves in recent history, learning more about words and labels that are thrown around weekly, daily, hourly, SPECIFICALLY to justify and excuse the ongoing campaign of death israel has visited upon the palestinian people for decades…. that is the LEAST we are all responsible for. it is your duty, as someone who has lost friends and loved ones, and it is mine, as someone with eyes on their stupid blog, to make every concerted effort to understand and spread the truth, in context, to enrich our own activism and honor the dead.
saying “decolonization is important” while unfollowing me after years bc i shared information about what hamas is, is so empty and meaningless you might as well have not said it at all. thousands of people are actively and endlessly being murdered behind a smokescreen of Terrorism with the VERY SPECIFIC connotations that holds over the west and the US in particular… attempting to relay information that complicates and clarifies your exact knee jerk reaction is the entire point. i hope one day you are able to look a little closer and recognize that your personal hurt in seeing new information that makes you uncomfortable is not important in the scheme of what we are currently trying to prevent
#writing this on my phone in bed at 1am is maybe not the move but tldr i am so sorry for your loss but nothing that i shared#warranted this reaction or minimized any death in any way#and if you feel like the truth would do that then you have your own work to do about where you stand#i did notice i’ve dropped like 50 followers today and i do not#care#all zionists exit now
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
2022 Bucky Barnes Fic Rec 8
All of them are COMPLETE Series.
masterlist | req masterlist
✨ - fav fics
status - Completed
1. The Winter Ghost by @msmarvelwrites
Bucky x Reader
A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.
2. A Moment of Your Time by @stevesbestgirl
Mob!Bucky x Reader
A soulmate AU where the headstrong reader realizes that she’s meant to love the brutal mob boss of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn’t want to be a part of organized crime and she doesn’t want to rely on anyone, but how do you ignore your soulmate?
3. Gunslinger by @ghostofskywalker
Mob!Bucky x Bounty Hunter!Reader
The bitter reality was this: you did what you had to do to survive. And if that meant going head to head with the most feared mob boss of the city, so be it.
4. Code Words by @cinebration
Bucky x Mutant!Reader
Bucky crosses paths with someone who reminds him of his time as the Winter Soldier.
5. Bring Him Back by @tokoyamisstuff
Bucky x Enhanced!Reader
The Winter Soldier gets triggered and you are the only one who’s able to calm him down. You soon realize that even this part of your boyfriend can be soft and caring…
6. Scars by @tokoyamisstuff ✨
Bucky x Reader
Based on the Soulmate Prompt where whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your Soulmate’s.
7. lost and found by @dolcezzasfantasy
TVA Agent!Bucky x 40s!Reader
you are arrested for crimes against the sacred timeline, but there is much more to the tva than you could have ever thought possible.
8. Shameless by @unabashedcandymaker
Bucky x Reader
Filled with Angst, just wanna get that out in the open before you start this endeavor. But it’s also got a lot of smutty goodness, so…tread lightly? Like, mostly smut. Bucky has some serious self-worth issues and Reader is always there for Bucky, in any way he may need her, even if her selflessness is bordering on the line of torturing herself to take care of him, to be anything and everything he needs.
9. You Saved Me by @buckywintersoldierbarnes2017
Bucky x Pregnant!Reader
You find Bucky after the events of ‘Winter Soldier’ have taken place and you help to re-introduce him to the world. Over time you become close and you enter into a relationship. Everything is perfect but on the day you find out you are pregnant with his child Steve Rogers turns up and everything changed.
10. Run Away With Your Footsteps | 2 by @lowkeybxrnes
Bucky x Avenger!Reader
After the events of The Winter Soldier, the reader (an avenger) goes out to find Bucky for Steve. When she finds him, he has his own apartment and trying to live a normal life. He begs her not to tell the captain. She stays to watch over him and they kind of fall in love. Later, Steve finally finds them looking angry because she went MIA.
11. Flowers Bloom by @revengingbarnes
Bucky x Reader Soulmate AU
Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.
12. Stepping Up by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend ✨
Bucky x Reader
When Steve can’t go with you to your cousin’s wedding, he sends Bucky in his place. What happens when more than one person assume you’re dating?
13. Cuddles & Cocoa by @sparklefics
Bucky x Reader College AU
"I take it you’re here cause you read my letter." & "I'm sitting here, with this stupid pen in my hand, and damn I can't believe you have me writing right now."
14. Not The Time by @notimetoblog
Bucky x Doctor!Reader
After not seeing Bucky Barnes in what felt like forever you find yourself with him in the middle of a chaotic situation. Definitely not the time to reminisce about your past with him.
15. Bucky’s Bistro Dates by @wonderlandmind4 ✨
Bucky x Reader
A Bistro owner is witness to Bucky Barnes bad dates.
16. Premonitions by @beckzorz
Bucky x Reader
On Halloween, your clairvoyant niece leads you straight into Bucky Barnes. It could not have gone worse.
16-2. Premonitions 2 by @/beckzorz
Bucky x Reader
It’s been over a year since you met Bucky, and you couldn’t be happier. If only you could figure out why your precognitive niece is burying you in abstract crayon art…
17. No More Sex! by @alphaabucky
Bucky x Reader
and Bucky have a petty little argument, making you frustrated and ending the argument completely saying “fine! Fine! You know what? No physical contact! No nothing for… for 2 months!!”. For the first week it got hard, but then he started playing cruel, teasing games; and you being you can’t help but play a game of your own.
18. What Happens in Vegas by @bionic-buckyb
Bucky x Reader Modern AU
AU Drab Series.
19. Better by @captainscanadian ✨
Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader
Dr. James Barnes has it all: a loving family, caring best friends, and a successful career as one of the best heart surgeons in New York. He has everything he ever wanted his whole life… well, almost everything. One thing he never thought he could ever have was Y/N Y/L/N. She may have been a lot of things, but he loved her because she made him better.
20. Forgotten Love by @thundering-barnes
Bucky x Hydra!Reader
You’re new to the Avengers. In joining the team, there’s a lot that no one yet knows about you. And there’s some unusual tension between you and a certain brunet. Under a pseudonym and with completely fresh start, and background, you hope for a chance at a new life. A better life. But how long will it last before someone figures out the life you’ve hidden away?
21. A Benched Bucky 2 3 4 by @dabblinginmarvel
Bucky x Reader
Due to her health conditions, Bucky is very protective over the girlfriend his team doesn’t know about.
22. All Those Who Wander by @avengerofyourheart
Bucky x Reader Travel AU
After a traumatic injury and honorable discharge from the military, Bucky Barnes finds himself wanting to travel and get lost in some of the most iconic cities of the world. One night he stumbles upon a girl who sparks something inside him and he finds himself following in her footsteps. How far will he go to find her and what will he discover about himself along the way?
23. Some Sunny Day by @tricksters-captain
TFATWS!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.
24. detectives-in-love by @real-jane
Detective!Bucky x Reader
detective barnes and his partner are the star team at precinct 75. one threat could tear it all apart.
25. Birth of a team by @writingsoftheloser
Bucky x Agent!Reader
When a threat arises into Shield, (Y/n) is called on the case. What happens when she is flanked by none other than Sergeant Barnes?
26. Under Pastel Skies by @redgillan ✨
Writer!Bucky x Artist!Reader
Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate... but she smiles so sweetly and she's endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.
27. Mr Hollywood by @buckybabybaby
Actor!Bucky x Teacher!Reader
Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he’s always wanted, and if it wasn’t for you, his best friend, he wouldn’t have been able to take it.
28. Memories by @the-bau-quinjet
Bucky x Avenger!Reader
You were captured by Hydra. What did they do to your memories?
29. Careful Soldier by @wxntersoldiers
40s!Bucky x Reader
bucky is off to war but someone catches his eye just before he leaves
30. Live Wild by @redgillan
Detective!Bucky x Reader
Reader and her friends are in a store when a group of men come to rob the place. Reader finds a hiding place and call the police. Detective James Barnes will help her through this terrifying situation.
31. Save Me by @espinosaurusrexex ✨
Bucky x Reader College AU
Bucky Barnes has never had it easy, which ultimately turned him into a caveman-like introvert with no desire to see the positive side of life. But what happens when the clumsily charming art student, Y/N, stumbles to his rescue, determined to show Bucky how truly wonderful the world is?
32. i’d never hurt you | 2 by @sunflowersteves
Bucky x Civilian!Reader
you met Bucky in the markets in Bucharest and start dating. What happens when Captain America and the Falcon show up?
33. Unknown Caller by @sagechanoafterdark
Bucky x Reader
You should always answer an Unknown Caller, you never know when it’s important. After a late morning call puts you back on a path you’d long strayed from, you find yourself caught up in old feelings for James Barnes.
34. Summer Plans by @notimetoblog ✨
Bucky x Reader Modern AU
Planning a trip with Bucky takes a turn when someone new comes into his life. Will it all change or can you still manage to have the perfect summer you planned?
35. To Make A Soldier Blush by @justreadingfics
Bucky x Avenger!Reader
You’re a new avenger and you have your own mission to accomplish: making Bucky Barnes blush everytime you see him.
36. Run To You by @bestofbucky
Mob!Bucky x Bodyguard!Reader
Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard.
37. the warmth of winter by @captainsimagines
DBF!Bucky x Reader
You’re home for the holidays after landing your dream job. When your dad’s old army friend stops by for the month, he makes waves immediately. Your little vacation is disrupted… for better or for worse? Nobody has to know.
37-2. the warmth of the future by @/captainsimagines
It’s been two years since you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, and the holidays are just around the corner. With even more love, more friends, and more family in attendance, you and Bucky fully intend to enjoy these days with as little drama as possible. But that’s not always the case with a relationship like yours, is it?
38. Roses by @wlntrsldler
Bucky x Reader
Bucky tells Y/N he’s the Winter Soldier. The next day, he’s taken by the government and that’s the last Y/N sees of him… until they cross paths again. But what if Bucky doesn’t remember her?
39. i hate you but by @buckybarnesthehotshot ✨
Bucky x Avenger!Reader
bucky and y/n can’t stand each other, but y/n needs help with her sister’s kids (enemies to lovers au)
40. Words And Paper by @forever-rogue
Bucky x Lawyer!Reader
Y/N is a brilliant young lawyer who was hired by Tony Stark himself. She didn’t expect half of the things that would happened, but she was sure glad Bucky happened.
#bucky barnes fic rec#bucky barnes series#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x woc!reader#bucky barnes smut#mob!bucky#bucky x mutant!reader#40s!bucky x reader#40s!bucky#bucky barnes 40s au#bucky barnes x pregnant reader#bucky x avenger!reader#bucky barnes soulmate au#bucky barnes college au#bucky x doctor!reader#bucky barnes modern au#doctor!bucky#bucky x hydra!reader#tfatws!bucky#detective!bucky#actor!bucky#bucky x civilian!reader#beefy!bucky#dbf!bucky#bucky x lawyer!reader#bucky barnes x reader smut#winter soldier x reader
183 notes
·
View notes
Note
So I'm looking into Dabi's past since I'm planning on making a post about him, then I get a reminder of why Endeavor is a horrible father.
When it's revealed that Touya's quirk hurts him because he didn't inherit his father's resistant to heat, he just tells him to give up knowing FULL well that he wants to be a pro hero like him.
So what does he do? Get him to someone that can possibly make something to decrease the burns? Get him to quirk counseling? NO! He planned on having MORE children to break his fucking spirit and give up!
Not to mention that when Rei calls him out and telling him that Touya only wants his acknowledgement, Endeavor gives a reply of he can only show the world of heroics instead of trying to be a decent father.
WHY IN THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO ACCEPT HIS ATONEMENT AGAIN!?
Hi @theloganator101 👋,
It is baffling how Hori expects us to root for Endeavor's 'atonement' when Endeavor's actions decimated Touya and Rei's mental health along with the rest of the Todofam's.
I'll focus on Touya here since that's what the focus of your post is.
He deliberately had his son Touya to surpass him and All Might. He treated Touya like an object he was creating and as soon as it was revealed that Touya was 'defective' Endeavor threw him away and forced Rei into having two more kids to replace him.
Endeavor had no interest in being a father. He does not care about Touya or any other member of his 'family.' He cares about his dream first - his creation of his 'masterpiece.'
He literally committed marital rape to Rei in doing forcing her to have two more children against her wishes (which is UNFORGIVABLE - put this man in jail or kill him don't try and 'redeem him' - wtf Hori?!) But he also deliberately crushed Touya's spirit, neglected him, shoved him on to Rei (in true abuser fashion) and gave no shit to Touya's declining mental state or the fact that Endeavor made it known prior to this that Touya 'was born for a purpose' then expected him to just give it up!?
While Endeav does nothing proactive himself to help Touya give it up or help his mental state in general? What a joke of a father. Most parents would react with worry at Touya's self harm and find him professional help, Endeavor on the other hand? Just shouts at Touya, hits his wife and avoids Touya more.
Even the escalation of Touya accidentally burning himself alive, which is a fucking horrific thing to experience and way to die especially for a child, didn't make Endeavor stop or re-evaluate things. That's truly villainous. That was HIS son, that he believed died yet Endeavor just kept being the same abuser for a decade after?! We are now meant to buy his 'change' is sincere and that he loved all of the Todofam after he got what he wanted!? Fuck off with that Hori.
How are we meant to buy that Endeavor loves any of his family when he only started his joke of an atonement when HE got what he wanted (the number one hero position?)
The absolute insult of this creative choice is one of the most disgusting things about MHA. Endeavor's wish to 'atone' should have been portrayed as the manipulative farce and the escalation of abusive control tactics it is. And Dabi should have been allowed to kill him.
44 notes
·
View notes
Note
Oh my gosh okay I've seen you tag things with 'Lady Terror' and please please please I have to know more . Is it what I think? (The Terror in human form *o*) I'm so interested .
LMAO OK SO!!! funny story because, actually, even though she's definitely more human and grounded in reality now (and if you should wish to hear a little more about her backstory- knowing that she's a self insert for sure that I'm using to fuck francis crozier silly, I have a Bio for her HERE that may entice you ahead of the impending fic I have been writing about her and francis- the gothic austen romance of my fucking dreams, and I've also got a couple of mini fics and a fic preview on my masterlist should you like to read them)
SHE ACTUALLY did kinda start out as the terror in human form, because at around the time I did my re-watch of the terror that LED to this whole year-long adventure, I was also watching 1899 on netflix and mourning the loss of its second season (added to netflix's list of heinous crimes), and the whole endeavor was partially inspired by the concept behind that show (no spoilers. but it's very cool), and some of the principal characters that absolutely have some kinda romance going on (yes I'm fully invested in maura/eyk and they are definitely a blueprint for whatever the hell francis and lady terror have going on)
but even though the dynamics have changed since I first came up with her and the nickname, I feel like there's a lot playing into that name that makes it a really fascinating moniker for her as a character now. the disambiguation from complete personhood that the name implies (similar to how Lady Silence for Silna operates), meanwhile having binding to both the ship (double-edged, as it implies something illicit in being the "lady of terror"- which is how she earned that nickname in the story in the first place- since she is supposed to be stationed on Erebus, but spends enough of her time on Terror to garner that reputation... but also something horrific and to be feared- as it's also what they call the Tuunbaq as well), and something then also in the way that it commands some level of power... but then also, for Francis especially, becomes something that he can embrace... in all her (and the nickname's) facets. Not something he could ever claim, but someone he can respect... feel affection for. perhaps even find some comfort and levity in... and by god do I love those implications and you'll pry them out of my cold dead hands at this point.
And so, to all, Lady Terror she remains.
#and there you have it. that's my girl#lady terror#egg's oc's#and god willing if my final semester of undergrad doesn't kill me and my brain fucking fixes itself from being tired all the time#we'll have a full fucking fic soon enough
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just a little cold
(Decided to make some Hawks content, so here's a Hawks x Natsuo sickfic....aka Coldwings fic. Its not much but i tried)
“H’iHDdTSSHhhiew” “Keigo takami!” Groaning at the pounding of his head from sneezing, he looks over to see the nurse waiting for him. Slowly rising to his feet while raising his hand to let her know he was there. She gestures for him to follow her back behind the waiting room doors. Shuffling his feet along Hawks let out a hoarse sigh which led to a nasty-sounding cough.
“So what are you coming in for today?” “huh? Oh, a friend dropped bme off here cause of a little cold. Wadted bme to get checked out.” “Ah I see, sounds like it's more than a little cold. Though we’ll see what the doctor says.” Walking Keigo to the exam room, she does all of her basic checks such as pulse, blood pressure, and temperature. She frowned at the reading on the thermometer.
“Well, I will say, you do have a fever Mr Takami” This seemed to surprise Keigo who pulled his knees up to his chest on the bed with a quizzical look.
“Oh, I do?” “mhm 37C (100 F), that’s a fever. I’ll write that down and let the doctor know. They will be with you shortly, so sit tight.” With a soft nod, Keigo backed himself against the bed and the wall and curled up. Trying to calm down his chills, no wonder he was so cold! Even with his coat on in the fall, he was still shivering. He took off his gloves to rub at his red runny nose. He really needed a tissue, he had to use the god-awful napkins Endeavor had in his car. Those only made his nose more irritated and sensitive, felt like he was using sandpaper to blow his nose. So he opted to just keep sniffling and snorting till he could get his hands on a tissue box.
Looking around the room he saw the tissue box was on a shelf. Hopping off the bed, he then realized how high it was and he didn’t wanna try to climb the cabinet. At first standing on his toes seemed feasible, though he still fell short by two inches. When he decided it wasn’t worth it, he just climbed back onto the bed.
“Waiting till I get home won't be too bad, I wodt be here log” He says to himself.
Meanwhile, Natsuo goes up to the front desk to see if they had anyone else he needed to see. The nurse who brought Keigo to his room handed him the file.
“Oh a walk-in patient came in by the name of Keigo Takami, he’s got a fever, sneezing, coughing, runny nose. Seemingly bad cold symptoms” Natsuo froze in place….
“You said Keigo?” “mhm,” Natsuo sighed and face palmed, dammit! He’d pulled a 12-hour shift at the ER the other day and slept until now, so he hadn’t even had time to check up on his boyfriend!
Now he felt bad, how bad was this cold for him to come to the doctor? Keigo hated the doctors! Well, it was just him today so, he’d have to be the one to see him.
“Alright, I’ll go and see him,” Natsuo said as he turned on his heel to go down the exam room hallway. Reading down the file as he walked, his file was just filled with basic information such as previous hospitalizations, and why he came in today. Not much use to him since he knew most of Keigo’s history already and there wasn’t much of it besides emergency room visits.
Once he got to the door he knocked casually alerting the patient of his presence before he walked in. He chuckles when he sees the shocked look on Keigo’s face.
“Did you forget that I worked here?” Keigo adjusted himself a little, there was a small look of relief on his face knowing that his boyfriend was the one to be doing this check-up. Like stated before Keigo hated doctors and hospitals or anything medical. It always reminded him of his time in the commission and how they’d do horrific things to him. Most times when he’d get hurt he’d try to fix it himself if he hadn’t already been taken to a hospital. By now it had been put in his E-chart that he was ‘very anxious around medical personnel, due to past trauma’ for precautionary sake.
“I’m just a little surprised you came in” “O-oh yeah, Endeavor dropped b’me off because i ‘sound awful’ or so he says.” Putting down the file and then washing his hands, Natsuo then slowly approached Keigo. He could tell this wasn’t some case of the sniffles like Keigo was trying to make it seem. Getting permission to touch him, Natsuo pressed the back of his hand to Hawks’ forehead and frowned.
“You definitely have a fever, I’m not gonna take it again since I’ve already got a number on it….So be honest with me and tell me what’s wrong.” Keigo shifted uncomfortably and wiped at his nose with his wrist.
“Its dnot that bad” Keigo wasn’t all that convincing especially when his breath started hitching. Trying to rub and scratch at his nose to make that sensation go away. Natsuo just watched with a soft expression when the other failed to hold back.
“H’iHDdTSSHhhiew hih!’H’iHDdTSSHhhiew!” Catching them into the cuff of his jacket sleeve he made a slightly embarrassed look while apologizing. Natsuo went through the cupboard and grabbed the tissue box and passed it over to the blond with a smile.
“Bless you, no need to apologize. Sounds like you need these.” Taking the box snagged a few tissues and pressed them to his face. He gave out a loud-sounding blow trying to clear himself up, though that only caused another coughing fit. He still couldn’t help but apologize for it, he wasn’t used to Natsuo seeing him like this. Natsuo only shook his head and got out his stethoscope to listen to his breathing.
“Like I said, no need to apologize, it's my job to take care of sick people. That includes you!” Sliding the cold disk up Keigo’s shirt, now it was Natsuo’s turn to apologize for how cold the instrument was. He could feel the pro hero shaking under his touch.
“Your lungs sound clear, let me check your throat.” He slings the stethoscope around his neck while he grabs the tongue depressor. Keigo keeps the box of tissues in his lap as he watches his boyfriend grab the popsicle stick. Holding it up to his mouth, Keigo opened up making the funny little sound doctors always tell you to make.
“Throats pretty sore looking, don’t think it's strep thankfully.” Pulling away to toss out the tool, Natsuo looks back at Keigo who’s back to holding up a tissue to his face.
“H’iHDdTSSHhhiew H’iHDdTSSHhhiew Hih!H’iHDdTSSHhhiew” “Goodness bless you!” “Guh, thagks” Keigo snorted, Natsuo folded his arms over his chest as he spoke.
“I’ve got good news and bad news, which one do you want first” “Hmmm’b, bad news.” “Bad news, you’ve got a pretty bad cold and need to go home and rest. The good news is, I’ll be home early to take care of you.” “y-you don’t have to take care of b’me, babe.” “Who else is gonna do it, I know you won't take care of yourself” Natsuo protested, Keigo was too tired to argue knowing his lover was right. If Endeavor hadn’t dropped him off he would’ve kept working till the end of his shift (or till he got hurt) and would go home and sleep.
“So you are gonna go home, and rest, I’ll come over to your apartment after work.” Helping Keigo off the exam bed after writing some things on a sticky note for him, he also hands over the box of tissues.
“And take these with you, you’re gonna need’em” Tissue box in hand, Keigo made his way home through the crisp autumn afternoon. He was happy to get home and looked at the sticky note.
1: check if you have any cold medicine, if so, take it. If not text me.
2: get something warm to drink
3: get in comfy clothes & rest
Stumbling exhaustedly inside his apartment, Keigo went through his cabinets and of course, he didn’t have any medicine, he wasn’t all that surprised. He didn’t have the energy to make himself anything to drink so he just trudged into his room, threw off his clothes put on an oversized sweater, and curled up in his bed. That bed was pretty much a blanket nest which was how he preferred it.
When Natsuo received a text from Keigo stating
‘Got home, have no meds, gonna take a nap’ He sighed and replied back.
‘Okay get some sleep, I’ll pick up some things and head on over.” Which didn’t take all that long since he knew what he needed to get and the store was close to the clinic. When he gathered his supplies he made his way to Keigo’s apartment that he’d been to many times by now. He knew where the key was and let himself in. Quietly padding his way inside, he took off his shoes and got to work. Making a cup of tea, and grabbing the medicine he goes to the blond’s room.
Seeing the winged hero all curled up under a pile of blankets fast asleep made him smile. He always thought Keigo was adorable when he slept. Especially now with the soft pout on his face, and the way he held onto the sleeves of his sweater. The soft flushness in his cheeks and nose, not to mention the bedhead. He didn’t wanna wake him up since it seemed like he needed the sleep but, he also knew the hero needed the medicine. Setting down the cup on the nightstand, he gingerly shakes Keigo’s shoulder to try and wake him.
His eyes fluttered open as a groan erupted from blanket fort #000, when he saw who was in his room a tiny smile pulled at his lips.
“Oh hey polar bear, you’re here” “Mhm I told you I’d come over to take care of you. Did you think I was joking?” “d’no, didn’t thigk you’d be here so fast, feels like I just fell asleep.” “You texted that you got home about an hour ago. You can go back to sleep once you take some medicine and drink some of this.” Begrudgingly rising from the covers, Keigo looked up and saw the snow wielder holding the cough syrup. Swallowing the thick purple so-called grape-flavored medicine with a disgusted look.
Thankfully the tea was there to chase the sickening taste down.
“Do you wanna go back to sleep?” Keigo nods but then grabs Natsuo by the wrist weakly.
“Please, lay down with me.” Natsuo nods and climbs into bed behind him, Keigo turns around facing his chest, and nuzzles up to him. Natsuo giggles a little while kissing the top of his head.
“You’re so cute you know.” “M’dnot cute” “Oh yes you are, especially since you’re being so cuddly.” “hmmph” “Pouting isn’t going to help your case pretty bird~” “Sh-shut it polar bear” Keigo grumbles playfully while rubbing at his reddening nose.
“Nose itchy?” “a lihh hih! A little b-bit” His hand mindlessly searching around for that box of tissues. Curse the amount of blankets in this bed didn’t make it any easier. Just in the nick of time, Natso found them, snatched up a few, and held them up to Keigo’s face
“H’iHDdTSSHhhiew!” “Bless you, I’ve got you pretty boy~” "thagks polar bear....guess i'm a little under the weather"
41 notes
·
View notes
Note
considering fantasy and reality I want to talk about how it has something to do with izuku in particular. I think izuku has complex feelings about reality since it pertains to his vulnerability Izuku is pointed out to run away from reality this might be true when all might say that izuku can be a hero He was happy that his fantasy had been validated. When Izuku got to live out his fantasy in Ua with a quirk it came as a deterrent to the people around him, especially his mother which he ignored in favor of his fantasy. I think if Izuku wants to save Tomura he has to validate his reality and fantasy instead of solely fantasy. but what do you think of how fantasy and reality play into izuku
I think escapism plays a role in Izuku's arc, but I wouldn't necessarily place it on the same level of escapism as Endeavor/AFO/Tomura/etc (where their hero/villain identities are basically all massive copes that end up having absolutely horrific consequences, both to themselves and others). Izuku does attempt to use his hero identity as a way to redefine himself and distance himself from his past, but never quite reaches the same of level of toxic delusion as our usual suspects-- rather, the Dark Hero arc is all about stopping him before he reaches that point. Izuku's friends choose "Izuku the boy" over "Izuku the protagonist, the last wielder of OFA, the next symbol of peace, etc".
From my perspective, Izuku's role is that of someone who instead straddles that border between fantasy/reality-- he helps ground characters who have lost sight of reality and are using their own fantasies/delusions to harm themselves and others (Endeavor, sorta-Bakugo, Gentle, Tomura, etc), but he also helps reignite a passion for fantasy/dreams in characters who have become completely jaded by reality (Toshi, Shouto, Nagant, Kota, also/inevitably Tomura, etc).
Also, I won't downplay the effects that Izuku's constant injuries have on Inko, but it's a murky area for a lot of reasons. imho, Izuku's situation with reckless self-harm reads a lot more like Touya's-- both boys hurt themselves over and over in an effort to prove that they have value due to growing up in an environment that made them both constantly doubt their worth as individuals. Framing anything surrounding those injuries as "trying to escape from reality because they're ignoring the effect it has on their family" doesn't really sit well with me, but I'm not really articulate enough to explain why.
YES ENJI PLEASE DO EXPLAIN WHAT YOU MEAN BY "US" *explodes him with my mind*
Izuku is someone who needed someone to stand up for him and express any sort of faith in his value as a individual when he was a child, but no one ever did (side note/fun fact: quirks are referred to as "individuality" in the original text-- and while "quirks" might sound more catchy to english speaking audiences, calling them a person's "individuality" drives mha's themes home a lot harder)-- Izuku is now attempting to become the hero he needed as a child: a hero who can't ignore the tears of other children.
With Izuku, people constantly telling him to "stop dreaming and face reality" was equally harmful and absolutely decimated his self worth-- Izuku wanting someone to tell him that "he can be a hero" was less about "validating his fantasies" and more about him longing for someone to finally express faith in his worth as an individual, period. Just the same, Tomura wishing that his family would have told him that "he can be a hero" is less about actually becoming a hero and more about him just wishing that his family would've, like, actually stuck up for him and supported his emotional needs for once.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
At any rate, I think MHA's three part structure sort of lends to the idea that both fantasy and reality are both extremely important and ultimately need to strike a good balance with one another:
Act 1 is about "the fantasy": we see things primarily from Izuku's perspective, and he's a young kid who is finally getting to live out his dream. The harsh realities of his surrounding world aren't immediately apparent to him or the reader, who get swept up in how colorful and fun pro-heroism seems on the surface-- but the "cracks" are definitely there, and when Izuku does stumble across those cracks, he typically feels unsettled by them:
Act 2 is about "reality": the focus shifts onto the people who have fallen between those "cracks" in their society and Izuku's reaction to them (Eri, Gentle and La Brava, the LOV)-- this eventually cumulates in Tomura's violent "rejection" of the fantasy their society is built on through his dismissal of the heroes as glorified cosplayers and through his "destruction of the stage" they stand on (ironically so, since Tomura's one of the biggest examples of using "fantasy as a coping mechanism" in the entire series lmao)
Act 3 is about finding balance: fantasy can be lead to escapism and reality can be cruel, but neither fantasy or reality is inherently bad. Fantasy can be what gets people through the day and inspires them to become their best possible selves. Reality needs to be met head on, but facing reality doesn't mean giving up on your dreams or just passively accepting things for the way they are. Izuku needs to be brought back to reality during the dark hero arc. Tomura needs to be reminded that he did have a dream and that what defined him as an individual wasn't pain/destruction-- his origin was that he initially associated heroism with being kind to bullied kids, and that he wanted to be a hero specifically so those kids could feel included (*Tenko Shimura would have been child Izuku's hero truthism intensifies*):
Overall, Izuku gets saved from both "needlessly cruel reality" and "fantasy as delusion/escapism" over the course of the manga, and that now puts him in a position where he's better able to save Tomura (who is currently a victim of the most toxic aspects of both fantasy and reality). Shouto and Ochako both stepped off the stage and fought Touya/Himiko as themselves, because they wouldn't have been able to save them as "mere heroes"-- but it's a little more complicated for Izuku, because Tomura needs both Izuku AND Deku (if that makes sense?), so their final clash is gonna be one hell of a balancing act. Too much ~reality~ is gonna upset the Tenko part of Tomura, too much fantasy is gonna piss off the Tomura side of Tenko.
22 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
harleypostss
HarleyPosts
betweensheetsofpaper-blog
Shadow Weaving
mystic-crochet
mystic-crochet
hitori-asb
一人遊日
mujeralchimista
TaleroLMDesign/ MujerAlchimista