#and he will never again dare to think that maybe he's not unloveable

[seemeunseelie]

‘The Wolf and The Lamb’ from Aesop’s Fables (1927), by Nora Fry | ‘Persephone Writes a Poem’, from This Is How We Lost Each Other (2018), by Karese Burrows | Deathless, by Catherynne M. Valente (2011) | ‘Mizumono’ from Hannibal (2014), dir David Slade | For Your Own Good (2015), by Leah Horlick | ‘Agamemnon’ from The Oresteian Trilogy by Aeschylus, tr. Philip Vellacott (1966) | Kiss of Judas (1852) by Ignazio Jacometti | ‘What Was there to Bring me to Delight but to Love and be Loved’, from When She Named Fire: An Anthology (2008) by Paisley Rekdal | ‘Thirty Pieces of Silver’ by John Charles Dollman (1851–1934) | ‘After the Movie’ from The Kingdom of Ordinary Time, by Marie Howe (2008) | untitled poem by Sue Zhao (2020) | all other images taken from Baldur’s Gate 3 (Larian Studios)

#baldur's gate 3 #durgetash #bg3 durge #gortash x durge #enver gortash #web weaving #hadrian #mine #look i love the tragedy of them losing each other #and gortash being so blindsided by seeing him #BUT #okay but #i also sometimes think about #durge having never known love #and falling so hard and so fast for the first tender touch anyone offers him #and gortash sees right through him and knows just how to play this broken creature #says and does all the right things and durge is so in love he's going to defy his own father #but in the end he was just another pawn #like he has been all his life #and his wretched heart is broken #and he will never again dare to think that maybe he's not unloveable

[lees-chaotic-brain]

Hey :) this is the same anon who announced they'd send two requests.

Idea Nr. 2:

Character: Green (Fushiguro Megumi)

Theme: sky (hurt/comfort) idk maybe it's more ocean tho... Not sure.

Prompt: #5 the name of your soulmate appears on your body only after that person falls in love with you. As in: Megumi knows his name is written on reader's body (he's seen it) but he doesn't have reader's name so he thinks either they're not his soulmate or not in love with him and he feels awful, but reader just takes longer to fall in love and in the end reader's name appears on Megumi too? Again: just an idea ;)

hi anon! thanks for sending in this lovely request! your other one will be out soon!

note: in this fic your soulmates name only appears on you after they have said that they are in love with you out loud

Selfish (Megumi x Reader)

Word Count: 1.9K

CW: Insecurity, implied childhood trauma (bullying, abuse, toxic relationships, it's up to the reader), angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, anxiety

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All your life you had considered yourself unlovable. With the way you were raised, how could you?

No, you believed that you were unlovable, unworthy of good things, and incapable of good.

Because of that, when you started at Jujutsu Tech and met your classmates, you were closed off, opting to sit on the sidelines and be alone. You told yourself that if you joined them, you would ruin their fun. It was impossible for people to enjoy spending time with you. You were annoying, a nuisance, why would they-

“Hey.”

You ignored the voice. They were probably talking to someone else.

“You. Sitting on the bench.”

Startled, you looked up.

You were surprised to see none other than Fushiguro Megumi, one of your peers standing before you.

“Mind if I sit there?”

He nodded his head towards the empty spot next to you on the bench.

“Um, sure.”

“Thanks.”

He sat down, folding an ankle of his knee and propping his chin on his fist.

“Those damn idiots.”

He said, watching Kugisaki and Itadori chase each other around squawking.

“Giving me a headache.”

He turned towards you.

“Say, wanna ditch them and go do something else?”

And so began your friendship with Fushiguro Megumi.

Over time, you began to get closer with Kugisaki and Itadori as well, but Megumi always had a special place in your heart. After all, he was your first friend.

But even as you became more and more comfortable with yourself, a small part of you couldn’t help but to believe that he’s only spent time with you because he pitied you.

So when your soulmates name appeared on your wrist, you couldn’t believe that your fellow first year and friend Megumi had not only fallen for you, but you were his soulmate.

After all, you were unlovable. You were incapable of loving him back the way he deserved.

And he was sweet and kind and caring and awkward and smart and so, so much more.

He deserved so much better than you.

So, logically, the next course of action you took was ignoring him at all costs. You wouldn’t let him be in love with you. If he never saw you, surely he would move on, his name would disappear, and the two of you could go back to being friends.

A small part of you was pained at the idea, but you didn’t dare take a closer look at it. If you did, that meant acknowledging that a small part of you yearned for love and-

No. You mustn’t think about it.

For Megumi’s sake.

Even though it was extremely unlikely that he was your soulmate (you weren't even close to good enough for him) if by a slim chance he was your soulmate, the last thing he needed was your name inked around his wrist, shackling him to you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Megumi had been elated when he noticed his name on your wrist.

After all, when he had realized that he was hopelessly in love with you and quietly confessed his feeling to his empty room, he hadn't dared to hope that he would be lucky enough to have you as his soulmate.

But he hadn't had a chance to talk to you about it, because you were avoiding him like the plague.

It had been months.

Did you really dislike him to the point that the idea of being his soulmate sent you running?

Did you really hate the idea of him loving you that much?

Was he really that unworthy of you?

Suddenly a thought occurred to him.

Maybe he wasn't your soulmate. Maybe your heart belonged to someone else.

Something primal in him writhed merely at the idea of you being with someone else.

He wouldn't, no, couldn't, accept this. He had never asked for much in life. He had never asked people to stay, or for any lofty dreams.

However if you truly loved someone else, or didn't want to be with him, he would have to be okay with it. He had to be. At the end of the day, all he really desired was your happiness.

But for the first time he deeply desired something, and that something was to be with you. And he'd be damned if he let you walk away without even an explanation.

Didn't he deserve at least that much?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For months you had successfully avoided Megumi, but it appeared that ended now.

When you heard the knock on your door, you assumed it was Nobara coming to ask you to go shopping with her.

Unsuspecting, you had called out that you were coming, and opened the door.

Only to be faced with the one person you were trying to avoid.

Fushiguro Megumi.

"We need to talk."

You panicked and slammed the door in his face.

Shit. Why did you do that? You just want him to fall out of love with you, not think you hate him!

Your internal word vomit was cut off by him speaking.

"I'm not leaving until we talk. And don't even think about leaving through your window. My demon dog is waiting out there for you."

Fuck. Shit. He had you cornered.

"Why do we need to talk?"

"Just let me in."

His voice was slightly muffled by your door, but you could hear the determination in it.

Accepting that you had no other choice, you sighed and took a deep breath to calm your nerves.

Opening the door you gave him a weak smile.

"Want to come in?"

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Minutes had passed, but neither of you had spoken.

You were perched awkwardly on the edge of your bed, and he was sitting in you desk chair that he had pulled in front of you.

Externally, his face was blank, but inside he was in turmoil.

Every time he attempted to open his mouth and speak, his stomach churned and he felt nauseous. What if after he said everything, you still avoided him? What if you decided he wasn't good enough for you?

Still, he had to try. He walked into this ready to accept it if you didn't feel the same way and continued to avoid him.

"I really, really, like you."

You jumped, startled by the sound of his voice breaking the silence.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I mean like, more than a friend."

"Uh-"

"Although, I know you are already aware of that."

His eyes darted to his name inked around your wrist, and you slapped a hand over it.

Megumi's heart panged at your reaction, but he continued speaking.

"And I understand if you don't return my feelings. I just wanted to say it to you officially, I guess."

"Okay..."

You said hesitantly, unsure of what to do. On one hand you wanted to accept his feelings and vocalize your own, but on the other hand you wanted to cry, because you couldn't do that to him. You couldn't trap him in a life spent with you. You would just hold him back.

You heard him inhale, and tensed, nervous about what he was going to say next.

"But...I have to know- why have you been avoiding me for the last couple of months. Did I do something?"

"You fell in love with me!"

You snapped, unable to keep it in anymore.

The hurt was evident on his face.

"Is it really that bad...that I love you? Am I really that repulsive to you?"

"No. No no no no."

You waved your hands, tears blurring your vision.

"You don't understand."

You broke down in sobs, your body curling in on itself as you heaved.

"Hey, hey. Are you you okay."

Megumi's heart ached watching you sob. Reaching out, he stopped himself right before he touched your shoulder.

"Would-Would it be okay if I held you?"

You didn't respond.

Unable to continue doing nothing, he grabbed your sleeve and tugged you into his chest.

"I've got you."

He murmured, rubbing your back reassuringly.

"I'm here. I'm here. I want to understand."

You sobbed harder, gripping the front of his hoodie.

"I-It's not you -hic- it's just you can't love me."

"Why not?"

"Because-Because I don't deserve your love! You deserve so much more than me, and I won't allow you to resign yourself to a life shacked to me!"

"Why won't you allow me to!? It's my life, isn't it?!"

"Because I love you!"

The words formed wings, forcing themselves up your throat before bursting out of your mouth.

Stunned silence filled the room, then slowly, both of you dared to look down at his wrist.

And in a single second, your worst fears and his greatest desire were fulfilled. For there, inked upon his wrist, was your name.

Several moments passed as the two of you stared at the letters inked on his pale skin.

"Oh my god."

You breathed, covering your mouth with your hands.

"I'm so, so sorry."

His head snapped up.

"For what?!"

"I'm so sorry you're my soulmate- god you deserve so much more, this is why I was avoiding you. I thought if you didn't see me long enough your feelings would disappear. And even if they didn't, at least I wouldn't be holding you back. I'm so sor-"

"Apologize one more time."

His voice was low, and angry.

"Apologize one more time for loving me back, for being my soulmate, for having me as a soulmate. I dare you. Apologize to me one more time for making me the happiest I've ever been in my life."

"What-"

You didn't understand what he was saying.

"It's up to me to decide what I do, and don't deserve. In my book, I don't deserve you."

You let out a little scoff.

"It's true."

He looked you square in the eyes, his jade green eyes fierce and brimming with intense emotion.

"You make me a better version of myself. When I'm around you, I'm softer, happier, kinder. You make me greedy. You made me truly desire something for the first time in my life. You make my world brighter, and more beautiful."

He clasped you hands in his.

"I don't know why you think you don't deserve me, and we'll talk about that later, but for now, can it be okay if the two of us just agree to be undeserving of each other together, and be selfish?"

You stared at him with your mouth slightly open and tear tracks on your cheeks.

"Can we just selfishly be together, just selfishly seek our own happiness? Who cares if we don't deserve each other. If we're both happy, nothing else matters in this world. When I'm with you, everything else fades away. So please, will you be selfish with me?"

Putting aside all of your insecurities and fears, you leaned forwards and captured his lips with your own in response to his question.

"I love you."

You breathed, pulling back.

"I love you more."

He responded before leaning in again.

I love you. The three most selfish words you had ever said. But you would say them again and again, if it meant that you got to stay by his side.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Omg I had so much fun writing this! I just love him so much.

#lee's 1 year anniversary event #jjk x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #hurt/comfort #angst to fluff #soulmate au #megumi x reader #jjk fics #jjk x reader hurt/comfort

[dirtytransmasc]

How would tonowari help with spider? What activities would they do together

@windhashirapiller this also answers you're ask

he's the stoic dad, so I think a lot of his love language is quiet personal time; walks on the shoreline, under the stars, one arm around his kid, telling stories from his past. watching spider sleep, one hand in his hair, nothing but love and bliss on his face. being the dad spider looks to when he's looking for recognition or admiration, and tonowari is always there to give him the proud dad smile.

very defensive of spider, but unlike ronal, instead of being an aggressive force that will make threats anytime anywhere, he is a daring and formidable force that stands behind him, daring anyone to bring harm to his boy.

when they first adopt spider he's the one to have The Talk with him. in my mind they adopt him after the neglect causes him to do harm to himself (he overworks himself, ignores his needs; he doesn't eat, doesn't drink, doesn't sleep. its when his body eventually goes out that tonowari and ronal step in), so spider is already on edge, physically and emotionally on edge, and trauma responding (pushing people away, getting aggressive to shield his weakness, expecting the worst of each and every interaction). so tonowari has to sit there and try to explain to this terrified kid, that he deserves better, that he is loved (despite feeling unlovable), that they want him. he has to console this scared child who has never truly known love. that night has forever scarred the great metakyina chief, just thinking about the look in his child's face, brings tears to his eyes. he's vowed to never, not even over his dead body, let spider feel like that ever again.

I think him being the stoic dad verbally, makes him the much more physical dad. he's always cupping spider's chin, embracing him, pressing their foreheads together (technically mask and forehead).

he speaks through his eyes, and spider has learned to read him like a book. there's always so much love and awe on his face.

he learns spider's favorite things; favorite foods, favorite types of beads for his jewelry making, favorite plants for his paints, etc. and he brings them to spider without him asking.

he was cautious with saying "I see you" or calling him son cause he knew spider had a complicated relationship with all his past father figures. when he adopts spider he does it knowing he may never bee his father in spiders heart (if anyone has seen the dragon prince, think callum and harrow; both want to be father/son so badly it is palpably painful, yet due to simple miscommunications, neither is aware of this, and actually think both parties want the opposite). so when the dam finally breaks (maybe spider gets hurt and tonowari can't contain his worry, or spider is desperate for any sort of paternal affection and he just flips out and clings to tonowari) it's devastating (but sorta in the best way possible). you'd think they're a father and son reuniting after the most trying of separations; big fat tears from both sides, tonowari won;t put spider down, spiders clinging to his father like he's gonna disappear. after that, tonowari never stops telling spider he sees him, that he loves him, that he is his son.

I have to say it, tonowari is a fishing dad, he takes spider hunting on the skimwing, just the two of them.

like ronal, he has many beads on his song chord for spider, but they are much more frequent. out of all of things in his life, nothing compares to his children. they keep him sane amongst all the duties of being chief, and with the circumstances that surround spider, its even more true. he finds any reason to add more and more beads for his children, especially spider, so when he reflects on this time in his life, it doesn't seem so bad.

he will play dumb so spider has the opportunity to teach him, he likes hearing how his son talks about things, how he thinks, and he loves the confidence it gives spider to teach someone else. Sometimes he genuinely learns things, other times he gains a new perspective; but no matter the case, its builds spider up, makes him more likely to speak within the village. (spider has adhd in my mind, and I know tonowari indulges every infodump that kid gives him, no matter how well he knows what he's talking about)

he takes spider under his wing just as he did ao'nung; he teaches him to rule, to think for the village, to be a good diplomat. he teaches the boys to work together to solve conflicts because if he gets his way, if all goes well, ao'nung will become chief with spider as his right-hand man so to speak. his boys futures are of the utmost priority to him.

#spider socorro #miles spider socorro #miles socorro #spider avatar #avatar spider #ronal #ronal avatar #tonowari #metkayina #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #he loves that boy to bits #literally the proudest dad in the world #eywa forbid some one question his feelings about his son #like if someone said something about how it must be disappointing that he's human #or anything remotely close to that #all hell breaks loose #tonowari will make sure of that #spider tonowari'itan #hi'i'tsyil te fkew'weopx tonowari'itan

[ellievickstar]

I Found You…<3

A/N: I was kinda playing around with ‘i would burn this world for you’ and this came out. I might do this with other phrases…Also I just was to say that someone’s inability to love you does not make you unlovable, always remember that <3

Summary: During an argument with the female that his father forced him to marry, Eris realises that he wants her more than he could ever admit, and would love to prove it to her.

Request: N/A

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Reader

Warnings: Domestic abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse.

~*~*~*~*~

Banging his fist against the table, he rose. There was rage in his eyes, pure unfaltering rage. You flinched slightly as he pointed accusingly at you, almost screaming. “How dare you disrespect a direct order from your father and High Lord! We have decided that you and Eris will be wed. You have no say! Do you hear me?” Opening your mouth to try and reason with your father, but he cut you off again. “If I hear another protest out of you, I will ensure that they will need much more than makeup to cover that HIDEOUS face of yours!” This was final, leaving no room for negotiation, your father stared at you as tears formed in your eyes, forcing you to look down, your hands shaking as you mumbled as many apologies as you could. 

This wasn’t the first time your father had abused his power to get what he wanted, seeing as he was a close friend of Beron Vanserra, the two of them seemed to find some sort of twisted pleasure in bringing pain to their children. Gasping as your father grabbed your face and pulled it to meet his, he snarled one more time, “And don’t even think about getting out of this like that whore from the Night Court, I won’t be nearly as merciful and that will be the last day you ever see the sky,” Nodding your understanding, your father looked at your face for any sign of dishonesty, satisfied to find only pure terror in your eyes. In his eyes, fear was a weapon that he would wield. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he finally let go of you, tears beginning to escape the corners of your eyes and flowed down your face. Pushing your chair out, you clumsily blurted the words to be excused, dazed as you swiftly exited the dining hall. The only thing guiding you in that moment was the voice in your head that told you to stay in your room until the next day. To follow your father’s instructions until the wedding, and to then play the perfect wife, a shell of the person she would have been, just like the Lady of Autumn. Part of you couldn’t bear it, screaming at you to run, to find solace in another court, to hide from your father and live out the rest of your days happily, free. But how could you? 

Your thoughts travelled to your sister…so so young. Your father had guaranteed that one of his daughters would marry one of the High Lord’s sons, and if Beron Vanserra or his mad sons got their hands on your sister- you would not stand for it. You would much rather be the one to enter that damned manor, to be the trophy wife for a mad man’s son. Maybe it would appease your father and he would be gentler on your sister, maybe if all was well you would be able to send her enough coin to help her run away, far from this cursed family. Far from a place that the both of you could never call home. 

Shaking your head, you knew it was impossible. All you could do was follow your father’s orders as best you could and pray that you could support your sister even after the ceremony was finished. 

Yes. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The days passed in a blink of an eye as you slowly forced yourself to endure a gruelling week of preparation to meet your betrothed. Father was getting more irritable, constantly screaming at servants for everything to be perfection. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him.  He was so demanding, especially now that the meeting was so near.  

Meanwhile, you dreaded the day more than anything, silently praying that an assassin from another land would come and end your life because of some agenda they have against your father. That would have been much better than marrying Eris Vanserra. You only had met him a handful of times, and all you recalled was his rudeness, his cruelty, how the servants feared him. It was well-known that he was just like Baron in many ways, especially when it came to being violent. 

“Shoulders straight, smile,”He snarled, “I don’t need any scandal, so behave.” 

“Your hair is out of place! And I can still see your bruises, which incompetent servant did your makeup!?” Your father fumed as you sat in the drawing room of your family house. You trembled silently, taking in every criticism as you prayed for the day to be over as soon as possible, willing yourself to hold back your tears as much as possible. 

Your fate was sealed as a servant crept into the room, informing your father that the guest had arrived. Baron Vanserra and his son were here. And they were here for you. The terror that you had hidden away began to creep up your spine. This was it. If you failed to make a good impression, you would remain in your own household and your father would beat you to death, or worse, beat your sister in front of you. If you made a good impression, you would be dragged away to the Vanserra Manor and be wed to what might be the cruellest man alive. 

They weren’t great options, but you wouldn’t take a risk on your sister’s safety. So you folded your hands in your lap, blinked back the tears, and smiled politely as the two males entered the room. Eris trailed behind his father, who shook your hands with your father, who ordered you and Eris to speak to each other while they discussed the details and formalities of this matrimony. 

Your smile dropped slightly, but you tried your best to mutter out an introduction under the searing gaze of the future High Lord.

“I am Y/N Y/L/N,” Eris nodded. “Eris Vanserra, Lord of Autumn,” It stayed silent after, the awkwardness hanging in the air. Part of you seemed to sigh in relief. Awkwardness, which meant he probably wasn’t as mean as you had imagined. Still you couldn’t completely skip over the possibility that he was hiding his true self in order to manipulate you. 

A few minutes of looking at anything but each other — the walls, the ceiling, even the creepy statue you had always hated — had passed before Eris had cleared his throat, grabbing your attention. “So you’re the girl he wants me to marry,” In which you retorted back before you could stop yourself, “So you’re the mad man’s son.” Surprised by your own boldness, your face heated as a grin began to creep onto Eris’s face.

"Feisty, thought you would be quiet since the last time i saw you you were so soft, little flame," You paused at the nickname but quickly smirked back. "I was nine at the time, forgive me if you intimidated me. But now I see there was nothing to be afraid of because I think I could easily kick you ass," He chuckled. However, his laughter died down as you stared at him expectantly.

"You never told me you were Eris Vanserra," "But I did tell you I was someone important, not my fault you never recognised me at masquerades," He grumbled. You wanted to smile but there were still the problems that have just been precedent.

"The last time we met, you said that you'd burn the world for me, is that still true?" He thought for a moment as you braced yourself for he rejection that might come. But what he said next was so unexpected that it made your heart bleed.

"I wouldn't just burn the world for you, I'd live in it. Every single damn day I will bear the pains of this world for the rest of my life, if it means that I'll be with you. I found you, little flame, and i won't ever let go."

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: AHHHHHH OMG SO CUTE HAHAHHAHA

taglist: - no taglist for Eris yet -

#acotar #acotar fandom #acosf #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #eris vanserra angst #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra

[woodchipp]

Ngl, a big reason I'm obsessed with OMORI so much (and why it's as infuriating as it is to me) is because it had a lot of potential to be, at the very least, a decently compelling story and seeing said potential be so spectacularly wasted is just. horrible

I know that Mari and Hero are the group's "mom" and the "dad" only because the main cast needed to be pigeonholed into Tumblr found family roles, but the implication that Sunny views them as more of a mom and dad than his real parents - his biological mother and father only appear in portraits scattered throughout remote corners of his dream world - is pretty interesting! The game could've made a point that the financial well-being of Sunny and Mari's family came at the price of the parents failing to properly connect with their children; sure, their jobs are well-paying, but they're married to them, so to speak.

Mari could've felt compelled to care for Sunny as if she was his mom (with Hero trying his best to help her out whenever he can because he notices how exhausted she is) since their parents weren't around much in general. Alternatively, when their parents did have the time to get involved in their children's lives, they only pushed Sunny and Mari to perform well academically without paying attention to how it impacted their children mentally.

Maybe that could've been the whole reason Mari is a perfectionist, the emotional distance of her parents convincing her that she'll never measure up to what they expect of her and making her push herself to achieve an impossible ideal. Maybe that would've allowed Sunny to be characterized as a people-pleaser, always putting others' needs above himself because seeing Mari's hard work receiving praise from their parents gradually convinced him that being useful to others is the same thing as being genuinely loved.

What if Mari's knee injury forcing her to quit softball was indirectly caused by her own overworking? What if it was a significant blow to her already shaky self-esteem and she took up piano practice to compensate? What if her drowning herself in work made her more and more distant from Sunny? What if that made Sunny obsessively try his best to make his friends happy to the point of suppressing his own needs because he didn't consider himself important ("my parents clearly like Mari more and she's the reason why my friends are my friends in the first place, so why would I matter?") and because he was secretly afraid that Mari distanced himself from him since he wasn't good enough for her?

That way, their big argument would have probably been the result of their issues boiling over; Mari's perfectionism becomes unreasonable due to being exacerbated by her fear of the upcoming recital (with Sunny feeling that she wants the precision of a machine from him) and Sunny's long-suppressed needs finally make themselves known via him impulsively destroying the violin and starting the argument himself. Maybe Sunny could've put his hands on Mari in his rage (without shoving her down the stairs lmao) or viceversa.

And, well. Maybe that argument could've been the straw that broke the camel's back for Mari, the final push she needed to hang herself.

If Sunny was the one to put his hands on Mari, he could've blamed himself for making her feel unloved and erroneously assumed that she hanged herself because of him. If Mari was the one to put her hands on Sunny, he could've blamed himself for not recognizing that as a sign that she wasn't doing well. Either way, his situation would've probably become more genuinely tragic since he's beating himself up for circumstances he never had much control over. I think that'd have very neatly explained his status as a silent protagonist too - from his point of view, his beloved sister died the last time he dared to open his mouth, so he chose to deliberately flatten himself out because he's afraid of hurting anyone ever again.

Maybe the game could've subtly conveyed Sunny's efforts to move on from his grief via Mari's grave in the church's cemetery. Since I believe that the game would've had more time to properly pace its content if the events took at least five days, the idea could've been executed like this:

on the first day, Sunny wouldn't even see the door to the cemetery just like he doesn't see the closet room's door and like he makes the door to Basil's room disappear when he sees the latter's corpse

on the second and third days, the door to the cemetery would be visible if you visit the church, but trying to interact with it will just have Sunny shaking his head

on the fourth day, the cemetery would finally become accessible… except for Mari's grave. it would have collision, like there's a sprite supposed to be there, but it'd be invisible the exact same way Mari's piano is on the Hikikomori route, and when interacted with, Sunny would just say that "There is nothing here."

finally, on the fifth day, you'll get to see the grave and even lay flowers on it if you want

Maybe Black Space could've been an anti-Memory Lane of sorts instead of being a YN rip-off - if Memory Lane was supposed to represent Sunny's most cherished memories, Black Space should've represented the worst ones he had. What if Black Space actually provided set-up for the argument by chronicling the gradual deterioration of his relationship with Mari over the course of their practicing? It'd make sense that he'd try to bury these as deep inside of his mind as possible. There was a nice story here. It's gone now.

#frankly I consider this incoherent horseshit but whatever #i finally found the courage to write these ideas out at least lol #omori #omori game #omori sunny #omori mari #wood's omori rewrite #I hate the original story but I am Rotating the characters in my brain. I'd like my brain to stop but I Do Not control what my brain does #i have a brain and i must scream

[lady-de-mon-coeur]

So Happy Together

AO3

Words: 1,279. Language: English. Rated G.

Summary: What if, in Frozer Ladybug answered Chat Noir’s question differently?

It was happening again.

Chat Noir was desperate.

He wanted to cry.

He wanted to scream and shout.

He wanted to grab Ladybug’s shoulders and peer into her eyes until his gaze reached the deepest depths of her soul.

He wanted to ask her, "Why don't you love me?" until he finally got an answer.

It was stupid. He knew it was of no use. He could do nothing to make her love him. He would only make things worse.

Besides, he already knew the answer.

That guy again. The mysterious guy Ladybug was in love with. His shadow has haunted them all along, keeping them apart.

Or perhaps it's not just this. Maybe it's Chat Noir who was the reason. Maybe he was unlovable.

Ladybug gave him such a heart-wrenching look that Chat Noir didn't dare touch her. His arms fell limply by his sides in defeat, a scarlet rose in his hand hanging down uselessly, reminding him of his unrequited feelings.

His hopes of ever winning his lady's heart were falling. Just like the petals of the rose he held in his hand.

He had nothing left to lose.

"If it weren't for that guy, would things be different between us?"

Ladybug’s face fell. She turned away.

"Just drop it, Chaton, please. Don't torment yourself," she murmured miserably, her head in her hands.

She was hurting, just as he was. Chat Noir could see it clearly. He hated himself for tormenting her. But he couldn’t just back away. Not yet. He needed a clear answer.

"I just want to know the truth, my lady. I won't ever ask this question again, I promise."

Ladybug turned around to face him once more.

"Do you want to know the truth? Okay. My answer is 'yes'. Yes, I'm sure I would love you the way you deserve to be loved. Yes, I'm sure we would be a couple, a very beautiful one."

"Are you telling me this just to comfort me? Or do you really mean it, Ladybug?" Chat Noir asked with a shaking voice, drooping his head and fidgeting with the rose he was still holding.

"Of course, I really mean it, Chaton". There was the softest expression Chat Noir had ever seen on Ladybug's face, and he suddenly felt stinging in his eyes and a large lump forming in his throat. "Oh god, you are such an amazing and lovable person. Every girl would be lucky to have you. I'm so sorry I can't give you what you want and deserve."

Chat Noir could see in the crystal-clear drops glistening in her sapphire eyes that her heart was breaking on his behalf.

And then she did something totally unexpected.

She cupped his cheek, and Chat Noir’s heart nearly stopped at the touch of her gloved hand on his face.

But if this gesture was unexpected, it was nothing compared to what she did next.

She rose on her tiptoes and placed an ever so tender kiss on his cheek.

"Chaton," she whispered softly in his ear, "please don't dwell on this too much. You have no idea how my heart bleeds every time I have to reject you. Please spare me the pain. You're such a good kitten. I'm sure one day someone will love you the way you deserve."

She then gave him a comforting hug and leapt away.

===

Don't dwell on this too much.

Such useless advice, if you think about it.

It was easier said than done.

You can't just show a picture of paradise to someone who is currently living in hell and then take it away and tell them not to dwell too much on what they've seen.

Chat Noir had thought that Ladybug’s honest answer would finally bring peace to his soul.

But it looked like he was thoroughly mistaken.

It wasn’t a closure. It was the start of something brand new, but just as painful.

He couldn’t get Ladybug’s words out of his head. It was real torture.

The memory of Ladybug’s hot breath tickling his ear was still so vivid. The place she kissed was still burning like a fire.

But now it has transformed into a memory of something that never happened and probably was never going to happen.

These imaginary scenarios of what could've been were passing in a row in front of his eyes, teasing his exhausted mind.

***

He's kneeling in front of his lady, giving her a crimson rose, as he'd done earlier that day, but this time she accepts it and presses it tenderly to her chest. There's a grateful smile playing on her lips.

***

She's leaning in to whisper in his ear, but this time, these are the words of love she tells him.

***

He prepared a romantic date for Ladybug, with candles and rose petals spread around. And this time she comes. She says she loves him too.

***

These scenes looked so real in his head.

As if Ladybug’s words, once uttered, had brought to life a whole parallel universe. A universe where they were in a happy relationship and in love with each other.

And Chat Noir was now sneaking into this paradise through a half-open door.

He wondered if Ladybug had seen similar sneak peeks. Most likely she did; otherwise, she wouldn't be so sure of what she had told him.

What was she feeling when she thought about their possible romance? Was she feeling bad that it didn't happen?

Didn't her heart flutter a single time while imagining these scenarios? Didn't a tiny part of her soul want it to be a reality?

Did that other guy know what he was missing? Would he still be able to sleep at night if he knew that the Goddess herself was crazy in love with him?

He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth at the mere thought.

===

The constant daydreaming and the visions from the parallel reality were getting the best of Chat Noir as the days passed. And there was no way he was going to give up daydreaming anytime soon.

This imaginary world was his quiet corner, which no one could take away from him.

The visions of the paradise he created in his head were so fantastic and enticing that, at some point, Chat Noir didn't care that they weren't real.

***

She's puckering up her kissable lips as she leans in, her scent invading Chat Noir’s senses.

***

She's resting her forehead lovingly against his, her delicate arms wrapped around his neck, before eventually melting into a passionate kiss.

***

They are stargazing, their fingers laced together, her head resting on his shoulder.

***

She's coming from behind while he's waiting for her on the rooftop in an attempt to surprise him by covering his eyes with her palms, and he's feigning to be surprised despite having perfectly heard her approach thanks to his enhanced senses.

***

These pictures, born from Chat Noir's vivid imagination, were countless.

This was still torture, but of a pleasant kind. Chat Noir was surprised to find out that he actually loved the way it hurt. He took strange pleasure in his spiralling thoughts.

He loved the way his throat tightened, the unshed tears prickling his eyes.

He savoured the bittersweet taste of melancholy and the sublime feeling of being rejected.

He loved crying himself to sleep. He'd like to drown in this pool of sorrow.

He reached the point where happiness and misery made no difference anymore. For him it was the same feeling that made his soul vibrate with some strange kind of music.

"My lady, ma belle, my love" he whispered, tears welling up in his eyes again. "We could be so happy together."

A/N: As you can see, not much has changed.

#ml fanfiction #my writing #ml frozer #ladynoir #angst

[disturbedbydesign]

Special Girl - Part 2

Summary: You arrived at Harvard as a shy, nerdy girl. You never thought a guy like Lloyd Hansen would notice you. But Lloyd saw you—really saw you—and for a time you became his special girl. Now, years later, you’re stuck in a sexless marriage. Unloved and unfucked for months, you’ve decided enough is enough. The fact that Lloyd has been keeping tabs on you for years has nothing to do with it… or does it?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: DUBCON (alcohol use/manipulation); INCREDIBLY unsafe/unhealthy/deadass wrong BDSM practices (Lloyd doesn’t do safewords or aftercare); plus-sized reader/fatphobia; cheating; degradation; bondage, spanking/whipping, gagging; knife kink; blood kink; CNC roleplay; gunplay; rough oral (m receiving); explicit sex (O,V,A); unprotected sex (Lloyd doesn’t wear condoms, ok?); unwanted pregnancies/abortion; physical intimidation/abuse; general toxicity; Lloyd is a psycho and he’s fucking mean—Dead Dove Do Not Eat! 18+ only, no minors.

Series Masterlist

Part Two

You let Harrison play with his Switch on the drive home because you need to think. You never thought you’d see Lloyd again, much less feel his body and his lips pressed against you. Now that you have, you’re right back in that place again—you’re that clueless 18-year-old, desperate and needy and following him around like a stray dog hungry for even the smallest of table scraps. And that’s what he’s always thrown you—just enough to sate the hunger but never enough to eradicate it. You’ve never stopped being hungry for him, though, not for one hour of one day since the first time he touched you. It made you feel desperate then; it makes you feel daring now.

When you get home, you decide you won’t be cooking dinner. Tonight, you’re ordering pizza and opening a bottle of your favorite red. You’re celebrating because you know that Michael won’t want to fuck you tonight, that D-day will come and go without even a hint of intimacy, but you don’t care anymore. You don’t want Michael to fuck you, you want Lloyd to fuck you, and you’re finally willing to admit that it’s always been that way. So, yeah, you’re celebrating, because you’re ready to move on from this half-life you're living.

Of course, you don’t hold any delusions about Lloyd: he’ll fuck the life out of you on Friday night and maybe through the weekend, and then he’ll go off the grid for god knows how long. He didn’t show up to steal you away from Michael so he can have you for himself. He didn’t show up to claim Harrison and play happy family. He showed up to remind you who you belong to, who you’ve always belonged to, and how stupid you are for forgetting. 

You’re mine, Porkchop. Your body, your heart, your fucking soul—it’s all mine, and I’ll take it whenever the fuck I want it. 

You can hear him saying it like he’s right next to you, and if you’d listened to him seven years ago, you could have saved yourself a lot of heartache. He’d told you not to marry Michael. He knew then. He’s always known what you wanted—what you needed—even when you didn’t.

But a part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe something has changed. Why would he still be watching you all these years later and why would he show up now, the very day he knows you’re deciding whether or not to end your marriage? He’d seemed almost giddy at the idea of you going unfucked for so long, ready to give up on the “spineless loser” you’d decided (against his strongly worded advice) to marry. Is it possible that Lloyd Hansen actually cares? That he has feelings? Are you really stupid enough to believe that he might actually, finally be willing to love you back?

Apparently, yes, you are. Because you still love him. You fucking hate him for everything he’s done to you, but you love him and you need him and you always have. You’d long ago disabused yourself of the notion that Lloyd Hansen is capable of love, and yet here you are still clinging to the hope that he’s not really pure evil—that he only acts like a sociopath because of some deep-seated childhood trauma he’s refused to unpack, that he likes to hurt people because he’s hurting. Here you are yet again, all these years past 18, telling yourself that there’s hope for him, thinking to yourself: I can fix him.

But you decide you’ll still give Michael one last chance, if only to cement your decision to leave. It’s a late one for him at the office—there have been more and more of those lately—so it gives you time to freshen yourself up and put on a Suzy Homemaker dress and fix him a hot dinner. It’s easy enough to put Harrison to bed, exhausted as he is from practice, and once you hear him snoozing away, you return to the kitchen and pour yourself another glass of wine and you wait.

Michael walks through the door at 8:30, tossing his briefcase down by the door with a deep sigh. As he toes off his shoes, you approach him to take his coat and hang it in the closet.

“Bad day?” you ask.

“More of the same,” he replies, and then it seems he suddenly notices you—sees you—along with the table set with candles and the glass of wine poured and ready for him. “You look nice. This is… unexpected. What’s the occasion?”

“Do I have to have a reason? I just know how hard you’ve been working lately. I wanted to do something nice for you. I made you a ribeye and those potatoes you like.”

Michael looks at you and there’s something strange in his eyes—some odd mixture of remorse and anxiety. “I, uh, thanks,” he says. “You really do look beautiful.”

You smile as you take his hand and guide him to the table, and you sit down next to him and pick up your glass. “To my hardworking husband,” you say.

Michael winces a bit before clinking glasses and taking a large sip of his wine.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask. “It’s ok if you don’t.”

Michael sighs as he cuts into his steak—a perfect medium, just how he likes it. “I’ve just got this client that’s been nothing but trouble since the start,” he says. “I can’t get into details, but you know that.”

“I’m sure you’re doing your best,” you tell him.

“I’m not sure my best is good enough in this particular case, but yes—I’m trying.”

You catch Michael up on the latest Harrison news, leaving out all the parts that he might find troubling (which is most of it), and when he’s done with his dinner, you clear his plate.

“Let me get the dishes,” he says. “You cooked.”

“Leave them. Come sit with me.”

You lead Michael into the living room where the fire is blazing and you sit next to him on the couch.

“You look so tense, baby,” you say, and you can’t remember the last time you called him that. “Is there anything I can do to help you… relax?” You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he shivers. “Maybe a massage or… something else?”

“Honey,” he says, leaning his head back into your touch, “I don’t know if-”

“Shh.” You press your finger to his lips. “Just let me make you feel better.”

You stand up and position yourself between his legs, kneeing them open wider before dropping to the floor in front of him.

“Honey, really, I can’t. I-”

“Yes,” you purr, “you can.”

You run your hand over the crotch of his pants and you feel nothing at all stirring below, but that’s not atypical for him so you reach around and unzip your dress, letting the top half fall to your waist, exposing your bare breasts. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clenched into fists at his side, but the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes heavily keeps you going. You make short work of his belt buckle and the button and zipper of his pants, but when you reach inside his boxers you feel him flaccid in your hand. You’re starting to get frustrated, but you pull him out and start to stroke him anyway, telling him, “Just relax, baby. I’ll take care of you,” and when you feel him start to harden slightly in your hand, he finally looks at you.

“Please, honey. We can’t. I… oh, fuck.”

You take him half-hard in your mouth and his hips jerk off the couch as he curses again. You suck him hard until you feel the blood pumping under your tongue and he’s finally at full mast, and when you take him swiftly down your throat, he whimpers and his thighs start to shake.

“Fuck. Fuck. Honey, please. You have to stop. We can’t. Ohhhh fuck.”

You moan onto his cock and he starts moving his hips a bit, fucking into your mouth gently as he moans your name, but he keeps saying “No, please no,” and the mixed signals are confusing the hell out of you. When you look up at him with your best blowjob eyes, you see that he’s crying and you push off of him, horrified.

“What the fuck, Michael?” you snap.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just… I can’t do this with you.”

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t do this with me? Who the fuck are you doing it with?”

“No one,” he says. “I didn’t mean it like that… it’s just… I just… I can’t.”

“Why?” you yell, not caring if you wake Harrison because you know now this is going nowhere—that it’s all over. Now all you need are some fucking answers. “Why don’t you want me anymore, Michael? What the fuck is so wrong with me you can’t even bear to get your dick sucked? You haven’t touched me for months. I’m your wife and you won’t fuck me. You barely even kiss me anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, sobbing as he tucks himself back into his pants. “I…” He looks at you and he looks so fucking scared but he’s also angry—angrier than you’ve maybe ever seen him. “Fuck, I just… I don’t want you anymore, ok? I’m bored of you and I don’t want to fuck you and you’re too goddamn stupid to take a hint.”

You feel like you’ve been slapped across the face, and you would have preferred a slap (or a punch or a kick or a knife slicing through you) to those words coming out of Michael’s mouth. You’ve heard them before. The tears fall even though you know he doesn’t deserve them.

“That’s it,” you say, your voice oddly calm given the storm thrashing inside you. “I’m done. We’re done. You can sleep on the couch tonight but I want you out tomorrow. I don’t give a fuck where you go.”

Michael hangs his head and stares at the floor. “I understand,” he says. “I’ll go tonight. Just tell Harrison I… fuck, I don’t know… I’m on a business trip or something.”

“Fine,” you say. “Just get out.”

You sit on the couch, finishing the bottle of pinot as Michael packs his bags. You stare at your reflection in the bay window, completely numb as Michael mumbles his feeble goodbye. You hear his car starting and rumbling out of the driveway and you feel nothing—you’re not sad, you’re not even angry anymore. Because it was always going to end today, one way or another. He was never going to want you enough to make you stay, even before Lloyd popped back into the picture. At least now you know—you heard it from Michael’s own lips: he doesn’t want you anymore.

And now you’re free.

***

The weeks after The Game were a blur. You spent your Thanksgiving break in a daze, trying to act normal around your family when you felt anything but. You didn’t exactly regret what happened with Lloyd, but you knew you’d been taken advantage of and you’d never felt more ashamed—because you liked it, you weren’t sorry it happened, and you wanted it to happen again. You told Shay about your night with Lloyd but you fudged the details a bit, telling her that you just made out with him a little upstairs but that it didn’t go any further than that. You knew if you told her the whole truth she wouldn’t get it. She’d see him as a predator and you as his prey, and while she might have been right about that to some extent, you knew she’d never understand the truth: that you were his willing victim.

When you got back from break, you found yourself making any excuse to walk past the Phoenix, hoping to catch him coming or going, but you never did. You felt like a stalker trying to find out what house he lived in and what classes he was taking from Maddie, but she took pity on you and told you the little information she knew about Lloyd (even though she doubled down on her warning to stay as far away from him as possible). He was in Dunster House with a bunch of the football guys so you started taking walks along the Charles even though the brisk fall air was quickly turning to a bone-rattling winter chill. He was concentrating in psychology so you lurked around the psych building. Try as you might to “accidentally” stumble across Lloyd Hansen, he was like a ghost, physically absent but haunting your every waking thought (and oftentimes your dreams, too).

“I don’t understand why you don’t just go to the next Phoenix party,” Shay said as you walked from the coffee shop to your next class. “I mean, you know he’ll be there, and you’re already basically stalking him.”

“I don’t want to go back there,” you told her, but that wasn’t entirely true.

You did want to go back there, you just didin’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how desperate you were. You wanted to just so happen to run into him around campus and see what happened from there, not show up at his doorstep like a starving puppy. But then another Lloyd-less week went by, and that’s exactly what you did.

You went a little less slutty this time, wearing a turtleneck and a pencil skirt that hugged your ample curves. It was tasteful but still showed off the body you’d always tried to hide—the body he’d seemed so enamored of, though a part of you still believed it was all a cruel joke. And even if it wasn’t, he’d made it clear to you that you and your body were to be coveted only in secret. Still, you dressed yourself up and made yourself up and you headed to the Phoenix Club with Shay on the last Saturday night before fall term exams. It was a more lowkey affair than the Game Day celebrations, but it was still pretty crazy by your standards. You were slightly more confident as you approached the door, and the same guy was there screening potential party goers. He smiled at Shay and then, a bit more darkly, at you.

“I was wondering if we’d see you again,” he said, giving you a once over. “Come on in. Lloyd’s probably still running the beer pong table.”

You felt your cheeks flame as you walked past him and down to the basement. So they all know, you thought to yourself. What the fuck did he tell them? And why? You thought you were supposed to be a secret. You grabbed a red solo cup and handed it to the guy operating the keg, who you recognized as Maddie’s (sort-of) boyfriend, and once you had a cold beer in your hand you chugged half of it to ease your nerves.

“Slow down there, champ,” Shay said. “We’ve got all night. You wanna be my beer pong partner?”

“I’ve never played,” you said. “I’ll just fuck you up.”

“I don’t mind losing,” she replied. “It just means more drinks. Besides, it’s fun. You might have some beginner’s luck.”

Shay, always fearless, elbowed her way past the crowd surrounding the beer pong table and you followed behind her, apologizing to the people she’d shoved past. When you got to the keeper of the list, you saw that there must be at least 30 pairs ahead of you.

“Forget it, Shay,” you said, but then you heard him.

“They’ve got next.” Lloyd’s deep voice cut through the cacophony of music and chatter.

“What the fuck, Lloyd?” you heard some girl complain. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

“Sorry, darlin,” he said. “I made my friend over there a promise and I intend to keep it.”

Lloyd looked at you then, and you could feel his blue eyes searing through your clothes and into your skin. You were already sweating in the sweltering basement filled with body heat but now your whole body was on fire. He smiled at you and there was a bit of the devil in it, and that’s when you noticed the tall, skinny blonde girl next to him—who seemed like more than just his beer pong partner—hanging off of him with one arm around his waist and the other over his shoulder.

You were so fucking stupid. Of course he had a girlfriend. You turned around to leave but he called out your name.

“You’re with me,” he said, pointing straight at you. He turned to the girl next to him. “You need a break. You’re shitfaced and I’m sick of carrying your ass.”

“But Lloyd,” she whined. 

“Go get some air, drink some fuckin water, get your shit together.”

The blonde huffed and stomped off towards the courtyard as you tentatively made your way over to Lloyd’s side of the table.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” he said. “Thought maybe you died.”

“I’ve been around,” you replied. “Just busy, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say, Porkchop.” He reached around you to grab the stack of cups on your side of the table and gave your ass a little squeeze before he picked them up to rack them. “You any good at this game? Or, wait, let me guess—good girl like you doesn’t play drinking games.”

“I’ve never played,” you said, “but I want to learn.”

“Oh, I’ll teach you, Porkchop. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

To both you and Lloyd’s surprise and delight, you were surprisingly good at the game. The two of you won the first three games you played together, and the more you won, the handsier Lloyd got. You liked it, of course, but it confused you. If he didn’t want to be seen with you, why would he call you out to play with him? Why would he place his hands on your waist to steady you when you took a shot and why would he hug you tight when you emerged victorious? He was acting like you were together and it was obvious to everyone watching—especially the Phoenix guys who had gathered around the table to watch his winning streak. Of course you heard the whispered comments—words like “fatty” and “chubby chaser” tended to pierce through the all the racket and shoot straight into your ear, like they were spoken at a frequency made just for you to hear them. These were the same guys who oinked and squealed at the Game Day party, you knew—the guys who had given Lloyd shit for even looking at you—and yet here he was with you in full view of everyone, seemingly without a care in the world about it.

Maybe it was all a front, you thought. Maybe he actually liked you enough to want to be with you openly. Maybe he was grown up enough not to care what his buddies think. Lloyd sunk the final cup of your fourth winning game and you smiled up at him as he raised his fists up above his head and cheered, talking shit to the losing team who had 5 cups to chug. Lloyd turned to you and you thought for a moment he was going to kiss you, but instead he just grabbed your ass and leaned down and spoke into your ear, “Let’s go upstairs. I’ve got something else I want to teach you.”

The second Lloyd got you in the master with the door closed, he threw you against the wall and stuck his tongue down your throat. His hands were everywhere, roaming over your body and kneading your flesh like dough as he moaned into your mouth. He held you against the wall with his body and you could feel him already hard through his jeans. You grabbed onto his shoulders and squeezed, the firm muscle barely giving under your fingers, and then he pinned your arms above your head with one hand while he shoved the other up under your skirt. His mouth didn’t leave yours as he pushed your panties to the side and ran his fingers across the slick at your entrance, grunting when he felt your wet heat coat his fingertips. He slid two thick fingers inside you without warning and you gasped at the burning stretch of it.

“So fuckin wet and tight, goddamn,” he said against your neck as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. He tried to knee your legs open wider but your skirt was too tight. “Take this shit off. All of it. I wanna see you.”

He pulled his fingers out and you clenched around nothing, dazed and breathless against the wall.

“You want me to do it for you, Porkchop? I’ll fucking shred every scrap of clothes you got on to get to that sweet little pussy.”

“Don’t,” you said.

“Then hurry the fuck up. Don’t keep me waiting.”

You scrambled to get out of your clothes, first your sweater, then your tank top, then your skirt, and when you stopped at your bra and panties, Lloyd tsk tsk’d you.

“I warned you,” he said, and then he ripped your panties straight off your body. He went for your bra next but you got it off before he got a chance to ruin that, too.

“There she is,” he said, taking in the sight of you standing naked in front of him. “Get on the bed. Now.”

You walked over to the bed on wobbly legs but you weren’t fast enough for Lloyd. He grabbed your arm, spun you around, and tossed you backwards onto the mattress, watching you bounce as you hit it. He ripped his shirt over his head with one hand and shucked off his jeans, and you licked your lips at the sight of his cock through the gray boxer-briefs that left nothing to the imagination.

“You missed my dick, didn’t you? Look at you, you’re practically drooling for it. You want my cock in your mouth, Porkchop? You wanna get stuffed full of me again?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Beg for it,” he demanded, stroking himself through the fabric. “I wanna hear you fucking beg.”

It should have been demeaning but it wasn’t because it’s all you’d been thinking about for weeks. In your head, you’d already begged him for his dick a hundred times.

“I need your cock, Lloyd,” you whined. “Please. I wanna suck it. Wanna feel you in my throat. Wanna taste you. Please give it to me.”

“I dunno, Porkchop. Might have to do better than that.”

“Fuck, Lloyd, please give it to me? I’ll be so fucking good for you if you give it to me. I’ll do anything you want just gimme your fat fucking cock pleeeeease?”

One hand still palming himself, Lloyd snapped with the other and pointed at the ground. “Get on your knees and beg me for it like your life depends on it because it just fucking might.”

You slid off the bed and onto your knees, crawling towards him and looking up at him with needy eyes. “I need you, Lloyd. I can’t stop thinking about you. I need your cock so bad. You can do anything you want to me please just fucking give it to me. I’ll die if I don’t get it.”

“That’s my good little slut,” he said, shoving his boxer-briefs down and kicking them away. “Go ahead and take it. Take all of it. You know what to do.”

You’d been preparing for this moment. After last time, when you felt completely at a loss for what to do, you’d looked up some blowjob tips on the Internet and discovered that your performance last time must have been seriously lacking. Of course, he hadn’t really wanted you to suck his dick; he’d wanted to fuck a hole in your head, and you’d let him do it, which seemed good enough for him then, but this time you wanted to impress him. You grabbed the base of his cock and swirled your tongue around the head a few times before taking it between your lips and lapping up the precum from his slit.

“Mmm,” you said, looking up at him. “You taste so good.”

“Such a little cumslut, aren’t you?” he said, and you nodded. “Keep going.”

You dragged your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip before spitting on it and taking him in your mouth. You used your hand and your mouth together, just the way you’d read about, and your cheeks were already burning from how hard you were sucking him.

“Goddamn, Porkchop. You been practicing while you waited for me? You been sucking off other guys wishing it was my dick in your mouth?”

You shook your head no with his cock still nudging at your throat.

“Just me, then? This the only dick you want?”

You nodded.

“Goddamn right,” he said. “This mouth is mine, you got that? I see you even talking to another guy with it I’m gonna slit his fuckin throat, you hear me? You. Are. Mine.”

You nodded again, taking your hand away and preparing to take him all the way down, but before you had the chance, Lloyd grabbed your hair and pulled your head back.

“Fucking say it. I wanna hear you say it.”

“I’m yours,” you said, and oh god you fucking meant it. “I’m all yours, Lloyd.”

“That’s right. Now suck the soul out of my dick like a good little slut and maybe you’ll get a special treat tonight.”

You took him down your throat, gagging and choking on him the way you knew he liked—the way that made him curse and moan and his hips start to jerk of their own volition. You bobbed on his cock for a while, making a mess of yourself and staring up at him with wide eyes that watched him watching you with a mixture of awe and self-satisfaction and just a hint of cruelty when he grabbed your head and started to fuck your face.

“That’s it,” he said. “Take it. Just like that. Such a good little whore for me. You were made to take this dick. Do it so fuckin well.”

You were lightheaded from lack of oxygen by the time he pulled out of your throat. He bent down and grabbed you under your arms, lifting you to your feet as you coughed and choked down air and walking you back towards the bed.

“You ever been fucked, Porkchop?” he asked, and you shook your head. “Didn’t think so.” He pushed you backwards and your legs fell open for him like they had a mind of their own. “You gonna let me fuck this tight little pussy tonight? I’ll be real gentle with her, I promise.” He ran his fingers through your folds and you whimpered each time they grazed your clit, and when he pulled them into his mouth to suck them he moaned at the taste of you. “So fuckin sweet.”

Your cunt was throbbing with need for him but you didn’t know if you were ready. It’s not like you hadn’t thought about what it would be like with him, even fantasized about it and made yourself cum to the thought of it, but in the moment you were afraid. His dick was just so goddamn big and you knew that, despite his promises, Lloyd Hansen was not the type to be gentle about anything.

“Will it hurt?” you asked.

“A little,” he said, “but I know you’ll like it. You know how I know?”

“How?” you asked.

“Because you’re special, Porkchop.”

He crawled up onto the bed and hovered over you, dragging his teeth down your neck to your shoulder and biting the spot where the two met. He bit you hard and you hissed, but fuck it felt good and you wanted him to do it again—to leave his marks all over your body, inside and out.

“Do it,” you whispered. “Fuck me, Lloyd. I want you to.”

“I know you do,” he said. “I could smell it on you the second you walked through the door tonight. Your little cunt is so fucking ripe and ready for me, but I’ll be nice and make you cum first. You wanna know why?”

“Because I’m special?” you asked.

“That’s right,” he replied. “You’re my good little slut and you get to cum before I fuck you.”

Lloyd kissed his way down your body—hungry, open-mouthed kisses with tongue and teeth that left marks on your breasts and your tummy and your hips. When he got to your thighs, he grew ravenous, his big hands squeezing your flesh with a bruising pressure as he took a mouthful of your upper thigh in his mouth and bit down hard.

“Fuck,” you cried out, and he just laughed.

“You like it,” he said—it wasn’t a question, and he was right.

He gave the other side a matching bite mark and you bit your bottom lip bloody as you clenched around nothing.

“First,” he said, “I’m gonna stretch you out with my fingers. Then, I’m gonna eat this sweet cunt until you’re shaking and gushing on my face. And then, Porkchop, then I’m gonna teach your tight little pussy how to take this dick. You ready?”

You weren’t. You never could have been ready for what he was about to do to you. He fucked you with his fingers—one, then two, then three, then four with his thumb on your clit and his teeth breaking the skin on your thigh. He lapped up the blood as you came, and when he kissed you after you could taste the coppery tang of it. He ate you out like it was his last meal, your legs pushed as far back as he could get them so he could get his tongue into your ass, too. That made you squeal, and he laughed against your flesh as you squirmed under him. You couldn’t have gotten away if you wanted to, though. He was holding you down with just one arm across your waist but he was fucking strong and you knew it.

You didn’t want to get away, though. You wanted everything he had to give you, and when you came on his tongue you grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and you pulled it hard as you cried out, “Oh, fuck. Fuck me, Lloyd. Please fuck me.”

“You ready for it?” he asked.

“Yes. God. Please,” you replied, though you didn’t yet know what you were begging for.

“I don’t have a condom,” he said, “but I’ll pull out. Do you trust me, Porkchop?”

You always did and you never should have.

Even at 18 you knew better than to have sex without a condom but he’d brought you right to the edge and you were fucking aching for him and he knew it. He could have stopped, run downstairs and grabbed a condom from one of the million college kids down there who had one, but he knew you’d let him fuck you raw the second he got you upstairs. Maybe he even knew that first night. You weren’t thinking straight, already cockdrunk and he hadn’t even stuck it in you yet. From the very first time you met him, and every single time after that, Lloyd Hansen could always get exactly what he wanted from you. He knew exactly how to pull your strings and you let him. Every single time, you let him.

Lloyd spit on his dick and rubbed it in between your puffy folds, drenching himself in your slick before he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Deep breaths, Porkchop. This is gonna sting.”

Just the tip of him had you clawing at the sheets and your eyes watering, and it just kept going. He moaned low as he pushed his way inside and when you thought he was all the way in, you looked down and saw it was only halfway there.

“Fuck, it’s so big, Lloyd. I can’t. I can’t take anymore.”

“Yes you can,” he assured you. “You can do it. I know you can. My special girl. You feel so fucking good, you know that? Come on now, just breathe. You can take it. You were fucking made for me. You’re mine, remember? This pussy is mine. Say it.”

“It hurts,” you whined, the tears slipping out the corners of your eyes.

“Say. It.”

“I’m yours,” you cried, tears flowing freely now.

“Fuck, baby. You know how hard it makes me when you cry.” He snapped his hips and moaned as he shoved the rest in you and you felt like your insides were on fire. “There it is. That’s my good girl. I know it’s big. You’re taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

“It hurts so bad, Lloyd.”

“I know, baby. I won’t move yet, ok? You’ll get used to it. It’ll feel so fucking good, I promise. Just trust me.”

He stayed that way, deep inside you, as he kissed your face and your lips, licking the tears up as they fell. Your pussy was still burning from the stretch of him but you started to feel something pleasurable inside that pain and you clenched around him involuntarily.

“Oh, fuck. I gotta move, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t understand why he was apologizing until you did, because when Lloyd started to move his hips he went from slow and shallow strokes to hard and deep in under a minute. It hurt like hell but he looked so fucking sexy on top of you, sweat-slicked with his hair wild and hanging down in his face, his eyes rolling back in his head and his mouth open in a perfect pink oval as the most animal sounds came out of him. You gritted your teeth and you took his dick, however fast and hard he wanted to give it to you, because it made you feel powerful—that you were the one making him lose control like that, that you were the one he wanted to claim as his. You took it like a champ and you didn’t cry and you didn’t tell him to slow down or to stop because you weren’t boring, you weren’t ordinary; you were Lloyd Hansen’s special girl.

“Oh, fuck. I can’t stop. I can’t fucking stop. Your pussy’s too fucking good I’m gonna cum.”

You knew you should have said no or stop or shoved him off you but the truth is—and you can be honest about it now, after all this time, after everything—you wanted him to cum in you. You wanted to feel what it felt like for him to lose himself inside of you. You wanted to feel it all—everything he had to give. So you let him, and the sound he made… you can still hear it even today if it’s quiet enough and you close your eyes and picture him on top of you in that room. You can see his neck veins popping and his jaw clenching and you can hear it: that feral growl that you could feel rumbling in your own chest as he blew the first of many loads inside of you.

Because, you see, Lloyd Hansen doesn’t wear condoms. That, he says, is a you problem.

He pulled out of you and his dick was Harvard crimson and white—the evidence of what you’d just let him do to you dripping off his cock onto the expensive bedspread below you. He ran his forefinger up his shaft from the tip to the base and gathered some of your mess on his fingertip and then popped it in his mouth.

“You know what they say about virgin blood?” he asked. You shook your head, too in shock at the sight before you to speak. “It’s got magic powers. Like a spell. It binds people together.”

He gathered some more and pressed his fingers to your lips, painting your blood and his cum on you like lipstick. You didn’t hesitate. You stuck your tongue out and licked your lips clean. It should have tasted awful but it didn’t; it was magic.

“You wanna go again?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. 

PART THREE >>>

#lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen #chris evans #chris evans characters #the gray man #special girl

[bambirex]

Maybe Steve and Eddie both venting about their parents? 🤔

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, child neglect

**

It wasn't even the beer, that tasted so bitter in his mouth. No, it was the rush of memories that filled his brain, the vivid pictures of the nightmare that he was forced to live in. And, as it turned out, Eddie wasn't the only one who had to go through such awful experiences.

Steve looked somehow smaller next to him, his head hanging so low his chin was nearly touching his chest. His eyes were vacant, with such a deep sense of sadness in them, that Eddie was worried looking into them too deep would cause him to drown.

"They only care about looks," Steve continued, scrunching his nose up in disgust. "As long as I'm looking the part, they love me. Then I'm their perfect little boy. If I act or dress the way they want, they're proud of me. But the second I step out of line?"

He took a shaky breath, staring into the distance while he collected himself. Eddie reached out and gave his knee an encouraging squeeze.

"My father says I will achieve nothing," Steve sighed deeply. "That I'm not smart enough. I will never be a successful businessman like him. And, I mean, I don't necessarily want that, but it still hurts, you know?"

"I know," Eddie replied softly. He traced patterns over the leg of Steve's jeans, trying to offer him some comfort. "It sucks when they have an idea of you, and they refuse to let you prove them wrong."

He took a sip of his beer, then ran an anxious hand through his hair. Just thinking about his father made his stomach churn.

"My father practically raised me to be a criminal like him," Eddie snorted, "he taught me to pick locks, but he never taught me how to make friends, like a normal parent would. He paved a path out for me."

He saw Steve looking at him intently, his eyes full of understanding. It made Eddie feel more at ease, to know there was someone who knew exactly, what he had to go through.

"He didn't give two shits about me. He's just left, the same way my mother did. Fuck, she was such a weak woman. She never dared standing up to him. The old man was threatening me with a pocket knife, and she just cowered in the corner. It's fucked up, isn't it? To talk about my own mother like that."

"No, not at all," Steve promised. He reached for Eddie's hand that still rested on his thigh, and laced their fingers together. "My mother is insanely weak, too. She always just stands back and lets my father scream my head off because I got a bad grade. I don't even think she cares as long as she doesn't have to confront me herself."

"I barely have any good memories of my childhood, you know?" Eddie chuckled bitterly. He drank again, trying to numb the sudden pain in his chest. "All I remember is my father being taken away by the cops because he broke into someone's house again, and my mother passed out on the couch, drunk as fuck."

"I feel you. I mean... I used to think my parents were cool, when I was little. Because if I was being good, they bought me an ice-cream cone. But I don't ever remember them telling me they loved me. Not once."

"They didn't tell me, either. I thought I was an unlovable freak, and that started way before the kids at school, before Carver and everything. My parents made me into this person."

Steve nodded, biting his lip. He scooted just a little closer to Eddie, until their shoulders brushed.

"I wonder if we can ever break away from them," Steve whispered, eyes turned to the ground. "Are we always going to be the people they made us into? Am I always going to be this shallow asshole, who thrives for perfection to make his parents proud?"

That was a great question. Eddie wasn't sure of the answer, himself; like Steve, he also often worried he would never be able to let go of the demons of his past.

But then again, Wayne has already made him different, and so has Steve and the rest of his friends. Which meant there was hope for them, still.

"You know what?" Eddie smiled, bumping his shoulders against Steve's gently. "I think we can very well try and break away. Maybe we've already started."

That finally put a faint smile on Steve's face, as well. He nodded, holding onto Eddie's hand tighter.

There was still a long road ahead of them, but they were working towards a better future for themselves, together.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #my fic #request #paladinmoony

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 okay this came to me randomly. I'm not sorry.

"Loreley where are you taking me?" Alistar asked as he was lead through the forest by his friend.

"I had an idea and i called in a favor. You'd better be fucking grateful because my dad is getting sick of me asking to bring back the dead," loreley explained.

"You already let me see my mother again. What more could i even ask for?" Alistar stated.

"A way to stand up to your father maybe," loreley replied.

Alistar stopped walking and just stared at her.

"Look, he won't be able to touch you or anything, but my father said it'd be good for his eternal suffering. And you need a shitload of closure. I already got the go ahead from eve and Rosalyn," loreley explained.

Alistar nodded before he started walking again.

When the two of them made it to the lake where this stuff usually happened Alistar gulped.

"Its okay Al. I'm just gonna be a few feet away," Loreley stated before the lake turned blood red. "I'll leave you to it," she muttered before walking away.

Alistar stood up straighter, his face was stone and his eyes were dark.

The outline of his father came into view, the red tones and shadows making it scarier than it should've been.

"Hello Father," Alistar stated coldly as he stared, not letting his emotions get to him.

"Ah. The disappointment," John replied as his ghost bathed in red looked around. "To what do i owe the displeasure?" He asked.

"The only displeasure here is the fact that I have to see your face again," Alistar answered.

"Be careful son. Wouldn't wanna end up like your mother. Dead and alone," John warned.

"And what does that make you? Dead, alone, and unloved?" Alistar shot back

"Careful," John warned again.

"Or what? You'll kill me? A bit late for that. Because you see I'm up here living the best life I could be, while you will be living out your eternal suffering down there, being reminded everyday of what an awful person you were," Alistar stated.

John made a move to hit his son, but his fist went straight through him like a ghost going through a wall.

"You dont have anymore power here. You are weak. For once in your righteous life you have no power over anyone. You have no power over me. It's over, John," Alistar spoke.

"How dare you! I am a king! I am your father, and I control you, you selfish, spoiled little-"

"YOU CONTROL NOTHING!" Alistar shouted.

"You dont control who I marry. You don't control how I feel. You don't control how I look. And you certainly don't control who i love," alistar started. "I am done living up to your expectations. I am done trying to prove myself. And I am done being your son. I hate you. I've always hated you. And the only reason I never told you that was because-"

"You think I care?!" John yelled.

"DONT INTURRUPT ME," Alistar shouted angrily.

John's eyes widened in shock.

"You have no idea, do you? The pain and suffering you inflicted onto me? All the scars I have because of you? You never loved me. You've never loved anyone but yourself! You spent your life calling me selfish but it's You! You are the problem in this world!" Alistar shouted.

"And yet you still married ella-"

"I didn't! I married for love! And i have two beautiful kids who will never know who you are. I have a family. And I am something you will never be," Alistar explained.

"And what's that?" John scoffed.

"Loved. I am loved. And that's something you will never be. Not by your parents, not by my mother, and certainly not by me," Alistar stated, his eyes burning with anger.

"You're useless," John replied.

"And yet I'm the one who's alive. Not you," Alistar retorted.

"Youll never be a man," John insulted.

"And you'll never be in power. Goodbye John. I hope you rot in hell," Alistar hissed.

And just like that, the red tint of his father's shadow, along with his father, dissapeared.

Alistar let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Kinda wish I could've seen you punch him," Loreley stated as she came back.

"Me too. Come on. Let's go back home," Alistar replied as he and loreley walked back to Ella's castle.

Back at the castle, Alistar's family was waiting for him.

"Well?" Ella asked.

Alistar smiled as tears filled his eyes.

"I've never had the courage to do that until now. Thank you," Alistar stated.

And that's when his family hugged him, tighter than anything.

He had a family. Finally.

He made something of himself.

He was the most fortunate man on the island because of that.

[shadesofnavy]

So I notice you mentioned Nene abandoned her abusive mother and ran away with a distraught Pico. Could we hear a bit more about this abusive mother of hers? Oh, and had Pico ever regretted snapping at Nene like that? :0

Gonna dive in a little here so heads up

And uh, heed the tags too

Her mother had an unhappy marriage that her parents were keen on arranging mainly because of the spouse's wealth. Neither bride nor groom wanted to have kids in the first place, but the heads of the families were strict about having at least one child anyways.

Nene grew up unloved by her parents, her grandparents being the only ones mainly giving her affection. One day when she was eight years old her father never came back from work without a word, so her mother was forced to take full responsibility over her with some help from the grandparents of both sides. (It was later discovered that her father had drowned himself in the nearby river months later. After that the grandparents from his side stopped aiding Nene's mother with her daughter).

When her mother's parents passed away Nene was being verbally abused by her mother daily after school and work because of how fed she was with her daughter's existence. As a teenager Nene would stay away from home as much as she could, often hanging out on the streets or with friends just to keep away from her mother. After the shooting she didn't dare walk home and instead spent the night outside of one of her friends' closest home (Pico's apartment in this case) by the alleyway.

The morning after she met with Pico and found out his own father had left him she suggested they stick together to keep each other company. Pico, however, had spent the entire night breaking down covered in blood and dirt by himself in the single room of the apartment after having witnessed the bloodshed of his entire school and firing a gun at Cassandra himself in defense. Waking up after sobbing himself to sleep in the corner of the cold and crappy room only to find himself alone with his father having left only a bag of fast food on the table with no trace of his belongings had the ginger-head realizing he had nothing left. He was completely unstable and barely processing what was even happening.

He'd walk out of town with Nene that day without barely saying a word, before later on breaking down again due to his worsened schizophrenia and yelling at Nene to leave him alone by an interstate at night. The girl would be hesitant to leave him, but by the time he began screaming and fisting her away she would at some point walk away with a heavy heart.

As time went by and he grew somewhat stable enough to process everything tragic that had happened so quickly, Pico would indeed find himself regretting having pushed Nene away. He was unaware of her crush on him, but he still considered her a friend back then. He often tried to ease his ache with "maybe it was for the best ..."

If you're also wondering, Nene spent most of her life wandering streets of towns and, like Pico, getting tangled up in crime for survival. She never went back to her mother, thinking they were both better off themselves. Eventually she'd find herself digging out of that grave and managed to make a few friends that would later help stabilize her life for the better. Meeting Pico again as adults would not mean they'd be close friends again, especially when seeing her again after years triggered an episode, but after he moved in to the condominium, he would get used to seeing her every other day at the laundromat in the mornings

Nene figures it's just good enough to know that he's alive and as good as he can be, and just a few rooms away from her in the building

#long post #verbal abuse #tw verbal abuse #cw #death mention tw #tw mentions of death #picos school #picos school nene #fnf pico #nene chun #pico dankworth #dead dove do not eat

[vldkeith]

Lol did halsey do sth?

no that song just is not klance at all and the only reason people think it is is because it talks about the colors red and blue. but no someone explain to me how "Your little brother never tells you but he loves you so You said your mother only smiled on her TV show You're only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope I hope you make it to the day you're 28 years old" and "You were red and you liked me 'cause I was blue But you touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky And you decided purple just wasn't for you" and "Everything is blue His pills, his hands, his jeans" like explain it to me. go on. tell me about how keith is addicted to drugs and his mother hates him and he has a little brother that wont tell him he loves him. or on the flip side tell me about lance. in fact give me ONE voltron character any of this applies to go on. go on. fucking give it to me. you think these kids didnt have DARE going on at the garrison??? you think they didnt get fucking drug tested every five days because they were in the GOD DAMN MILITARY? you think any of them had siblings that didnt tell them they loved them. or unloving parents. youre a fucking idiot. not this anon this is fine but everyone with colors by halsey on their klance playlist is fucking stupid and im begging them to look at the lyrics and explain to me how any of them apply to klance besides "everything is blue" and "you were red and you liked me cuz i was blue" ILL EVEN GIVE YOU THIS ONE STANZA "You're dripping like a saturated sunrise You're spilling like an overflowing sink You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece And now you're tearing through the pages and the ink" BUT THAT IS ONE STANZA. FUCK OFF. FUCK YOU. I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.

#ASKS🌟 #KLANCE #YES IM TAGGING IT KLANCE.

[brendan-block]

Lestat says "YOINK!" - theeldritchmortician

Send “YOINK” to pick up my muse and run away with them.

Brendan was in the middle of locking his bookshop for the night when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching. He looked up in time to see a young couple walking up the street in his direction. They weren't known to him, but still he watched them with interest. The love they shared was clear to him in the way they walked together, their shoulders touching, their hands entwined, one's head resting upon the other's shoulder. Brendan turned back to his work right as they passed him, fearful they might see the jealousy blooming in his watery eyes.

Tonight was one of the select nights of the week that Brendan was allowed to go out unaccompanied by the vampires that dared to call themselves his masters; Matthieu, the man he once gave his whole heart to, and Sophie, the witch the bastard now called a wife. He'd been looking forward to going out all day, not only because it was the single bit of freedom they allowed him outside his daylight working hours, but because he longed to be reunited with the one person in the world who didn't make him feel unloved and unwanted. Unfortunately it seemed he wasn't going to be allowed that now. Barely an hour before closing, Matthieu called to say that he'd changed his mind and that he expected Brendan to come home immediately after work. Any and all attempts at reasoning with the vampire went ignored, and the call ended with a one-sided screaming match that left Brendan sobbing in front of straggling patrons.

Staring now at his haggard reflection in the shop's window, Brendan wondered again if it wouldn't be better to simply take his own life than to have to return to the home that had become his prison. He placed one hand on the cold glass to steady himself and put the other over his equally frozen heart as he doubled over, fighting every urge in his body to loose the primal, gut-wrenching scream that was clawing it's way up his throat. It was then, as the strength in his legs started to give way, that he caught a familiar flash of movement in the corner of his eye, undetectable by most humans. He didn't see who it was, but he knew what they were, and in the blink of an eye he found himself being swept off his feet and carried through the dark streets, his body cradled with surprising gentleness, like he were the most precious of cargo.

His saviour wasn't Matthieu. Of that Brendan was most certain. Or was "saviour" even the right word? Rescuer maybe, though kidnapper was more accurate to the situation if he thought about it, and he didn't want to think about it, because it didn't matter. Even if Matthieu sought to soothe him, to placate him, to make up for his behaviour by making him forget and forgive him for taking away his freedom again, he never, never did it with so gentle a touch. That's how Brendan knew he was safe and how he found the courage to lift his weary head and look at his--yes--saviour.

Lestat.

Once more Brendan found himself overcome with emotion. He was overjoyed to be staring up into that beautiful, perfectly angelic face, that face he thought he wouldn't see tonight, if ever again. At the same time he wanted to yell. He wanted to scream at him, to demand he be put down, to be let go and in more ways than one, so that he could return home to the pain and the dark that he was used to, where he could disappear forever. Because that's what was best, wasn't it? What right did he have to hope for more, to dream of a better life and a lasting love, when he didn't deserve it? Nothing was ever going to change, he would never be free, those bastards would never let him.

"Yeh jus' had tae kidnap me like some romantic fuck, didn't yeh?" Brendan hissed, even as he buried his tear-streaked face into the softness of his lover's shirt. "Why can't yeh jus' let me die?"

@the-ultimate-brat-lestat

#theeldritchmortician #theultimatebratlestat #suicide tw #suicidal thoughts tw #long post cw #yeah this got long lmao

[electrivolt]

@rockheadcd​ asked : "Here. Open." It's not particularly much of a command per se, picking at a shared bowl of carefully cubed berries and fruit—something to get them past wanting to snack on something sweet before they'd eventually come to a half hour of indecision of what to eat later on. Roark is simply too comfortable nestled on the couch with his love, watching him kill time playing games on the TV. Although both arms settle so comfortably to hold him, one hand has delectables and the other has a stained toothpick, dyed from darker fruit.

He used to struggle to get Volkner to comply, he reflects fondly, hovering a cube of skewered mango in front of him and waiting for Volkner to bite down. How things changed, from silent arguments to giving in and opening up, little by little. Dare Roark confirm Volkner was finally beginning to believe he deserved someone to spoil him—deserved anything positive from another breathing person. Feeling this troubled man press more of those jagged, broken pieces of himself into his hands to hold was exactly what he had wanted, wasn't it…? To show him that they weren't as dangerous and harmful as Volkner was convinced they became over the years of clawing and running and crying so long as they were handled gently. To think it took his own headstrong, carry-it-all stubbornness competing with Volkner's own until his doubts couldn't find any other reason to explain why Roark was still there waiting for him… he couldn't help but wonder if anyone realized the kind of person he really was under that protective shell of his. Was it that hard to realize Volkner was simply afraid of being hurt again..?

Maybe Hisui taught Volkner himself just why the way he was, maybe taught Roark why the way he himself was, too. It would have taken so much longer for them to realize what it felt like to need someone ( so much for thinking otherwise, huh.. it wasn't as if roark believed he was unlovable per se, but… ). They wouldn't have understood what comfort was, huddled up together like this, performing such small and tender acts of intimacy if they hadn't learned in a way that hurt them the most ( roark didn't want to experience that kind of pain again, and god… god he refused to let volkner hurt like that again ). A fruit of their labor, so to speak—no pun intended. Roark can't help but nuzzle into blond affectionately, wondering just how he ended up so lucky, being here, existing like this—happy.

Another fit of affection has Roark pressing a kiss against his temple, surely undoing the focus Volkner has on his game. All over a bowl of fruit. "—I love you, Volk," comes the murmur into his hair. So, so much.

In hindsight, it’d be almost funny to look back and see how strong his denial and refusal used to be— if it didn’t almost hurt to remember, how things were back then, before Roark decided that he was still worth something, enough to keep trying, to not just... give up and let him go.

Could he be blamed for his way of thinking, for how strongly he refused to allow Roark even just the opportunity to lend a helping hand, though? When the only consistency in his life had always been that spiral from bad to worse, of self destruction and people constantly leaving and everyone refusing to believe he would ever be capable of even just a smidge of good, to the point he started to believe it, even?

And yet, all the time and blood and tears he put into nothing but shielding himself further and further was undone just like that. Not easily, not so quickly, but Roark is nothing if not patient, so endlessly kind and persistent, the shelter he’s needed and has been denied for so long. The one he could never think he truly deserved. And no matter how often he struggles to find what, exactly, there is left in him that is worth all the care and love Roark is capable of— Roark simply refuses to stop, to ever let him go, keeps holding on with everything he has and reminding him that it is all worth it in the end, somehow.

And that... that should be scarier than it feels. Terrifying, the leap of trust blinding him entirely, like jumping off a ledge, down into nothing but pitch black and still believe you’d be caught in time. It wasn’t something he was supposed to do, no one should ever be trusted to such an extreme, not when trust was the one thing that would always be his undoing, no matter what he tried, over and over and yet—

He can let himself rest now.

It’s hard, and he’s still not sure if he’s truly earned it at times, and some other times he just feels the urge to stop and carry everything hidden inside just as he always had. But he tries. He tries so hard, even when he feels like he can’t keep trying anymore.

And then Roark is there at his side, and Volkner finally feels like he can really breathe. Like he can let himself rest for good.

If Hisui taught him to keep fighting, to let that feral instinct, need for survival, be the one taking over and pushing him to keep going and going no matter what— Roark was the one to teach him to stop. To take a deep breath, to allow himself kindness. To feel like that kindness was deserved, after all.

Roark taught him comfort and showed him the warmth only the sun was capable of. 

( perhaps it was selfishness what pushed stormclouds to hide the sun from everyone else )

And the sudden distraction that usually would’ve had him ( fake ) protesting at least a bit is so eagerly welcomed this time around, between bites of fruit and the comfort of his love’s arms. For once, Volkner is quick to find the pause button, turning just enough to return nuzzles and kisses alike, with as much care and affection as he can offer. Roark is not the only one to get so easily overwhelmed by the love they share.

“I love you too— you have no idea how much I love you.” He could allow himself this moment, for them both. They had earned this.

#〔 ask . 〕 ϟ i will not fall ; i will not fade ; i will take your breath away . #〔 ic . 〕 ϟ i will shut the world away . #// long post #rockheadcd #// fuck you i tried!! #smth smth gay smth smth

[allinthefeels]

Chapter 3: it’s me, I’m the problem, it’s me

RE

Liquor, so much better than just a beer. I am carefree, having fun, and shit faced! Hey this one isn’t illegal I’m over 21 now! Driving the country backroads isn’t just a line in a county song, it’s real. Small towns what else is there to do? Drink and ride around! Not drinking and driving though, DARE warned us about that, not driving in while skitz out of your mind though, that’s safe. From throwing bottles on the road to hear the break, to using park restrooms bc of course I have to pee! I’m sure if people would’ve been around they probably would’ve gotten a good laugh. One time the back of my mini skirt was tucked into my panties and I thought I looked hot as hell dancing out of the restroom! I fell numerous times, a few even made me laugh! I got bruises I didn’t remember getting, I cried bc it made me speak truth, I felt a small weight off my shoulders. Hmm feels good, not caring about anything or anyone and laughing at myself. Perfect! Skip to March of said year. That’s right a beer baby was on the way. How ??? How could I have been so stupid??? I didn’t live this guy, honestly I was using him, still treating people like I was treated, not the best one of my plans. I absolutely do not regret my baby boy who will be 18 this year, I always called the surprise pregnancies as a glorious gift from God, and little did I know this little baby was what I needed! I stopped everything. I had a purpose! I will never be alone again! I love this baby so much how can he not love me too? He actually does love me, and how blessed I’ve been.

The guy decided to leave and it was just me and my baby boy! I was determined, he will have a better life… I will tell him every day thousands of time that I love him. If he plays. Sport I will be his biggest fan at every game no matter what. He will know love, support, and will get attention, maybe too much of it!

This little boy of mine that has grown and grown. Was so sweet, he loves helping people and animals, he definitely has so much love to give! I taught him that! I’m proud.. he played football and I never missed a game, not one. He later became a trainer for the team after an injury, I’ve been to every one of his games, I’ll always be his biggest fan at anything he does and loves! He had that, that of which I didn’t.

When my baby boy was too small to ever remember I met a man, he offered some of that ice stuff, I’m not an addict I can just do it once and I’m good. Yeah ok, icee became my new friend again. Yes I always thought of that baby and felt horrible, he deserved better, I’m broken! This demons said more and I will feel better, I think they repeated that several times before I was actually having fun and not wanting to go home. But keep in mind, I’m not an addict I’ll have some fun and stop. Yeah , well guess what?!?! God saved me again with a beautiful blessing. My daughter, I stopped cold turkey even after being told not to, it never bothered me before, this time was no different, a little withdrawal meanness and I’m good. Before getting pregnant my ex found out I was tweaked out of my mind and called cps. I never did it around him, in the area he was, or touched him after doing any, I was scared it would seep from my skin to his. Not sure if that’s a thing. After getting pregnant stopping for the heath of my baby, her dad left bc he couldn’t stop, great alone and unloved again. See a pattern yet? But I was good and the case closed against me, I got on depression medication that my doctor prescribed and said was safe, I felt better and again was determined to get my shot together, and I did. I didn’t want that illegal happiness anymore or the legal burden me that made me an idiot. Nope I had Prozac and it worked, my anxiety even lessened, whoohoo!

I never got back with her dad, and he eventually sold to an undercover federal agent. He was locked up for a while, he has since gotten out and has done amazing for himself, he’s failed my daughter a couple times, but whatever, she couldn’t care less. She has her mommy, we fight, argue../ but she’s my mini me! Can you guess what!?!? I’ve been to everyone of her sporting events so far and plan on being there for rest. She knows she has my support and love. She looks for me at every event and she finds me everytime, the smile she gives me is so much more than I deserve. What a blessing.

I’ve stayed clean met a guy, got married and had one more baby. He was planned! I thought I had everything now!! I have love, I am loved, he said so , he wouldn’t lie! Who’s this in my dms…. He asked for what!?!?! Oh hello demon! I haven’t heard you in a while, what’s up!?

[chicken2potato]

5/8/2023

Wow. Wow. Wow. So much to get out.

When I was in college they told us that we should start building our library. Like, building a library of books that would help us in the ministry and help us to grow. Honestly, I thought that this was and still is a very valid point. We ought to read and grow and strive to be a better human being than we were the day before. So, when I was in college I bought all the books I could afford. The only problem with that is now I don’t believe like they do and all of my books are Christian. I don’t have many “for fun” books to read. I do, but not in comparison to my Christian books. But I knew that even though they spoke of what it meant to be a Christian and such, they were still great books to read. Many of them contain great knowledge and general wisdom. 

So I’ve decided to read every one that I have before I got rid of them. I just finished a “for fun” book and started to read one of the Christian books I have. It’s small and should only last me about a day of reading. It’s already given me a lot to think about and I need to convey my thoughts somewhere, so here I am.

“When we know the ingredients of both success and failure we will be able to place together the proper recipe. If this recipe is used regularly, victory can be enjoyed regularly. Institutions as well as individuals should reexamine and investigate the means and circumstances that led to success and plan the future accordingly.”

In this chapter, the author was talking about the recipe for a good life. He brings up many great points about evaluating what happens in our lives during times of both success and failure. Have I been doing that? Evaluating my life and seeing what I can do to keep successes happening and failures not? 

I’ve had a lot of small successes in my life. I can’t say that I have had many big successes. I’d like to think maybe I had a few. But I know that I do have failures. I ought to examine those as much as I examine the successes. What caused them? What were the ingredients to those recipes? What ingredients do I change to make it not happen again?

“One should know the difference between improvement and change.”

I have changed a lot since leaving college. I’d like to think that I have grown and improved. But have I? Am I really any better now than I was this time last year? I really hope I am. But what if I’m not? How do I fix that? How do I truly become better and improve?

“They want victories with no battles and crucifixion with no pain.”

How dare I say that I want to be victorious in this life and strive to be better without going through some hardships. Sacrifice. That is what it takes to be better. To truly improve. To be someone that others wish that they were. A CEO doesn’t become a CEO by doing the bare minimum. He becomes the CEO because he busted his ass and sacrificed time and energy to be better. How dare I say I want to be better and to be successful if I’m just going to lay around all day watching lame ass TikToks. I need to do better if I want to be better. I need to sacrifice some parts of me if I truly want a successful and fulfilling life. Am I even truly sacrificing anything at the moment? What am I doing now to better my future? 

“Being human, it may be somewhat difficult for us to love the unlovely as much as we love the lovely, and the degree of our love may be determined by the degree of loveliness. However, the presence of our love should not be so determined.”

This honestly kind of hurt. Am I loving others only when it suits me and benefits me? What kind of love is that even really? It’s not true, genuine love. If anything, it’s manipulation and selfish as fuck. I hope I never loved someone when it benefitted me but truly loved them even when if they weren’t “worthy” of being loved. 

This part made me think of Rowan. At first, I thought about my love towards him at this point in time. I think I love Rowan. I’m just incredibly pissed off at what he’s done. But just because he has greatly disappointed me, does that mean I should not love him anymore? Humans are bound to disappoint us, we’re humans for crying out loud. My love for him should be unchanging, according to this passage. It shouldn’t matter what he’s done, I should love him even when he seems as though he is not loveable. And I think a part of me will always love Rowan. A part of me will always care for him greatly. But how does one move past that hurt? Move past that break of trust? Move past that betrayal? Move past all that has transpired? Can I love him from a distance until I’m ready? Will I ever be ready? 

Then I changed my perspective. Thought of that passage in a different light. With Rowan’s “love” for me. Is he only ever “loving” me when it suits him? When I’m his fall girl? When I’m his rebound or his second choice? Shouldn’t I then love myself enough to not let myself be in such a situation? It’s all so confusing. Human emotions can be quite tricky to pin down and understand. This situation is a prime example of such. 

“The gushing wells may be stopped for a season, but soon the living water will gush through again. The beautiful tree in the forest will lose its leaves, but when spring returns, it will begin to bud.”

What a fucking empowering ass thought. I may enter seasons of my life in which I am like a tree without leaves. I may be glum and disheartened, but one day I will get my leaves again. I will grow beautiful flowers and pollinate the world again. I will be beautiful to look upon. I may have times in this life in which things literally suck ass. But that doesn’t mean that it will happen for forever. Life continues on. There are ups and downs. Just because I am in a down, no matter how long that may be, doesn’t mean I will stay there forever. I will go back up. I will be beautiful yet again. I will flourish. I will prosper. I. Will. Thrive.

Fuck. Isn’t that empowering as fuck? Amazing. 

This is why I’m reading these books. Even though there are some chapters that simply talk about the Christian way of doing marriage, or soul winning, or how to build a big church, it doesn’t mean that there aren’t wise little nuggets throughout. A lot of these books are written by knowledgeable men, they weren’t dumbasses. Maybe they believe in some things that I don’t. Doesn’t mean they aren’t incredibly wise. 

Now, moving on from the things that I have learned since reading this book, let me talk about today. This is going to be a long emotional week. My mother messaged me today. My mother. She hasn’t messaged me in about a year. I mean, she didn’t even tell me when my grandfather was in the hospital. She had asked me if I was going to my brother’s graduation. I made sure to call him and talk to him before I answered her. I mean, it’s his graduation, I don’t want to fuck it up for him by showing up. But he said that if I wanted to, I could. And that having some family drama happen there might add some excitement to the ceremony. He’s crazy. But whatever, I suppose. 

It’s going to be so weird to see her though. I haven’t seen her since 2020. Well, except that one time that she came in the drive thru at work, but I’m not counting that. Girl couldn’t even look me in the eye. I’m not sure she even looked at me at all. I wonder how she is going to react. Ew. Is she going to try to hug me? I hope she doesn’t start anything. I just wanted to see my other family and watch my brother go through his great achievement. 

Then, as if my life couldn’t get any crazier, my brother said that my uncle, whom I haven’t talked to in over a decade, invited me to go four-wheeling with them on Wednesday. 

What? 

I guess I’ll go? 

Like, what even do I do with my life anymore? There isn’t a manual on how to handle this shit. I once was talking to my Assistant Pastor at the church about how I should be the final for my Biblical Counseling class, and that if someone could give me the right advice to my life situations, they’d pass. He was like, yeah okay, sure. But then I was like, no listen. “What would you say to someone who had never met their father and someone else met their father before they did and they only had five days left before they left for school? Would you tell them to go see him or to wait? Or what would you tell someone who found out they had a long lost uncle on their dad’s side of the family asking them if they would like to move down to where he lives, which is North Carolina, and be their nanny and get citizenship in North Carolina so they could go to college for free? Or what would you say to someone who was hopelessly in love with this guy but she felt strung out between two different parts of her life? How would you tell her to manage that? Or what would you tell someone who’s mom was crazy and turned her whole family against her?” He said, “Okay, I get it. That’s wild.” “That’s not even the craziest things that have happened either. I’d be a great final.” My life is so crazy. I feel as though in my short twenty-four years on this earth I have lived many lives. I have so many stories, it’s not even funny. Sometimes I even forget about things until someone else mentions them. 

I also talked to my brother about Rowan. I explained to him all that had happened and he told me I should basically just block him and move on. That it wouldn’t be fair to me to try to be his friend because of everything that has happened and that it would be really hard on me to be around him when I was still in love with him. He said especially if he got another girlfriend or something. Like, it would be mentally draining and exhausting. Which is totally true. I think if I ever saw him again it would feel like my lungs had collapsed. How am I supposed to be just friends with someone that I think I’ll forever be in love with? I’ve wanted so badly to finally be his forever.. I don’t know if I could handle seeing him again. But I also want to try, because I miss being his friend. Maybe I could hide my feelings, bury them deep down and make it work for him? Is that what love is? Doing what others need even if it hurts you? I have no idea what to do here. I don’t know if I should try. I don’t know if I should ignore. I don’t know if I should just move on and forget. It hurts. How do I look him in the eye again? After sharing that night? After holding him and kissing him again? I let him fucking touch me and then two days later, fucking thrown away. I’m so tired of being used by people. I’m so tired of being everyone’s second choice. When will I finally be number one? When will I finally be loved like I love? Does that even fucking exist? I keep holding out on hope, but I’m not sure it does. I just don’t know what to do. I’m so lost. I should just focus on myself. Focus on learning and growing and thriving. I ought to love myself as much as I love Rowan. but why is that so difficult for me to do? I could love Rowan and all his faults and all his flaws. Why can’t I love mine? I could love Rowan, even after he had hurt me so fucking bad. What can’t I love myself that much? Should I switch the lense I’ve been using to look at Rowan through over to myself? Would I be able to finally love myself like I deserve? 

I just don’t know what to do. This is going to be a long week. It’s only fucking Monday. 

[angelamajiki]

PARINGS: Brother! Tamaki Amajiki x Female! Sister! Reader

CW: yandere, incest, stealthing, con to noncon, quirk play, riding, manipulation, possessiveness, slight angst, implied kidnapping

AN: thank you to @suzuki-violin-school for beta reading!! @sightoru @bonesoftheimpala come get y’all juice

You always had a strange relationship with your big brother, seeming to be just a touch close for your parent’s liking. But the pair of you never paid too much mind to it. Something about it just felt natural and right. You were thick as thieves, always confiding and comforting each other when no-one else seemed well enough to do the job.

When you ran to your brother’s house the second your first boyfriend broke up with you for a completely arbitrary reason, leaving you to cry on your nii-san’s shoulder to deal with your heartache.

“I told you he was no good for you, bunny. I knew from the start that something was wrong with him. There’s no one that’s good enough for my baby sister.”

Then it happened again. And again. And again, until it seemed like every partner you’ve ever had lost interest after the first few months of your relationship. It was devastating to feel unloved and unwanted, but at least you had your big brother to make everything better. Tamaki always reminded you how much he loved you, how smart and intelligent you were, how anyone would be lucky to have you, and the people who have dumped you were complete fools to not see what a gem you were.

And anyone would be lucky to have your big brother; you reminded him as well. The number seven pro hero who had finally blossomed into a confident, top-tier hero with a heart of gold. He was so strong, not to mention a heartthrob. Maybe it felt wrong to be jealous of the attention he gets from the media for his work along with his looks. Still, maybe it was because you knew better than anyone else that one day, the devotion he showed towards you would be the devotion he showed towards his own partner.

Not that you ever planned to tell him you didn’t want his undivided attention to be cast elsewhere, but just like everything else about your relationship, it flowed out naturally when you were crying about your recent first date that had ghosted you after dinner.

“Tama-nii, I’m never going to find someone! Why does no one want me?”

You sobbed into his chest, clinging to him like you did when you were a child, searching for the lost innocence of your youth in his arms. His strong hands embraced you without question, without judgment, as he kissed the top of your head tenderly while shushing you gently.

“Oh, bunny. That’s not true at all-”

What could he know about your struggle? The media treats him like the very man who hung the stars in the sky, and how could you blame them? He was the moon, the very embodiment of tenderness that waxes and wanes with a gentle, shimmering brilliance that you can’t help but hide in the shadows of.

“Yes, it is! What could you possibly know of not being wanted when you’re just going to end up leaving me like everyone else does?” His silence spoke louder than your own sobbing. “One day, you’ll find someone and leave me to be alone again because no one wants me!”

His hand, that touch you’ve become so familiar with, gently strokes your lower back.

“Who said I don't want you? You're making assumptions, little bunny.”

His words tickled your ear, got your heart racing as he quelled your cries of anguish. “Because I certainly do.”

Nimble fingers tilted your chin up to meet his soft gaze, lust clouding his eye like the calm before the storm.

“B-But not like that-”

“Exactly like that.”

His words lit a fire in your core, but forced ice to run through your veins. Your brother could never have you in the way you wanted him to, the way you needed him to.

“It's not that simple.” You choked out, straining to contain yourself from your fleeting desires. This fleeting feeling of weakness can't let you risk your relationship with your brother, or worse, let him be your everything for just a moment and watch him walk away when he's done. “We can't.”

“And why is that? Isn't it obvious that I'm not going anywhere unless I'm with you?”

His face inched closer to yours, a blush splattering his pale skin up to his ears.

“It’s wrong-”

Your eyes flicked to his lips for a brief moment as you found yourself frozen.

“Not if I love you.”

Plush lips sealed over yours, enveloping you in the tenderness you'd had always envied him for. The love, the obsession he had for you had come crashing down in waves over you as you kissed him back, eager to feed off his affection and attention.

Teeth and tongue clashed together in a messy display of the taboo; hips pushed flush against each other as you whined into his mouth, sobbing in the relief of finally feeling yearned for.

The question of whether or not it was right wasn't plaguing you anymore, not like it did you when you scorned yourself for the infectious desires that coiled in your core late at night. His love cleansed you, cured you of your ailment as his tongue and lips made their way to your neck.

Sweet nothings tickled your ear as he nibbled and kissed along your tender flesh, leaving bright pink spots in his loving wake. The tears from your eyes dripped onto his hair, but neither of you seemed to care.

“Don't cry, my love.”

His words were like a symphony, enthralling you with the melody that he carried in his voice and the song he sung to soothe your overwhelmed state. “Let your big brother take care of you, okay?”

Clothes were discarded in a flurry, tossed somewhere beyond the couch the two of you were grinding on. His hands were so strong, yet so gentle as you were carried like a princess, his princess, to his bed where he no doubt intended to indulge in every one of your desires.

Your knight in shining armor kissed you breathless under the moonlight that trickled through the window, casting his shadow over you. Even now, he stole the limelight but you couldn't find it in yourself to care this time, not when he touched you so lovingly.

Nimble fingers kneaded and pulled at your plump flesh, making their ways down to the wetness between your legs. Shame flushed your face as he throatily chuckled. “Wet for me already, imouto? You're flattering your nii-san.”

The pad of his thumb circled your clit gently, sharp eyes watching as your body jolted and twitched at the sensation. “You’re acting as though you've never been touched before.”

You hear the smile in his voice without even seeing it. It only served to flush your shame even further, avoiding the eyes that were fucking you with everything they had.

“Don’t take those pretty eyes off of me.”

His middle finger prodded gently at your hole, teasing the twitching thing with circles of his forefingers. Shyly, your eyes turned to him, begging, pleading for him to stop teasing already!

And how could he deny such an unspoken request from the love of his life? Tamaki already knew what you wanted before you even did, he always did. He’s been able to read you like a book, already knowing what would be on the next page before it was written.

Still, he liked to tease, or more so needed to. It would fuel him like no other to finally hear you beg for him, beg for the love only he knew how to give you. Not that he would be so selfish to deny you of all that you wanted, he was more than prepared to spoil his lovely princess.

But, the man couldn't deny the inklings of his insecurities coming back to bite him. There was a chance that you could regret this later, that you would run far from his reach the second the realization that you slept with your brother donned on you. Tamaki wouldn't have it, now or ever.

Your moans drew him back to the present as his finger pumped in and out of you, dragging along your spongy, wet walls that gripped him oh so nicely. He could hardly handle the anticipation of getting to feel you around his cock.

“N-Nii-san! I can't wait, want you inside!”

Your broken cry sent a shudder down his spine and a jump to his cock. Such a desperate little thing you were, but you were his desperate little thing.

Maneuvering the both of you, he sat you in his lap while holding your ass flush to his hips.

“You know what to do, pretty girl.”

Swallowing thickly, you pulled his cock out of his boxers and positioned yourself to sink down on it.

“Y-You’ll pull out, right?”

“Of course, imouto.”

That was all you needed. Determined to please him, you pushed just the tip in before sitting all the way down on it. A choked gasp filled the space as you felt the fullness of your brother’s cock inside of you.

“S-So full, nii-san!” He stretched you perfectly, letting any pain fade comfortably into pleasure.

It was then that Tamaki decided he would ruin you, not only for himself but for anyone else who dared to think they would be able to please you.

As you ground your hips down into his, you couldn't help but start to feel him grow inside you. Was this normal for sex?

“Ah! Hold on, it's really starting to hurt nii-san.”

Your hips lifted off of his, only to be slammed back down by those strong hands you've come to love.

“Just relax, princess. I'm doing this because I love you.”

Admittedly, this was his first time to try to manifest this part of his body, but he had to try for you, didn't he? Your future with him depended on it. The kiss he pressed to your temple was to soothe himself more than you, focusing on the horse meat he had eaten early that day just after you called him.

He shushed your struggles, hugging you close and stroking the ever-growing bulge in your stomach as he completed his manifestation.

“There we go.” He kissed your cries of the pain away. “It’s okay, you’re okay, princess.”

You had to understand that he was doing this for both of you. He’d ruin that cunt of yours, make it so no man other than Tamaki and his quirk could ever satisfy you.

“You were made to my cock, and mine alone, princess. I'll make you see that.”

The pain was nearly unbearable as he began to thrust up into you, hitting your cervix with the strange cock head he had produced. His hand stayed flush to the bulge on your stomach, stroking it gently as he pounded into you from below.

Your cries and moans meshed together in a perfect melody, one that was always destined to be sung by the both of you, together as one.

Neither of you were going to last long, not with his quirk in play.

“Oh God, I'm gonna cum, princess!” His thrusts became erratic, pounding into you with a new vigor.

“Y-You promised to pull out!” You cried in frustration, feeling his cum fill you up to the brim and dripping out of even with his cock still inside. Tamaki thumbed at your clit to help push you over the edge as he shrunk his cock back down, feeling you cum around him with a cry and shaky legs.

He pulled out, looking at the bulge his cum inside you left behind as he pushed on it gently, watching it gush out of you.

“Now no one else will ever want you.”

#yandere tamaki amajiki x reader #yandere tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki x you #tamaki amajiki x y/n #tamaki amajiki x reader #yandere my hero academia #my hero x reader #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere