the only Heaven I'll be sent to
is when I'm alone with you.
words: 281
song: take me to church (hozier)
/"Take me to church--I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife."/
‘Possessive’ would be a kind understatement.
He knew what was his--and he wasn't the type to share.
He was completely, utterly, and hopelessly devoted to his lover--more than he'd like to admit, sometimes. He absolutely hated seeing the blonde interact with other (possible) lovers, he hated knowing that he wasn't solely his, not anymore.
He was the only thing that gave him a real reason to live, the only thing that made him feel like someone. That someone thought that he, of all people, was special.
He absolutely hated the thought of someone taking that away from him. What he hated even more, though, was obstructing his lover's happiness.
No matter what you do to me, I'll always be by your side.
He would abide by that. That was their often-unsaid agreement, wasn't it?
Even if it hurt him to see him go off with other people, no matter how much he hated it, no matter how much he wanted to stop it, he couldn't, and he wouldn't. He had no right. It was hypocritical of him to. No matter how much it hurt.
He would step aside, regrettably, begrudgingly, and leave it be--scribbling away at his journal, slicing away at already broken skin.
Who cares how he felt, right? Because everyone would just do whatever they wanted, anyways. Those who wanted Ren would still pursue him, anyways, no matter what he wanted. No one cared. No one ever did.
So he wouldn't either.
/"Offer me that deathless death--good God, let me give you my life."/
I can’t say that I’m not sad . . . or hurting . . .
I can’t say that you’re not either . . . but how would I know?
It seemed as far as you were concerned, you wanted to get as far away from me as possible . . . that you were anxious to get it over with . . . to get rid of me . . .
But that’s okay . . .
Like you said, marriage is pointless now, right? Everyone has slept around with everyone at this point, it seems remaining “loyal” is nothing but a mere fantasy . . . it’s everyone’s fatal flaw . . .
We can’t remain loyal to save our lives . . .
We’re all guilty of it . . . I fell for Frost, you fell for Eri, Miaka fell for Ren, and so on, and so forth, and it just kept piling and stacking until it all became so unstable everything crashed and burned in the end.
In that respect, I suppose, you and I both knew this was going to happen . . . it was a waste of time and energy to even try reconciling things . . .
And yet, knowing that, I’m still so heartbroken . . .
If things weren’t ever going to work out . . . if they were just going to turn out like this, with you unable to even look at me anymore and I completely and utterly depressed . . . I wish we had never started this relationship in the first place . . . I wish I never even gave you the time of day . . . I gave you my everything . . . my love, my virginity, my children, everything . . . because I thought we would always be together . . . that no matter what, we’d always be by each other’s side . . . and now they’re all sad regrets sitting in this empty hole left in my heart.
. . .
I will always love you, you know?
Even if you can’t bear the sight of me anymore . . . I don’t blame you. I’m not upset with you for that . . . I’m not upset with you at all. I know why you’re upset with me, though . . . and I’m sorry I hurt you.
I’m sorry . . . for everything . . . actually . . . I’m sorry for always forcing my issues onto you . . . I’m sorry for being a jealous bitch . . . I’m sorry for being controlling . . . I’m sorry for being a hypocritical cunt . . . I’m sorry for just not being good enough . . .
I’m sorry that I no longer bring you happiness . . . if I had ever brought you any happiness at all, anyways . . .
I tried to keep you under lock and key because I was so terrified of losing you . . . and in the end it only drove you even further away from me because of my petty flaws and my constant need for validation . . .
I can’t even get over my jealousy of V just because I’m so damn petty and shallow . . .
. . .
It doesn’t matter anymore . . . you said it yourself . . . it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll get over it . . . I’ll get over you . . . I’ll make sure the kids grow up fine, and I don’t need a relationship, anyways . . . I have my alcohol and my wine glasses, and that’s all I need to feel better in the long run.
the lies you
succumb to
blissfully unaware
i don’t know
how you can’t
see through my
facade
i don’t want you, i don’t need you
i’ll forget you
it doesn’t matter
i’ll play along, writing our song
we are perfect
(ha ha ha ha . . .)
i love you.
words: 586
song inspired by: lie (megurine luka)
He swore that he’d never fall in love again.
It was a chore, it was tedious, it only left him hurt and upset and broken, and he didn’t need that in his life, not anymore. Last time he fell, he could’ve sworn they were the one, and only ended up being hurt in the end.
He’d been hurt enough in his life now to know that doing something as absurd as falling in love was an absolute, 100% no-go.
He already couldn’t comprehend it as is – it was strange, and odd, it made him feel happy and sad and confused all at once – he didn’t like the confliction, maybe that was the reason why he was so cold towards him, why he shied away from his affection, why he shunned him, why he could never bring himself to saying “I love you”—
. . . Because he didn’t love him, right? At least not romantically, right? It was purely platonic, if anything at all (or, at least, that’s what he tried to tell himself on a daily basis).
Even so, he knew he was lying, and he was good at that, always dropping one not-so-pretty lie after the next, all those times he said, “I hate you,” “I can’t stand you,” “go away,” “you’re so annoying,” — lies, lies, lies. One after another, never-ending. Lies, lies,lies.
Maybe he felt guilty for his incessant lying and abuse. Maybe he did it in hopes that the boy would eventually give up on him (he already did, he just didn’t know that). Maybe he just didn’t want to believe that he had fallen, again, and that he had fallen hard.
In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what he felt anymore. He didn’t want to go through this cycle again, he didn’t want to risk going through the suffering and the heartache again, but he didn’t want to hurt him, he didn’t want his feelings to go unreciprocated, he didn’t want to be the cause of his pain—
. . . Because he cared, right? He really, truly did, at the bottom of his heart, he cared, and he loved him, but there was something holding him back. There was always something holding him back. Always, always something.
It was still that fear of getting hurt, that fear of everything turning out to be one huge mistake in the end.
I don’t want to hurt you this much. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I didn’t know. Please, please, I love you, I’m sorry. Don’t be upset.
He wanted him to know that he cared, and that he loved him, he didn’t want to hurt him, he never wanted to hurt him, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from being cold, emotionless, harsh. Maybe it was a defense mechanism.
He wanted him to know that he didn’t hate him, he could never hate him, he’d always care for him and his feelings weren’t unrequited, but he knew he wouldn’t ever fully believe that.
Don’t listen to me . . . we’ll always be . . . so perfectly happy . . .
Sometimes, he thought, maybe this was worse than falling in love.
saishuubin, kimi wa noru, boku wo oitette
hashiridaru, yukkuri to jimen ga zureteiku
naichadame, naichadame
demo hontou wa iitai yo
"ikanaide."
words: 582
song inspired by: ikanaide (soraru version)
He wasn't quite sure what made him want to believe that their relationship was healthy.
Maybe it was the boy's touch, which he craved so, so desperately. Maybe, it was those rare times when the boy showed him his soft side -- he didn't shy away from him, he wasn't afraid to let him know that he cared (although sometimes, it almost felt like pity). Maybe, it was the fact that he didn't see himself as "good enough," "adequate," or "worth something," so it was only natural that the boy saw him the same.
Maybe he liked the bitter taste of those rough kisses left on his lips. Maybe he liked their occasional late-night rendezvous, which had always left him wanting more. Maybe he liked the empty feeling the boy left in his already empty heart, especially when he went through his periods of absolutely despising him again, sometimes for no apparent reason.
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you so fucking much, I can't stand you, why don't you just leave? You'd be doing everyone a favor!
Hah, he'd laughed to himself, almost painfully, sounding like he was forcing it. You're right. I would be doing everyone a favor. I'd be doing myself a favor, as a matter of fact.
Maybe, just maybe, the shredded remains of whatever "relationship" they had left and whatever little bit of "hope" he had left for it was enough to make him keep on living (if you could even consider him "alive" anymore).
Whatever his reasoning was, he wasn't completely sure. Who in their right mind would subject themselves to such emotional wear-and-tear? Maybe he wasn't in his right mind. He'd surely believe it.
But, at the end of every single day, he supposed he deserved it. Every last bit of it. He deserved the pain and the suffering and the torture, he had brought it all on himself. Who would love someone like him? He wasn't even a "someone" anymore, he was a thing. Blood no longer pumped through his veins, and his heart was at an eternal standstill. He had the misfortune of being a walking, talking, corpse -- and some days, he wished for someone, anyone, to put him out of his misery, to just let him die. The sweet embrace of death had to be better than this constant agony and self-loathing and slow self-destruction, right?
Anything had to be better than that, right?
Even so, when he thought he was surely at his breaking point, that he couldn't take it anymore, and that he should just end it all right there and then -- he was there for him, every single time, to pull him away from the edge, to love him and care for him, to make sure that he was okay -- and that, that was the reason why he continued putting up with such emotional distress, even if it wasn't a good one, it still sparked a light in his cold, dead heart, it made him feel a little more alive, and it rekindled that small hope that maybe, just maybe, he actually loved him.
Hey, are you alright? Were you crying? You look upset. Talk to me.
Despite every single one of his flaws, despite every little insensitive or ignorant thing he may have said or done to him, that, that was enough to make him want to keep going.
Everyone thought he was just a sex freak. That seemed to be the only thing on his mind: Sex. But, that was all he knew, that was all he thought he was good for — having sex, pleasuring others. He saw himself worth nothing more than a simple sex toy.
Even so, as long as he could leave people satisfied sexually, he could ignore the empty feeling in his chest. It didn’t matter how he felt, right? As long as he could get an orgasm out of his partner, as long as they got their way with him, as long as they were satisfied, it was alright. That’s how you made people happy. If you put yourself out, people would be happy with you, wasn’t that what he’s been taught for years?
If everyone else was happy, he could pretend he was happy, too.
Even as he fell in love and married, he still believed sex was the way to go. Even if his partner would insist they didn’t have to have sex if he didn’t want to — he would simply shake his head. Even if he didn’t want to do it, but they wanted to do it, and if made them happy, then who cared what he wanted?
It never matter what he wanted, and it wouldn’t ever matter. He was just a sex toy with a pretty face. Wasn’t that right?
around here, i hope you drop dead, i hope you come to an end
if behind that smooth voice there’s some blood circulating as well--
dear you, the pretender, what is it you want to convey?
words: 377
inspired by: dear anonymous (soraru)
“Oh, Commander, you’re far too shy.” A smooth voice purred. Eri slipped a hand under Miaka’s chin – holding it in a firm grip before turning Miaka’s head in his direction – deep red eyes meeting sapphire blue ones. He couldn’t hide his smirk as he saw the commander blush with an irritated look spreading across his face, and he could see his demon tail flicking side to side, slowly, as a cat’s would when annoyed. He really did enjoy seeing such a cold and profound commander like Miaka in such a helpless state.
He had the demon’s wrists bound to frame of the bed – he also had him shirtless, and had his left leg cupped tightly in his hand. He leaned over him, tilting his head slightly and nibbling at his neck. Miaka let out a low growl as he shut an eye.
“Ahh, feisty now, are we . . .”
“You’re an asshole,” he hissed under his breath, “what do you gain out of this . . .”
“The feeling of superiority . . .” Eri slowly tugged at his ear with his teeth, earning a shiver from the commander. “. . . and I get to see you in such a helpless state . . . I must remind you who’s your superior, mustn’t I? You get so damned mouthy around me sometimes . . .”
“Y-you earn it,” Miaka growled as the prince moved down and spread his legs apart, “I’m not your sex toy . . .”
“But you’re Ren’s, aren’t you?” Eri smirked, and Miaka grew silent, flushing a deep shade of red.
“That’s what I thought . . .” he pouted a tiny bit, slowly sliding a finger across the fabric covering the demon’s crotch, “I get rights, too, you know . . .”
“I s-swear to god Eri—“ he was silenced, a small gasp escaping his lips as the blonde ran his tongue across his crotch. He frowned again.
“Loosen up, will you? I thought you’d be used to this sort of thing by now, my dear Commander.”
Miaka didn’t say anything else. He only thought back, wondering how in the world he went from being a rebellion commander to being the prince and the emperor’s own personal sex doll.
that way, this way, the devil is over here
you’re playing right into my hands
i want you
one pair? two pair? no, is it a full house?
‘cause it was exposed
unseen, unseeable, close up both of those eyes
“it’s not here,” “is that so?” -- a tricked appearance
your pretentious cards are dazzling, Mr. Prince
words: 1104
song used: poker face (melost)
/”All the time, all the time, I trick people. Just like so, just like this, you’ll catch on eventually . . .”/
They say that a smile is the prettiest thing a person can wear.
And all he wore were smiles.
They were what he was known for – they were his best quality, his most attractive feature, his lady-killer, even – he was famous for his sweet, charming smiles. There wasn’t a single person in the kingdom who hadn’t acknowledged the beauty of his nearly infectious grins.
They also say, however, that smiles make people wonder what you’ve been up to. With how often he smiled, it was almost impossible not to wonder what the country’s lovely prince was always up to. How did he manage to always be so positive, so likeable, so utterly charming?
/”The perfect crime, that’s what this is – I kill you.”/
However, for those who have worked closely with the prince, those who had been around him and in his presence for long enough — they knew that there was something dark about him. He was a secretive person, he never said what he was doing or what he was up to, and he spoke in riddles – it was almost impossible to get an honest answer out of their dear Prince Eri.
His smiles were a pretty disguise he had devised himself, a façade, really. They hid his true intentions, his true motives, his true self. He didn’t want anyone to know who and what he really was. His only goal was domination; to dominate over all, to become something better than what he currently was, to become something that everyone, his family included, would respect. Respect was all he ever wanted.
But respect was something he rarely got.
/”Got myself an alibi, a surface face, taking on the appearance of a good child.”/
Oh, sure, the people respected him, but that was a given. They couldn’t see past his sweet smiles and charming demeanor, and he was their prince. Of course they respected him. Gaining the respect of his family, and the other royals, however . . . ? That was a far different story.
That was quite alright, though, he’d gain respect on his own, in his own little way. With his brother, the emperor, by his side, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to get his way. They had similar plans of universal and trans-dimensional domination – even if his brother’s feelings of guilt occasionally interfered – they were going to be all-powerful, and completely and utterly unstoppable. He wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to get in the way. He hadn’t spent years of internalized suffering and marginalized inferiority to only lose it all in the end over something trivial, even if both he and his brother knew they were in way over their heads.
/”I’m so happy I won, a flower weighs a monme – I want that kid, I want you.”/
He was going to get his way, no matter the consequences. Even if it came down to his death at the end of it all, nobody could say he didn’t try. That he didn’t put in all of his effort. He couldn’t possibly let something as trivial as his brother’s feelings for a demon get in the way—
. . . even though, his brother claims those feelings never existed. Or, at least, they didn’t exist anymore. He knew he was lying, though.
You weren’t supposed to play with demons, that was the law, demons were heartless, cruel creatures that were only good for slaves, soldiers, and slaughtering, but little did most people know was that was exactly what the royal Dimitri Kagamine family did. How else would they get their power?
Generations of pacts with powerful demons, generations of the study of black magic and demonic rituals. Their fathers had sealed away the two demon emperors to siphon their power when the twins were young children, and he and his brother had a blood pact with the Death Shinigami himself.
No one could’ve possibly known this, though, at least no one that wasn’t close enough to the family. As far as the public eye was aware of, demons were dangerous creatures that couldn’t be trusted – creatures that only pretended to care for us until they found the right moment to strike. Demons could not be trusted. If it weren’t for their usefulness as slaves and soldiers, they would’ve killed them all. It was only right for the emperors to destroy the demon kingdom, wasn’t it? They were planning to attack us anyways. If we hadn’t struck first, they would’ve killed all humans. They were absolutely despicable creatures. Isn’t that right? Isn’t that what all the books say?
He didn’t necessarily hate demons, per se. He knew they weren’t all actually evil creatures. But, after years of being subjected to ridicule and being considered sub-par, and second-rate compared to his brother by his own parents – to the point where they even only allowed his brother to rise to emperor, for the sole reason of not believing he deserved the right of having that power – topped with the fact his brother, and lover, had an affair with one of their demon soldiers, he had been driven by hatred and pure determination ever since.
He had no sympathy for demons, they would only get in his way. They took things away from him. He wasn’t going to now lose everything he had worked for, for so, so many years, just because dear Emperor Ren felt bad for some demon commander he once had a fling with. It was already bad enough he had lost the title of Ren’s one and only, he wasn’t going to lose the respect and power he was going to gain at the end of it all, either; it’d have to be pried from his cold, dead hands.
That was why, once they found him – he wasn’t going to give this up any time soon. No matter how his dear brother felt.
/”Bargaining points? Don’t count on them! ‘Cause I stole the joker you showed me—“
A family full of darker secrets and even darker people, that’s how it was, and how it has been for years. If it weren’t for their power and sweet, innocent smiles and demeanor, they might’ve been overthrown generations ago.
And he wasn’t about to be the generation that got overthrown.
His determination and drive was nearly unrivaled.
What a shame would it be if that were put to waste.
/”My other face is a liar, but is it just to hide my embarrassment? Hey, I don’t know – you tell me!/”
MiakaRen - Middle Schooler Disease Outburst Boy (SoraMafu) >> https://youtu.be/0pKRQyJyuKc
KuraiAura - Rainbow (ShounenT) and Halo (Nightcore version) >> http://youtu.be/jZtgz9HjD1o and https://youtu.be/MOj8sC-lX6M
AuraFrost - Matryoshka (Hatsune Miku x Gumi) and What Makes You Beautiful (Nightcore version) >> https://youtu.be/_JGaQ3g8WU4 and https://youtu.be/h5lA8Zc2w2I
for tsunderelen
she really likes Miaka. so. take this--
words: 347
“There you are.”
A smooth, calm voice spoke from behind you. You could hear light footsteps approach you before a pair of muscular tattooed arms embraced you from behind. Miaka pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin on it, and you felt your cheeks heating up as the seconds ticked by.
“I missed you, you know.”
“I m-missed you too.”
You could feel his cool breath against your scalp as he chuckled, quietly, before slowly turning you around so that you could face him. He picked you up — you wrapped your legs around his waist, blushing all the while – and he pecked a kiss to your nose. You smiled, resting your hands on his shoulders as he gripped your hips gently.
You always felt tiny in his arms – he was over a foot taller than you and built like a rock, but he always handled you delicately, like a piece of fine china. He was always careful not to hurt you.
“Stop being so tall,” you pouted, the tiniest whine in your voice, “you make me feel short.”
“Maybe because you are short,” he teased, tilting his head to one side. You could see his demon tail flick back and forth, slowly, like a cat’s.
“Miaka!” He only laughed at your response before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. His lips were always soft, but icy. He himself was always cold to the touch. It took you a great deal of getting used to when you both had started dating three months ago – but eventually, you found comfort in his cool embrace. You couldn’t imagine him without it.
“I love you, shorty,” he grinned as he stroked your lower back with the tips of his fingers.
“I love you too,” you couldn’t help but pout again at being called shorty, but eventually that pout was replaced with a smile.
He was your demon prince, and your demon prince only. Even if he could be a jackass sometimes, you loved that about him.
He held his snowy haired twin in his arms tightly as he slept, -- not all that peacefully, albeit -- warm tears ran down his cheeks as his body trembled in fear, a terrified whimper escaping his lips every so often. He mumbled horrified nothings. That was when Aura woke.
/"You make me happy when skies are gray . . ."/
"Frost . . . ?" He spoke quietly, softly, "are you okay . . . ?" He seized his brother's shoulders, shaking him gently. "Wake up . . ." Frost's eyes suddenly opened, his mouth gaped slightly as if he were going to scream -- he only sucked in his breath, relaxing, still trembling as he held the boy close. "It's okay . . ." Aura pressed his forehead into Frost's chest as he twirled strands of his dip dyed hair around his fingers, snuggling against him more, "I'm here . . ." He felt Frost nod a bit, and the boy pressed a kiss to the top of his head before pressing his face into it.
/"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you . . ."/
"Y-you'll always be here, right . . . ?" There was a hint of fear in his voice, "you'll never leave me . . . a-alone . . . right . . . ?" "Of course I will . . . why wouldn't I be?" "Okay . . . that's all I needed . . ." Aura felt him relax more, warm fingers gently stroking his arm. "I love you . . . so much . . ." "I love you too . . ."
