everything is my fault
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@gyu-guts
everything is my fault
when something triggers you in a social situation and you can't react:
why do people care about this petty shit. it doesntmatter. how fundamentally boring
i put so much effort, im tired of trying right now.
maybe i need time to heal, maybe its just time i stopped caring.
im tired.
when will it end
his spit pulls Sans into such heat. a hungry heat. a heat that he hates, that he feels consume him everytime.
“you like that?” god he does. it feels good. he doesn’t want it to stop, even if he knows he’ll scrub at his skin after. even if he knows he’ll cry for a good moment at what he just did.
“yeah,” he breathes, because its the truth. why would he lie. it feels good for his cock to stretch him out like this, to take what he wants. In the end, despite Sans’s protests, Red always gets him willing under him. With his legs spread and his voice vulnerable.
and after, he dreams of it. dreams of the way Red can fill him up, can kiss his neck, can touch his bones. It lights him up so much.
He is always dim afterwards. a husk of himself. he feels the ghost of the touches, he feels his voice linger on his neck. its awful, it makes him sick. he never wants to be touched again. but he knows when red comes back, he’ll let him do it all over again.
his spit pulls Sans into such heat. a hungry heat. a heat that he hates, that he feels consume him everytime.
“you like that?” god he does. it feels good. he doesn’t want it to stop, even if he knows he’ll scrub at his skin after. even if he knows he’ll cry for a good moment at what he just did.
“yeah,” he breathes, because its the truth. why would he lie. it feels good for his cock to stretch him out like this, to take what he wants. In the end, despite Sans’s protests, Red always gets him willing under him. With his legs spread and his voice vulnerable.
“why are you here.”
He shifts, his sockets opening to show the red of his eyelights,blazing and fiery as always. Eyelights that can make Sans’s stupid soul flutter yet feel a squeeze of longing.
“i just fucked you, don’t you remember?”
Sans grins, its humorless. “why the fuck did you come here.”
Red has his arms circled around his ribs, he pulls back to touch Sans’s cheek. “the fuck are you on about?”
“you keep pretending like you care, i hate that.”
“does it really seem like that?” Red says, a bit of shock to his voice.
“you only come here to get your dick wet, dont fuck with me.” Sans pushes against Red’s front, he is weak willed and doesn’t get very far. He’s tired of this, the on and off, the fact that he doesn’t understand where Red’s loyalty lays at. Just what the fuck does he want out of Sans? Why does he keep pretending he’s something other than something fun to play around with?
In the end, he always makes Sans feel that way.
“i dont know. why dont you message me more then?” Red says.
i want to cut i want to cut i want to cut i want to cut i want to cut i want to cut i want to cut i want to cut.
even as ur friend, all u care about is talking about what u like. what am i even here fo.r
my mindset is becoming toxic because of how bitter and drained i am.im sick of everyone.
and yet you never fully got into my interests when i went full force into yours. people pleasure my ass lmao. we both kno who the real people pleasure is. im sick of everything.
i feel like im just here to make u feel better
sometimes i dont feel loved
sometimes i dont feel like you care about my interests
sometimes i feel like you dont care to hear about my day
sometimes i feel like im just static
like im just here to give you compliments
like im just suppose to sit here and smile and be pretty for u
and maybe its stupid but because u rarely like my art or announce that im ur gf its like i dont matter, like u dont wantppl 2 kno, like ur ashamed of me.