#left unfinished

[tottlefish]

my eyes

[seijhoeist]

seijoh four x you - long distance phone sex 🔞

oikawa is far away in argentina and you had a fun night out with hanamaki and matsukawa. iwaizumi came later in that night; to be a designated driver really. god knows hiro and issei are light weights when it comes to you. meaning, they do handle their alcohol pretty well but you keep handing them drink after drink and soon enough they are goners. they can never say no to their pretty girl. how does iwa get wrapped in this you ask?

oh, he receives a call from you at 2am, words a little slurred bc you just had a tad bit to drink,maybe a little too much. hajime’s slumber quickly starts to disappear as he’s very concerned about you being alone in that state. you tell him on the contrary, you have your two big, very intimidating boyfriends with you. iwazumi urges you to pass the phone to anyone of them but you stifle a giggle and say they are practically in disposed at the moment.

iwazumi clicks his tongue as he grabs his car keys to go and retrieve all three of you.

when does oikawa come in the picture? oh boy. it’s when he receives a FaceTime call from your phone very late in the evening. he had just gotten out of the shower from a very intensive practice. prepping for a game coming up within a couple of weeks. his face light’s up when he sees his screen flashing with your face and name on it. he quickly clicks on the green button accepting the call.

his eyes grow wide when he hears you whimpering on the other end. the phone had been set up on the dresser of what looks to be iwaizumi’s room. he quickly whips around the locker room he was in to see if anyone else was there and might have heard what was happening.

to his relief it looked like everyone had gone home for the day and it was just him. he turns his attention back to his screen and sees hiro and issei on either side of you. hiro seemed to be ravishing your pussy while issei was pumping himself in and out of your mouth.

tooru’s jaw goes slack and he can feel himself getting hard at the sight of you getting ruined by his best friends.

[yoyou333]

“I am that thing you can never kill, I am hope.”

[demoninc]

[quagmireisadora]

"Why didn't you stay," he asks softly from the mouth of the cave. His eyes drink her now as they had in his dream, so many nights ago. She is not made of lamps, but there is an unreachable depth in her gaze, just as he remembers. "Why didn't you take me with you..." His regret swims across his face and he looks close to tears. He looks close to breaking.

Gwiboon sits up for comfort and studies the delta back. "Come here," she murmurs after a while, patting her bedding. "Come here, come to me."

Minho shakes his head for a moment, but when she reaches her hand out he cannot resist the distance any longer. He takes hold of her palm and presses it to his chest. "Why didn't you take me with you," he whispers. "Why didn't you just--" he shudders as he crouches next to her, his head to the ground as if in prayer.

Gwiboon runs her free hand over his hair, petting him and running her fingers over the stars of his ears. "So much love..." she wonders. "Where did you find so much love to give. Hmm?" she asks softly. "Come closer," she urges.

He looks up at her and gulps. "I..." he begins, his mind on the pack, on the alpha he must serve, on the duties he must complete, on the work that must be done for the balance that must be maintained. "If we are found, I--"

She hushes him. "We are not mates," she caresses his jaw with adoration. "We are not here because we must be. We are here because we want to be," she smiles and a silent question goes between them then, answered when he crawls closer and holds his arms around her.

"I want to be here," he repeats against her full moon peircings. "I... choose this."

She strokes his back, his sides, his arms. He is sweet and gentle, even when he does nothing. He is soft and kind, even when he is silent. He is loving, even when he doesn't have to be. She kisses the side of his face and he gasps like this is the first kiss ever bestowed on him. She kisses his shoulder and he looks close to sobbing. She presses their nose together and waits for him settle between her legs, helping him move, helping him realise this isn't a ceremony, this isn't a ritual. This is simply her, simply him. This is just them, no more.

He gives her his every breath that night, and when his eyes begin to grow heavy, he feels her arm snake around his waist to pull him closer. "You are not mine. I am not yours," she whispers. "But you have given me your heart. I take it for cherishing."

He blushes at the words, nodding silently as he holds her to his chest.

[creeping-ghost]

queer yearning feels religious in a way that i'm praying to a thousand small gods and all of them want to grant me mercy but their means all wildly differ. i am here on the altar, left dying torturously slow as sacrifice to the divine. yearning feels like a sickness that had been brought at me as punishment for having them as my object of worship. and tomorrow the day begins anew, but i won't get to see it, because i am forever trapped in this night. yearning is- craving is being a wounded animal knowing my demise is near, but the wait stretches on, seconds changing to the slow unsteady rhythm of my blood dripping down,

[solidgesso-writing]

The man is ashen and soaked. Beneath his expensive coat, he looks like a waterlogged mushroom.

I nudge him with the tip of my boot. When I get no response, I kick him hard enough to hurt, but he stays silent.

I take that as my cue. Even if he's still breathing, the freezing rain and the blood leaking out of his shoulder will finish him soon enough, and there is nothing to stop me from going through his pockets. They're nice pockets, sturdily sewn and full of money.

I'm wedging my hand under his back to try to reach his seat pockets when I notice his eyes are open. "Gaaughwk," I say, falling on my ass in the mud.

"Please," he says. "Will you help me?"

[[MORE]]

He is more articulate and composed than I am, clammy with hypothermia and shock while bleeding out in the mud. He must have had lessons.

Well. In the face of nobility, I find it within myself to rise to the occasion. I position myself so the streetlight is directly behind my head, giving me an angelic glow while backlighting and obscuring my features. I wipe my muddy hand on his coat so it is clean as I cradle his sculpted jaw. Tenderly, I smile into his eyes and whisper, "No."

He relaxes, like an asshole. I give up trying to get my hand underneath him and just shove him over. His back pockets contain some small sentimental items. Normally, I wouldn't bother with knick knacks, but you never know with the miscellany of the rich. A kid's arts n crafts macaroni plate could be glittered with diamond dust. It just doesn't make sense to leave anything behind.

Through it all, the man is calm. He only rouses a bit when I get up. His hand is slimy and cold on my shin, and I'm pretty sure he's getting blood on my pants. I stoop to gently detach him.

"Shh," I say kindly. I project the most soothing aura I can. Help is on the way. "Don't worry. I'm going to get up and leave, and I'm not going to come back. I won't contact anyone for you, either."

The fucker relaxes again, hand sliding off my leg to rest on his well-formed chest. He even closes his eyes.

Here is a man who pays no attention to the words people say and coasts on vibes alone. I suppose that's how you get ahead when you're wealthy. Reputation is everything when there's only three thousand of you.

We of the hoi polloi, I am sad to say, have neither the luxury of relying on someone's honor nor maintaining honor for ourselves. That's why I go ahead and take his shoes too.

------

My name is Nastasia. No one calls me that. They call me Nasty.

I haven't done anything to deserve that nickname. Nothing that wasn't provoked, anyway. But I don't fight it. It's useful.

For example, when I go to the fence in my building, she doesn't try to fuck me over more than twice. She knows if she wastes my time, I'll go the extra mile to return the favor.

"Why'd you even take these? The leather's soaked through and it's already stinking up my place," she says.

I smile. "It was a gamble, but you never know with rich boys."

"The shoelaces are capped with titanium, and that's about all they're worth. No one's ever wearing these again." She keeps her eyes on the sodden shoes, but I can see her torso turn towards me a little. "Be honest, Nasty. You just didn't like the look of him, did you?"

My smile settles into a smirk. "He was handsome enough."

"You really didn't like him." The fence grins. She'll give me a fair deal now. The entertainment value of Nasty being nasty will save me a little haggling.

That's good, since I don't get much practice. I'm not a mugger or robber; I'm just not stupid enough to leave free money lying in the street. When I do collect, I usually just take cash to avoid the trouble of liquidating goods. That's why I don't see the fence often enough to remember her name.

----

The man walking next to Lisa looks familiar. I ruthlessly suppress my fight or flight response as Lisa looks around for me.

When she spots me, she comes all the way over before greeting me. I wouldn't want to call for Nasty in a crowded cafe either.

To her credit, she doesn't hold back once she's in front of me. "Nasty! Nasty, it's so good to see you. This is my business partner, Jacque."

I stand and shake the hand of the waterlogged mushroom from Tuesday night. He looks more haggard than he did bleeding out in the mud; I guess expensive, sped-up healing takes a lot out of you.

"Angel," he says.

I smile tightly. "Close. My name is Nasty." I give his hand a few more vigorous shakes to see if he flinches. There aren't any bandages on his right shoulder, but that doesn't mean it's completely healed internally.

He does wince, but he doesn't let go of my hand. "You're the angel that found me a few days ago, the one who called the med evac for me."

Ugh, someone called med evac for him.

"You needed med evac a few days ago? How terrible," I say. "I'm afraid we haven't met, though." Even if he thinks whoever stole his money also called the med evac, I also took his shoes, so my plan of action remains deny deny deny.

He blinks. "We have met, but you also don't think it was terrible that I needed med evac."

What the fuck. I shift my hand so I'm grabbing his wrist and twist his palm upwards. On his finger, set into the underside of one of his rings, is the smallest lie detector I have ever seen.

I'm making Lisa pay extra for this.

I grab his hand again, squeezing even more aggressively, and tell him, "I'm so glad you made it here with the earthquake and tornadoes coming up and down the street. The queue will move quickly, and we'll be sitting inside in no time at all."

Jacque looks around the perfectly calm cafe, which we are already inside, with unflattering surprise. He looks back at me and slowly extracts his hand.

What an idiot.

Lisa looks distressed. "Maybe you've run into each other at the bazaar. Nasty sells music," she tells Jacque. "I know you've been sponsoring a new salon."

"How did you do that?" he demands, ignoring the lifeline Lisa has thrown him. He sits as she tugs him down beside her.

I sit too, so the hovering server will approach. I feel like ordering something expensive. "I exude a heavy magnetic field. Anything relying on waves often fluxes around me."

He visibly struggles with whether or not to believe me. I ignore him in favor of telling the server that I want the honeysuckle sorbet. Lisa winces, but all this is her fault, and she can afford it.

When the server leaves, we look at each other in silence.

[leftunfinished]

how we hate hurting or to hurt- yet we still do, and because of that I want to name a storm after you

ashakajima