#Jesus CHRIST what the fuck is going on with you!!!!

[habken]

Hi there!

I have been rewatching MHA and came across many accounts that support bkdk. So i wanted to ask you the following:

Bakugo wanted to kill Izuku on their first day and during the bomb test. He tormented him for over 10 years, insulted him, bullied him, tortured him. Because he has "promise" Aizawa never called him out on his toxic behavior, but threatened Izuku with expulsion all the tims, labeling him as "problem child". All Might never did anything, even after Bakugo states, that he wanted to kill Izuku. Bakugo never faced a consequence for his oppressive behavior, he even bullied his so-called BakuSquad. (He got himself captured by the league and only denied their offer becUse they were "losers") Meanwhile, Izuku clearly shows signs of PTSD, wincing everytime when Bakugo was near him. Bakugo used so many explosions on him, he should be covered in scars. It's clear that he is Hori's favorite. The MHA fandom is pretty toxic, we all know this. Bakugo's "character evolution" didn't make him a better person. He never really changed or helped Izuku. When he "moved out of instinct" he did so because it's "instinct", because he trained so much. He didn't care that it was Izuku, he didn't think about it. After the second/ third season, the other characters just didn't care anymore about his behavior towars Izuku. Aoyama's parents wanted Aoyama to have a quirk to prevent him from being left out of society, so basically to protect him from people like Bakugo. He was the most privileged person (hit the genetic lottery, intelligent and rich parents). But still, MHA clearly shows that if you feel insecure you can bully and torture and there will be no consequences. I love Todoroki and Izuku much more, because they at least help and support each other. Shoto had a terrible childhood, but he never turned into an abuser. He never turned into his father. Bakugo's "excuse" towards Izuku was just laughable (makes the whole Sasuke/ Naruto episode after their big last fight look like true cinema). In the end, the fandom (and Hori) support an abuser/victim relationship.

Why do you support bkdk?

Their relationship gives people a false sense of what a victim of abuse should do. MHA never took Izuku's pain and past seriously. They portrayed Bakugo as "tsundere" instead of showing the real consequences of being the abuser for over a decade. Kirishima showed how to behave if you feel "unmanly" or "inadequate". Bakugo in the MHA world was a racist the minute he found out that Izuku didn't have a quirk. He victimized himself and tortured Izuku because he thinks that the world revolves around him. Shouta from "A silent voice" shows how to seek redemption and forgiveness. Bakugo just wanted to be Nr1 hero, but never a good one who saves people.

MHA clearly shows that you can bully someone, torture someone, torment someone- and you will never have to face consequences. A spit-out "sorry" after 10+ years of bullying and right after insulting someone's mental state is enough to be forgiven.

jesus christ lmao

See I could rebute your long ass essay and give my reasons for liking the ship, but you don’t actually care about what I have to say. I’m not going to spend my time defending myself to someone who’s arguing in bad faith. I spent years defending the ship, getting hate comments and death threats, and I’m not ever doing that shit again.

If you want to goad me into defending a dumb shonen ship, pay me $50. Until then, fuck off. Go find like-minded people under the “bakugou faces consequences” tag on ao3

[bananayuyu]

all tied up {part 2}

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: angst, eventual smut

Word count: 11.9k

Summary: You never thought you'd have such an awful rivalry with a coworker. How is he so mean, so petty, so under your skin...?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, mentions of reader wanting to die and past traumas, dub con/non con, reader is physically bound against her will, mean yunho, nipple play, fingering, unprotected penetration, after care of sorts

A/n: I hope you all enjoy the depravity! (and again please read the warnings and don't read this if you aren't in the right headspace <3)

Read part 1 here

Read it on ao3

That toe box.  That stupid fucking toe box… 

"YUNHO, LET ME GO!!" you scream, punching a hand into his side and making him sag ever so slightly.

"Fucking hell, give me a second," he replies, finally slinging you back over his shoulder to your feet.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!" you scream, shoving him as hard as you can, and he rocks back onto his other foot, destabilized only for a second.

"Calm down, Jesus Christ," he snaps, and you move to dart around him, towards the front door you were just dragged through. He's too quick though and grabs you by the arm, your shoulder crashing into the wall as he awkwardly halts your movements. "Y/n, seriously, calm the fuck down." His tone is harsh, low and demanding, and the turn of events has so shocked you, you feel like you might puke.

"You just kidnapped me, and you're telling me to calm down??" you spit, your shoulder stinging from the impact of the wall.

"I saved you from that horrible weather, actually. Not safe for a girl like you to be out there right now," he replies, a chilling smirk on his lips.

"Oh fuck off, you fucking creep," you mutter, desperately trying to free your arm from his grasp.

"Listen I know it's a bit extreme, but you kept ignoring me, and I want to talk. So I did what I had to do, to make that happen," he replies, his voice uncomfortably smooth.

"Yunji is right, you're a fucking sociopath," you respond, eyeing him sharply.

"Yunji?" he asks, his eyebrows cocked.

"Yunji, my best friend, my roommate, who will be very concerned if I don't return home soon. So you'd better fucking let me go, if you don't want the police called," you say, words fiery and sharp as they exit your mouth.

"Why don't you text her and let you know you got caught in the storm, and a kind neighbor let you into their place for protection," he smiles, shaking his head at you like you're dumb.

"Fuck you, fuck offf," you mutter as you knee him hard in the side, managing to pull your arm free for a moment and stumbling towards his front door once again. But again somehow he's faster than you, despite the wind being slightly knocked out of him, and he puts himself between you and the door with a loud slam, your body smashing into his, hard. His right hand moves behind him to slide closed the deadbolt, his broad frame guarding the door, creating a barrier you certainly won't be able to break through.

"You're making this very difficult, y/n," he scolds, shaking his head again.

"ME?? I'M MAKING THIS DIFFICULT??" you scream, falling to the floor in desperation, your mind running out of ideas. The only one that's left is his backdoor, which you know is likely to be locked; but you realize it's truly your last hope, your only remaining option. With a sharp inhale you steady yourself, launching down a hallway you see that leads in that general direction, turning the corner abruptly when you hit a wall, seeing another hallway branching off with more doors leading to other rooms. You continue down this hallway too, even though it's running towards the side of the house, because you really don't have another choice and have no idea where any of these doors might lead you. You're running hard, as hard as you can, bumping into walls and nearly stumbling over a slight blip in the old hardwood floor, catching yourself in time to keep running. You round another corner into what looks like a den, and then you spot it, sliding glass doors that lead to his backyard. You're almost there, your legs only propelled by your adrenaline, and you know he's hot on your trail, his hard footsteps echoing ominously behind you. Sliding the door will open will be awkward, you know that, but you have to try-

You're grabbed again, this time tackled to the ground, a hand coming around your ankle and holding it tight as you flail your other leg, making contact with some part of Yunho's body. Your huge winter coat is making it hard to move around on the floor, your body limited by the layers of clothing and the crumpled position you're currently pinned in.

"Yunho, please, just fucking let me go," you beg, your throat hoarse from your screaming earlier, your lungs lacking capacity from your running. "I promise, I'll talk to you tomorrow, I promise, just please, let me go, please, please." You sound so pathetic, so scared, because you are. You've never felt like this, scared for your life and unsure you'll make it through the rest of the day alive.

"Don't make promises you can't fucking keep," Yunho grumbles, moving on top of you to pin you even tighter, both of your legs awkwardly bent under his and your upper body held down by his arms. His face is only inches from yours now, closer than it's ever been, and you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see what you know is a horrifying look in his eyes.

"No I'm serious, I will talk to you, I promise, I-"

"No you won't. I know you fucking won't," he spits, adjusting his grip on your arms as if he's trying to remind you how trapped you are. "You'd make your mind up, hadn't you? You'd decided you'd much rather we both lose our jobs than you having to speak to me again. You were gonna give up. You weren't going to talk to me tomorrow, or the next day, or ever. If I let you go now, that wouldn't fucking change. Don't lie to me, y/n. I'm not stupid."

Your snarky reply gets lost in your throat, because the way he's read you so easily is utterly disturbing.

"What, are you shocked that I'm right? You're not that hard to read, doll," he continues, chuckling deeply.  But I am, to everyone else, you think. You've always been able to hide your intentions easily. Your side is starting to throb, his elbow digging into your ribs, and his words have lit another fire in you, one that comes from the visceral fear that's consuming you.

You snap your head up and bite hard on his shoulder, the only part of him other than his face that you can reach. You're more forceful than even you expect, immediately tasting blood, and it makes you bite even harder, Yunho letting out a sudden cry of pain.

"Fuck, you fucking bi-"

You cut him off with a knee to the groin, the pain from your bite having loosened his nerve enough for you to do so. It weakens him even more, and you're able to move your hips out from under him, painfully wrenching yourself free from his grasp and doing anything you can to inflict pain on his perfect body. You can feel it now that he's on top of you, the curves and lines and hints of lean muscle, and it pisses you off all over again. You're clawing at him, scratching and biting and kicking every which way. His breath is knocked out of him so you both are just breathing heavily, his body grunting with every painful blow, your own voice erupting in a growl when you finally free yourself from him and manage to miraculously make it to your feet.

You're running back the way you came now, back towards the front door which you know how to unlock, a cramp forming sharp in your side from the exertion. You hear his footsteps behind you again, and you know it's a last-ditch effort, but you try with all your might to run as fast as you possibly can. Suddenly you feel your left arm tugged back, your body jolting awkwardly as he makes contact with you, but he's only able to get a good hold on the sleeve of your coat, which now is painfully snaking down your arm and falling off your shoulder. You wrench your arm free from it, spinning to free your other arm too, feeling unburdened now without your coat and able to sprint fast again. As you round the corner you see the front door, the dark stained wood ominous, a warning against entering. Or leaving, you suppose. The whole house is dark, little light coming in from the windows because of the now raging storm, and for the first moment since you've entered Yunho's house you notice a bright flash that must be lightning, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. You know it should be louder, it sounded mere moments after the flash meaning the strike was somewhere nearby, but the snow is just that thick right now, even the deafening sound got lost in it. You wonder if you'll even be able to open the door against the winds and what must be harsh rain, and tears start coming fast down your cheeks as your fears reach new heights. Even if you make it out of here you've got the elements to deal with, and suddenly storming out that door doesn't sound so good. For a brief moment it's almost like you're begging for it, begging for him to grab you again so you don't have to face the reality outside.

Even if it'd only been a passing thought, Yunho answers your sadistic prayer, finally making contact with you again when you're only five feet from the door, his hand crushing as it grips down on your upper arm. You shriek, your shoulder screaming so severely in pain you're worried he's dislocated it. You both awkwardly crash towards the ground again, Yunho coming to his knees as he tries to prevent the fall, your legs sweeping out from under you as you lose your balance. You're still fighting fiercely, and you feel ridiculous for wishing for this now. You'd give anything to be in that fierce, terrifying storm right now, instead of being dragged by your arm and your hair down his hallway, making dents in the walls with your feet as you struggle against his firm grip.

"You're making this really fucking difficult, y/n," he growls, breathing hard from carrying the weight of an entire human down his short hallway. "I don't think you realize how true that is." You're still screaming in pain, tears streaming down your face in waves now as the follicles of your hair are nearly ripped out. "We could have done this another way, but you just had to fucking fight me, as always. I should have known you'd pull some shit like this," he spits, his voice low. You have no idea where you're going, your vision clouded with your tears. Eventually you year a door knob turned, Yunho yanking you hard and turning you around, your legs catching painfully underneath you.

"Ah!" you scream in pain, using your free hand to wipe the tears and snot from your face and finally try to get a good look around you.

"Shut up, this is your fault," he responds, his tone cold in that way that it so often is. It feels so weird to be with him outside of work, the feeling hitting you suddenly as you're finally able to get a glimpse of him; turning your head you see a desk, a dresser, a closet door...

You can only see a glimpse of his bed when you turn to the side, but it's enough to confirm you're in his bedroom. It adds to the fear in you, that you're both in the place he feels most comfortable, that he's confident enough to show you his place of rest. Is he going to kill you? You really wouldn't have pegged him as the type, even if he was an asshole at work; your jokes with Yunji about him being sociopathic were hyperbole, at the time, at least.

"Are you going to kill me?" you ask, finding a strength within yourself that surprises you. 

"No," he grunts, his body pinning you down as he reaches under his bed, the position twisting his torso and making his breathing uneven.

"Then what the hell are you doing?" you ask, trying to even out your breathing yourself. Your lungs feel exhausted from screaming, but at least now he isn't dragging you by your hair, so your scalp is getting a break from the severe pain. He doesn't answer you, shoving his arm further under, and then in a flash you see what he's pulled out, in moments feeling it against the skin of your left wrist.

The black rope is even and soft, clearly made for use in the bedroom. It would make you laugh, cause you to poke fun at him, normally, but in this instance your blood runs cold as you feel him forcefully anchor the wrist in place, tying it to something behind you in a way that makes it totally immovable. You struggle against him as he reaches for your other arm, but with the way he has you pinned there's only one outcome to this, and soon your other wrist is being tied down too, right next to your first one. You're well and truly trapped now, not able to move your arms at all, and with them tied behind your back it's hard to move the rest of your upper body.

With another grunt Yunho finishes securing his knots, your arms tied to one of his bed posts, your legs awkwardly folded under you. You look so pathetic and vulnerable in this state, and it makes him feel things he knows he shouldn’t, something that makes his pants feel tighter than they should. Your whole face is a mess from crying, your hair disheveled and tangly; he's never seen you in such a state, so messed up and powerless and ragged.

"Well, here we are," he says, standing up and walking back to the entrance of his room, putting several feet between you as he stares you down, arms crossed.

"What do you want?" you snap, frustrated and disgusted that you can't wipe the small trail of snot that's currently leaving your nose.

"I just want to talk, y/n. I'm not planning on killing you, I'm not that kind of person. I can't believe you'd even ask that," he responds, looking at you sternly.

"YOU FUCKING TIED ME UP, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK?!!" you scream, your body lurching forward with the force of your words. The binding on your wrists squeezes painfully when you do so, and your face scrunches up in agony for a moment, as you set yourself back in place in a slightly more comfortable position.

"May I remind you again, this is all your own fault. You wouldn't talk to me, and like I said, I'm not giving up on this job easily. So tell me, why do you hate me so much?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes and crossing one foot in front of the other in a casual, confident stance.

"Cause you're an asshole??" you say, narrowing your eyes back at him, cocking your head to the side.

"And you're not?" he asks, smirking.

"You know I'm not," you growl, eyebrows furrowed together deeply. "You fucking know I'm not, I'm a fucking angel, actually, and everyone in that damn office loves me, and I never start shit with anyone. You know damn well that you started this, you did, you like messing with me and seeing me suffer, it must be entertaining to you cause your life is so fucking stuffy and perfect and boring. I mean those fucking suits you wear, to our simple little government-funded office. Where do you get off dressing like that??"

"I could ask you the same thing," he quips, raising his eyebrows momentarily. You eye him sharply, the question in your gaze obvious. "Your clothes, y/n, I can't believe Mr. Kangsoo lets you wear skirts that short in the office. Or tight shirts with no bra."

"He's probably never even thought about it, because he's never sexualized me like a fucking creep," you respond, face flushed from the idea that Yunho was looking at you like that for all of these months. It's mortifying, horrifying, and makes you feel suddenly so sick in your body, like you wish you could jump out of it. But you also can't deny that you've looked at him that way too, that the suits do it for you in a way that's almost embarrassing.

"I'm not a creep, I've just never had a boss who allows that," he says, sighing. "I can't deny that it's distracting." The words shutter through you, adding to the sick feeling growing in your low gut. It makes tears form in your eyes again too, from how humiliated you feel by his admission, that every day in the office when he was tormenting you, he was also gawking over your body in this way.

"You're so fucking gross," you mutter, looking at the ground in front of you, adjusting yourself again as your legs begin to ache from the position you're sitting in.

"What else do you think of me?" he prompts, loving to watch you squirm around in clear discomfort on the floor.

"I'm- this is so fucking disturbing Yunho, you're- I'm gonna-" you stop yourself from saying 'report this to the police,' because that visceral fear that he might kill you is still there. Even if he isn't planning on doing it, you don't want to say or do anything that might motivate him to, so you let the words die on your tongue, awkwardly huffing out the breath you'd just taken. Your gaze jumps around, but finds his face again fast, your mind working hard to try to understand what the hell is happening. Does he really just want to talk? Everything he's done seems too severe to be justified by just that, but you've found him hard to read since you met him. As you gaze at his face you see a smile on his lips, a smile that's revealed a small dimple on his left cheek and almost looks sweet. "Why the hell are you smiling?" you snap, your look severe and threatening.

"I'm just glad we're finally talking," he sighs, crossing his feet in the opposite direction. You just fix with him with a look of disgust, not wanting to speak anymore if that's truly what's bringing him joy in this moment. He knows saying that will shut you up for a bit, but he's okay with that, having things of his own that he needs to get off his chest. Now that the two of you are finally alone, away from the office, he can say the things that he's wondered for months.

"Y/n, can I ask you a question?" he starts, but he doesn't wait for an answer before barreling on. "Did you get into our field because you yourself deal with mental health issues, or have some big trauma from your past? I only ask, because, well, everyone at my last office fit that description, and I'm pretty sure everyone at our's does too, even Jongho. Everyone had to go to therapy as a kid, or in college cause of severe anxiety, and that's what led them to wanting to work in this field. Am I right, that that's true for you too?"

Your eyes remain fixed on him but you don't move your head for a second, not nodding or shaking it in an answer. The glassiness that forms in your eyes, though, is impossible to cover up, and Yunho can see from the tears starting to form that he's entirely, absolutely correct.

"You're very neurotic, do you know that?" he continues, and his question almost sounds genuine. "I mean, me hiding your favorite mug has you angry enough to slam the dishwasher closed? That mug isn't even yours, it's a part of the set that Dr. Acharya got the office two years ago as a Christmas present, meaning it belongs to everyone at the office. At least, that's what you told me my first day.  Sure, everyone has their favorite mugs, but no one is as obsessively possessive about it as you are. The littlest things set you off, stuff that shouldn't even affect you. What does it matter that I hid the mug? Who the fuck cares what mug you use? You dropped Jongho's favorite mug two months ago and it smashed everywhere, and he didn't freak out about it. He just started using a different one. Did you even know that was his favorite one? No, because he didn't insist on using it every day. Do you realize how ridiculous all of your little routines and patterns are? It's like if everything doesn't go exactly how you want it to, you'll die."

"No, that's you," you sob, his words pulling emotions out of you that you can't even describe.  He's the rich spoiled boy, he's the one who's never been told no in his life. He's the one who can't take disturbance to his needs, not you, not you, not me...

Your gut roils at his insult, and you realize in an instant that he's absolutely right, and that probably everyone at the office has thought that about you for years, but tolerated it anyway. Tears flow down your cheeks fast, and god you wish you could somehow wriggle your arms free, and punch that pretty face of his to make him shut up. 

"That's not me, actually. I do just fine dealing with whatever comes up at the office each day. I can even handle our arguments just fine, and don’t walk around with a scowl on my face all day. You know everyone is fucking scared to talk to you when you do that, right?"

"Shut up, shut up!!" you scream, the pain in your head growing the more you think about all your failings, all the ways you've fucked up in the last six months. That awful feeling of shame you were so scared to face earlier is hitting you now, and just like you thought, the pain is so bad that you don't think you're going to come out the other side of it alive.

"Don't tell me to shut up just cause I'm right, y/n. Fucking listen and take accountability for once," he snaps, his face more like anger now that you're yelling at him again, instead of just talking. "I don't think you understand how easy it's been for me to read you, since the moment I started at that job. Am I wrong for liking it when something I do pisses you off? Maybe, I can't help that it's fun. I could see this whole conflict unfolding from the first day you turned cold with me, and I knew that there wasn't a fucking thing I could do to stop that. So I thought I'd just let it happen, and try my best to enjoy the ride. I can't change the fact that you're so caught up in your own head that you ca-"

"AAHHHHHHHH!!!!" you scream, just to drown out the noise, just to make the pain in your head stop. The scream is guttural, loud and painful as it exits your throat, but you keep screaming until your lungs are empty because the relief it's providing you is at least something. When you run out of air you take another ragged breath in and then you scream again, this time the sound harsher, your throat struggling to handle it. Tears are forming and streaming down your face faster than they ever have, and your body jerks against the ropes on your wrists, as you try to muster all your strength and somehow finally break free. Unable to do so, you scream again, eyes closed as you heave from the pain, your skin no doubt damaged from rope burn.

"Y/n, y/n, calm down," you hear, Yunho's voice soft and close to you. A hand comes to brush the tears from your cheek, but you jerk away violently, your wrists snagging painfully on the rope at a different angle this time.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" you cry, but it comes out softer than intended because your throat is already so worn, and you cough hard on your next inhale.

"Y/n, seriously, take a deep breath, stop," Yunho says, backing up slightly and not touching you again, but still sitting himself close enough to you that you can feel his presence, feel the warmth radiating off his body. The shock of it makes you realize just how cold you are, only a thin long sleeve shirt on now that your coat has been discarded somewhere in the hall.

"SHUT UP, GET THE FUCK AWAY!!" you cry again, wincing hard from the pain in our throat, your breaths ragged as you try to recover from the pain and ready yourself to scream again.

"Y/n..." he warns, but you just scream again, so entirely afraid of the feelings inside that you can't think to do anything else. "I SAID, STOP!" he finally yells, and the force of it is so strong that it nearly knocks you back, all the breath in your lungs leaving immediately.

You stare at him wide eyed, seeing now that he's crouched down on the floor, about five feet from you. The fear is evident in your gaze, and so is the fact that you're holding your breath and you have absolutely no idea.

"You should breathe, you know," he says, his voice suddenly back to the neutral tone of earlier. You snap back into your body for a moment, shakily taking in the breath your lungs were crying for, and you notice you're shaking, aches and pains searing through almost every part of you. "You don't know what's good for you, do you?" he continues, coming to sit cross legged in front of you, his arms resting on his legs and his hands clasped together. You wriggle in front of him, wincing as you try to move your aching leg to a more comfortable position. You struggle to find it, getting stuck in a spot that's even worse, and you sigh in frustration. "Just sit cross-legged, it'll be more comfortable," he sighs, moving forward towards you, with his hands outstretched. You lurch away from his touch again, and he sits back down, sighing harder. "I was going to help you change your sitting position, cause I know it's hard to do with your arms bound," he says, and you don't have time to wonder why he knows that. You stare back with a hardened gaze, eyes piercing daggers into him. "Will you let me help you?" he asks, and it's the first time all conversation that his tone has changed in that way; it's softer, warmer, and for a moment makes your chest flutter. You don't answer him again, you just stare and stare and try to make sense of his words, but somehow he can tell you won't fight him now, and he moves forward to help you, holding your body up just enough so you can swing your legs under you in this different way.

Once you're sitting you do feel relief, your knees thanking you now that they aren't bearing the majority of your weight, your ankles thankful that they're resting at a much more natural angle.

"You need to stop fighting me, and fighting those ropes, or you're just gonna keep hurting yourself," he says, voice calm.

"I didn't fucking agree to this!" you snap, your changing feelings giving you whiplash. "You've tied me up against my will, Yunho, or did you somehow forget? This isn't some cute little scene I agreed to, you forced this on me!" you yell, trying hard to be forceful without hurting your throat again.

"And it's going to be good for you in the long run, if you'd just relax and stop fighting me. Have you considered that maybe I know what's best?" He quirks a brow, eyeing you now from only two feet away, that heat still radiating off of him. Noticing it again you begin to shiver, your body shaking involuntarily. Your muscles feel tight and painful from the restriction, and the cold isn't helping one bit.

"How the fuck is tying me up against my will good for me?" you spit, leaning forward every so slightly now that you can.

"I know you don't want to lose that job," he says, eyeing you intensely, his gaze boring into you. "I know that job means everything to you. And I know that if I didn't intervene, you would have lost it. You were too scared to come talk to me. You were never going to admit to your part in our arguments, to your fault. You clearly have too much pride to admit any wrongdoing, almost ever."

It really is sick how right he is about everything, and you begin to wonder if he somehow can read minds.

"Listen, I will let you go later, you have my word. I'm not gonna kill you. But I'm pretty sure this is the only way I could ever get you to apologize to me, and without doing that, we would never be able to resolve this." His eyes still haven't left yours, and this close you can see the details of his iris, the stubble on his cheeks and chin, and the small birth mark on the side of his jaw. It makes you sick, he makes you sick, every little perfect thing about him.

"Look, I'll start. I'm sorry for hiding your mug, I'm sorry for leaving you little notes, which were really just jokes but I know you took them offensively, I'm sorry for being hard on you in the admin meetings. I'm sorry for pissing you off and finding it funny. None of that was cool."

"That wasn't a very good apology," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"Still better than no apology at all," he replies, and you can't help but roll them again. "Did you hear what I said earlier, when you were screaming?" he asks, and you shake your head. "I was saying, I think you were so caught up in your head and convinced that I was out to get you, that you didn't realize in all those little notes I was trying to let you know that I like you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," you say, huffing in anger.

"Was it not obvious?" he asks.

"Was what not obvious?"

"That I like you."

"You insulted me in every single one!"

"I called you pretty in every single one."

"Yeah, in an insulting, 'you're pretty and stupid and don't know shit' kind of way."

"I never meant it like that. That was your interpr-"

"Sure." You roll your eyes hard again, sighing in exasperation.

"Don't interrupt me," he retorts, eyes hard.

"I'll do what I fucking want," you reply, exhausted by the conversation now, losing control of yourself.

"I think you're forgetting how vulnerable you are right now," he responds, scooting forward enough so that he can reach behind you and tug on the ropes, both checking that they're still secured and reminding you just how trapped you are.

I don't care anymore, you think, dropping your head, and it almost feels like your body has given in now. It's not that the fight is gone, but something about the change in position has your body relaxed, now that no part of you is actively getting hurt by your sitting position.

"What was that?" Yunho asks, his voice soft.

"Huh?" you snap your head up, eye him with confusion.

"Did you just say you don't care anymore?" Your eyes go slightly wide, realizing you'd said that aloud and not just in your head to yourself. You nod in response, eyes stuck on him, on the black hair that's fallen in his face, on the way his hand frantically pushes it away. "What do you mean?"

"I don't care, hurt me, do whatever, I don't care," you say, body relaxing in defeat.

"No, no we're not doing that," he says, and you squint at him in frustration. "You always just give up when things are hard, or when you think you'll fail. It's fucking pathetic."

Tears are back in your eyes, and you look at the floor in front of you, the small expanse of wood separating the two of you.

"I know, I FUCKING KNOW I'M PATHETIC, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!" you scream, frustration boiling up again.

"Yes, it is," he says with a satisfied smile.

"You want me to just tear myself down in front of you, is that it??"

"Finally you're understanding," he sighs, looking you over with what almost could be pride.

"Fuck you," you mutter, trying to bring yourself down from yet another surge in adrenaline.

"Fucking apologize. Tell me what you did wrong. I'm tired of waiting," he snaps, and the words feel like they lance through you. It makes you notice your body again, notice the way you're shaking hard from the cold.

"I'm fucking freezing Yunho," you say, tone begging him to take mercy on you.

"I know, I can see you shivering. Apologize to me and I'll get you a blanket," he spits.

"No," you whine, your body pleading with you, desperately wanting relief from the cold.

"Your nipples are so hard I can see them through your shirt." He's smirking, staring unabashedly at your chest, and it makes you scream again, writhing around with that unbridled anger, making your body hurt again. 

"Y/n, y/n, fucking hell," Yunho lurches forward to grab onto you, physically forcing you to stop moving, stop hurting yourself even more. His arms are wrapped around you, your head pulled into his chest, and you can smell him now, the faint musk coming from under his arms, the slight sour edge making your head feel funny.

"You lied to boss," you rasp out, voice muffled against his chest.

"What?" he asks, settling down to now hold you in place.

"You said you weren't attracted to me.  In the meeting." He just grunts in response, so ambiguously that you can't tell if he's agreeing or not. "Is that not what you meant by, 'I like you'?

"It is," he replies, sighing.

"Then why did you lie?" you ask, surprised he would do that in front of your boss, even given the nature of the question.

"Cause you did first," he responds, matter of factly.

"I didn't lie," you mutter, holding your eyes closed, your head still feeling funny as you try to shake free whatever feelings are enveloping you.

"You either lied to him, or to yourself," he says, finally pulling back, seeming to trust that you won't flail around again. But the slightest muscle twitch of your arm has his grip back on you in seconds, and you just sit there staring up at him, his hands gripping your arms tight to keep you from pulling on the ropes. "Which was it?"

"Stop," you whisper, harshly, your spit spraying in his face. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, eyeing you harshly, something clicking into place behind his eyes.

"You're really gonna make me fucking do this, aren't you," he grumbles, almost like it's just to himself. He shakes his head, sighing sharply, and you eye him with worry. He looks half disappointed, but half amused, and once he picks his hand up and flicks your already-hard nipple, the look becomes pure amusement just from your reaction.

"Ahh," you involuntarily moan, mortified at the sounds that just left your lips.

"You're sensitive," he chuckles, pinching the other harshly, making your whole body jolt in reaction.

"Yunho, stop, please, please," you beg, the pathetic, pleading look in your eye making his whole body react.

"If you'd just do what I ask, you could avoid these things," he chuckles, roughly pinching both of them now. Your back arches, and you fight to keep your breathing steady and not make any more embarrassing noises. But the pain and pleasure he's causing you is making it hard, and small gasps and whines leave your throat. "I think some part of you wanted this, though," he chuckles.

When he pulls back he's eyeing your arms, and the look of resolve and certainty in his eyes has you panicking, your brain struggling to make sense of it in any way.

"Please Yunho, please no," you whine again.

"Doll, you've left me no choice," he responds, sighing deeply as if he's thinking hard, not bothering to look you in the eye. Suddenly he's down to the side of you, and you feel his hands working fast behind you, the ropes pushed and pulled in various directions, making the sore skin of your wrists ache with every change of pressure. You're out of words now, utterly confused and helpless, and you lack the ability to fight him anymore, your body succumbing to exhaustion and not wanting to be bruised any further.

Suddenly you feel one of your wrists is free, the muscles in your shoulder relieved at finally being able to move, your body shuttering as it tries to work out the knots that have formed. You're partially free now, you realize for a moment, but just as fast you feel a final tug that loosens your other wrist from the bedpost, and then Yunho is yanking your wrists around to tie them in front of you instead. In a flash he's lifted you up, setting you down on the side of his bed, on your side. You're facing him, where he's now sat on the floor, as he grabs your legs and bends them up towards your arms, beginning to secure all of your limbs together in multiple knots. You lay in an almost catatonic state, staring at the wall of his room, the closet door partially cracked. You can see some of the suits and a few other random jackets you don't think you've ever seen before. You're so zoned out on the wall, so out of your body and out of your mind, that you don't even notice your pants and panties being pulled down to your thighs. It isn't until you feel the skin to skin contact, Yunho's hand gripping your thigh where it meets your hips, that you notice.

"What the fuck!" you squeal, head snapping back to him again, and the look on his face is cocky and self-satisfied, like he's proud of the reaction he's just pulled out of you.

"Yunho, please, no no no, please," you start babbling, repeating the words over and over until they feel almost meaningless. You can tell exactly where his hands are headed, where this whole thing is headed, but you don't have the physical strength in you to fight anymore. Or, more accurately, fighting with your body seems like the worst thing you can do right now, something that will only hurt you more and probably rile him up, too. He can see the gears turning in your head, and he's pressing, waiting for you to break, because it didn't take him long today to realize that he has a better read on you than you've ever had on yourself. You continue to babble your displeasure as he moves his hand up higher, higher, just brushing past your core and making you wince, but he doesn't reply to your words with words of his own, because he knows now that there's no point. He moves his hand up to your ass slowly, a trail of your wetness following his fingers, and even he's shocked by how much was there between your legs. He's sure you have no idea, that you're totally oblivious to the way your body has reacted to his words, his actions, to being bound and unable to move. 

He's sure that for months now you had no idea that so much of the frustration you felt while being around him was the frustration of being teased, your body wanting certain touches that he was never giving you. He was certain you weren't taking care of it enough yourself, because he saw your thighs clench all the time when you stared at him, and sometimes he could even swear he smelled the arousal pooling in your panties, your short skirts leaving too little of a barrier.

Now, finally he was touching you, and it didn't surprise him that that soft wet part between your legs had reacted so quickly. It also wasn't a shock that your brain still hadn't caught up, that you still didn't see what was so obvious to him. He knew it would take more than a gentle brush of your clit for you to finally realize it, so moving his hand back down towards your center, he quickly found your entrance, firmly brushing the pad of his middle finger up your slit until he rubbed right over your sensitive bud again.

"Fuck! Okay, fuck, stop it, I'll apologize," you cry, the soft pad of his finger sending sparks through you as soon as it made contact with your clit. The feeling made your body shake again, but suddenly a warmth was filling your lower gut and you couldn't be more shocked by the feeling, and by how inviting, even comforting, it felt. It was another moment where you were ricocheted back into your body, into the present moment, and the strange nature of everything that was happening was too much to make sense of. All you knew is you needed your confusion to stop, because now more than any other feeling it was your inner conflict that scared you, the fact that you had earlier wished for him to grab you, the fact that now your body seemed so content to just stay in these ropes forever, as long as your position was comfortable enough.

All you could think to do now was to give him what he wanted, and what that was exactly you couldn't remember, other than that he wanted you to say something.

"I'm-I'm sorry, okay, I'm really sorry, I don't know how everything got as fucked up as- as it got, oh god, I'm sorry- I- I promise you I mean it," you babble, eyes closed as you try to control your breathing enough to speak.

"What are you sorry for?" he asks you, his face close enough that you feel his hot breath, his voice gentle but steady.

"I'm- I- I don't know, I- I-" You're distracted by his hand, but the way it's steadily making small circles over your clit and sending more of that heat into you, your mind less and less able to focus on your attempt at an apology.

"You don't know?" he asks, and it's patronizing, you both know it, but it doesn't even hurt you now. You just nod, sniffling as you whisper 'I'm sorry,' your eyes getting wet and heavy with how overwhelmed you feel. "You can't think straight now, can you?" he asks you, his finger working you steadily, his nose picking up on that scent he's become so familiar with. You shake your head, your breathing picking up gently from the pleasure enveloping you like a warm blanket. "Good, you think too much anyway," he chuckles, watching your face intently, his pride surging at the way he's picking you apart so perfectly.

"I think I know why you're sorry," he says, making you whine in response, nervous for what he's about to say. "I'm gonna guess, I think I'm right," he smiles, but you don't even see it with your eyes glued shut. He's happy though, seeing you like that, because he knows that finally you're in your body completely, and you're accepting what he's known you need. "You're sorry cause you know you fucked up, don't you? You know you took things too personally, you overreacted, you couldn't let my jokes or my pranks just be that, you had to make it more. And once you reacted that way once, you felt entitled to react that way every time, didn't you? You're sorry that you didn't stop that snowball in its tracks, before it became this huge thing, right?"

You groan in response to him, pissed as can be, but you can't tell him he's wrong because you're physically incapable now of lying. Something in the way he's making you feel, the way he's touching you, has melted a layer of your mental shield away, and you see now every word he's said is reflected inside you. The thoughts had been there for months, but you'd managed to avoid them almost completely, the occasional blip causing guilt and worry to cloud you for a day or two. But this was the first time you saw it truly for all that it was, how deep the guilt cut into you, how you spoke about him so nastily to other people because you really wanted to say those things to yourself.

"You'd never be able to forgive yourself if you admitted those things, huh?" he continues, making your breath hitch. "You don't want to admit them because you're scared you'll never feel the same about yourself ever again, right? Cause you're this perfect little angel, and you've been that for so many years, the perfect baby of the office, the perfect student in school, I'm sure, and admitting to yourself that you can be cruel, that would ruin the entire image you've created for yourself, wouldn't it?" Tears are streaming down your face now as you involuntarily nod, your whole body somehow enveloped in the warmth his touch is providing, despite how cold it is. Now that you're in your body, really truly in your body, you can notice the little things about your environment; you even notice the wind howling outside, not the loudest you could imagine, but enough that you know the storm is still blustering on. You try to blink open your eyes to look at him, but everything is blurred with your tears, and you vigorously shake your head back and forth, trying in vain to clear your vision. As if he can read your mind, Yunho's free hand comes up to wipe them away, and for some reason now it doesn't feel so bad, his hand touching your face gently, even if it still feels so new and strange. Once he's wiped away the tears you can get a good look at him, your faces only a few inches apart now.

"Am I right?" he asks, genuine, you know it's genuine, and you can't fucking believe it looking at him. He feels like one massive contradiction right now, and all you can do is whisper 'yeah' in response. Your answer clearly pleases him, and you suddenly feel his hand's movement slow, falter, and then he's moving his fingers down towards your entrance, pressing into you gently, only one finger at first.

"Yunho," you groan while shutting your eyes again, the feel of it so foreign, because if you were honest with yourself you hadn't had someone touch you in this way in years, and you weren't really one to put things inside of yourself if it was just you taking care of your needs. 

"I know you need this," he responds, gently starting to pump in and out, the muscles of your cunt getting used to the feelings of pressure and release that they'd missed for so long. 

"You have to forgive yourself," he starts up again, as he gradually starts upping his pace, working slowly and methodically. "You have to let yourself go of being that perfect angel. It's not realistic. You're a human, you're going to fuck up sometimes. And sometimes you have such a big crush on your handsome coworker that, well, you start acting out. And even you don't realize what you're doing, cause you're so caught up in your own head." You groan and roll your eyes when he calls himself handsome, and you still don't think you fully believe the rest of what he's said, but the first part, the part about forgiving yourself and freeing yourself of that perfect image, is calling to a part of you. "You're very sensitive, and I know you don't want to be, but you are. You can't ignore that, or it's gonna catch up with you time and time again."

He adds another finger, curling them up inside you in a perfect way, and you almost stop listening to what he's saying because at this point the pleasure is taking over your senses completely. He adds his thumb to your clit now, the feelings increasing exponentially, your clit feeling hot and fiery under his touch. It all still feels so foreign, so new, and something within you, particularly within the place he's touching you, still feels the need to hold back, to worry, to be tense. He can feel it too, and he guessed himself that you hadn't been touched in a while, from everything he'd observed about you. He figured you were someone who might have written off relationships and sex entirely, someone too focused on what their duty to the world was, to maintaining the image of good morals, that you weren't partaking in those things people consider selfish, or self-indulgent. He even wondered for a bit if you'd never been touched, but that seemed unlikely from some of the random comments he'd overheard in your conversations with Tally.

"You know, you can't come if you're so tense down there," he says, and again it's kind of patronizing, but you don't really care. "You have to let go."

"I- I've never come from, inside, st- stimulation," you stutter, looking at him directly, hoping to convey that despite your state you're being completely sincere.

"Really?" 

"I- I can't," you say, shaking your head, thinking of all of your sexual exploits, the list of which can fit on one hand.

"I'm gonna try," he chuckles, his focus zeroing in on your body's reactions to his movements. "I really do need you to relax those muscles for me, relax your hips too. They're too tense, do you even feel that?" he asks, tapping the side of your thigh where the muscle is taught. You shake your head, frowning and burying your face into the duvet cover you're laying on. "No, don't shy away from me. Don't go back into your head. I know that's why you haven't come in the past, cause you were too in your head. You can't do that. Come on, just focus on my touch, think about how it feels, nothing else."

You try with all you have to follow his instructions, keeping your eyes on his face as you watch him furrow his brow in concentration, the muscles in his jaw flexing for a moment when he changes the angle of his hand ever so slightly. The new spot he was hitting inside felt so perfect, so shockingly deep, and finally your body started to cave into the feelings, your breathy moans coming out as you lost yourself in it, not thinking anymore about where you were or why you were there.

"You know you're not perfect, deep down you know that, and you need to accept that. You're not a robot, you're like all the rest of us, fucked up in so many ways, wanting selfishly for life to always go your way, wanting everyone to like you, praise you, cherish you. And that's okay, it doesn't make you some horrible person. You're neurotic, sensitive, intense, so what? You'll never not be those things, and that's okay. Just fucking let yourself be a human, so you don't get so fucking hung up on every little thing wrong with me." He punctuates the last word, reminding you why you're here. His hand is working you perfectly, and mixed with all that he's saying it's all encompassing, the overwhelming intensity you're feeling. Suddenly you feel something building deep within you, a coil about to snap, and you feel your legs begin to shake before it's even washing over you. The most intense orgasm of your life erupts within you, snaking out from your core down to your feet and back up again, surging to your head and making everything go gray and fuzzy, your mind blinded with a pleasure you've never known. You hear distant, warbled words coming from Yunho's mouth still, but you can't make them out as your orgasm builds in waves, lasting longer than you expect and completely knocking the wind from your lungs. As you come down you’re breathing ragged, so ragged, and you don't even realize that you've clamped down so hard on Yunho's hand that he can't move it anymore. You stare up at him, pupils blown and your face flushed, and in a moment he leans down to place a soft peck on your cheek, taking you by surprise.

"Why are you kissing me?" you ask, eyeing him with confusion and contempt, the action seeming absurd in the current circumstances.

"I'm proud of you. You finally gave into me, you're finally doing what I wanted you to," he replies. It's fucked, you know the sentiment is creepy and strange and so genuinely absurd, but you can't help feeling flattered by it. A small smile sneaks onto your lips, and Yunho sees how you're feeling too. "God you're a sucker for praise," he laughs, slowly removing his hand now that you've relaxed enough. "All you want to hear is that you're good, you're perfect. Can't bear anything else, can you?" You shake your head, as he stands up from where he's been sitting, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out swiftly, eyeing you up and down. Your face is one of shock, mostly at seeing the size of him; you're not sure where this is headed exactly, but you just hope he'll be gentle with you, whatever he does.

"What, you thought I wasn't going to do this?" he asks, starting to move onto the bed beside you.

"No, it's just..." you sigh, shaking your head, not even sure what to fucking say, still in the haze of your orgasm.

"Oh, you didn't think I'd be this big," he laughs.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," you mutter, rolling your eyes. "Just make it quick, please," you say, almost under your breath, regretting it the moment it's left your lips.

"I'll take as much time as I fucking want with you," he responds, lining himself up with your still soaking entrance, rubbing the head around to gather up some of your wetness. He's fucking into you sideways, his body over yours as you remain on your side, bound and unable to move at all. He enters you slowly, feeling the stretch himself, seeing your eyebrows furrow in what must be pain.

"How long has it been?" he asks, leaning over you as he finally bottoms out, staying put as he lets your body adjust to the size of him. You look confused, so he clarifies, "since you've been fucked?"

You groan, the majority of your brainpower taken up in dealing with the strange mix of pain and pleasure happening between your legs. You don't have it in you to fight with him now, and you don't really want to; you're almost enjoying it now, just letting him talk and belittle and say whatever he pleases.

Once he feels your body relax just that little bit he needs, he moves his hips back, gently pushing himself back in again, but quickly setting a pace that feels good for him. He's holding one arm around your back and anchoring that hand on the back of your neck; the other arm is bent at the elbow, supporting him and holding onto your bound legs and arms, anchoring him to you. The thrusts feel intense, sharp, and biting at first, but soon all you can feel is the way he's repeatedly hitting your cervix, his cock so deep inside you that you feel like you might explode. You can't help the pathetic mewls you're making, eyes closed as you hear his steady grunts and heavy breathing so close to your ear.

"I know you've rejected tons of men, if it's been as long as I think," he says, and you feel his breath brushing across your cheek and neck, making you shiver. "Not just men, I should say. You're so fucking oblivious to everything. Do you even realize that Tally has a huge crush on you? I'm sure she'd love to fuck your brains out," he chuckles, making you groan in annoyance again, not believing him for a second. "I'm sorry, I know, forgive me. I can't help myself, I just love telling you all the things I know you don't realize." His pace hasn't let up, if anything it's increased, and his grip on you is tightening, his torso now flush with yours and his face only inches from your own. "Fuck, I'm not gonna last much longer, shit you're tight," he sighs, a groan rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. He knows his pace will leave you sore tomorrow, but it feels too good for him to stop, and it seems just the right thing to finally get your mind off all of the superfluous, stressful stuff you usually obsessively think about. It's not just that either; he can feel your body slowly coming undone again, and though it's built differently than the last time, the tell tale signs are there in the way your hips start moving against him, your breathing changing just like it did before. You come hard again, the feeling erupting from even higher inside your core this time, and it feels even more intense the second time around, your whole body shaking intensely this time.

"See, your body needed this," he whispers in your ear, his hard thrusts continuing through your aftershocks, soon becoming painful and hard to bear. Your face has turned sour as he chases his own climax, and even as bad as it feels, part of you is so content to just sit here and take it. The feeling of having no other option, of being held here and used for another's pleasure, it makes some of your internal confusion go away. You liked this part at least; maybe everything that came before was not to your liking, but this part definitely was.

He finishes with a final hard thrust, groaning out a 'fuck', before pressing his hips flush with yours and keeping them there. You feel his warm cum filling you, his warm body wrapping around you, and finally you do truly feel warm, from the inside out. This was a feeling you could get used to, your head fuzzy and soft and lacking the usual worries you have, your body relaxed, spent, and warm.

It isn't long that you're in that position, Yunho pulling out of you quickly, walking over to his bathroom to grab a towel and start wiping you and his comforter clean of the mess he'd made. The absence of him left you feeling cold again, your body stiffening up faster than you thought it would, and your shivers returning as soon as he took the damp towel to your most sensitive area. Eyes closed you're still holding onto the remnants of that blissful feeling, especially the way your brain feels so wonderfully empty. You're surprised when you feel Yunho messing with your ropes, assuming he'd just leave you there for a little while, or maybe for a long while, it was hard to say. But quickly he's undone the entirety of the knots, and he tosses the rope onto the floor, manually moving your limbs to help your body stretch out and begin returning blood flow to the places that lost it.

It hurts when he does this, though it feels good too, but you whine and complain the whole time, even as he assures you it's best and it's needed. He then slowly takes off your clothes entirely, leaving you naked and exposed, and the cold is almost overbearing now, making your body ache all the way into your bones.

"It's fucking cold, you asshole," you groan, tucking yourself back up into that fetal position you were just in for so long, despite the fact that the ropes are gone now.

"Just give me a minute, I know," he sighs, somewhere behind you, over in the direction of his bathroom. You hear what must be the bathtub faucet turn on, the strong current of water sounding clearly through the quiet house. Then he's coming over to you, wrapping you up in his arms and carrying you that way, setting you gently into his huge tub before it's even finished filling. The hot water feels like it's sizzling your skin upon first contact, but soon your body relaxes in the warmth, especially your back once the water reaches all the way up to your neck. His tub is nice; there are spots designed specifically to rest your arms on, the slope of the side a comfortable angle for relaxing down onto.

"Give me your arms," he says, and you look up at him begrudgingly, holding your arms out of the water like it's the hardest thing in the world.

"Little brat," he mutters, taking the first into his hands and slowly applying some lotion to your rope burns, wrapping it loosely in a thin bandage. He does the same to the other, setting them both on the sides of the tub, out of the water. "Keep them there, I'm going to get some ice. We need to ice those burns so they don't bruise too badly," he says, and you just stare through him, not nodding or saying anything. He doesn't need that kind of confirmation though, he knows you'll follow his commands. He returns a few minutes later, two ice packs and more bandages in hand, and somehow balanced between it all, your phone.

"It looks like you have some missed calls," he says, showing you your phone screen. You see three missed calls from Yunji, and a slew of texts, and your heart jumps back up in speed momentarily, even in your relaxed and numb state.

"I gotta call her now," you say, your words rushed, reaching out your bandaged wrist to grab at your phone. Yunho holds it just out of reach though, and then sets it down on the counter by the sink, turning back to you with a knowing look.

"I need to ice your wrists first. Then we'll call her," he says.

"Yunho, seriously, she's gonna call the fucking police, I know her," you respond, eyeing him sharply with disapproval.

"And you, seriously, need to wait a moment," he snaps, and you really don't like this control now, because it's affecting someone else, not just you.

"I fucking hate you," you mutter, pushing yourself up despite your weak and painful muscles, moving yourself out of his bathtub without a care in the world for all of the water you're spilling everywhere.

"Okay, okay, fine," he concedes, holding onto your shoulders while your one foot is still in the tub, not letting you move any further. "I'm putting it on speaker on the side of the tub, so that I can ice your wrists." Your faces are inches apart, the look in his eye is intense, almost like he's compelling you to agree with him.

"Fine," you sigh, sitting yourself back down, your body basking in being back in the water. Then, as he said, he's set your phone on the side of the tub, somehow guessing your passcode and opening it with ease, calling Yunji immediately. As the call begins to ring he sets to work on your wrists again, gently wrapping the ice packs around the smaller bandages already on your sensitive skin.

"Girl, oh my god, where are you??" Yunji answers, her panic obvious.

"I'm- I'm at Yunho's, I'm fine though, I swear-" you start, knowing she'll be horrified by just his name alone.

"Oh my god what???" she cuts you off, gasping. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Yes I'm okay, Yun, I promise. I just- I ran into him on my way back from the store, and well, I got sort of, tied up, talking with him, and then the storm came so- so now I'm stuck here." Yunho's face breaks into a smirk, knowing just how literal two of the words you just said are.

"Oh god, you poor thing, are you sure you're okay? That man is insane," she sighs. Yunho eyes you, a playful look on his face, almost like he's trying to avoid laughing.

"Seriously, I'm okay, I promise. It was actually really good, I guess, talking about things. We were more, uh, honest I guess? I- I don't know, there's a lot to process. It was weird. But I'm okay, I- I swear," you sigh, wishing you weren't stuttering so much over your words.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks again.

"I know I sound like a mess, I'm sorry. The storm is kind of freaking me out," you reply.

"It's okay hun, don't apologize. I can't believe you're stuck there with him. God, I don't think you'll be able to come home tonight. Is there somewhere you can sleep there?" Yunho nods at her question, eyeing you as he does.

"Uh, yeah, he has a guest room here. He said I could stay in there. At least it's separate, my own space," you answer her.

"God, I'm so sorry you're there. I shouldn't have let you go to the store, I should have stopped you..." she trials off, and you can bet her hand is slapped over her face in frustration.

"No, don't apologize Yun, I think it was good that this happened. I mean, I don't know, at least something has changed between me and him. And you had no idea that the storm would return so quickly like it did. It was my own stupidity, if anything, I just-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head side to side against the hard porcelain of the tub. "Thank you for checking up on me, I'm sorry I missed your calls. I was just talking with him, I got distracted. I hate that I worried you so much." It feels a little weird lying to her, but above all you want her to know you appreciate how much she looks out for you.

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're safe and okay. And hopefully tomorrow it'll clear up enough that you can come back here where you belong."

Her last word brings tears to your eyes, thinking of your perfect little apartment and just how much of a home you two have made of it.

"I love you so much," you sigh, looking over at your phone, wishing you were seeing her face instead.

"I love you too, I wish you were here," she replies.

"I know, me too," you say.

"We can keep talking if you want."

"I- I should probably go, I'm starving so I guess I need to go ask Yunho about dinner. But I'll call later, if that's okay? I'm sure I'll be bored as shit," you chuckle, and she does too, the tension finally breaking.

"Sounds good, call me whenever. I hope he has something decent for you to eat. I doubt he can cook or anything, if he's such a spoiled rich boy." You both laugh in sync, Yunho rolling his eyes as he places the final bandage on your second wrist, securing the ice packs in place.

"Okay, talk to you soon," you say, smirking up at him.

"Bye bye," she replies, hanging up the call.

"You two are so mean," he sighs, shaking his head and walking out of the room, and you relax into the silence of the room, your wrists starting to feel the cold of the ice packs, the relief palpable. Your body is wrecked, you can feel it intensely, but the warm bath relaxing your muscles and ice on your wrists is making it bearable, your body already on the path towards healing. Yunho returns about ten minutes later, when you've almost nodded off, and takes a small washcloth into the warm water, using it to wipe the snot and tears that have stained your cheeks. Then he's feeding you a warm cup of tea, holding it as your arms lay unusable at your sides; he does the same with the small bowl of stew he's heated for you, the tastes rich and fresh in a way that make it obvious it's homemade. The attentiveness doesn't feel overly sweet, but the calm that's settled in the air between you isn't something you've experienced with him at all, the entire time you've known one another. You're both silent, comfortable, and the warm stew is just so delicious, the meat tender and soft and perfectly seasoned. Your senses are overwhelmed in solace, your breaths deep and stable. Your nerves have returned to you, so you're no longer numb. But instead of the high strung alertness that usually accompanies you, your body is present but calm.

When you finally finish the stew and tea, thirty minutes have passed in total silence, Yunho taking his time with feeding you, letting your body relax in the hot water. He places the empty bowl and mug on the counter, moving back to start unwrapping the ice packs, and then beckoning you to stand, bringing a huge fluffy towel to wrap around your shoulders. The towel dwarfs you, keeping the cold away, and you gently step out of the tub, following Yunho wherever he leads you.

"Can you walk?" he asks, and you nod your head, following him over towards the counter. He pulls out a brush from one of the drawers, gently taking it to the knots that had formed in your hair, the ends damp from the tub. After he finishes he leads you out of his room, down the hall two doors down, and you enter to another room with a large bed, a TV on the opposite wall, the whole room immaculately decorated. He leads you to the bed, placing your phone on the bedside table and grabbing a charger out of the drawer. He also grabs the remote inside, placing it next to your phone, and a bottle of water, holding it out to you.

"I'll be in my room, if you need anything else," he says, standing up to make his way out.

"I'm sorry I kept ignoring your texts, and calls," you say, your voice quiet, the words escaping you without much thought.

He just eyes you for a minute, turning to face you, his face unreadably neutral. "I'm not," he finally says, smiling, that cocky grin back on his perfect face. You roll your eyes at him, settling into the bed, pulling the comforter up and over you.

He makes to leave the room again, but stops himself at the door, turning back to face you one final time

"We're going back to the office Monday, right?" he asks.

You don't respond, you don't say a word. But he doesn't need you to. He knows the answer, just like he knows you, with a certainty maybe he shouldn't have.

taglist: @lalalasexyguyshehehehe @hoe4rkpop @rienzz @bloomyroses

thank you sm for reading my loves <3333

[gloomwitchwrites]

i’ve only recently found ur acc and i’ve fallen in love! ur def becoming one of my inspo’s in writing my own fics!:D

now, what about t141 with an alt s/o who’s always dying their hair or piercing themselves? maybe it’s the first time they find reader doing said shenanigans, what would their reactions be? 🤔 i think soap would have the best one lol, but i’d love to hear what your thoughts about it! <3

Well, hello! Welcome! Now, I had multiple people request this very thing. I am answering one of those asks and the others will simply fall under this one (since they are all very similar). I did go with some variety here since being "alt" can mean a lot different things. I do have one with hair dying, one about showing off their taxidermy/skull collection, a metal concert, and forcing (Gaz) to have a makeover. I had lots of fun. Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings: established relationship, humor, fluff, swearing, hair dying, taxidermy, concerts, makeovers

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Jesus bloody Christ. What happened?” John stands in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes wide as he surveys the scene. “Did you murder someone?”

You stand hunched over like a gremlin in the shower, holding the handheld showerhead. The dye in your hair is circling the drain, but that’s not the only place is stains. The shower is going to need a good scrub as is the bathroom sink.

“I’m changing my hair?”

John blinks. “You told me you were going to a salon.”

“This is cheaper.”

His mouth opens and then promptly closes. You see the gears turning. John is reigning in the panic.

“It’ll come out,” you insist.

“Everything is red,” murmurs John.

“Only temporarily,” you insist.

“Are you talking about your hair or our bathroom countertops?”

“Are you mad?”

“No,” he says firmly, hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to shut the door and pretend that our bathroom doesn’t look like a crime scene.”

“I love you!” you call out as he starts shutting the door.

“I love you, too,” he sighs heavily. The door is nearly shut before it suddenly opens again. “Do I need to grab bleach from the store?”

“That would be great.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Stop moving,” you mutter.

“You’re gonna poke me in the fucking eye, love.”

“It’s just eyeliner. Calm down.”

“You’ve poked me already.” Kyle points at his eye. The white is slightly red with irritation.

Kyle’s gaze narrows, but you only tut, grasping the bottom half of his face with your hand. Squeezing his cheeks a bit, you tilt his face from side-to-side, observing your work. About half of his face is done. You’ve even added face piercings to his lips and nose.

The clothes were the easy part. Kyle was more than willing to put on what you picked out for him. It’s completely different from his tracksuits and jeans. He looks like he walked right out of the punk scene.

“You promised I could do your makeup.” You put a little whine in it, pouting your lip.

Kyle lightly grasps your wrist and tugs, removing your hand from his face. “I did,” he agrees. “But all this? Really?”

You’ve set out nearly every product you have, nearly covering the entirety of the bathroom counter.

“We have to match,” you insist.

Kyle’s mouth twitches slightly but he settles. “Fine. But you better make me the best-looking bloke in the joint.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“This is June.” You present the racoon skull to Johnny.

His eyes widen slightly. “Hello, June,” he greets.

You wait for the eventual frown, for the brief flicker of disgust, but it doesn’t come. Johnny isn’t drawing back or judging you at all. His attention is rapt—focused.

You gently return the racoon skull back to the shelf and point to a collection of preserved butterflies. “These were a gift from a friend.”

“They’re beautiful,” murmurs Johnny. “Do they have names?” He leans in, observing the display of colorful wings.

“No, but they do!” You enthusiastically gesture toward the rest of your collection. There are skulls and bones from all sorts of animals, preserved beetles, tentacles in jars, and even petrified fish bones.

Men say they want quirky, but when they get quirky, they run. Johnny though is entirely fascinated.

“Can I touch this?” he asks with an excitement that surprises you, pointing toward a beaver skull.

“Yes. It’s delicate though. I’m always fixing the jaw.”

Johnny lightly lifts the skull and brings it close to his face, slowly rotating it.

No. Johnny isn’t disgusted. He isn’t shaming you for your special interest. If anything, he’s fascinated.

You’re keeping him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The shredding of the guitar reverberates in your chest. It stirs your blood, sending waves of adrenaline through your limbs until even your fingers and toes twitch with anticipation.

The breakdown is coming, and with it will come a sea of bodies. They’ll crash against each other like a massive wave before descending into chaos, nothing but flailing limbs and gnashing teeth.

Already, the energy is pulsing, becoming a frenzy that will eventually burst.

You’ve never been in the middle of the pit before. You usually stay off to the sides or well out of the way, not wanting to receive an injury.

But now you have protection. Now, you have a bodyguard.

Simon stands right behind as your support and your shadow. This isn’t his scene, not that he doesn’t enjoy a metal show, but he could care less about throwing himself around in a pit. When you expressed the desire to do so, Simon agreed, but only if he joined you.

Sure, it might scare some people off, or deter others from getting too close, but Simon is supportive anyway.

He’s just a bit vicious. A bit protective.

The shredding rises. It’s time.

A pause.

Then everything crashes.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[carlyraejepsans]

would you be okay pitching ghost trick to someone who doesn’t rly know anything about it? i’ve heard of it before and that it’s good but idk why, and i don’t really get a lot out of advertisements or game descriptions

you know the toby-typical campiness in how he writes his characters in UTDR? over the top, extremely iconic, clearly working from preestablished tropes but doing his own special spin on them? put toby fox on acid and you've got shu takumi's writing style.

ghost trick isn't "just" good. ghost trick is the type of good that invents a whole new categorization for itself. ghost trick invented a situation to put little fictional bitches in that is so good, the most popular works in the tag are people from other fandoms being like "oh shit, let me put MY fictional bitches through in this situation as well"

it is one of the most hooking, satisfyingly delivered mysteries I've ever seen in a videogame. there is not a single second of the game that feels unutilised, everything pushes you forward in the mystery, and still it never feels choking. the way it handles tension and delivers its information is phenomenal. if this were a normal recommendation i would start talking about the gameplay and how fun and good it feels to play and how genuinely clever it is but you're not here for that, are you, so let me tell you the real selling point: every single character in this game is fucking insane. not a single one of them is normal. it's a noir. it's a parody. it's an animator's wet dream. my friend is playing the game on stream and they said his fiancée can tell when we're streaming because she can hear him doing his pathetic man voice on call.

listen to me. you will fall in love with sissel. i played One Shot earlier this year. i thought i was never going to find a game with a protagonist that crawled into my heart as much as niko. i was wrong. jesus christ i was wrong. you need to understand, this is a puzzle game. once you know the answers that's it for the gameplay. the replay value is extremely low. I have replayed it 5 times in three weeks just to make the wrong choices and watch what sissel says and quips about it. he's my guy. i need to hold his face in my hands. you will see his fuckass red suit, you will see his fuckass banana hair, you willl see his goofy little smile and his dirk strider ass sunglasses and you will whimper like a DOG because you miss him so much. i am missing him right now as we speak. fuck.

play ghost trick.

[didyoulookforme]

pov: matty keeps you warm

warning: 18+, smut. grammatical errors, typos, nonsensical rambles.

other bf matty blurbs & rambles here.

the room was cold, the kind of cold that crept into your bones, no matter how many blankets you had piled on. you shivered, even with matty wrapped around you, his body warm and solid at your back. it wasn’t enough, though, not tonight. not with the way the chill gnawed at you. you twisted in his arms, turning just enough to catch his sleepy gaze, heavy-lidded and soft.

“matty,” you murmured, your voice low, a little uncertain. “can i ask you something?”

he blinked, still half-asleep, his hand brushing your hip lazily. “’course,” he said, voice rough, a hint of a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “what is it, love?”

you hesitated for a second, biting your lip, before finally letting the words tumble out. “will you… can you stay inside me while we sleep? i’m freezing, and i just—” you trailed off, suddenly shy, but his grin widened, a soft chuckle vibrating through his chest.

“fucking hell,” he muttered, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what you were asking. “yeah, darling. yeah, i can do that.” his hand slid down to your thigh, squeezing lightly as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “anything for you.”

you felt him shift behind you, his body pressing closer as his hand moved to himself. he was already halfway there, his breathing changing as he worked himself the rest of the way. you could feel the subtle movement of his arm, the quiet catch of his breath as he hardened in his hand, and something about how casual it was—like this was just another thing he’d happily do for you—made your stomach flip.

when he was ready, he pulled back just enough to guide himself to you, his lips brushing your shoulder as he pressed inside. slow, careful, like he had all the time in the world. his hands settled on your hips, steadying you as he bottomed out, groaning softly against your skin. “fuck,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked. “there you go. nice and warm now, yeah?”

you nodded, already half-dazed, the feeling of him grounding you in a way the cold never could. he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body fitting against yours like it was made to. his hand traced lazy patterns over your stomach, his lips brushing soft, half-hearted kisses against the back of your neck.

“go to sleep,” he murmured, his voice dipping into that soft, warm tone that always made you melt. “i’ve got you.” and he did. he always did.

—

when he woke, the room was still dim, the early morning light barely creeping in. you were still out cold, tucked against him the same way you were before, your breathing slow and steady. he smiled to himself, burying his face in your hair, already half-content to lie there until the day forced itself on him. his hand moved back to your hip, tracing little patterns without thinking, his way of grounding himself in you.

then you moved.

it was subtle at first. a slow roll of your hips against him, just enough to make him freeze, his hand stopping mid-circle. he waited for you to settle, thinking maybe it was just a one-off. but then you did it again, slow and deliberate, even if you didn’t know it. his jaw clenched as he swallowed back a groan, his grip tightening on your hip. jesus fucking christ. you were asleep, no way you could be doing this on purpose.

could you?

he shifted, his forehead pressed against the back of your head, trying to think. every slow grind of your hips was making it impossible. he bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his head on straight, but fuck, it felt so good. he had half a mind to wake you, but the way you moved, soft and unaware, told him exactly what was going on. you were dreaming.

and fuck if he didn’t want to know what it was about.

was it him? it had to be him. maybe that first time, when you’d kissed him like you didn’t care if it killed you. he thought about that night constantly, the way your hands trembled just a little but you didn’t pull back. the way you’d whispered his name, all breathy and unsure, like you couldn’t believe it was happening. he’d replayed it more times than he’d admit, that perfect fucking moment where he realized you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

but you were dreaming now, and it was killing him. the way you kept moving, grinding against him, half-slow and lazy, like you had all the time in the world to ruin him. his grip on your hip tightened, like that would somehow make it easier, but it didn’t. not even close.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, trying to keep himself still, to not just bury himself in you like every nerve in his body was begging him to. his hand slid up, resting against your stomach, and he felt the steady rhythm of your breathing, oblivious to the mess you were making of him. he pressed his lips to the back of your neck, exhaling hard as he fought the urge to wake you, to flip you over and let the dream blur into something else entirely.

but he stayed. he stayed because waking you up felt like a betrayal, even if the way you moved was testing every last bit of restraint he had. so instead, he let himself breathe you in, the sweetness of your body against his enough to keep him tethered—for now.

[onlyangel4]

onlyangel4 1k event - P4. YT22. SMAU.

trope: secret long term relationship

pairing: yuki tsunoda x fiancé!reader

faceclaim: kiko mizuhara

1k event

y/nprivinsta

liked by y/bff, yukitsunoda, alexandrasaintmleux and 102 others

tagged: yukitsunoda

y/nprivinsta: this year was my third summer break as a wag and i have to say it was the best one yet

view all 41 comments

yukitsunoda: i fucked it for myself i'll never top this

y/nprivinsta: gonna have to think outside of the box baby

y/bff: i haven't stopped crying since you facetimed me

y/nprivinsta: i love you so much

alexandrasaintmleux: we need to go out and celebrate

iamrebeccad: i'm coming

flavy.barla: and me

francisca.cgomes: me too

pierregasly: so happy for you both

y/nprivinsta: thank you pierre!

landonorris: omg the shortest couple in f1 are getting married

y/nprivinsta: you really have the attitude of a six foot man

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by flavy.barla, iamrebeccad, charlesleclerc and 1,202,009 others

tagged: flavy.barla. iamrebeccad. francisca.cgomes. lilymhe.

alexandrasaintmleux: ladies night

view all 32,101 comments

flavy.barla: the best night ever

alexandrasaintmleux: even if we did lose y/n for a hot minute

user1: who tf is y/n

iamrebeccad: love you all

lilymhe: the best night out in a long time

user2: so we know they are all wags but who is that other girl

user3: the logical side of my brain says just a friend but the delulu side of my brain makes me think maybe we have a new wag

user4: i need to know who that other girl is

y/nprivinsta posted a story

written: watching the whole f1 community blow up trying to find out who i am has me giggling

yukitsunoda: they are guessing that you are a wag for literally anyone but me

y/nprivinsta: yeah i read an article that i'm lando's secret girlfriend

f1updates

liked by user6, user7, user8 and 45,283 others

f1updates: so lando was just questioned about the girl, y/n in alex's new instagram post and his reaction is the funniest thing ever

interviewer: "so is it true that you have a new girl in your life"

lando (confused as ever): "what? wait you mean y/n"

*he started hysterically laughing*

lando: "no me and y/n are not together, jesus christ you guys need to stop believing everything that you see on twitter, you are going to get me killed"

view all 4,211 comments

user6: that response makes me think she is deffo a wag

user7: but who is she dating lando

user8: y'all need to stop being so fucking nosey

y/nprivinsta posted a story tagging yukitsunoda

written: last dinner with my fiancée, here's to many more with my husband

alexandrasaintmleux posted a story

written: the last time i posted this girl f1 twitter almost went up in flames

f1updates posted a story

written: guys an interviewer just asked yuki if he did anything exciting with his summer break. his response was "well i got married" AND THEN HE JUST WALKED OFF

yukitsunoda

liked by y/nprivinsta, pierregasly, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,002,932 others

tagged: y/nprivinsta

yukitsunoda: introducing y/n tsunoda, the love of my life

view all 176,384 comments

y/nprivinsta: i love you more than anything

yukitsunoda: more than sakura

y/nprivinsta: know your place that cat is my child

pierregasly: the best wedding ever

yukitsunoda: do you even remember it, you were so drunk

landonorris: i still can't believe people were shipping me with your wife

yukitsunoda: count your days norris

user9: holy shit yuki married a BADDIE

user10: omg they have a cat that is so cute

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

@bibissparkles

@milkysoop

@hadids-world

@callsignwidow

@barcelonaloverf1life

@queen-of-the-hunt

@piastrams

@kravitzwhore

@a-beaverhausen

@fangirlforever2000

@formulaal

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@magical-spit

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@hc-dutch

@whosra

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@dying-inside-but-its-classy

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@mbioooo0000

@novelswithariana

@exotic-iris13

@natashaalinovaromanoff1984

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@ajordan2020

@sltwins

@nichmeddar

[luvinqstvrnz]

A/N: I've read a lot of other fics, but I wanted to write my own; Keep in mind this is my first time posting/writing a fic to be posted publicly (lmk if there's anything I can do to improve)

Summary:

You've been with Chris for a year or two now, but you never knew exactly what he did and how he made his money, curious you decide to follow him after he leaves your apartment...

Content warnings (MDNI): Fluff, use of pet names, use of y/n, drugs, etc.

dealer!Chris x f!Reader

You and Chris have been together for about a year and a half, he's always been so secretive about what he does when he leaves after you guys have been together for a few hours (or days), you knew he had 2 triplet brother's that he lived with and everything they did on the regular.

Chris never told anyone publicly about your relationship afraid of how the internet and how they would react, he didn't want you getting death threats or anything crazy so you both mutually decided not to be public about your relationship on the internet.

You knew about Chris's job as a YouTuber but what could he possibly be doing at 12am for hours before he talks to you again? One night you decide to follow him when he leaves your apartment, trying to be very sneaky about your every move. Eventually all of his driving around lead you to a warehouse. You knew about the warehouse him and his brother's had but this was not it. You carefully stepped out of your car making sure you didn't alert anyone in the area around you. You watched quietly as Chris walked up into the warehouse and quickly followed behind him, making sure no one saw you.

As you tip toed past the other people in the warehouse the overpowering stench of weed hit your nostrils.

“Jesus Christ...”

You say softly under your breath; You've never been around this much in your life, what in the world was this place? Suddenly you see Chris emerge from behind some door.

“What the fuck do you mean we don't have enough to fulfill this order? I specifically told you-”

You hear him raising his voice to another guy in the warehouse, you've never seen Chris yell at anyone besides his brother's. You felt a bit turned on by him, the way he put other people in there place. You've never seen this side of Chris before...

Suddenly a hand reaches from behind you and grabs your shoulder, making it so you can't move.

“Yo Chris! Who's this chick? Do you know her?”

You've never heard this voice before, you had no idea who this was. Chris immediately looks over and sees you standing there, all you can do is stare at him. You're frozen, it's like someone paused you, you had no idea what to do.

“Y/n? What the- How the fuck... How did you get here?”

Chris says to you in a calm but stern voice, nobody knew of this place but him and the people who worked for him.

“I-I.. I-”

Your words were frozen, you couldn't mutter a word.

“Let her go. I'll take it from here...”

You hear him command the man behind you and he grabs your hand and leads you out of the warehouse.

“How did you get here? Are you hurt?”

He asks you lovingly. You just shake your head, you've never seen this side of Chris. Where did all of this come from? How did he keep this a secret from everyone for so long?

“You could've gotten seriously hurt... Why the fuck did you even think to follow me?”

He sounded stern and aggravated, he still sounded caring though, it was like he was mad but relieved you were okay.

“I-.. I really just wanted to know where you keep going when we part... I didn't ever think it would be... This?!”

You tried your best to keep your composure, you didn't want Chris getting upset at you, or anyone for that matter.

“Look, I'm sorry I never told you ma... It's just no one could or can ever know about this, not even Nick or Matt know.”

He paused and looked at you, trying to find understanding in your eyes.

“I can see why you don't want anyone to know... I'm sorry...”

He looked at you softly and leaned in to kiss you. He kissed you softly and bit your lip lightly as he pulled away.

“Do you want a ride home ma?”

You thought about it for a while and finally accepted, you didn't know what would happen if you went home with him right now but you knew he wouldn't do anything you wouldn't want him to.

He drives you to your appartment and let's you out of the car. He walks you up to your door and stops you before you go inside.

“I didn't know if you'd exactly want me to come in with you but uh... If it's okay with you... I'd like to.”

Chris doesn't normally ask to stay, he usually just stays without question. This worried you a bit.

“Of course you can stay... Why wouldn't you be able to?”

A wave of relief washes over him as he steps inside right after you, he leisurely walks over to your couch and crashes down on it, causing it to bounce with him.

“I'll be over there in a second, let me change real quick my clothes reek...”

You finished changing and walked into your living room, Chris was spread out on your couch watching his phone. You walked over and sat next to him, he placed one of his arms around you and pulled you close to him.

“So...”

He said slowly, trying to start conversation, you could tell he was a bit nervous considering everything you've seen tonight.

“So?”

He looked at you, his eyebrows were a bit furrowed and his eyes were wide.

“You're not... Mad?”

You just stopped and looked at him lovingly. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and played with his hair.

“No, Chris. I'm not mad.”

He looked at you relieved and kissed you softly. You kissed him back, you started thinking of earlier when he told off one of the other people at the warehouse and your thighs lightly squeezed together. You pressed your lips onto his more passionately and cradled his face in your left hand.

“Y/n?”

He broke the kiss and looked at you but you ignored it and kept kissing him. After a few minutes of making out with him, you guided him to your breast's, your nipples were already hard from thinking about that time in the warehouse and kissing him. You felt him squeeze your breast's and pinch your nipples from above your tank top. Eventually you get on top of him and straddle his lap, slowly rubbing yourself against his length, it didn't take long for him to get hard. You kissed him and dry humped him for a few minutes until you heard his phone ring.

“Fuck!”

He whispered, he looked at you to make sure it was okay if he answered it, you nodded, he composed himself and answered his phone.

“Yeah, I'll be back in a minute.”

He said to someone over the phone and hung up.

“I'm so sorry baby but I have to get back to the warehouse.”

“It's okay Chris, don't worry about it.”

You watched him leave, knowing it wouldn't be the end of this interaction...

[ackermental]

The absolute fucking attitude this dude has towards Arcane fanbase, and the height of the pedestal he put himself on.

Mister, I can think of at least ten animated shows that did batter job than Arcane. Get over yourself, jesus christ.

Go outside, touch some grass, watch some fucking anime. Or Clone Wars. Or Gargoyles. Or fucking Spiderverse whose animation looks suspiciously similar to Arcane season 2. Satoshi Kon would eat you alive and then shit you out. Stop wipping your ass with your animation team. I promise you that every second shounen has more characters than Arcane had. Time travel and multiverse haven't been original plot devises for a long time. And what in the actual fuck are high concepts 🤦‍♀️? The entire concept of season one went to fuck itself in the first five minutes of season two, so I guess he means jesus alien Viktor and big Marvel battle against new, main baddie.

Dude. Literally if I wanted to watch a multigenerational feaud being resolved by uniting all parties to go against God/Alien taken out of the writer's ass, I would go rewatch Naruto again.

Let that sink in. You fucked up worse than Kishimoto. That's an actual achievement, only I don't think it's the kind you should be this proud of.

Christian Linke is digging his own grave

-Season 2 made me feel literally nothing but dissapointment lol. Whatever TV show has "stuck the landing" it wasn't this one 💀

-This business is not for what??? The pitch for Arcane was literally about Piltover and Zaun, hextech and shimmer

-Way to appreciate the community who asked for Arcane in the first place

-Oh my bad, forgot that the lol players that wanted a show for years mentioned in Bridging the Rift actually never asked for Arcane

-Admits that they sidelined one of the main sisters in favor of other characters

-Then tries to argue that Vi's inner conflict was explored

-Then tries to argue that it's the same writers even though Amanda confirmed that the writing team of s1 shrunk down to just her, Christian, and Alex for season 2. I guess the others who helped write season one don't matter.

-alright. coo

[cakepoppresent]

Don't Let Me Slap You

Would Gideon actually beat the shit outta Malcolm if Veronica asked? No, but he would scare Malcolm a little cuz he would think it's funny

Transcript under the cut~

Veronica: Let me know. Should I beat your ass now or later?

Malcolm: What the hell did I do?

Veronica: Oh! So I should slap some sense into that thick skull of yours too?

Malcolm: I didn’t DO anything!

Veronica: Malcolm.

Veronica: Just think critically for 5 minutes. Do you think ignoring her messages and calls is any better?

Malcolm: I didn’t do anything. She shouldn’t be interested in looking for Andre. It's stupid and it's only going to get her hurt

Veronica: It’s like you want me to slap you in front of all these people

Malcolm: She’s the one that walked out on me.

Malcolm: I thought you’d be on my side.

Veronica: Lets use our thinking caps right now. You know you’re both very important to me yes?

Malcolm: Yes...

Veronica: So why did you think I’d side with you when your acting like an manipulative asshole. Is that how I raised you?

Malcolm: I’m...not being manipulative!!

Veronica: Refusing to talk to her? Ignoring her calls? Benji limits his contact with her so he won’t make YOU angry. All because she’s doing something you don’t want. Explain how that’s not manipulative.

Malcolm: *standing in slience foolishly*

Veronica: Well?? I’m waiting. Am I wrong?

Malcolm: *Refuses to answer*

Veronica: Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Malcolm: Why is no one on my side in this ?! Why am I in the wrong! Is it wrong to want to protect my peace?!

Veronica: Your way of protecting your peace means punishing Luna for wanting to do something you don’t like! That's unacceptable and I need you to cut that shit out TODAY and have an actual conversation with Luna OR ELSE I’ll get Gideon to beat the shit out of you

Malcolm: God! This isn’t FAIR. Its like no one is thinking about me or my feelings!

Veronica: Luna has ALWAYS put you first and you KNOW that.

Veronica: Let me ask you. That business man she’s been dating has she introduced him to you at all?

Malcolm:...She’s still seeing that scay ass dude?

Veronica: She’s been seeing that man for a YEAR and you know why she hasn’t introduced you? Do you wanna know?

Malcolm:....

Veronica: Because she KNOWS you don’t like him and doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Your feelings ALWAYS come first and it's pissing me off that the one time she wants to do something you’re punishing her for it.

Veronica: I’m giving you until the end of the fucking week to reach out to Luna and apologize for your shitty actions or I swear to God I’ll get Gidon to beat the fucking shit out of you. Do you understand?

Malcolm: FINE! Fuck whatever.

Veronica: Yeah thats what I fucking thought. Don’t make Luna cry and actually TALK to her

Malcolm: Wait...Shut up do you hear that?

Veronica: I beg your pardon? Are you insane?

Loser #1: Did you see that stuff about Luna online?

Loser #2: Be specific there is a bunch of shit being said about her

Loser #1: They’re saying that the dude she's been seen with is her “sponsor”. I guess since shes pimping herself out to the highest bidder

Loser #2: Hahaha shes “High Class” she won’t look at a poor man like you

Loser #1: Maybe if I take out a loan she would roll in the sack with me. It's clear she's in need of funds her family is in shambles!

Malcolm: I dare you to say that shit again. I fucking dare you

Loser #1: What the fuck is your problem

Malcolm: Say that shit again!

Loser #1: You’re mad about what I said about that whore of an actress? Who cares!

Malcolm: Bet.

Malcolm: If I fucking see or hear you on this campus again ima put your bitch ass 6 feet under do you understand?

Loser #1: What the fuck dude. Get the guck off me!

Malcolm: Do. You. Understand?

Loser #1: Yes! Jesus Christ you bastard get off me!

[teecupangel]

Hello there. I live. And with be, dumb idea generation. I propose we lean a bit into "Desmond had the highest amount of Isu DNA if one discounts Sages". In modern times, it mostly resulted into people finding Desmond... Let's say, both alluring and at the same time, unnerving to an average human. Just those ancestral instincts left from back when humanity was enslaved by Isu firing off. It was a - manageable thing, for the majority of Desmond's life. But things started to get... Odd, when he started to use Animus. It was less noticeable with Altaїr - the man never really came into direct "contact" with Desmond. There have been Signs@TM of... Something, though. It wasn't till Ezio heard Minerva's messages till the hints came together for Desmond - after all, it'a hard to miss someone who'a life you had to *stalk* making a small shrine in your name

Or, the one AU where early Assassins somehow lumped Desmond with other Isu and have lowkey acted as his cult. As a side job. One that modern Assassins would deny to their last breath (Lucy) or make a case study of ("Rise and fall of Assassin spirituality" - obv, by Shaun)

This reminds me quite a bit of the Fae Desmond idea and the full Isu Desmond idea we had before.

So let’s screw Desmond up a bit.

We let him keep the whole “we want to be serve you” part from the full Isu idea but we dilute it, make it seem more like a natural attraction sprinkled with uncomfortable ‘wary’.

The very definition of a ‘fear boner’.

But it’s like… not that noticeable.

Many assume that wariness stems from the fact that Desmond wasn’t their type before.

Maybe he even got a lot of them believe they have a sexual awakening.

It’s… explainable at the very least.

Until you add the POEs into the mix.

Because the Assassins of old didn’t meet Desmond but saw glimpses of him using the POE.

It wasn’t that Desmond and Altaïr didn’t have a direct contact with one another. It was simply that Desmond never saw the memories where Altaïr began to focus on him as a way to stave off the guilt and grief threatening to swallow him whole while he was exiled in Alamut.

He didn’t see the memories of the Apple showing him, showing how Altaïr’s sacrifices and pain were all to ensure Desmond became who he was.

He wanted to hate him but he couldn’t. In the end, Altaïr ended up deitifying him in his mind. He became a kind of god of hope for Altaïr, a reason for him to keep on going.

To take the Brotherhood away from Abbas and make plans for the future he would not be a part of.

So by the time Ezio became an Assassin, Desmond has seen the ‘signs’.

It was just easy to ignore because people don’t flatout talk about it.

It was still there though…

Once Ezio says the name Desmond to his uncle, that’s when the floodgates open.

Underneath Altaïr’s statue, its very base can be removed to reveal stairs that leads deeper underneath the Sanctuary.

Where a room is filled with items that are connected to Desmond and Altaïr.

To be more accurate, Altaïr’s ‘rendition’ of Desmond.

The god of hope.

And once Desmond sees the worship room, he has to get out of the Animus because, what the fuck.

Only to find Shaun going on a frenzy, cataloging everything in the room using screenshots he had apparently taken while Desmond was in the Animus.

No one wants to tell him anything more than ‘they’re important Brotherhood relics’ and Desmond calls bullshit on it because…

Why the fuck would a big ass painting that Altaïr supposedly painted himself (Desmond doubted it, he had seen Altaïr’s codex, he wasn’t that good) be considered an important relic.

But he did agree to opening the passageway underneath and…

The sound that came out of Shaun’s mouth when they saw that the worship room was preserved… and has even grander than the memory Desmond saw…

And the painting next to the one Altaïr supposedly painted?

Desmond had felt memories of painting a similar style.

Ezio definitely painted that second one.

Why the fuck was he dressed like he was white Jesus Christ???

[annaphoenix1994]

Silver Run

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

The group returned to the safe house, Ghost wanting to desperately push everyone aside to get to her, but he knew he couldn't make it obvious, but a part of him didn't care anymore. He needed to know if she was alright. 

"Watch the plates." Ghost warned Price as they entered the home, seeing that the lights were on and the long corridor that led to where he was sure Kiera was. Alejandro walked up to greet them, Ghost's eyes immediately going to the bloodstains that were on his shirt. Her blood. 

"How is she?" Soap asked him. 

He sighed, "Pretty rough, Hermano. This way." 

They all followed the Colonel through the corridor, opening up the double doors to reveal a workbench-type table, Kiera sitting in one of the chairs, weakly holding her vape pen to her lips. Thank God, they didn't take it from me, she thought, releasing a long drag, knowing damn well she needed it. It was stained with her blood, her cracked knuckles grasping it as if it were her lifeline as the prints from the pads of her fingers stained the glass of water next to her. She was still yet to drink from it. 

Ghost's heart sank and his fists clenched, suddenly wishing it was him that found her, knowing he'd kill those Shadows a hundred times over knowing they touched her. Soap was astonished as well, not able to take his eyes off her battered face. If he didn't recognize her by how she smoked or sat, he wouldn't know who she was. 

Her blonde hair was matted in the back from Graves' grasp, some strands still sticking to her face as the blood acted as a bonding agent. She hadn't looked their way as she was still stunned by the attack, thankful that she was still alive. 

"How are you feeling, señora?" Alejandro asked as Ghost and Soap followed him, Price and Gaz soon joining after relieving their tension with a much-needed drink. And a bloody cigar, Price thought. 

She exhaled another puff of smoke, looking his way with half-lidded eyes, her right fully swelled shut, "Like I just left the fucking spa." 

Her sarcastic remark caused Alejandro to chuckle as he admired her attitude. Soap couldn't take his eyes off of her damage, wondering how she was still conscious, but he could tell she was in throbbing pain. Ghost was still silent, desperately fighting the urge to tend to her like he would if they were home, but he knew he couldn't. Not now, anyway. 

"Jesus Christ..." Price muttered as he entered the room, taking a good look at her. 

"You need to drink that water, señora. And eat something." 

"It's fine," She sighed, slowly and steadily standing to her feet, reminding Soap of a newborn fawn. "I'm going to go lay down." 

She inhaled another drag, making eye contact with Soap before speaking, aiming her exhale towards the ground to avoid blowing the smoke in Soap's face, "You should see the other guy," She whispered to him before her gaze turned to Alejandro. "What doesn't kill us, Alejandro-" She began to say regarding the popular saying. 

"No, I don't believe that. I don't believe it makes us stronger. Harder, perhaps." 

She scoffed, "Hard is the goal."

Alejandro smirked, "I don't think you can get much harder." 

"I'm shooting for Teflon." 

He chuckled, "Down the hall and to the right. There's a shower in there as well. I'm sure you need it." 

"Very much so. Is my bag still in the car?" 

"Yes, señora. I'll go get it for you." He replied. 

"Bless you." 

Before she stumbled away, she glanced at Ghost, his eyes holding so much pain for her state. She knew he was angry as well as heartbroken, his eyes telling her that he wouldn't be far behind her. 

»»-------¤-------««

The night was still young - Price and Gaz taking guard duty as the others slept, the pair puffing on a cigar as well as a can of Coke. 

Ghost awoke to the sound of water rushing through the single line above his head. Looking around, his other comrades were sleeping soundly, perhaps better than they have in days. Soap was sleeping on his stomach close by, his rifle ready to fire as his vest was hung on the nearby chair, ready to slip on when it needed to be. 

He slowly stood to his feet, remembering the layout of the house as he made his way to the bedroom that Alejandro let her use as it was the only room that had a bed as well as a shower. 

He slowly entered the bedroom, unaware that Price had glanced back after hearing movement, watching him go the direction of the bedroom. He knew Ghost had a spot for her, but he chose not to say anything. The bloke deserves it, he thought. They're just alike. Price had always been a type of father figure to both Ghost and Soap, as well as his second Sergeant, Gaz. 

Hell, Price had met his own wife while on duty, except she was a field medic. He would occasionally recall the times he and his wife would sneak off to spend time together in between missions. He shook his head and returned to puffing on his cigar, wishing the lad well in his relationship, hoping that they both made it. I'll be sure to make it to the wedding, He chuckled to himself.

Ghost watched as steam came from the area that the shower was in as well as a dim light. She had kept all of the lights off as any light shot a beam of nausea to her through her damaged eyes. He leaned against the doorway, watching her stand under the water, facing it as she let it roll down her bruised face. She hadn't noticed him yet unless she already knew he was there and waiting on him to join her. 

He slipped his clothes from his body, setting them aside, and stepped into the shower, wrapping his arms around her waist gently, afraid to hurt her even more. She continued to cry, her insecurities taking their toll on her. "I don't want you to see me like this." She frowned, referring to her naked body and not her wounds.

He placed a gentle kiss on her bare shoulder, "I see all of you, love." 

He looked down to see the battered areas on her body - bruises littered her back and legs, her face, arms, and hands being the worst of it. 

She scoffed, "Yeah, how's that going for you?" 

"I don't mind. Never will." He replied in a low tone, pressing another kiss to her shoulder. He wasn't there to be intimate but to be comforting to her in her time of need. Hell, if she told him she didn't want to see him naked, he'd put his clothes back on and still tend to her in the shower. Whatever it took, he didn't care. 

He heard her whimper out another set of tears. He wanted nothing more than to hold her for eternity, to show her that he would never hurt her, but love her with every fiber of his body. He didn't give a shit that she had cellulite on her legs or that one breast was bigger than the other, nor did he care that the polish on her toenails was flaking off. She was fucking real and natural, and that was enough for him. 

He let her cry, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. Instead, he reached down to grasp the only bottle of shampoo that was on the side of the tub, putting a small dollop into his palm before gently putting it in her hair, careful not to put too much pressure on her head as it was swollen as well. "He hit me here," She whispered, carefully touching the area around her temple, warning him to stay away from that area. "It hurts." 

"Okay, sweetheart," He whispered. "Does this feel okay?" He asked as he slowly massaged his fingers through her wet tresses, using his fingers to separate the strands that were matted together with both of his hands. 

"Better than I imagined." She replied, a smile desperate to show on her hurting face. 

"Good." He replied, continuing to massage her aching scalp with his massive fingers. I knew they'd be good for something, he mused. 

He heard her sigh before helping her turn around to rinse the shampoo from her hair. He didn't let go of her hand as she leaned her head back to rinse her hair, ready to catch her if she fell off balance. To anyone else, any man would've taken the opportunity to glance over her body to "see what they were working with," but Simon didn't. He knew she was insecure about her body, and he wasn't about to take advantage of it by looking. Instead, he kept his gaze on her head, ensuring that she was taking her time and advantage of the hot water. 

Once she was done, she was terrified for Simon to see her face, but she knew there was no going back now. She desperately tried to open both eyes, but it was painful, so she kept her right eye closed and looked at him through her battered left. She looked ahead at his torso, his dog tags dripping with water as she tilted her head in curiosity at the deep scar on his left pectoral. "What happened?" She whispered, bringing her hand up to trace along its jagged edges. 

His hand covered hers, "Knife fight." 

"What about here?" She asked, using her other hand to trace along the less-aggressive scar on his right shoulder. 

"Gunshot." 

She frowned, bringing both arms above her shoulders and wrapping them around his neck, the water showering the both of them as he held her, careful with his hand placement as he didn't want to cause more pressure against her aching skin. She ignored how he smelled of lead, sweat, and nylon from his gear. He was real. She felt his thumbs trace against the thin column of her back, feeling no restrictions there as it was another area that wasn't battered and cut. 

He hid his face in the crook of her neck, placing delicate and needy kisses there, afraid that she would be taken from him again, enjoying the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. "You don't have to do that, love - taking care of me when it's you that needs it." 

"I need to," She replied, the vibration from her bare chest on his enough to send a chill up his spine, the feeling of someone caring as much about him being foreign to his being. "Reminds me that I'm not in the pit of hell anymore." She said, referring to the prison. 

"I love you." He blurted, his lips connecting with her shoulder as he was still too afraid to tell it to her face, ignoring the gnawing denial at the back of his mind. He knew she wanted him to say it when it saved her, but he didn't care anymore. He wanted her to know now - to know how much she meant to him before anything worse could happen, and he didn't care if it was too early in their relationship, but he knew that she was who he wanted to be with. 

He felt her pull back to look him in the face, her hand coming up to cradle his cheek, her aching thumb swiping at the growing stubble. She's going to tell you to fuck off, Simon, he thought. "I love you, too." She whispered, desperate to smile, but it was just too painful. 

He smiled, easing his forehead to press against hers, letting her close the distance. 

They held the position for a few seconds before his lips kissed her forehead where it met her hairline, "Let me take care of you." She whispered, looking at the bottle of shampoo that he sat on the side of the tub. 

He chuckled, "I'm too tall for you to reach, sweetheart. Wouldn't want you to strain yourself." 

She scoffed, "Just because I look like this doesn't mean I can't take care of you. Guess you'll just have to bend down, huh?" 

"I'll be fine, love. What you need is to lay down," He replied, kissing her forehead again, desperately wanting to kiss her lips, but he knew he'd cause an unnecessary sting to the split on her bottom lip. "I'll be in there in a second." 

"Really?" She replied, her eyes softening at the thought. 

"Only if you want me to." 

"I mean, you're risking yourself, Simon..." 

"Loving you is a risk I'm willing to take," he said, helping her rid her hair of excess water before letting her cling to his arm as he stabilized her to step out of the tub. "It also proves I'm not afraid of anything." 

She couldn't help but smile at his words, "You got that right." She poked. 

»»-------¤-------««

After his shower, he changed into a clean set of clothing from his bag that was along with Kiera's, thankful that they were still able to re-steal the same Jeep from that night during the prison raid. He knew he had to return to where the other men were to avoid suspicion, but he was to the point that he didn't care. He knew nobody would say anything to him about it if he woke up before the others. He slipped on one of his long-sleeved shirts before easily lowering himself down onto the bed, watching how her body stayed still as she moved to lay on her aching side. 

"Goodnight, sweetheart." He whispered, assuming she was asleep and bringing the thin sheet to cover her chilled shoulder. 

"Simon?" She whispered. 

"Hm?" 

"Lay with me." 

"I am, love. I'm not going anywhere." He whispered. 

She motioned for him to spoon her, craving his warmth. He slowly slid his arm to where it was between her head and the pillow, cradling her against his chest as his hand gripped her upper arm, rubbing smooth circles on her skin as his left leg was between hers, holding in a wince as her cold feet came in contact with his leg as the pantleg rode up with his movement. "I wish we could stay like this forever." She whispered, toying with his fingers. 

"Me too, but not here," He replied, his fingers toying back with hers, rubbing the pad of his thumb along the top of her pinky and ring finger. One day, he thought as he rubbed the ring finger, mentally picturing that finger with a diamond ring on it. "Get some sleep, sweetheart." 

[brightlyburningstar]

guess who made it to the Black Sea arc today :D

kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me

(rambles bellow vvv)

Anyways ensa has become one of my favorite NPCs and I think Lizzie and Ava’s backstory is gonna have me throw myself over the boat railing. I’m very normal about the past 7 episodes and did not watch them all in one day. Who do u think I am, what do u take me for (I totally did) also Lizzie’s “I loved her” had me physically ILLLLLLL AHGAFAHAGAGAGGA I WAS GONNA CRY. I WAS JUST CASUALLY LISTENING AND HAD MY GODDAMN HEART RIPPED OUT. I need more caspian content……. Please god…… I beg…… also the fucking pin I can’t that was the funniest shit at like midnight last night. Also drey my love I actually adore this stupid mothefucker so much. I don’t even know WHEN he snuck his was into my top npcs but Jesus Christ he will not go AWAY FOR FUCKS SAKE. HES SO SILLY. I LOVE HIM. also MAY FERRIN MY BELOVED HOLDS HER GENTLY IN MY PALMS. I’ve never felt more fear then the boat ride of e98/99 (I think at least it might be smth else idk I’m tired) that shit had me SCAREDDDDD. anyways I remembered this one poly pirate fic I read that took place during that episode so now ima go back and reread it soon so I can suffer. Also I fully see pistol whip and I also see navy seal. I’m just, quite honestly, in love with Lizzie and think she needs a hug from just somebody. CHIPS CASUAL I LOVE U TO HER MY SON GET OVER HERE IM GONNA CRY. also THIS JUST IN, WERE RECEIVING REPORTS THAT A NEW FAD IS TAKING THE NATION BY STORM. ITS NAME. JORTS. BUT IT APPEARS AS IF THEY BREAKTHROUGH IN JEAN SHORT SPLICING TECHNOLOGY IS CAUSING IRREGULAR WEATHER PATTERNS ALL ACROSS THE GLO- WOOOO ITS THE WARMER SEASON SO I CANT WEAR JEANS I REALLY LIKE THE DENIM, BUT NOT THE LENGTH OF THE SEAM. MY MOM DRESSES CAS AND MY DAD LIKES TO PREEN IM NOT LIKE EITHER OF THEM I GOT THE RECESSIVE JEAN. JORT STORM. JORT STORMS COMMIN TONIGHT. A JORT STORM ITS A CATEGORY 5. JORT STORM. JORT STORMS COMMIN TONIGHT. I SAID A JORT STORMS COMMIN SO RUN AND HIIIIIDE. JORTICANE. JORTNADO. JORTNAMI. JORTQUAKE. JORTRUPTION. JORTALANCHE. JOOOORTPOCALYPSE. THE JORT STORMS COMMIN. JORT. SO YOU BETTER START RUNNING FAAAAAST ITS A CHASEEE. BUT BE CAREFUL CAUSE THESE JORTS WILL CHAFFE YOU YEAH. THEY’RE THE NEW SENSATION. JORTS. WEAR EEM TO EVERY OCCASION JOOOOORTS IN THE POOOOLL. OR EVEN BETTER WEAR EM TO A FUNERAL YEAH. MY PERSONALITY IS 99% JORTS I GOT A GENETIC TEST BUT ALL MY JEANS WERE SHORTSSSSS A JORT STORM. JORT STORMS COMMIN TONIGHT. JORT STORM, ITS A CATEGORY 5. JORT STORM. JORT STORMS COMMIN TONIGHT I TAKE OFF MY FUCKIN JORTS I GOT ON JORTS INSIIIIIDEEEE. BREAKING NEWS, MILLIONS OF AMERICANS ARE BEING SUCKED DIRECTLY INTO THE JORTEX, AND ITS HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THIS STUDIO. TO MY WIFE CHERYL, AND SON TIMMY, I LOVE YOUUUUUU. JORTS. THE ELDERS FORETOLD. JORTS. OF A FASHION SO BOLD. A NEW GOD OF THE EARTHHHHH. TO SEAL IT IN DENIM AND TURN IT INTO JEARTH. kazoo.

anyways back to the boat I go. Time to binge the suckening. I will most likely write more about jrwi eventually

[apolloagain]

Chapter 40.

Damn. Okay. I have thoughts and feelings. Was glad the other day to see the author thanking someone for a comment that "gets it" because my hubris makes me think that I Get It and would so prove that if I had an ao4 account yet (and yeah it was a good comment lol). But this one has challenged me!

I felt my "indignant" levels go through the ROOF this chapter. We all knew that Sarah's suffocation plan wasn't going to work, but that made it quite easy to root for her attempt. So seeing that fail - and I don't know about anyone else, but that was my last stab at a suicide plan for her - and then the doctor's "Lucky you don't have a choice" after her very sincere but pragmatic speech that could not make her wishes clearer... damn, I mean, I felt the frustration. I really really did. Like some fucked up cousin of Kafka where the system is completely built to circumvent yourself despite your best efforts, except everyone won't STOP caring and "loving" you. Notice how I put loving in quotes? I've been enjoying living through Sarah vicariously, feeling her rage and humiliation but also enjoying it, being a step above as the horny dream-god-reader I am. But this time... well, sure, still doing that a little, maybe. But feeling Sarah's nightmare quiteeee a lot this time! I FELT felt that trapped rage and humiliation and it DIDNT feel good!

First of all, like said, the lead up really has made this a claustrophobic and aggravating place. But then the punishment... okay, damn, look, the spanking before was hot, but somewhat subdued. Even the degradation seemed to end very quickly. But this... wow, jesus fucking christ. Way beyond that. I mean, whipping her BACK???? That's fucked up! That's really visceral! Jesus!!! I'm not at all surprised to hear that every other instance has been under that threshold, but wow, yeah, this one... double the threshold... I can believe that too! Sure, sure, making her say "Yes Mistress" is hot and dommy and whatever, except honestly, the actual content of the punishment is such an upsetting change of pace that I can barely take that in.

This sounds a little like a criticism - it's nothing more than my honest reaction. In reading all of these chapters, I guess I make meta-fantasies. So here's the one I realised I was having for this one: I really wanted Sarah to not back down. The glorious human spirit, I don't care what you call it. I want her to keep saying how until she's been abused to a shocking point. I want Rose to realise what she's done in a savage-hypocrisy- in claiming to love her, instead inflicted real physical damage and torture and really, really hurt Sarah. I wanted the guilt to come crashing down on her, for her to try and say sorry but know nothing can help, for to realise that she took a massive gambit and it FAILED, Sarah WON, the bluff was called and Rose went above it and is a monster for it and Sarah still didn't back down even though she's asking to die and part of Rose really now can see why, which makes her want to as well.

This sounds like a pretty morbid and sadistic fantasy. It IS morbid, but it's not sadistic- again, Sarah being whipped on the back was honestly not nice for me. It's more a fantasy of childish self-pity, like a "They'll all be sorry about how I treated me" catharsis. I don't think I'm the only one who wants it, as you can see in the comments confidently projecting their "predictions" (see: not so subtle wants) saying that Rose will soon find out that torture doesn't work. Sorry guys, but I don't think it's going to NOT not work!

Most of my fantasies have been, sans Sarah submitting and loving the affini, kind of from Rose's desires- that is to say, it's taken delight in the adored cooing and embarassment of watching Sarah play pretend on screen, even though I think that I've experienced a lot of that fantasy THROUGH the placed-perspective of Sarah (urgh, there are literary terms for what I'm trying to distinguish here, but even if I could remember them it would be muddled by me being a messy switch lol). But what happens right after Rose's eyes are glowing then? Sarah poops the party with Facts and Logic, putting what she's doing both matter of factly - Hab wouldn't make her feel "self-conscious" - and presenting it as a bad thing Rose is doing that further proves that her narrative of "love" is self-serving and illegitimate. When she does this, Sarah has to fight holding back a smirk. That's HER bratty ol' fantasy, a self-satisfied rage against the machine that's not just calling them klats and being violent to herself/rude to them, but undermining their control, shaping the narrative her way, no, fuck you, I can condescend right back because this is a disgrace, I'm indignant, I'm RIGHT, this is NOT the story you think it is, fuck you, I hate you, die. That's a cathartic fantasy in and of itself. And I've indulged in that meta before reading this... but not much. Firstly, because from the title alone we know that it's a foregone conclusion. Secondly, because the other one is hotter lol. But thirdly... well, look at how I'm feeling indulging heavily in those emotions and narrative right now. I wanted Sarah's suicide to work! Beyond that, I wanted Rose to go overboard and harm Sarah ONLY so that she can feel bad about having done so. Undermining Rose's system by undermining Sarah. It's self harm, ultimately. Sorry Sarah, but the horrible truth is that your way of life leads to harm. It's too destructive a fantasy, ultimately helping no one.

And yet... and yet this chapter did still make my indignation levels go critical. And I think that despite looking forward very much to the next few chapters, I found this one less enjoyable than maybe I was meant to. Ifelt bad for Sarah man, I just did! Am I taking it too seriously? Am I getting too wrapped up? And YET And Yet... that comment that had the author saying they "definitely get it"? Well, I take comfort from it, because I think I really DO get it- because here's part of it:

Sarah has made a lot of really good points. It does make me hope that Sarah will be able to win some sort of victory. It won’t be a total win - a total win against the Affini is impossible. But some sort of concession or something. You know?

I do know. Apparently we'll be heading to the C Chapters soon, so I have little faith in Sarah holding out for some melodramatic shadow of what my righteous justice wants here- she'll be saying Yes Mistress eventually, progress will be achieved, and I imagine the next few chapters of her Actual Punishment are going to be a lot of fun again, hopefully in a more attractive way than how genuinely shocking the back whip thing was. But overall.... well. Like I said, there are two fantasies at play here, and I believe they both need satisfaction, and I believe Ms Floss (feel like that's a good way to distinguish between character and writer lol) knows that too. I think that by the end of this story, Sarah will be sprouting by some of her own terms as well. It wouldn't be right to have her whole heartedly become a Winston Smith without any rebellion meaning anything, because I wouldn't be able to love Big Brother myself. Sarah's fire will burn, the Affini leaves will catch it somewhat, and there'll be a small mutual respect and understanding for the girl who stoked it. Even if most of said relationship is built on her being the most adorable floret the world's ever seen, who can't believe they were ever so nasty and allergic to happiness and are sure to get teased and reminded by Rose for it.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.

"Every Sophont is a Seed" is a really good HDG fic. Sarah rages like a force of nature, her resistance to the Affini is incredibly strong-willed and really feels like a proper fight (despite, you know, the inevitable). There's good reason for it too- to be THAT much of a fighter, you can't just be intelligent and stubborn, but genuinely, well, mentally unwell and destructive. The arc is going to be a long and richly deserved one.

Also it's hot, also it's regularly updated.

[willowcrowned]

man it’s so weird that people are always at their most incompetent and deserving of ire when I have to wake up at 6:30 AM. surely this is a strange coincidence that is 100% their fault and not because I didn’t sleep enough

[spitblaze]

I guess Chilchuck has brought us right back to 'adults who are short are child-coded and if you like them you're a pedophile' discourse huh

[lucabyte]

Yeah, that about sums it up.