#boy stuffing meat in his cheeks ig

[teddybearsims]

garden blues

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic august 27 — Shade — 659 words — nsfw! — cw: vampires, burns, pain kink, inappropriate use of sunlight ig? pfft

They’re working on James’ endurance of direct sunlight.

Regulus, with his over 800 years, is well enough aware of the fact that your tolerance builds with the decades. That doesn’t take from the fact that you can learn to bear it if you expose yourself to it often enough. Without a daylight ring, that is, of course.

Which is currently dangling from a thin chain prettily over Regulus’ naked sternum.

He’s sprawled out on the ancient, curved loveseat down in the sitting room. Dark green velvet shimmering in the light that’s bathing over him through the high reaching glass doors that lead out into the lawn of the old mansion. His own daylight ring sits tauntingly on his own ring finger. 

Both rings play accessory to the white button down belonging to James. Which, as mentioned, Regulus hadn’t bothered to button up. 

He’s not wearing anything else.

Tilts his head and squints an eye against the sunshine as he continues stroking himself into hardness, making out the vague outline of James sulking in the shade by the curtains.

Regulus lets his head drop back on the soft cushions with a sigh. He can almost feel James eyes roving over the pale column of his neck, “Come on, love.”

A petulant growl escapes James’ throat, “You’re so fucking mean.”

Regulus’ lips tug into a smirk, he stretches his voice deliberately taut when he speaks next, “C’mon, baby. I know you can barely stand it.”

Another snarl and in the next blink James is over him, or half, at least, mouth coming around the head of Regulus’ cock and meeting his fingers around the shaft. His brows pull low beneath his glasses and he groans when Regulus’ fingers sink into his hair and guide him into a rhythm. The other hand comes to rest on the muscle of James’ naked shoulder, sure to clock the rising temperature.

It doesn’t take long, only a few handfuls of bobs, until James’ skin starts to feel heated, like it would after a sunburn.

Regulus hears James breath hitch, feels his blunt nails dig into the meat of Regulus’ thigh and it fills him with sick excitement. He keeps the grip on James’ strands tight, keeps him there, guiding him up and down over his cock while he lavishes his tongue sloppily, trying to ignore the fact that he’s burning up. Bronze skin taking on an unnatural red tint.

Just when Regulus sees the white, little blisters forming, James whines, his muscles tensing and Regulus can’t help but moan. Shudder at the sight of James clawing into him, trying to be good and stay put, trying to endure it and grant himself more of Regulus, greedily sucking him down and hallowing his cheeks while his skin continues to get singed by his curse.

“That’s it, good boy,” Regulus praises when James suckles on the tip despite his body twitching to move out of the sunlight.

It makes him whine, swollen mouth falling open helplessly and Regulus pushes in again, down to the hilt and holds him there. James looks up at him with teary brown eyes, all innocent and pained, face twisting into a grimace around his mouth stuffed full. Trying to bear swallowing, clenching his throat deliciously around Regulus’ sensitive head. Trying to handle breathing with his nose pressed into the dark hair trailing up to Regulus’ navel. Trying to endure the sunlight that makes him feel like his whole body is being branded with a red hot iron.

Regulus feels dizzy with power as he keeps James’ head pressed against his crotch, listens to the wet whimpering and pained grunts and the– fuck, the exciting sound of skin sizzling. 

When Regulus feels a hot tear fall onto his inner thigh he quickly lets up.

James rips himself away with a high-pitched noise and zaps back into the shade, pressing himself against the wall, breath ragged and visibly hard in his boxer briefs.

———

part 2, James' pov

[dadsbongos]

shame on me

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa: Goodbye Despair Dynamic: Nagito Komaeda/Hajime Hinata Warnings: spoilers for the end game and also the anime and also ko’s ova ig, self-loathing as usual with komaeda,  just wanted to write something about the Remnants healing but now it’s just komahina Summary: Nagito’s never felt worthy of Hajime’s love - and he still doesn’t. ~~~

He didn’t let people into his room, and usually, they were respectful of that. Hiyoko liked to try her luck anyway, but Mahiru would usually randomly find the blond and pull her away.

Nagito was embarrassed of his room.

With maintenance materials for his hand littering the desk, a picture of his deceased classmate Chiaki Nanami, and a nightlight on the bedside table - his failures and shames cluttered the little room. He was surrounded with reminders of his past.

He missed his hand. He wanted to run his fingers over the gentle, soft skin one more time. And yet he was now met with cold, hard metal. All because of his own decisions. He was the one who cut off his own hand. He was the one who performed a makeshift amputation and replaced it with Junko’s hand. It’s his fault. He deserves no joy.

He missed Chiaki. He wanted to play one of her favorite obscure, random games with her again. He wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh. He wanted her to fall asleep on his shoulder like she used to on the train. And yet she was gone. He made her kill him - he got her AI killed. It’s his fault they can’t salvage her code. He deserves no love.

He would miss the daylight. The darkness reminded him of the trash bag he’d been stuffed into as a preteen. It reminded him of the dark, musty old building he’d been locked in after bringing two of his friends to their deaths. He should’ve been more careful walking home. He should’ve had more sense and known that death would never lead to hope. It’s his fault. It’s his fault. He deserves no rest.

Everything wrong with him is his fault.

He went to Monaca’s side.

He almost helped her win.

He’s worthless.

He doesn’t deserve the care and love his classmates give him.

He doesn’t deserve the hand Kazuichi made him. He doesn’t deserve the medication Mikan prescribes him. He doesn’t deserve the meals Teruteru cooks for him. He doesn’t deserve the attention and tenderness Hajime still extends to him.

He alienated Hajime after finding out he was talentless - and for what?

It was Hajime that had led them all through the trials. It was Hajime that held the most hope out of anyone he’d ever met.

Nagito clenched his eyes shut, trying to get his mind back on the book in front of him as he opened them once again.

It’s all his fault and he knows it. He’s garbage for what he’s done. He’s scum. He doesn’t deserve any of the love he gets.

He’s better off dead.

His hands darted up and over his eyes, feeling wetness begin to prickle at the appendage that remained his own. He avoided Chiaki’s eyes - her kind, caring eyes - as he stood. They always followed him. Always pleading.

Why would he do that to her?

She should still be here.

It’s his fault. It’s his fault. It’s his fault.

He kept his head down as he went down the hall, knocking against Hajime’s bedroom door. Shame crept through the entirety of Nagito’s being as the brunette answered his call.

“Do you need something? Oh…”

Nagito curled his fingers into fists, a lump forming in his throat and his nerves bundling together in his stomach, “If now’s not good, I can go…”

“‘Anytime you need me,’” Hajime muttered, moving to the side and pulling Nagito in, “That’s what I said.”

“You can say things you don’t mean.”

“I don’t.”

Nagito had no response to that - whether he was actually stunned speechless or was simply too tired to say anything back was irrelevant. He let Hajime pull him down to the bed all the same. 

Hajime Hinata, Nagito smiled slightly as he brushed his skin and flesh hand up and over the boy’s cheek, cupping the meat and bringing his thumb over the bone, the light of his life. There was no need to fear the dark when Hajime would fend the monsters hiding inside it off.

“Thank you.”

Hajime quirked a brow, nuzzling into the boy’s hand over his cheek as he did so, “What for?”

Nagito shook his head. He was so unworthy, but Hajime didn’t seem to care, “For loving me.”

“Thank you for letting me love you.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Of course, it is,” Hajime huffed, reaching over to copy Nagito’s actions and place his own hand over the scrawny boy’s cold, pale cheek and simply be content that he’d woken up from the program, “You’re not garbage. You’re not a worm. You’re beautiful. You’re kind. You’re smart. You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”

Once again, tears were rising to Nagito’s eyes, “Hajime…”

“I love you.”

Nagito hiccupped, rubbing at the tears beginning to bubble at his water line with the robot hand before blubbering out a faint, broken, “I love you, too.”