#heaven or hell: the violent object show

[luckycloverfield]

go my refs for characters from a object show i made that is so stupidly planned by me and irl friends that we haven’t worked on for years except me randomly hyperfixating on them

I swear theres more characters, a LOT more, but the Cloverfield family + co have been on my MIND

still gotta ref 4Leaf Cloverfield too </3

And heres also Lyrics whos the only not in the cloverfield family character important to one or more cloverfields

[not-the-living-ghost]

Charles saying "we don't know what my afterlife looks like" is actually kind of sad, when you think about it.

From the perspective of Edwin, or anyone watching Dead Boy Detectives, it's obvious that Charles wouldn't be sent to Hell. In fact, throughout both the show, and the DBDA fandom, it's continuously brought up that Charles chose to stay with Edwin, rather than spend an eternity in Heaven — as if this were an objectively true statement, and not an assumption. Charles is protective of his friends, he's kind, and he's extraordinarily compassionate, so of course he'd be sent to Heaven. However, Charles doesn't necessarily see himself in that light. Rather than seeing a boy who's willing to protect his friends, he sees himself as violent, as a reflection of his father. As we see in Episode 5, Charles mentions constantly being plagued by the fear that he's secretly not a good person. So despite all the good that he's done throughout his life — and death — I doubt he strongly believes that he'll be sent to Heaven.

Of course, knowing Charles, he would've chosen to stay with Edwin either way. And don't get me wrong, I'm totally in love with the idea of someone rejecting "a potentially tranquil eternity" to stay on Earth with their boyfriend best friend, I just found that scene thought-provoking and I'm surprised I haven't seen anyone else talking about it.

[aziraphales-library]

Henlo!

Im having a craving for some Book-Canon or partial Book-Canon with Hurt/Comfort or Angst with Crowley being the one Hurt/in distress/whump-ed/etc. , and thought I'd ask for some recommendations, since its really hard to find bookcanon fics nowadays, i thought maybe you encountered some

Thank you so much!

We have a #book omens tag. Here are a couple of newer fics that use book canon and a couple of older fics (if in doubt, go back in the search results to before the show was out!)...

Anytime. by sergeant_smudge (T)

There's icy water in his lungs, and he can't seem to remember that he doesn't need to breathe. Thoughts while drowning and a rescue.

A Strange Feeling With Regard to You by KannaOphelia (G)

Aziraphale and Crowley have drifted into congenial retirement in the South Downs together. They're closer than they have ever been—until Crowley is violently taken from Aziraphale. They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone.

Thy Demon Doth Grow Cold by wick_de_la_vela (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale, married for several years by now, take a much deserved holiday. Then Crowley goes missing.

Mimicry by Macx (M)

Something has been stolen from both Heaven and Hell... by a human. It's up to Aziraphale and Crowley to get it back. And it's much more than meets the eyes.

A Blessing and a Curse by black_katana (T)

Adam told them they’d be left alone. But Crowley hadn’t gotten this far without being paranoid- which is, in fact, a well adjusted response to having spent any time at all in Hell. Which is why he’s not actually all that surprised at Hastur once again showing up in his flat for some unsanctioned, good old-fashioned revenge- and a with a curse for good measure. Afterwards, Crowley will need the help of Aziraphale, his closest friend- and also the object of his long term affections that he's never acted on- to figure out how to prevent the curse from becoming permanent. - This story takes place after the events of the book. The characters are very much influenced by the book, but some elements from the TV show do creep in.

Don't Play With Holy Water by ImprobableDreams900 (M)

When the Bentley goes missing, Crowley isn't sure what to make of it. Unbeknownst to him, a certain lurking demon is waiting to settle an old score...

- Mod D

[spotlightlowlife]

Ed Edd and Eddy succeeds at what Haz/boss attempts

Here's another series both these shows could learn from.

Spoilers ahead.

Ed Edd and Eddy, another hyperactive crazy gag cartoon that is hardly for its supposed target audience. With a very basic plot, it's a lot like Helluva boss, yet it manages to move any story along faster than the more serious plot driven but still wacky Hazbin hotel.

We have obnoxious lead characters pushing business in an unappealing looking and feeling environment where good and bad and right and wrong are ambiguous. Only accountability and growth are highly prominent in the kids show.

Initial plots

Assassin imps who sit at the bottom of society are determined to make this small business work.

Antichrist princess of hell runs a hotel where she wants to redeem sinners in order to send them to heaven.

Kids who grift for money and candy.

Characters

Eddy is a lot like both Charlie and Blitzø, he's a hyper, toxic positive, opportunistic try hard, desperate for his ideas to work, he's leader of the pack who's good at being dismissive and driven to the point of carelessness.

Like Blitzø and co. and pilot Charlie and co., the Ed's are not established at what they're working towards, but they're willing to put in the work which only leads to misadventures.

Excluding Charlie as she barely gets the time of day, the fake it till you make it demeanor Eddy and Blitzø display masks saddens, loneliness and a lack of control of how they live and how they've been living.

Blitzø glides through his show on charisma and sympathy, along with facing someone objectively worst, his behaviour being rude and mean spirited is something nobody cares about and he like those around him can step up on anybody of any standing and their actions be shrugged off.

Eddy too is a charismatic and sympathetic character, his constant trying and failing at his ideas offers us a good underdog, yet he's no hero, he's a scammer and his unsavoury ways always bother people. He gets confronted a lot.

Charlie glides through on being a nice enough side character, dispite being the lead. Though like Ed, Charlie is very determined to push an idea and get others on side, but lacking in fight, assertiveness and aggression. All three leads are fast talking salesman types, yet Ed faces consequence on the regular.

HB and EED feature additional leads that serve as the primary leads sidekicks.

We have the highly similar Moxxie and Edd, though Edd stands up for himself a more, there have been fall outs and he doesn't treat his leader of the pack as a superior, something Moxxie does dispite being there since Blitzø business was just an idea, which was when they first met, welcoming Blitzø into his life.

Both are timid, sensible, cultured and full of ideas, dragged into the problems their pushy leader presents and walked all over, much to their frustration.

We also have the friendly and loyal bruiser sidekick who doesn't really have a lot to contribute in this group dynamic. These characters being Millie and Ed, yet were Millie could speak up more, have an opinion and let her presence be known but she doesn't, Ed on the other hand is consistently operating from elsewhere.

Target audience

Helluva and Hazbin are both adult cartoons, yet clean up the dialogue and that's hardly the case. Yes there's gore and mature themes but they make up a small part in upping the age rating in comparison to the swearing and sex jokes. The mature themes are offered to us in layman's terms, we get a lot of flashbacks and confessions.

Ed Edd and Eddy is for all audiences dispite being violent, featuring sexual harrassment, domestic violence and child abuse, the execution of these mature themes are played out in a nuanced manner where we are not spoon fed information.

Mature themes - trauma

Dispite being a comically violent gag cartoon, all the children, dispite being at odds with Eddy, some being volatile ob the regular and some being younger, were able to understand what domestic violence was when Eddy was bullied by his brother, his brother being a character Eddy had long hyped up as someone cool and admirable, turned out the only truth was that this guy existed.

His own revelation that he had fabricated a big part of his background explained a lot, all of Eddy's charisma and try hard ways were determination to be liked, appreciated and have nice thing. This was growth for him and he earned the respect and understanding of his peers absent of pity, everybody moved on happily without the audience being guided into what they should perceive.

The movie not only wrapped up the show, but bought completion to the whole story.

Helluva and Hazbin is very overt in showing us what the characters have been through and are going through. We get flashbacks to childhood even when it may not be necessary.

First off, Moxxie's flashback was fine, it wasn't particularly dramatic for its setting, it explained why he was a good marksman and why he had 'daddy issues', his daddy is also an active threat, so Moxxie's avoidance doesn't always work out.

Blitzø desperation to have his business work out leading him to make a dodgy deal fit perfectly fine, we learn that his kind are at the bottom of society, we see that they don't work anywhere glamorous and he's no kid, obviously he's had to make an effort to keep his head above water, his poor decision making has probably gotten him into trouble in the past which is something that could spell endless storylines, his family aren't present and he's aggressively forming a new one so bridges being burned were storylines the audience should have expected, we learnt that he stole from Verosika and broke her heart, Verosika is a whole sucubus who seemed more cut up about in him than him interested in her.

Did we really need to know that he was manipulated into being a user and a thief back when he was an innocent little child? Weren't his underhanded tactics understand enough?

Charlie got a flashback of being a very small child expressing an interest in what her daddy was doing but her now absent mother took her away. This provided the backbone for her sulking that her dad isn't being supportive when he presented himself as a rare character to challenge her ideas, yet unlike the other extras to do so he had the vantage point of having had the same ideals herself once.

Her mother being probably the most like minded person in her life yet absent, for some reason doesn't matter.

Mature themes - SA

In Hazbin we have a pimp who films porn and has his workers in soul contracts.

We have royalty lending out a grimore in exchange for kinky sex over in Helluva.

Sex jokes are a regular occurrence in the helluveese with actual SA being downplayed by the victim who holds no power and no to little choice, who openly shows a discomfort around their controller, not be a victim because they gave reluctant consent.

Sexual harassment and SA manage to be present in EEE in an overt manner despite the show being for all audiences, yet they also manage subtlety.

The pests are the Canker sisters, three intimidating sister with different dads who all want boyfriends and are a force to be reckoned with, they stick together and double up as school and neighbours bullies and are casually violent to one another with no hurt feelings. They have snuck on to the Ed's properties and even the most ferocious of charaters fear them, these girls want their way with their targets and little stops them, so they hold a lot of power, it really makes for a good hierarchy.

Though there is self awareness here, they have been stood up to for their aggressive advances and in one episode they had their pushy ways reflected back at them and were terrified, only this wasn't undone by a new episode rolling around and all that was done being undone, but normality was restored when they smelt fear, a predators equivalent of blood in water to a shark. This allowed a major plot progression to occur yet be reversed effectively, opposed to HH and HB offering big plot progress such as Blitzø and Moxxie's capture and heart to heart or Charlie showing up at Angeldust's work, which both go on to make no difference to future episodes as if they didn't happen.

The subtlety with their characters comes from the surprising adult joke of the different fathers which insinuates that their behaviour is something they're used to seeing, also, they are children, what chance have they had to learn empathy and decency? Who will teach them?

Which leads on to a major plot point of all these shows.

Elders are to blame

Where both Helluva boss and Hazbin hotel are big on daddy issues and absent mothers, Ed Edd and Eddy doesn't feature parent at all. We only follow children doing as they please wherever they may be. We don't see teachers even though we see them at school. We don't see neighbours even though the world around them is often being trashed. On the occasion we do meet a seemingly adult character it's away from the series and in the movie, it's a truely big deal that lives up to any hype, then the story is over.

Adversaries

In the Helluverse, villainy is selectively embraced, the tone of who we should root for and who we shouldn't is clearly set. Where we have full blown predators and dictators being pushed as essentric and the other cheek turned to their actions and intentions, Valention is just running business and Stolas and Blitzø have a thing going on.

Some are even counterproductive, how did Lucifer being at the heart of everything not matter or care to be addressed? Why does Charlie not care about the sinners Alastor and Rosie cannibalized?

We then have had prominent adversaries who the tone depicts as baddies we shouldn't like and a real treat, however both series gave us a 'big fat stupid jerk' who nobody had issues humiliating. Nobody cares about what they have to say or their contributions.

Female adversarie haven't been much of a threat, they get to have spats with the character who in the spotlight, sympathetic and in the right.

What did Glitz and Glam do that was so wrong? Was Stella not a scorned woman cheated, publicly humiliated and given no choice but to leave her home,

later revealed to have the same sad backstory as Stolas yet less freedom in the present?

Females tend to be sexualised 'super bitches' with their bitchyness being what matters, not what is directed at them, but ultimately it doesn't matter at the same time because they don't matter. Over in HH, we have basic Lilith as a twist shady character lounging on the beach while war is happening and her daughter struggles? Why is this is an issue when her husband is yet to be confronted and probably never will be? Same 'bitch' who come between daddy and daughter.

There's also fellow basic Lute whose actions truly should should make her stand out but don't for no reason at all, yet would they get half the spotlight if they weren't designed cute?

Who knows, since every female to get some time has been 'pretty', but no doubt the same dismissive attitude would be sent their way if they absolutely had to be seen.

Ed Edd and Eddy have a variety of different local kids to serve as friends or foes. The perpetrator depends.

They tend to be common trophes that are built upon, take jerkish because he can be local mean kid Kevin, who sees the Ed's as dorks and feels the need to let them know it.

The highly aggressive Sarah is almost entirely reactive, yet as violent and strong as she is, she has no more courage than anyone else and is seen gaging when to pick her battles or being to frightened to make her presence known. She is a nice friend to Jimmy and mainly a menace because she is a bratty little girl who is harder to avoid than others since she's Ed's sister.

Some are decent like pretty and well liked Naz who is rather mature and isn't going to let herself get walked all over

and foregin kid Rolf with his unusual customs, a hard working and principled kid who will call out anyone

but how much patience should a nice enough person have? Especially when lot of the time it's the Ed's, generally Eddy, making trouble for others.

Ed's main barrier to success is his struggle impress or screw these others over, there's no shying away from his behaviour bothering people yet he still manages to hold up as a fun, eccentric lead.

Location

In the Helluverse, this is hell but only when it suits. The scenery of HB has looked rather spacious, vibrant and appealing while the harsh colours of the HH series in heaven or hell are bold, the ceiling we were offered in the pilot which offered a claustrophobic entrapment seems a thing of the past, it looks very big and open once we step outside of Charlie's hotel, even the colour relax to something more neutral.

There is a lack of depravity with powerful leaders we are to like being toned down, the sin of lust believes in consent always, the sin of gluttony worries about over indulgence and the actual devil is just a fun dorky dad who doesn't appear to be doing anything in particular. Anyone portrayed as a victim serves to tug at the viewers heartstrings and be cute and likeable in that moment.

Charlie has a big fancy hotel that isn't going anywhere and welcomes sinners, former humans who are spawned into a middle class.

Over in HB the demons have raised hell on earth, arriving to carry out hits, bringing forth monsters, demonic possession, lude acts infront of minors, showing true forms and being responsible for some of the most gory scenes.

All with no consequence. It's like the setting serves primarily as a way to incorporate fun character designs with the various races.

EEE gives us a bunch of unsupervised kids who can do what they want in this unattractive environment that uses a strange colour scheme with a lack of contrast that gives a closed in feel. It is entirely lawless, non serious, so OTT that anything goes, physics need not apply.

For years people have theorized that these characters aren't living and that this may be set in limbo or purgatory. Be this the case or not, this series succeeds at giving us a very off backdrop to compliment its total lack of realism.

[aaliyg]

Shuri Headcanons

Warnings: shurixblack!fem!reader, nsfw below the cut

sfw

definitely the type to spoil you. no questions asked

good luck paying for anything while she's in a five-mile radius of you

whenever there's a special event coming up, you best believe the both of you are getting custom-made matching outfits

really terrible at walking in heels. like, anything above three inches and she'll look like a baby giraffe that was just born XD

enjoys deep cleaning days. it's a nice way to reset and spend some time with you in a private area

lets you lay on your lap while she's doing her work

is slightly clingy, even though she says she isn't. you see right through it though, but you find it heartwarming

probably against smoking, but will probably take a shot when she's really stressed

absolutely melts when you play with her hair. bonus points if you actively do it for her as well

I feel like she enjoys cooking in her free time. you will be well-fed around her don't worry

is the type to handle conflicts in a civil manner. unless the situation calls for something more... violent

she does a little dance every time an experiment goes well. you have these on camera, and she gets embarrassed every time you show the vids to her

nsfw

obsessed? with you? hell yeah

whether she's on top or bottom it doesn't matter. you're cumming first

loves the way you shudder when she speaks Xhosa to you. whether in bed or out of bed

has a custom-made strap for both of you. yours is yellow and hers is purple.

loves to eat you out, especially when you sit on her face. she's in heaven. a munch before munch was a thing

pull her hair. do it I dare you

lives for the way your mouth hangs open when her fingers are inside of you

if you choke her while yall are in the moment, she might cum on the spot

she loves giving you multiple orgasms, solely for the way you say her name every time you cum

probably has a voice kink

very handsy, but with decorum. her favorite places to hold you are your hands and waist

loves it when you fuck her in a missionary position. something about watching you towering over her like this makes her mind go blank

loves it when your ride her strap. doesn't matter if you're facing her or not, she just enjoys watching that pussy swallow the object

[actuallycassidyiambusy]

If you have enough written, could we get a little teaser of your Demon!Buggy and church boy!Luffy AU?? Please🥺🥺

As you wish anon. Here's a little excerpt from the au I'm working on. I don't have a name for it, yet, but who cares lmao.

Words: 1,660

Buggy x Luffy

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, it’s cold in here.” Buggy mutters dismally, rubbing one of his bare biceps as he follows Luffy into the abandoned library below the church. “No wonder nobody comes down to this shithole.” He pulls a stone out of the wall and flicks it to the floor boredly.

Luffy freezes and looks over his shoulder, his hair breezing over his glaring eyes. “Watch your mouth, demon.” He says firmly.

Buggy tilts his head slightly, drawing one eyebrow up as his hand falls slack away from his arm. “I have a name. Thank you very much.” He retorts snidely.

Luffy turns his back to the man, eyes closed with slight irritation. He pulls his cloak tighter around himself. It is cold down here. He thinks, his breath coming out in small puffs of white. “You shouldn’t be able to feel this. Demons are hot by nature.”

Buggy smirks and leans down to speak into Luffy’s ear from behind, folding his hands behind his back. “You think I’m hot, huh?” He purrs, wiggling his eyebrows.

Luffy’s face becomes a violent shade of red and his composure slips. He whirls around and shoves the cocky bastard away. “Six feet. Remember?” He states lowly, his glare remaining.

Buggy rolls his eyes at what he considers a dumb and unfair rule. He straightens his posture. “Yeah, yeah. I remember.” His tail waves lazily behind him and he looks around the creepy old library. “You’re wrong, by the way.” He steps away, walking past Luffy to pick up objects and juggle them.

Luffy busies himself by looking through various shelves of books, focused on finding the one he needs. “About what? Put those down before you break them.”

Buggy mimics Luffy in a small, squeaky voice before setting the objects back down. “Not all demons are hot by nature, and not all of Hell is a blazing inferno.” He yawns and scratches the inside of his ear with his pinky. “Some levels look like cities and others are actually covered in ice. Like this fucking place.”

Luffy’s eyebrows raise with curiosity. He didn’t know that. He figured everything was on fire. His response is a short grunt, careful not to show too much interest. “Can’t you just conjure some fire to warm yourself up? It wouldn’t kill you to wear something with sleeves either.” He sneaks a glance at Buggy’s arms. He clears his throat and looks away.

“Oh, sure.” Buggy crosses his arms, standing with one hip out, a judgemental gleam in his piercing eyes. “Let me conjure flames in a room full of dry, crusty books.” He sneers sarcastically. He grins when Luffy glares at him again.

Luffy’s shoulders fall and he sighs, fingers slipping from the binding of a book. “You’re very annoying.” He frowns, not knowing where to look. Is it even here? “There’s a supply closet in the back of the room. I remember seeing some hoodies in there. Quit whining and go get one.”

Buggy sweeps the whining comment under the rug and turns his head, spotting a door on the far back wall. He uncrosses his arms and walks over to it, his footsteps echoing lightly. It’s locked, so he rips the doorknob off, earning a scolding stare from Luffy. He shrugs and throws the doorknob to the side. It lands with a loud clang.

As Buggy digs through the supply closet, Luffy continues his search for the right book. He knows he needs it. If he’s familiar with Heaven, it’s important for him to be familiar with Hell. Though… He glances towards the noisy closet, somewhat endeared when he just sees Buggy’s tail. What could be a better source than an actual demon?

“What the hell is with all these smalls and extra smalls!?” Buggy growls angrily, tossing black hoodies out the door and making a mess. He holds one up to himself for size. “You know, this borders on body shaming.” He throws that one too. It hits the wall and crumples to the stone floor. “I’m a big guy. I want a hoodie, not a crop-top.”

Luffy forces himself not to smile at the demon’s predicament. “Yeah, well, I don’t think the church considered a seven foot tall beefcake of a demon to hunt for clothes here.”

Buggy snorts contemptuously and rolls his eyes again. He relaxes when he finally finds a hoodie his size, pulling it over his head. It catches on his horns and he growls with exasperation. He manages to get it on and he looks down, brow dipping. “Hey, pretty boy.” He speaks with a mischievous snicker, stepping out of the room. When Luffy looks at him, he points to the quote on the front of the hoodie. “Got Jesus?” His snicker erupts into a booming laugh. “Got Jesus!?” He wheezes, his eyes beading with tears and closing tightly.

Luffy stares at the expressive man with an unamused gaze. “I called on you for help, not stupid jokes.”

Buggy wipes under his eye with the knuckle of his index finger, black nail polish gleaming. “Don’t tell me. Tell the fucker who actually thought it would be cool to make hoodies like this.” He chuckles and sighs. He pulls his hair out of the hoodie, letting it drape down his back. “Like I said before, I’m a demon, not a genie. I don’t grant wishes, and I don’t help people for free, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” Luffy mutters darkly, regretting his decision to summon Buggy. He can’t take anything seriously. He turns his warm face away, pulling out books and reading the covers. Where is it!?

“What are you looking for, anyway?” Buggy asks after almost twenty minutes. He doesn’t like the smell of this library. It’s musty. He’d rather hang out in the other one. The lighting is better. He shoves his hands in the front pocket of the hoodie, watching Luffy buzz around the room.

“Names Of The Damned.” Luffy explains briefly, putting books back with a disappointed exhale. He rests one hand on his upper arm and bites the nail of his thumb on his other hand, thinking. His foot taps quietly, and he shifts his attention to Buggy. “Could you seek it out?” He asks softly. “Please?”

Buggy jerks his head back subtly, brow furrowing. He inhales and exhales with defeat. “Fine. I’ll give ya a freebie. Just this once.” He focuses and his eyes glow for a few short moments. He flicks two fingers, gesturing to the other side of the room. “Case three, second shelf, fifth book from the left.”

Luffy perks up, eyes gleaming. That’s so cool! He follows Buggy’s directions, rushing to the other side of the room and finding the book with ease. He grabs it and brings it over to a cluttered table. Pushing books and crumpled papers aside, he sets the large book down and flips through the pages.

“What do you need the Names Of The Damned for?” Buggy asks curiously putting emphasis on the book title. He walks over and stands on the opposite side of the table. “What use is it to you?”

“It’s always helpful to know your enemies, isn’t it?” Luffy continues to look through the book, eyes scanning every other page. It’s like he’s looking for something more specific.

Buggy takes notice of Luffy’s intense concentration. This must be about what happened to his parents. He thinks with a tilt of his head. “Why summon me? Why not just ask your mentor?”

“He told me not to seek out this book.” Luffy admits quietly, a sad, faraway look in his eyes. Shanks cannot know about this.

“Pfft. You’d think he woulda hidden it better.” Buggy strides around the table, standing directly behind Luffy with a deep chuckle. “Calling on a demon and breaking the head priest’s rules?” He twirls a lock of Luffy’s curly hair around his finger, leaning down. “You sure you belong in a church?”

Luffy exhales shakily, Buggy’s hot breath on the back of his neck. The smell of scorched amber wood and bourbon floods his senses. He spins around, attempting to push Buggy away. His hands slam against the demon’s firm chest. “Six!” He tries again, failing. “Feet!”

“Actually, it’s seven feet.” Buggy stands up straight, hovering his hand above his head and showing off his dangerous canines with a wide, smug grin.

“Buggy!” Luffy snaps, reaching into his cloak to pull out a vial of holy water. He’s not bluffing.

Buggy holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Geez. Lower the weapon, killer.” He steps back, his shoulders relaxing when Luffy puts the vial away. “Fuck.” He breathes, his tail twitching. “You just keep that shit on you?”

"Of course I do." Luffy fixes his clothes, looking up at Buggy haughtily. He closes the book and holds it under his arm. "How else would I keep rogues like you in line?" He turns away with a small smile. "Thanks for the book. You can go now."

“Ugh.” Buggy grunts with a shudder. He wraps his arms around himself and gazes at Luffy deviously. “I feel so... So used.” He’s about to snap his fingers when Luffy stops him.

“Aht.” Luffy shakes his head disapprovingly. “No stealing from the church, slick.” He points to the hoodie. “Take it off.”

Buggy holds his hands over his chest, pretending to be bashful. “No. I’m shy.” There’s a hint of laughter in his tone.

Luffy taps his foot, expression becoming stern. “Buggy.”

"Killjoy." Buggy scoffs and removes the hoodie, his movements lifting his vest enough to reveal his blue treasure trail. He discards the hoodie onto the table haphazardly. Then he gives Luffy one final dirty look, one eyebrow raised before disappearing in a burst of blue flames.

Luffy closes his eyes and sighs, finally able to relax. He turns to leave the room, pausing to glance back at the hoodie on the table. He bites his lip subtly and looks around before grabbing up the hoodie and exiting quickly.

[broodsys]

smth clicked just now, the reason that morality and redemption and irredeemable narratives in media have been on my mind for so long

so this is personal and heavy

cw: suicide of a family member

so, abt two years ago my brother killed himself here at home. it was very difficult, obviously, but the reason I bring it up in relation to these subjects is bc he had an absolutely black and white view of morality

personally, I don't believe objective morality exists. functional morality, sure, the stuff that keeps societies together, that keeps theft and murder and violence limited, the social stigma and shame attached to it, but objective morality is more of a religious thing, a very christian thing. that ppl Are good or Are bad ties in with objective morality. black and white views ties in with it

now, my brother was always frustrated by depictions of complex villains. he wanted Evil Bad Irredeemable Ppl to lose against Good Pure Never Failing Ppl. if it was only impacting what kind of shows he liked, whatever, but it wasn't - it was in his perception of himself

he was autistic. he had violent intrusive thoughts. he had violent outbursts when he was younger. and even tho he didn't want to be, he was chained to concepts of christian heaven and hell. he saw the world as good and bad without nuance, and he was "bad" - without nuance

he had been trying to kill himself for a long time. afterwards my oldest brother went thru a document on his computer titled suicide note, but it was really an expansive journal. he'd been making attempts for quite a while. but he was also afraid of going to hell. he wanted to kill himself so he would never hurt anyone, but was scared of being tortured for eternity bc a) he was bad and b) suicide is a sin

can you see why I want nuance? why I value it?

I'm not saying it would have "fixed" him, but if society wasn't so focused on redemption arcs being a bad thing that glorifies bad ppl, if society wasn't so focused on christian values of absolute objective morality and the stark division btwn Good Ppl and Bad Ppl, if society was willing to grapple more openly with ppl who do bad things but choose to break those cycles and live in the world, maybe he could have found something to inspire him to a different outlook. at the least, he wouldn't have been constantly fed the narrative of absolute governing morality as a core, unchangeable behavior. the narrative that to make a bad enough mistake once in your life precludes you from ever being good and that it's useless to try and make up for it

I want redemption arcs. I want them of the worst ppl you can imagine. I want them of ppl who have done immense, deliberate harm. why? because they're important, because they show alternatives, and because they don't paint with a broad brush. to have a piece of media say Yes, This Person Did Monstrous Things, And Now They're Changing The Course Of Their Life, And It Doesn't Undo The Harm But It Stops Them Doing More Harm, And This Decision Has Value is CRUCIAL for so many ppl

also, sympathetic villains are a reminder to everyone who considers themselves a Good Person that this can be you, too

there is no objective morality. there is no inherent goodness v. evil in a person. there's no emotion or skill that "saves" someone from being cruel or selfish. empathy is frequently cited in this way, but low/no empathy ppl can still make decisions that do not hurt others. higher empathy ppl can also be selfish and self-serving because of their high empathy and the burnout of experiencing strong emotional reactions based on other's reactions. empathy =/= morality =/= goodness

it's easy to say Well If Ppl Were More X, Then Things Would Be Better, but it's always an oversimplification and a massive overgeneralization. humanity is extremely nuanced. someone who's jaded and mistrustful and has no empathy can still make kind, well reasoned choices in how they behave; someone who's warm and soft and sympathetic can make their life small and self-centered to avoid getting hurt

and these generalizations always hurt the ppl who aren't rly the intended target. my brother had intrusive thoughts that he became convinced told him the truth of himself. it didn't seem to matter that he loathed those thoughts, that part of the reason he killed himself was to spare others - he had Bad Thoughts so he was a Bad Man. this is where these generalizations lead. this is where objective morality leads

and in the opposite direction, ppl who are cruel, who are causing harm, can go around being convinced that they're good ppl. someone who has the "right" feelings or the "right" behavioral reactions is exempt from possibly being bad... even tho that's patently untrue. the only thing we can do that's good or bad is in our actions (including inaction); thought crime is not real, feelings crime is not real, there's no response or lack thereof that makes you bad. but cruel choices are cruel choices; kind choices are kind choices. there can be differences between the intent and impact that are worth noting, too, but it's still the case that choices are all that determines our functional morality within society

it's tempting to simplify these matters but simplifications will always, ALWAYS backfire

[elrondfucker69]

here at elrondfucker69 we support the protestors in Hong Kong doing their thing! The People’s Liberation Army, cops and the Communist Party would look up at the people they killed and ask them to dip their fingers in water to cool the fires around them!

[ana-benn]

The Enforcer's Gun

Warnings: Smut, mafia AU, Dom/sub, possessive alpha male, gun play, exhibitionism, alcohol consumption (I don't advise copying this part. I've done it and it's a great recipe for a hangover from hell), size kink, thigh riding, object insertion

You'd normally be thriving right now. You had your hair done, a dress that fit well and looks hot as fuck, and honestly you'd spent most of the night getting compliments from random strangers. For all intents and purposes, you were having a good night. Except the one man you wanted to notice how good you looked wasn't paying attention to you.

He was working.

While you could appreciate the fact that he had work to do, you hated how at times like this he could just ignore you. If you'd ever told him that he'd have smirked and informed you that he spoiled you. Which was true, but that knowledge did nothing as you stood at the bar and watched him talking to the owner of the nightclub you were in.

'Contract Negotiations' is what he had called it, but he wasn't exactly in the negotiations business. You flinched as Jordie grabbed the guy by the shoulder and held him fast while Jamie hit him hard in the stomach. You'd learned to find this side of him masculine and entirely too sexy, and you felt the tell-tale slick pool in your panties.

"There you are, you're too good at giving me the slip," Tyler laughed as he saddled up next to you. Normally you'd have Jessi here with you, but she'd just had a baby, so it was you and Tyler. You could've spent time with one of the other girls that'd come, but you didn't exactly like them all.

"That's because you're too busy checking out the sorority girls that just walked it," you quipped. "Why won't this bartender come take my order?" You grumbled as the bartender walked past you yet again.

"He probably saw you walk in with Chubbs," Tyler laughed, signaling the bartender.

"Don't let him hear you call him that in public," you grinned. "He may shoot you."

"Round of fireball shots," Tyler said when the bartender walked over finally. You have him a pointed look and he rolled his eyes, "And a Mai Tai for the lady."

"Plantation rum!" You called to the bartender's back. You rolled your eyes as Tyler laughed at your pout.

"Not everyone is gonna cater to you like Jamie does doll, just the facts," he winked then.

"He's not even catering to me," you grumbled, eyes drifting over to where Jamie was crouched over a bleeding man. Apparently negotiations weren't going well. Or maybe they were, you had no idea. "Why'd he bring me again?"

"You've been asking to come for months," Tyler reminded you.

"And you're baby sitting me because..." You asked.

"Apparently I only do 'pretty things' and this isn't a pretty job. So I got girlfriend duty," he smirked looking down at you.

"Why Mr. Seguin," you gasped in mock outrage. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were flirting."

"Nah, I like my balls where they are," Tyler shrugged. "You picked a jealous one." Just then the bartender lined up the shots in front of the two of you and set your Mai Tai down before scurrying away.

You rolled your eyes, as Tyler handed you a shot. You clinked them together before slamming back three in a row each. It was a ritual you'd developed when Tyler was on baby sitting duty, and you actually enjoyed the cinnamon burn. You tasted your drink, rolling your eyes as you sipped the tinny taste associated with Bacardi, before grabbing the final shot in front of you and dumping it into the tiki drink.

"Really?" Tyler asked with a raised eyebrow.

You shrugged, "I hate Bacardi, you know that."

Tyler just laughed as he threw back his final shot, "Come on I know you wanna dance."

You let Tyler lead you onto the dance floor, one hand securing your drink firmly. You danced with him for a while, forgetting your annoyance at Jamie for working temporarily. You were laughing and having fun, as Tyler would spin you around and sing along with you. It was completely not sexy, but it was fun and comfortable. Tyler was Jamie's best friend, and you felt almost as safe with him as you did your boyfriend. You'd grown to see him like a playful older brother who would tease you and goof around, but the second someone touched you he's fuck them up.

A few songs in though and he leaned into your ear, "I'm going to hit the head. Stay here." You nodded in acknowledgement as he walked away.

In a place like this it wasn't long before the vultures descended, and a decent looking guy moved in to try and dance with you. "Just waiting for my boyfriend," you'd explained.

"It's okay, I am too," he laughed.

You smiled then and danced a little with him then, soon another guy showed up and your partner left. Tyler still hadn't shown up so you decided to go to the ladies room. As you walked out after washing your hands you held the door open with your foot so you could throw your towel away, not paying attention to your surroundings you were startled when rough hands grab you and pressed you against the brick walk across from the bathroom.

You were about to scream when you recognized the bearded face looming over you, "Jamie?" You questioned. "You scared me."

"Did I?" He mumbled as he hiked your skirt up and pushed into your body as a brought a thick thigh between your legs. The immediate pressure made you gasp in delight, as his lips attacked your neck.

"I don't like watching you dance with other men," he growled as you pushed down onto his thigh harder, dragging your soaked pussy along the dark fabric of his pants. Craving the friction and already desperate for him.

"I-I'm...." You were losing what your wanted to say as he again pressed rough kissed over you'd neck, working down into the cleavage of your dress. You moaned softly at the feel, and bucked into his body. His hands on your hubs suddenly stilled you.

"You're going to cum on my thigh little girl," he said darkly. "But first I think I need to remind you who I am."

Suddenly you felt cold metal touch your inner thigh, as his other hand ripped your flimsy panties from your core. He shoved the lace in his pocket as he spread your slick around your weeping hole, before working you open on his thick finger. You responsive body was preening under the attention, and you eagerly bucked into his hand as his palm grazed your clit.

"Fuck baby, you're so wet," he groaned his head falling into your neck. "Whose got you this wet?"

"You do," you moaned out. "Only you."

"Yeah?" He asked, making you whimper as he removed his hand. He slowly worked the cold barrel of his gun into you soaked channel, as he did that he sucked your juices off his finger.

He worked you until the barrel was seated inside you fully. Before he left it there running his hands along your inner thighs and occasionally grazing your sensitive bud. He was teasing you while your cunt quivered around the gun, you felt so full and stretched around it.

You didn't even notice as Jamie pulled out his phone, but when you saw him take a picture of your body split open on his gun you could've cum right then. He smirked when he saw your hungry eyes watch his every move before hiking you up further by pulling your legs over his hips. You moaned as he nuzzled his face into your neck again and worked his mouth over your favourite spot. You knew well that he'd leave a dark bruise there, and you craved it. You craved that mark of ownership maring your skin. Just the idea made you groan with arousal.

You shuttered as your back brushed against the rough wall in the hallway of the nightclub. The exposed back of your dress creating space for the wall to scratch your delicate skin.

"Please you begged," as Jamie's large hands teased you mercilessly, the warmth a sharp contrast to the cold metal in your soaked cunt.

"You want to act like a desperate whore," Jamie growled in your ear, pushing further into your body. "I'll treat you like a whore." He pulled the gun back just enough, before pushing it roughly back into you. "You'll get off on my gun right here, or I'll make sure you don't cum for weeks little girl."

You sobbed. It was rough, and degrading, but it felt like heaven. You wanted to hate this, but the feel of Jamie's hands on you, as he fucked you with a weapon was indescribable. You wanted more, and yet with a flex of his wrist you felt yourself quiver as you orgasmed all over the shiny metal.

"JAMIE," your cried out as waves of pleasure wracked your body.

As you came down he worked the gun out of you before sliding it into the waistband of his pants. He slowly dragged your cunt along his thigh as you just watched, completely blissed out. He grinned at your expression as you went from being in a post-orgasmic haze, to being fully aroused again, to thrashing against him as you came violent with nothing in your oversensitive core.

He let you come down, cooing in your ear has he did so, "Such a good girl for me." He rubbed soothing hands over your arms and back as he just held you.

Once he'd given you a moment to recover he slowly set you down on shaky knees. You watched him as he pulled the gun out and wiped it off, before pulling the clip from his back pocket and reloading it. You gazed at him shocked as you put it together.

"It wasn't loaded?" You asked, causing Jamie to laugh.

"You thought I'd fuck you with a loaded gun? Come on baby, I told you I'd engage your fantasy I'm not putting my favorite girl at risk," he said with a smile. "Now come on your going to keep my cock warm while I finished working out some more details."

He grabbed your hand and escorted you back to where he'd been all night. He was unashamed as he unzipped his cock and impaled you on it, as you stifled a moan as you settled into his chest. You peppered kisses along his neck as you allowed his beard to tickle the side of your face as he spoke. You felt yourself slowly soaking him as your juices slicked out of your body.

Every once in a while Jamie would look at you and smirk as he felt your walls flutter around him. You were on edge and desperate for friction. By the time you were left alone, realizing that the club around you had closed and it was just you and Jamie you were borderline feral for him. You moved to get off of him, so he could take you home and fuck you, but instead powerful hands held you in place. You looked at Jamie, shocked, before he lifted you slowly and brought you back down roughly.

You understood what he wanted and slowly tucked your knees under you. You worked yourself up his cock, before the hands covering your hips brought you back down. Your responsive body trembled at the give and take you were doing with him. His eyes never left you, watching as you worked yourself to the edge again, he wanted to see you come undone.

With no adrenaline in your veins this time your climax came softer, more subtle, you whimpered out as your body quaked around him. Jamie groaned and pulled your lips to his as he reached his own peak. Once he'd calmed himself he slowly lifted you off I've him. Tucking himself back into his pants he slung a lazy arm around your waist before nodding at the bartender you'd dealt with earlier. He threw some cash on a table and ordered him to lock up. You felt you face heat as you realized you hadn't been alone, but ultimately you didn't care.

It had been a good night.

[luckycloverfield]

wail i wanna draw lil silly interactions wim my humanized heaven or hell guys

you know what small break from character ai time time for oodles hehe

also calling the show to hoh:tvos as to not put it in unrelated tags 👍

If yall wanna request interactions between my hoh tvos guys btw send a ask to me and ill most likely draw it!!!!!

S1 only, but including Weedy (S2) and Blood Star (S5)

[nochuvalencia]

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 - jhs

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: jhope x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: “you taste like heaven angel.”

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: SMUT

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 8.2k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: CUNNILINGUS, multiple orgasms, spanking, hobi is a prick, ex!hoseok, they kinda almost get caught, reader acts like she doesn’t want him, he chokes her like once, jealous hob, the tiniest bit of taehyung x reader but it’s just flirting, toxicbf!hobi

It had been over six months since you had broken up with Hoseok and you still couldn’t get that bastard out of your head. It was exhausting really only because he was the most toxic, manipulative, yet amazing boyfriend you have ever been with all at the same time. To your dismay, you remember every daunting detail of the day the two of you broke up with a precision that is pathetic to say the least. You vividly recall the way he blatantly flirted and danced with your best friend at the time. The way he caressed her arm the way he had done to you millions of times. The way he whispered into her ear. The way he curled his hands around her waist and glanced over at you with a knowing smirk. All because you didn’t object to a free drink from the hot bartender that night. He was always jealous and insufferably so which was one of the reasons why you stormed over to the pair, kicked him in the shin and swiftly broke up with him with a quick “we’re over” in a cloud of heated fury. Obviously you had been very upset after that but the most upsetting thing was the fact that he reacted to your kick more than he reacted to you breaking up with him so you had stormed out of the establishment before attracting any additional unwanted attention. You cried on the sidewalk outside of the rowdy night club for hours before receiving a text from him that really set you off which read, ‘you’ll be begging for me again my angel <3’ You weren’t really mad at the context or the way he worded it or the snarky smirk you could feel radiating off of the text, you were mad because a part of you actually believed what he wrote. That you’d come crawling back to him like a pathetic little puppy. You hated the fact that you were always so obedient and did exactly what he wanted when he wanted, so you’d promised yourself that from that day forward, you wouldn’t do just that.

He had done shit like that before, acting out because of the dumbest things, upsetting you or making you wildly jealous just because he loved how you got when you were mad but those weren’t the only reasons you broke up with him. In the club that night while you watched them dance and talk, tauntingly aware of your presence, you wondered how your life would be in the future if your relationship continued. You thought he might have loved you but he was controlling, jealous, uber toxic and you didn’t know how those traits would translate in the future. So you panicked and bailed, thinking, ‘will he act like this if we grow old together?’ and ‘how will he be if we get married?’ or ‘would he even want to get married?’. All the worried thoughts swirling in your head mixed with the alcohol and jealous rage contributed to your rash decisions and you were way too ashamed to turn back after the deed had been done, no matter how much you cared for him. You were too ashamed to admit your mistake and were still trying to figure out if it even had been one. Your relationship from start to finish was just a rollercoaster of mixed signals and you were ready to get off that ride and find something more stable. Something that would last, and you knew you wouldn’t find it with him and you knew it even after being apart from him for so long, so why was he still on your mind?

The man left his mark on you, his residue thoroughly coating your brain and sticking like frozen tar, firmly ingraining itself in your mind and further convincing you that you were still his. But you weren’t. Obviously, and you thought at first that you merely needed to convince yourself of that with countless nights of alcohol and terrible drunk sex with strangers. That was really the only time your mind was ever free of his wrath. Not during the sex though, you mainly just recalled of all the ways Hoseok was better than the guys that were sleeping with you. You figured that was one of the reasons you couldn’t get him off of your mind, his tongue was phenomenal in itself. While you were together, he once made you cum four times with his mouth alone, which blew your mind completely and only made you attached even more to your dismay. Only one of your several hookups came close to being as good as him but it was still a bit disappointing if you were being frank. The man was sloppy and not in a good way. However, you never really retained the energy to complain about them anymore.

You currently stood outside the nightclub owned by none other than the devil himself, Jung Hoseok. It sounded like the absolute dumbest thing you could do since you had been spending the last half of a year trying to get over him but the bartender was a really good friend, you always got in free after he put you on the VIP list whilst you were in a relationship, and you knew his work schedule. He never worked on Saturdays because the club was way too full for him to bear so that was exactly when you went, even though in truth it was a little too full for you to bear as well. You had no idea why he never took you off of the VIP list but you never questioned it as long as he didn’t know you had been in attendance so you approached the entrance wincing at the loud yet muffled bass thumping through the threshold. The bouncer nodded and opened the rope invitingly upon seeing your familiar face to which you bobbed your head back, scurrying through the doorway with a scowl as the skull splitting music thumped violently into your ears. In no time you had shimmied a path through the massive sea of sweaty bodies and pushed your way up onto a barstool before locking eyes with your favorite bartender and quite literally your only friend, Taehyung. A wide smile broke out on his soft features as he set eyes on you and you returned the gesture whilst sliding onto the obnoxiously high stools at the bar. The man was ridiculously hot, a fact you hadn’t ignored as you had been trying to get him to sleep with you, or even go for a damn coffee with you for the past three months which was stupid on your part because he was one of Hoseok’s best and most trusted friends, so he’d never do that to him. But you didn’t care, Hoseok didn’t deserve friends in your opinion, and he’d basically dry humped yours the night you broke up.

“Hey handsome.” You waved him over, greeting him with a wide toothy grin and leaning closer to his slender form by crossing your arms on the counter top. He blatantly checked you out, his gaze raking slowly over the thin satin dress that hugged your frame exactly where it mattered. You bought this dress right after your breakup and officially gave it the stupid name, your “lucky fucky dress” after getting laid because of it around five times and you looked phenomenal in it. Taehyung tossed the small hand towel clutched in his slim hand over his shoulder before placing a small glass on the counter in front of you, filling it to the brim with some sort of dark liquor.

“Hey gorgeous” he greeted, his warm smile quickly becoming weary as he warned, “you probably shouldn’t be here tonight.” you quickly chugged the small glass, wincing at the delicious sting in your throat, the corners of your mouth turning down at the words he spoke. Sliding the glass back to him with a short inhale you open your mouth, about to question what he meant before he quickly answered the ‘why?’ dangling on the tip of your tongue. “He’s here babe.” Taehyung deadpanned and your soul basically dropped to hell. Your heart began pounding in your chest as you attempted to disguise your heightened emotions. This was his club after all and you couldn’t avoid him forever, but you sort of hoped that you would be able to. Although a small part of you hoped he would spot you at least once, just to flaunt how good you were doing without him, but that wouldn’t be a possibility because he was most likely cooped up in his office like the workaholic you remember he once was. You chuckled curtly at the man that stood before you, his pitiful eyes staring at you as if you were a child that just fell off their bike. He could see you were still hung up on him. It was completely obvious. Why else would you show up at his club every week? Why else would you react to Hoseok’s presence in such a manner? This was the exact reason he would never sleep with you. You were amazing, funny, and gorgeous beyond belief, but your heart still belonged to Hoseok. You were still devoted to him no matter how much you denied it. It hurt him to watch you mask your pain and he definitely wouldn’t take advantage of that.

“Okay?” you laughed out falsely, your mind running rampant with ways to change the subject. “Pour me another drink Tae.” you smiled up at him, acting as unfazed as you possibly could as you watched the glass refill and downing it in a matter of seconds before your eyes scanned the crowd of bodies dancing messily on top of each other. They looked like they were having a blast and you needed something to take your mind off of Hoseok's presumed presence. “I take it you still won’t come dance with me?” you questioned toward the handsome young bartender as you hopped off of the stool, running your hands down your dress and staring up at him as he shook his head.

“No, sorry babe. I gotta make drinks.” He replied, making a small pout form on your red tinted lips as you backed away from the counter. You shot him a curt wave as you spun around and strode onto the cluttered dance floor, pushing your way through the mounds of gyrating bodies and locking eyes with the first decent looking man you spotted in the crowd. You shot him a playful smirk as you approached him, beginning to sway your body slowly along with the music. He raked his hooded eyes up and down your body shamelessly before snaking a strong arm around your waist and spinning you so your back was flush with his hard abdomen. He was doing much better than most guys you had encountered so far. You closed your eyes and began dancing in synchronous with him, flailing and writhing rhythmically to the music as you bumped bodies with the man behind you who’s dancing skills were quite impressive to say the least. You slowly snaked your hands up your body as you continued to sway before tossing them behind you and rowdily intertwining your fingers at the back of his neck which in turn pulled him even closer to you if that were possible.

You tilted your head back to rest on his shoulder with a sigh not long before opening your eyes to be met with a sight you didn’t expect to see even after being warned by Taehyung. He said Hoseok was here but you had either expected him to be joking like he was many times before, or you had expected the man in question to stay holedup in his office like he was on almost every work night in the club. But no, there he was, hunched over the VIP balcony, his bloodthirsty glare piercing through you with the intensity of a thousand suns. He looked absolutely amazing, if you had to admit, clad in a black turtleneck with matching charcoal slacks, patent leather shoes and a black and gold Gucci belt wrapped tightly around his waist. Your heart stilled in your chest as you continued to grind on the individual behind you, your eyes and thoughts fully trained on the man above as you breathed deeply. But you weren’t going to let him get to you like he had so many other times. You utilized the liquid confidence swirling through your veins and huffed assuringly before gyrating harder into the patron behind you with a satisfied smirk as he snaked his arms down your sides.

You noticed Hosek cock his head to the side, his stoic expression never changing as he stared you down dangerously from above. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth slowly, you clamped your teeth down on the sensitive flesh as you remembered him doing so many times before and you knew for a fact it drove him insane, but his expression remained cold as he watched. Closing your eyes once more, you spun back around to face the man you had been dancing with, smiling consistently as you felt his hands wander to the expanse of your ass whilst the both of you spun and weaved on the dance floor. Glancing up at the balcony once more, you were shocked to find the place Hoseok was perched to be vacant, however you thought nothing of it as you swayed rhythmically, raising your arm to wrap it around the man’s shoulder. Barely a second later, a rough hand abruptly took hold of your wrist mid air, gripping it tightly and yanking you away from the crowd of bumping bodies. You could barely see who it was before you were dragged up the glass staircase, through the VIP lounge, and into Hoseok’s office. It was then you automatically realized who had abducted you. In no time, you were pushed into the large office and shoved roughly against the door, the force of your body slamming it shut as you stared into the fury filled eyes of your ex boyfriend with a scowl on your face. He shoved you so hard your back stung where it collided with the hard wood but you could hardly care. Too many emotions were swirling in your mind to pay attention to such a frivolous detail.

“What the fuck do you want Hoseok. “ You deadpanned, obviously knowing exactly what he wanted but furrowing your brows to seem unfazed. You struggled to maintain your resolve under his heated gaze as you fidgeted and trembled nervously, the fear and pure shock being almost too much for you to bear. You knew he was jealous from the moment you caught his gaze on the dance floor but you never expected him to do anything about it, at least not after six months of radio silence between the two of you. But he never failed to surprise you and in an instant, his hand shot up to grip the base of your throat, your eyes watering as you attempted to maintain your stoic facade.

“You know what the fuck I want Angel?” he spat, more of a question than anything as his grip tightened on the sides of your neck before he answered for you. “I want you to stop sharing what’s mine.” he replied before leaning in and enclosing your lips in the most raw, steamy kiss you had shared with anyone in a while. Before you delved into the tempting lure of the kiss, you had enough rational thought swirling in your little mind to really think about what he just said. His? You were His? You were supposed to belong so someone who used to constantly go out of their way to show they weren’t yours? His thought process made absolutely no sense and you’d become fed up a long time ago. You had enough of his bulllshit and hated how much control he had over you and your emotions so you resisted his charm for the first time in a while, twisting out of his hold and stepping away from him. He turned to face you and before you knew it, the palm of your right hand collided with his left cheek. The sound resonated through the empty room even with the loud music playing outside as you gasped in unison, a chaste groan coming from his mouth while you clasped both hands over yours. You both stood in complete silence for what felt like forever, completely speechless as you contemplated what you should do at that very moment. Half of you wanted to hit him again, the other half wanted to scream and run out of the door, but a small part just wanted to see what he would do first. No, a big part wanted to see how he would react so you stood still, absolutely stoic, just waiting until he did what you never expected him to do. He laughed. A small yet terrifying chuckle fell past his lips as his borderline murderous gaze set on you again. You held your limp hands against your chest as he began slowly walking toward you making you take small steps backward as he advanced. You ultimately hit the wall behind his desk with a sharp intake of air, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Hoseok, wh-...” your words died in your throat as you swallowed thickly, pressing your palms into the wall behind you as if it would do anything to help you. “What are you doing?” you choke out as he finally approaches you, his soft minty breath fanning your face as he speaks.

“No, what are you doing ____?” he asks, spitting your name out like a weapon as you stammered. You looked down for a split second before your chin was caught in his fingers and you were forced to meet his glare. “You’ve been here 19 times in the past five months Angel,” he continued, calling you out in a way you didn’t think he paid any mind to. You knew he had access to the guest list, you’ve just never noticed him pay attention to who is in attendance unless police are involved and even then he truly never cared so you furrowed your brows. “Yet you’re still acting like you don’t want me.” he muttered, his voice hushed in contrast to the muffled bass that boomed outside his closed office door.

“That has nothing to do with wanting you Hoseok.” You murmured, glaring at him as his grip tightened, immobilizing your jaw and pushing the back of your head into the wall while he neared your face with his own still staring into your glassy eyes as your lip began to quiver, his minty breath fanning your face from the proximity. He was right and you knew it. But, he was a good boyfriend at absolute best, so why did he take refuge in your mind for so long? You began to tell yourself it might’ve been because you still love him but the daunting reality of that would be too much to bear. It would mean he won, and you didn’t wish to give him that satisfaction because no matter how much you loved him, he was still a conceited prick.

“I know you miss me baby just say it.” His voice is soft, his eyes are warm and convincing, and you almost succumb to his charm but you shake your head, groaning in disagreement as he still maintains his iron grip on your chin so you can’t respond. “You miss us, I know you do. Just need a reminder angel.” he purred seductively, his familiar rasp like heaven in your ears as you shake your head once more, your resolve still strong. “But…” He let go of your chin and stepped back once, the eye contact never wavering as he taps his left cheek which is still red from your slap, a smirk emerging on his face as he speaks. “If i’m wrong, hit me again. Do it.” he’s testing you, he knows you hate violence. He’s playing off of the fact that the first slap was a spur of the moment adrenaline rush that most likely won’t happen again. Sneaky bitch. “Come on baby, do it. Hit me angel, right here.” he muses in a teasing tone as he points his face to you. Rolling your eyes, you avert them annoyedly as you shake your head, refusing to talk to him. Taking your silence as a triumph he smiled widely before happily stating, “that’s what I thought. You love me too much.” and you finally speak.

“I don’t fucking love you anymore Hoseok. I’m not even sure why I did in the first place, you’re such a fucking prick.” you state coldly and his eyes darken once more as a challenging grin graces his hard features and he nods understandingly.

“You don’t remember why you loved me?” he questioned, almost sarcastically with a dark chuckle. “Let me remind you then Angel.” Almost suddenly, impetuously, his mouth was on your neck, his left hand coming up to hold the side of your face as he roughly yanked you closer to his body with his arm around your waist. You had no choice but to wrap your arms around his torso, in fear of falling if you hadn’t done so as he practically made out with the soft expanse of your flesh. You pulled your lip into your mouth, simultaneously biting it and the side of your tongue is an attempt to mask any sounds of enjoyment that wanted to escape. You held onto him for dear life as he deftly found your sweet spot, your knees basically turning into jello as you hummed, the noise sounding muffled through your attempts to hide it but it was audible nonetheless and you could feel him smile against your neck. He sucked hard, leaving an obvious hickey as he ventured down, his kisses and bites leaving your skin hot where his fleeting touch was remembered and he removed his hand from your face, taking it down with him and placing it in the nook under the swell of your clothed breast.

Unravelling his arm from your waist, he slowly slid the thin strap that took refuge on your left shoulder down, freeing your breast to him as it took the triangle shaped coverage down with it. He spared no fleeting moment as he lunged forward, taking the nipple in his mouth as he sucked with the force of a dyson power vacuum, his other hand pushing the fabric that covered the other breast to the side. He cupped and squeezed the ball of flesh in his hand while fervently sucking the nipple of the other, your muffled hums soon turning into low gasps and mewls as you no longer felt the need to conceal them. You sent a shaky hand down to tangle in his hair, the other taking purchase on his wrist as he clutched and kneaded the soft skin, his index and middle fingers moving up to softly tease and pinch at the erect nipple. He had no sort of incomprehension at how to pleasure you as he knew your body like the back of his hand after worshiping it like religion while you were together. He knew how to make you feel good and he was planning on showing you just how much you missed his extensive knowledge.

His tongue swirled skillfully as he tweaked, licked, and sucked all over your sensitive nipple, your little gasps and pants letting him know he was giving you exactly what you needed as he latched onto you hungrily. It had been but a few moments before he had released his mouth from its place on your breast and by then, you already looked a mess, your dress wrinkled and eyes dilated as you breathed as if you just concluded a 5k. He loved seeing you like this, making you like this. He loved seeing you already so ruined after only a morsel of his touch. He couldn’t count on one hand how many times he had to fight the urge to spin you around and take you against the wall, just how you liked it, but he relented, reminding himself to pace your pleasure, to only give you exactly what you wanted in small increments, to remind you what you craved with just a taste, and make you beg for more, or less, whichever came first.

Hoseok resumed his descent, marking his path in a trail of kisses, kitten licks, and hickeys along the expanse of your abdomen as his hands followed, running along the sides of your body slowly before he abruptly dropped to his knees before you, staring up at you with a mischievous glint in his deep chocolate eyes. You had read the look in his eyes almost instantly as you had many times before while you were together and you almost didn’t object, but the side of you that actually has morals, told you this was not okay. No matter how much you absolutely craved to feel his touch once again.

“Hoseok, we’re not together anymore, you can’t just...” you stammered as he attached both hands onto your thighs, running them up and down the exposed skin softly, brushing underneath the hem of your dress with each pass. He stared up at you, only uttering a dramatic, ‘hmm?’ at the uncertainty of your words before leaning in to place multiple quick kisses over the skin of your legs. A wave of warmth and realization hit you at the same time and you couldn’t figure out which to focus on as you stared down at him, then everywhere except him. You wondered if this was really happening, or maybe you were dreaming and would wake up at any given moment in your comfortable bed. It had occurred many times before. But this felt way too real. It felt way too good to be a dream but you couldn’t stop him, probably because you didn’t want to but you’d never admit that to yourself as he kissed his way up your legs, his nose lifting the fabric of your dress as he moved higher. You just stared down at him dumbfoundedly, breathing heavily with your hands pressed against the wall.

In an instant, his hands were underneath the fabric of your dress, caressing the bare skin of your hips and the supple swells of your ass which were exposed by the black lace thong you wore. Of course you choose today to wear his favorite kind but you didn’t wish to dwell on it, but he did, as he slid his hands up, using the backs of his wrists to lift your dress so he had full view of your panty clad heat. He let out a deep sigh, placing a soft kiss on the area above your slit with a smirk as you made eye contact with him over the bunched fabric of your dress.

“No bra? My favorite panties? Really ____? It’s like you planned this all out.” he remarked as you furrowed your brows. You knew exactly how it looked, you showing up at your ex boyfriend’s club, wearing his favorite type of panties, and staying even after his friend told you he was here. There wasn’t much evidence in your favor so you decided to stay quiet, rolling your eyes and leaning your head back onto the wall to avoid eye contact. You heard him chuckle as he resumed, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and tugging them to the floor allowing you to step out of them hesitantly before softly slipping the platform pumps off of your aching feet, kissing the tops of your knees one at a time as you bent them to allow him to remove the torture devices on your feet. You mainly had no idea why you were so compliant, his hold over you was way too strong. Or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t had a good orgasm in months and you knew he could give it to you.

“I can’t wait to taste you again baby.” Hoseok muttered and maneuvered his hands between your parted legs, taking hold of your thigh and lifting your left leg to bend it over his shoulder before reaching under your other thigh to lift you completely off of the ground and bend it over his other shoulder so you were sitting right in front of his face. You sighed, struggling to separate the intimate aspects of this from the romantic aspects and you decided, to do so, you weren’t gonna look at him as an attempt to remain detached from this devil of a man. After a few moments of still silence, you felt him snake his left arm around your thigh to stabilize you as he traced the pad of his thumb down your surprisingly wet slit. You hadn’t even noticed how turned on he made you as you gasped almost inaudibly, taking your bottom lip into your mouth and sucking on it nervously as you anticipated he would say something about it. “Already wet? Wow, you missed me more than I thought you did.” and you were right as you fought back the strong urge to roll your eyes.

“Hoseok-” you began to chastise until he cut you off.

“You can still call me hobi babe, don’t be shy.” You finally gave into the overwhelming urge and rolled your eyes, remembering the nicknames and all the great memories you shared with him despite promising yourself you wouldn’t do that so you changed the subject to avoid your unwanted feelings as you had done many times before when it came to memories of him being the topic of conversation.

“What about cocky bitch?” you retorted with an amused snort, earning a chaste slap to your right asscheek. You yelped, peering down at him as he smiled up through your thighs. You had to admit, he looked hilarious and a bit adorable with his face squished between your legs but you shrugged it off once more the avoidance of sentimental topics being the only thing on your mind as you cleared your throat.

“Hey, watch your fucking mouth.” He replied quite stupidly if you had to say so yourself. You chuckled, raising your eyebrows down at him as he grinned wider. He hadn’t seen your smile in six months, so he revelled in this chance he was given and just took the time to bask in the glow of your happiness, even if just for a moment. One of his favorite things to do was make you laugh and he took it for granted until he lost the chance to do it.

“Do you know how hypocritical you sound right now?” you asked, another laugh falling from your lips as he chuckled back heartily with a shrug that lifted your entire body as you had been sat completely on his shoulders. He moved his face closer to you, his smile never fading as he placed a quick kiss to your clit, your smile fading as you took a sharp intake of air.

“I miss hearing you laugh ____.” he murmured before licking a big stripe up your slit before you had the time to answer, your words getting caught in your throat and a moan escaping instead. “But that’s what I miss the most.” Your face heated up swiftly as your eyes darted frantically around the room. He was doing it again. That mental manipulation bullshit he pulled to get his way all the time. You recalled he used to convince you of anything while his dick or tongue was inside you because he knew you weren’t lucid enough to think about anything rationally. It sucked but it worked everytime, and you were going to make sure it didn’t work this time to the best of your ability. He flattened his tongue running it up and down your slit repeatedly, pushing the tip into your entrance a few times just to tease a bit as you whined softly, shutting your eyes harshly as he continued to speak. “You taste like heaven angel.” and you zone out as an attempt to block out his dangerously sweet words and only focus on his stimulation.

He kneaded the flesh of your ass carefully as he began to draw circles on your clit with his tongue, alternating between the tip and surface of the muscle as you leaned your head back onto the wall, feeling the pleasure just begin to build up. There weren't many things he had been good at regarding your relationship but this definitely had been one of his attributes. The man knew what he was doing. He puckered his lips around your pleasure bud, licking and flicking it with his tongue as he glanced up, just to catch a glimpse of how you reacted to his mouth. You began to slowly move your hips closer to his face as almost inaudible whimpers and mewls fell past your lips, as a reaction to his every move.

He released his lips from your heat, his tongue sticking out to swirl and curl on your wet center teasingly, the waves of pleasure increasing in intensity as they crashed on your shore, yet you still refused to look down at him as you felt his gaze stabbing into your face. The continuous movements of his tongue remained at a steady pace for a while as he inoculated a continuous stream of ecstasy to your core only to increase his speed incrementally as the time passed. He sucked harshly on your clit, drawing a silent whine from your lips as your mouth fell open while he hooked his right arm around your other thigh to get as close to you as possible. He flattened his tongue, shaking his head back from side to side as fast as your thighs would allow him to as you felt an orgasm approach, the feeling bubbling up in your stomach with every passing second as you moaned, one of the first, clear, audible moans accompanying the salacious lapping sounds echoing in the empty room which only spurred you on more.

“Cum on my tongue baby.” he muttered, the vibration and commanding tone only bringing you closer as you finally opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling. He always knew when you were about to cum because he studied the signs like religion while the two of you were together so he could tell from the very instant you felt an orgasm coming. He groaned into you, the sensation acting as the catalyst as you fell over the edge, your body convulsing as your thighs squeezed his face harshly. Hoseok used his arms to pull them apart so he could continue his attack on your cunt and he licked further down, catching the juices of your release with a satisfied groan. You believed he would slow to a halt once you had finished but oh how wrong you were as he continued lapping up your core, the moderate speed of his tongue never slowing for a mere second as he held onto your legs tightly. He waited while you squirmed to release yourself of his iron grip until the sting of your overload passed before he slowly unwound his right arm from your leg to bring his hand up to your dripping entrance. You shivered as the rough pads of his fingertips made contact with your wetness as he began to circle his index and ring fingers around the soaked hole and you gasped, the cries of your orgasm dying into repeated pants and moans as you felt his fingertips enter you slowly.

With almost no hesitation he slipped his slender fingers in, swiftly curling them inside you, your back arching off of the wall as he repeated his motions slowly, his fingers only adding to the feeling of his tongue stimulating your swollen pleasure bud. You lifted your hands which hung limply by your side up to your chest, attaching them to your bust as you began squeezing and fondling the sensitive mounds, teasingly running your fingers over your embarrassingly hard nipples that stood out proudly and wincing at the lascivious feeling it provided. The offensive noises leaving your lips one after the other were Hoseok’s main source of energy, the only thing keeping his heart, and fingers, (and tongue) pumping as he persevered, never growing tired of his favorite activity. Your face reddened at the x-rated noises provided by his fingers thrusting in and out of your tight cavern at an accelerated speed as he continued to shake his head furiously, his lips and tongue stimulating your clit constantly which is when you felt the euphoric pleasure of your second orgasm approach, the heat spreading through your limbs as you cried out in anticipation.

Breathing heavily, you fought off the urge to stare down into his wide brown eyes while he worked, the orgasm creeping up on you until mere moments later, it finally arrived, quicker than the first, probably because he used his fingers but you didn’t have the time nor the mental capacity to decipher the minutiae as you trembled harshly, your voice cracking as you called out a wanton cry of relief. The wave of heat that traveled through your limbs was almost debilitating as you released your hands from your chest to foozle with the hem of your dress, balling the fabric up in your hands. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the feeling of immense release and you stared up at the sleek gray fan that hung in the middle of the ceiling, still refusing to look down and hyperventilating as his pace still did not relent. This man was going to be the death of you.

He continued lapping up your clit, skillfully pumping his fingers in and out of you as your juices leaked out and onto the floor. You cried in overstimulation, your eyes closing as you released various noises of orgastic pleasure and you struggled to form any sort of coherent thought. Although, in an instant, all the commotion in your mind slowed as you heard a soft knock resonate from outside his door and you squirmed, trying to move away from his face as whoever was at the door knocked again, a bit more harshly this time. Your face contorted into an expression of complete horror at the thought of someone entering the room and catching a glimpse of the indecent scene. The pair of you looked absolutely obscene to say the least. Anyone who walked through the door, which was unlocked, would get an eyeful of your bare chest at first then catch a glimpse of the man that was knelt before you, devouring the treasure between your legs as if it were his last meal as you sat backwards against a wall, completely on his shoulders. The thought terrified you and your first thought was to get Hoseok’s attention.

“Hoseok…” you struggled out, trying to maintain your composure as he remained glued to your cunt feverishly. “Hoseok there… there’s someone-” you stopped, barely able to finish your sentence as you released a lustful whine, tilting your head back as you relished in the pleasurable feeling that passed through your body. He reluctantly removed his face from your pussy to your dismay as he looked up at you, the bottom of his face glistening with juices of your pleasure as he smirked up at your exhaustion. But to your surprise, his fingers did not waver in their pace as they curled, twisted, wound, and pumped in and out of your cunt. The feeling not nearly enough compared to his tongue, but it held you over as he addressed the interrupting party.

“What do you want?” he called out, your eyes widening as you realized he had no intention to stop pleasuring you to conduct business and would engage in casual conversation even as he was knuckle deep inside you, you wiggled around, earning a quick slap to your ass a he glared up at you, daring you to do something he wouldn’t like before listening to what the man outside the door had to say.

“I have the statements from yesterday's liquor shipment.” the man’s voice echoed from outside the door as your eyes travelled around the room nervously, afraid he might notice what’s going on inside the room. Hoseok’s grin returned as he lifted his thumb up to circle your clit, the sensitivity shocking you to say the least as you shook your head in his direction, knowing if he continued then you would surely cum.

“Oh, alright, does everything look correct?” Hoseok questioned calmly as you stared down at him in disbelief, salacious sounds of ecstasy falling from your lips with every movement of his hand. You felt your third orgasm approaching as you covered your mouth with your right hand, a muffled whine coming through when you caught a glimpse of the way he furrowed his brows and shook his head disapprovingly. You had often attempted to muffle your lecherous cries and whines when you were with him and he hated when you tried to stay silent. Your moans were akin to the heavenly songs of an angel, which lead him to the much adored nickname, and concealing them in his eyes would be the ultimate sin. You knew this fact entirely, so you hesitantly removed your hand, biting your lip to secretly mask the sounds of your approaching release.

“I’m gonna cum.” you whispered down to him as the man outside the door yelled an affirmative and Hoseok shrugged dismissively, his thumb moving back and forth in unison with his fingers that still curled in and out of you.

“Cum then.” he stated blankly before glancing over the door. You attempted to hold it back for as long as you could, but your willpower could never outrank his fingers and you felt the wildfire spread throughout your body at the speed of light, the feeling having your back arching and toes curling as you cried his name over and over, the ability to stay silent no longer in your control. You cried out, quickly becoming unaware of the man that was still standing outside the door waiting for an answer which was also a thought that left Hoseok’s mind as he stared up at you with a smile, completely awestruck by your beauty. He snapped out of his trance if only for a second before yelling out. “Okay, bring them to me later. I’m busy.” and returning his mouth to your cunt. At this point you really couldn’t take anymore as he replaced his thumb with his tongue, the wet muscle writhing on your clit once again as you skook and sobbed from the overstimulation, your breasts bouncing from the intensity of your trembling. You moaned his name over and over, tangling your fingers in his messy mop of brown hair as he chuckled into your heat, sending more vibrations of pleasure into your warmth, much more than you could possibly handle.

“Hoseok. Hoseok please it’s too much.” you cried out, shutting your eyes as your back lifted off of the wall in an attempt to get away from his punishing tongue, but he followed you with his face, even as your thighs squeezed his head so hard you’d think his skull would pop, but it didn’t and he persevered. “I can’t take anymore. I can’t-...” you sobbed out again, begging for him to stop or at least give you a break to come down from all the orgasms and pleasure he served to you. You shook your head exhaustedly, gripping onto his hair so hard your knuckles turned white as he groaned, probably in pain but he continued his actions unfazed.

“Look at me.” Hoseok commanded and you shook your head as you clenched your eyes shut, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs before you moaned quite loudly after feeling him land another quick slap to your bare bum. “I said fucking look at me.” he demanded and you obeyed, hesitantly staring down into the beautiful brown eyes of the man you were probably in love with as he devoured you. Hot mascara filled tears fell from your eyes but you weren’t sure if they were from the blatant overstimulation he was serving you or the untouched feelings that resurfaced once your eyes met. You told yourself you wouldn’t let him break you, but that was an obvious lie and you knew it, so you stared into his eyes, your resolve slipping by the moment as your release neared. “You can do it angel. Come on, one more time.” he egged you on, bringing you to the cusp of yet another orgasm as he talked you over the edge, his fingers thrusting mercilessly into your cunt as he ate you out relentlessly like it was his only job. “One more time baby, come for me one last time.” he continued, shaking his head rapidly as the feeling built up, much stronger than before and in no time, you were quite literally weeping as you shook and bucked against his face, basically screaming out as the ecstasy hit you like a train, knocking the energy out of you as your cries died down to silent pants.

He finally slowed his movements to a halt for the first time in a while as he reluctantly slipped his fingers out of you, your legs still shaking around his head. He smiled as he brought his fingers up, placing them in his mouth and licking them clean like he had many times before with a hot groan that had you smiling dumbly. Trailing his tongue around his mouth, he moved your thighs off his shoulders, propping you up on wobbly legs as you leaned against the wall tiredly, staring up at Hoseok in anticipation. He grinned triumphantly at you, snaking an arm around your waist and leaning in to capture your lips in a passion filled kiss, his tongue delivering the taste of your juices into your mouth as you sighed, unable to lie to yourself anymore. You missed him, and you knew it the entire time, you just didn’t want to deal with his bullshit so you shoved your feelings deep down where you hopefully didn’t have to face them. He obviously saw right through you from the day you broke up with him, but he decided to give you your space, figuring you’d come back to him when he was ready. That plan hadn’t worked out because it was obvious you weren’t going to approach him directly, your pride probably playing a huge part in that fact, so he decided to make his move, just to prove his point that you still wanted him.

“You did so good for me angel. You think you can keep going?” he questioned, holding the side of your face carefully as you nodded in response, figuring you needed a moment for your nerves to relax after that attack to realize you wanted all of him, and you wanted it bad. It was obvious he wanted you too when he pulled you flush against his body and you felt his painfully hard erection press into your lower abdomen. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you on my desk just like I used to?” he continued as you nodded compliantly once more. “Words baby.”

“I want you to fuck me on your desk. Please Hobi. I did so good for you.” you pleaded, to which he groaned, leaning down and sucking hard on the exposed mound perched on the right side of your chest, leaving a mark as he began a trail of open mouths kisses up as your eyes fluttered at the feeling. “Please.” you breathed out softly placing your hands on his sides with a deep breath, preparing yourself. He kissed higher and higher up the side of your neck, abruptly stopping once he got to your ear as he bit softly on the lobe, whispering in your ear almost inaudibly.

“I told you you’d be begging for me again angel.” he purred, giving your overstimulated clit a quick tap. You yelped, staring at him questioningly as he turned and strode out of his office, shutting the door behind him and leaving you in absolute silence. You shook your head, taking in what just occurred with a quick inhale as you stared around the room with wide eyes, an unreadable expression on your face.

“What the fuck just happened?” you asked as you leaned tiredly against the wall, staring at the door he just walked out of as you slowly processed the occurrences of that night.

[lovingarisu]

locked out of heaven

summary: niragi takes a special liking toward you in one of the games

word count: 1.6k

a/n: if enough people want more of this ill definitely upload more parts! hope you enjoy <3

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The games were tormenting. Every three days, you were forced to go into an arena and pray to a God you weren't sure even existed so you could live another three days. You often wondered what happened to the world. Was it an alternate universe? Did you get chosen to go to a simulation? Did you have a bad accident and this all just an awful coma dream? You didn't know. All you knew is you had to survive.

That's why you were back in another arena, grabbing a phone and waiting for the registration to finally close. A loud engine revving along with people hooting tore your attention away from the floor. You felt dread wash over you.

People like that usually had no mercy in these games. If they were that excited to have people die just so they could live, they weren't someone you enjoyed being around.

A group of guys walk in with guns either slung on the shoulders or on their legs. They each grab a phone while joking with each other. You roll your eyes at their careless banter.

"Oi, princess," One of the more rugged ones walks toward you when he sees your expression, "Roll your eyes again and you'll be the first one out."

You scoff, crossing your arms across your chest, "I really don't give a fuck--"

The cheerful music coming from your phone takes you out of your rage-filled sentence.

"7 of Spades," You lean your head against the wall. You weren't very good at the physical games, "Capture the flag. Objective: Capture the other team's flag. Time limit: 30 minutes."

You furrow your eyebrows, "How do we know who is on what team?" A random guy says out. The phones flicker to a different color than the blinding white. There was red and black. 

You were on the red team. You scanned the crowd of people to see where your teammates were. One of the loud guys with a gun was on your team. The one who threatened you was on the black team making a dreadful feeling bubble in your chest.

He smirks at your face, "I'm gonna make this game a living hell for you, baby." You scowl at the nasty nickname given.

The guy with the gun slung over his shoulder waltzes over to you with a smirk, "No you won't." Before you can even react to what he is saying, he fires his gun into the side of the dude's face. 

The room fills with terrifying shrieks. The guy in front of your laughs maniacally.

"Oh come on! Let's capture this fucking flag already!" He goes to leave but grabs your wrist tightly, "You are coming with me." 

You shake his wrist off, "No, thank you. I can handle myself."

He laughs, grabbing onto you harder, "You are coming with me unless you want to end up like him," He motions to the guy he just killed, "Names Niragi by the way."

You glare at his back as he drags you through the room into the courtyard.

"Do you have any strategy to this, Niragi?" You say his name in a mocking tone of voice. His eyes narrow at you, his grip on your wrist tightening. You wince at the pain radiating through your arm.

He just smirks. You notice the piercings glimmering in the moonlight. He was charming but from what you have seen, he is completely unhinged. You didn't want to get involved with that full-time.

"Kill them all until we can capture the flag." He waves his gun around in the air.

Yeah. Definitely unhinged.

────

You slide against the wall, chest heaving in panic as you see the remaining black team with laser beams through their heads. Niragi runs his hands through his hair, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He waves the black flag in the sky, jumping up and down in excitement. You furrow your brows at the loud noise, handing shooting up to your head. Blood slowly trickles down your scalp from the ruthless beating you endured during this game.

Who knew people could get so violent trying to protect their lives?

Niragi sighs, looking around, "Are we the only ones from our team left?" You groan out while nodding.

"Fuck," The pounding in your head wasn't letting up, "Yeah, I guess we are."

Niragi kneels down next to you, "Do you want to come back to where I'm from? We have a medic there." You roll your eyes while standing up.

"No," You don't miss the scowl forming on his face, "Thanks for letting me live another three days. I think it's time we part ways." You walk over to the table that had the cards on it and grabbed yours before stumbling out of the arena.

You didn't make it too far down the road before a blunt object came in contact with the back of your head, knocking you completely unconscious.

────

"We can't keep her like..."

"But she is..."

"Niragi..."

"Just let me keep her..."

You kept grabbing bits and pieces of the conversation happening in front of you before going back into the dark abyss of unconsciousness. You finally snap to it when a loud screeching noise happens in front of you. Your eyes struggle to focus for a moment before they finally do. An older man with long hair and sunglasses is sitting in front of you with an expecting smile.

"She's awake!" His voice makes your head pound even harder. You scan the room to see Niragi sitting in a chair casually, biting his fingernails slightly. You cut your eyes back at the man in front of you.

"Who are you?" You don't even try to hide the distaste in your voice. He chuckles at your tone, leaning back in his chair.

"I am The Hatter!" He throws his arms out in theatrics. You look back at Niragi to see him rolling his eyes. For once you feel like you shared the same reaction, "I am the ruler of The Beach. But once I leave it will be up to him." He points at a guy with glasses.

You stare at him pointedly, "Once... you leave? You can leave?!" The excitement in your voice causes him to laugh once more. 

The Hatter paces in front of you for a moment before stopping, "Let me explain the rules of The Beach to you, precious Y/N." Your lip curls up at the nasty name he gives you. Niragi lets out a chuckle at your face making it heat up a bit. 

It seems like this Hatter guy drones on and has a knack for dramatics. By the time he is done speaking you are ready to just go into a bed and sleep. You didn't really care if he took your cards, as long as you got to leave this hellish land one day.

He finally shuts up and hands you a wristband. Niragi walks over to you, picking up your arm to see what your number is.

He throws your arm down harshly, "Only 86? She had good cards, why can't she be a little higher?" You look at Niragi's wrist to see a number 4. It was a little impressive that he was going to get to leave so soon. You wondered how many cards he had acquired to get that high up.

The Hatter shrugs casually, "If she can prove herself to Ann, then I can give her a higher wrist band. But as of now, she has not proved herself."

Niragi clicks his tongue, "This is bullshit. She did great in the game today-"

You cut him off suddenly by standing up, "I'm going to my room. Can you show me where it is?"

Niragi takes a deep breath, trying to conceal his anger before pointing at the door for you to exit through, "I'll show you. Come on." His hand grabs your wrist again. You look down and notice how pretty his hands were. They looked like he filed them or painted a clear coat of nail polish on the nails.

He was kind of surprising the more you think about it. He protected you in the game from someone he came with, assumingly one of his friends. He was challenging The Hatter for you. It made you wonder what his ulterior motives were.

As he guides you through the luxurious hallways you can't help but ask, "Why are you doing this for me?"

He looks down at you with a cocked eyebrow, "Do what?"

You sigh and look back at his disgustingly pretty face, "Stand up for me and protect me. You just met me today, there's no need for all of that."

He arrives at a door and pushes it open. You look around at the room with a suspicious glare. It smelled like he did. It looked lived in. There were even remnants of food from who knows when.

"I think you are cute-"

You shove him slightly, anger rising in your chest, "This isn't my room. Take me to my room."

He clicks his tongue at you, pushing you back making your body hit the mirror behind you, "I don't think you understand, Y/N. I've chosen you. You are now mine."

You rub your shoulder with a shocked look gracing your features, "I am not a fucking object, Niragi!" He laughs at your voice being raised.

"From here on out you are. You are mine."

And he was right. You were nothing but his object from that day forward.

[ddarker-dreams]

Icy Wind. Yan Alucard x Reader

Warnings: Isolation and typical yandere elements. Word count: 1.3k. Note: this is my secret santa gift for @monstrouslyobsessed​!! i was excited to see that you liked hellsing ultimate... your taste is immaculate... anyways, i really hope that you enjoy your gift! <333333

You long for a fulfilling night of sleep.

To be able and close your eyes when the moon shines above, uninhibited by troubles, no longer plagued by all-consuming anxiety. It is but a simple request, you believe. There were days where for hours on end you’d bargain for more than that. Freedom used to be the primary objective, what you believed to be your only salvation, a possibility never within reach. No longer do you aim for the stars and beyond. You’ve had to settle for what’s in front of you, a realistic goal such as a good night’s rest, and even then you’re denied it. 

Blades of grass brush against your bare feet, a winter chill reducing your body to a shivering mess. Teeth chattering and body bunched over, your arms wrap around your torso in a pitiful attempt to preserve heat. It makes logical sense to return inside the manor. At least then you could sit by the fireplace to ward off the cold. Whether it’s foolishness or out of malice towards him, you’ve elected to stay out here, holding nothing but contempt for the mansion walls that serve as your prison.

Another gust of wind whistles by, biting your flushed cheeks. Barren tree branches, overgrown thickets, and dry leaves rustle underneath the wind’s intensity. Maybe it would be best to go back inside, you consider. Still, the thought of proving Alucard right is too strong a blow to your pride to concede yet. It’s a childish thing you’re doing -- even you can acknowledge that -- but what else do you have, other than to spite your captor? 

He had instigated this. Tempting you by temporarily removing the locks in the rickety mansion that you’ve been forced to occupy. What had started as a late-night walk to fend off your insomnia escalated into you confronting him, belittling his possessive nature, and demanding a real opportunity at freedom. Much to your surprise and his amusement, he had relented. Or at least on a surface level. Alucard himself had swung the doors wide open, presenting you with an opportunity for time outside. 

Which leads to your current predicament. 

Traversing the surrounding woods at night would be a nightmare, so you’ve been passing this time outside by sitting on a moss-covered bench. The initial high from being outdoors has worn off, replaced with frigid temperatures cutting deep into your bones. You wonder if Alucard would allow you to freeze to death. Or would he intervene at the least possible second, the curse of being his lover never coming to an end. Damn him. 

“So you intend to keep up this stubborn act,” a deep voice drawls, the hairs on the back of your neck standing. “Should I be impressed or insulted?” 

When a person out of sight is speaking, it’s a natural response to search for where they stand. You’ve learned that this rarely works with Alucard. His voice reverberates from every conceivable location, engulfing and drowning you, a testament to his inorganic disposition. 

“Do with it what you will.” Your response doesn’t sound as malicious as you wanted, weakened by your deteriorating state. It looks like your earlier guess of Alucard interfering only when your life is in danger turned out to be true. Even now, when facing an icy demise, you refuse to beg for help. He can go to hell for all I care, you think. If even hell would muster the courage to try and chain him down.

Alucard’s voice hums, a deep, guttural sound. “Was it something I said?” 

Clutching your knees to your chest, you huddle together even tighter for warmth. To narrow Alucard’s grievances against you down to a single statement is impossible. He’s always had a penchant for working you up, now is no different. The wintery weather seems to have gotten worse. Every time you manage to exhale, a white cloud appears in front of your face, a further testament to the extreme temperature. 

“Let’s go with that.” You rub your shaking hands together and blow air onto them.

“Strange, I thought I was doing you a favor,” Alucard’s voice swirls around you like the wind. “You did say that you wanted to go out if memory serves.” 

Really? He’s out here to poke fun at you? It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but the audacity he displays is never short of amazing. Even working up an emotional response like frustration is too much at this point. Your entire body is working overtime to hold onto life. Ah, that’s strange, you think. The way your ears are ringing, an eerie, high pitched noise. Black dots appear and disappear, obscuring your vision. It’s light. Everything feels so, terribly light. 

You’re not sure what happens next. 

When you wake, the setting is vastly different from where you had just been. There’s warmth, that’s the first thing you notice, coming from different sources. Blankets on top of your person and a roaring fireplace. So he brought you back to your room. Groaning, you wince at how your head pounds violently, not having the necessary strength to even lift your head.

“Next time, I’d prefer it if you let me die.” 

There’s no tangible evidence that Alucard is nearby, but you still say the words, uncaring if he hears them or not. 

“It’d be a pitiful death,” comes his response. “Why not ask for a more memorable one?” 

You sigh, knowing that answering the question will lead to more provocative remarks, but still do it anyway. “Are you telling me you’d grant it?” 

“I never said that.” 

“Figures.” 

Exhaustion weighs heavy on your weary soul. Maybe now you’ll be granted the mercy of a good night’s rest, though you try not to get your hopes up. You see Alucard beginning to materialize into a physical form, the sight nothing new, yet you’ve never been able to get used to it. Glimmers of midnight black and deep crimson create a shadow reminiscent of a human man. Flesh forms, filling out over bone, pallid in its coloration. His typical attire of blood-colored fabrics flows into creation around his person before he finally towers over you by your bedside. Inhuman eyes pierce through your weakened form, holding no flickers of humanity. 

A monster. 

“And here I thought you might thank your savior for saving you from an early death,” Alucard’s voice is amused, despite the dark context. “Instead, I find you glaring at me.” 

“For good reason.” You bring the blanket over your head, not wanting to see him any longer, irritation growing. Why can’t he just leave you alone? It’s a question that, when asked, serves only to perturb you further. Alucard claims each time that your little interactions are of great importance to him. Whatever that means, you think. 

“You’re the only human I’ve seen fit to have pity on,” he reminds, making you frown. “Thousands have begged for what you so easily dismiss.” 

Indignant, you pull the blanket down, blood boiling at his inflaming comments. “Like any of that is my fault. What did you expect me to do? Praise you to the high heavens for keeping me far away from any other living being?” 

He’s smiling at your outburst as if it were an entertaining show. It’s too late, but you realize this is exactly what he wanted, to see you getting all worked up over his purposefully upsetting words. Sighing in defeat, you lay back down on the mattress and squeeze your eyes shut, fully intending to ignore anything else he sees fit to say. If he wants to play dirty, then so be it. 

Alucard reaches his gloved hand out to your face, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, displaying a gentleness you thought impossible from a demon like him. It’s a featherlight touch that leaves goosebumps in its wake. Almost as if your body was attempting to reject it, aware of the heinous crimes those very hands have committed. 

“Rest well, my sweet little [First].” 

[pumpkin-pi-e]

Writing prompt: Yandere erasermic with darling on their period.

[Enter Hizashi and Shouta playing a board game on their day off, Shouta just knows his husband is cheating, they both do, he just can’t figure out how he’s doing it, much to the blonde’s smug delight.]

You heard them before you saw them. Voices filtered down the hall as you laboriously made your way towards the commotion.

“Don’t hate the player, Shou, hate the game.”

“We both know you’re cheating, you could at least admit to it.”

“No bluffs, just luck.”

Rounding the corner, you entered the living room only to see Yamada leaned over the coffee table, using both arms to gather a pile of goods to himself, grinning like the canary that outsmarted the cat.

The pro heroes were sat around the piece of furniture in their casuals, hair down and fuzzy socks, a board between them. An airy melody of jazz dances and drifts in the air, mingling with the spice of fresh-baked cookies; the soft glow of the television cast warmth on the matching mugs swirling with chocolate and topped with marshmallows that bobbed to the mellow beat.

“How are you doing this?” The erasure hero demanded, red irises darting back and forth between the gloating emcee and the board with a scowl.

“Just get good,” He threw back matter of factly.

“Get on my level, scrub!”

At that, Aizawa makes direct eye contact with the voice hero, looking him dead in the eyes as he lifts an arm, a blonde brow raises in question at the stare down, and in one sweeping motion he knocks the board from the coffee table, pieces and all.

...

The DJ takes a moment to process, eyeing the mess of scattered pieces silently before raising his gaze to meet his partner’s, emerald clashing with charcoal.

“No one likes a sore loser, babe.”

In response, the teacher merely flicked a remaining pawn from the table.

“If you aren’t going to play fair then I won’t either.”

A pout tugs at Hizashi’s lip for all of five seconds before he’s springing back, and on the attack. Shouta starts at the smolder he’s suddenly on the receiving end of, thrown off by his swift change in attitude, watching with narrowed eyes of suspicion as his spouse crawls towards him on all fours, wanton, expression dripping with carnality, and further scrambling discarded bits of the game in his wake. He reflexively shrinks further into the couch. “Not a fan of chess? We can play another game, baby.” Shouta backpedals, making the symbol of the cross. “We’re supposed to be having a relaxing evening, remember?” He didn’t sign up for strenuous activity. “Playing board games.” He furthered his point by sparing a quick glance at the tall stack of boxes resting forlornly at the corner of the table, indignant in their stillness as if to say: are we a joke to you? “An idea of yours, mind you.” He sternly pressed, looking back, not daring to let his lascivious lover leave his sight for more than a second. Only to find him much too close for comfort. “Here, kitty, kitty.” He croons as Shouta continues to evade his clutches. Done with foreplay, Hizashi pounces.

He jumped into his lap with enthusiasm, pulling a grunt from the body below, throwing his arms around Shouta’s neck, he threw his hair back to better grin down at his captive.“How ‘bout stripper twister?”

“Get off.”

“And if I don’t?” Slow sensual swirls over his seat drew a startled gasp that tapered into a hiss, Hizashi’s hips moved in perfect circles, throwing it back like a dancer as eager hands roamed the expanse of his husband’s broad chest, grabbing greedy handfuls of his generous pecs. “You gonna purr for me, Chaton de sexe?” He all but panted into the other’s ear, getting worked up from the promises he continued to whisper in French, voice pitching and reaching unspeakable lows with the help of his quirk, relishing the drawn-out whine he received in response. Shouta’s hips canted of their own accord—and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. Your face was aflame, and you were a mere spectator. His breathing picked up to match his better half at the absolute filth filtering in his ears. Or was it expressions of admiration and praise? Aizawa couldn’t tell, he only knew it sounded like heaven, although he suspected the radio host’s words were straight from hell—pure sin. He fisted Yamada’s shirt to ground himself, knuckles turning white in the hideositie’s fabric. Now understanding those

‘eargasms’ the loud blonde was always raving about and claiming to get, especially with those new headphones of his.

“I keep telling you I don’t understand French.” Shouta grumbled, in a huffy mood over the sweet tunes his lover coaxed from him. He looked off to the side to hide his blush, retreating into his turtleneck, reminding you of a tortoise receding into its shell; in doing so, his eyes widened imperceptibly, though the way his pupils dilated, blowing wide as he finally became aware of your presence was unmissable. He drank in the object of his obsession with unquenchable appetence, having been denied the sight for far too long. Sustaining eye-contact, he let his head fall backwards onto the couch cushion, exposing his neck for Hizashi to devour; he pulled him closer so that their bodies were flush together before grinding up into the welcoming heat, a staccato of low sighs leaving him with each roll, earning an appreciative hum from the one ravishing his throat. Hizashi met him thrust for desperate thrust as he nipped and sucked the sensitive skin into blossoming hickeys. Aizawa wasn’t given long to admire as Hizashi recaptured his attention; sensing his distraction, he seized his chin so that they were once again facing one another, commanding his gaze like the diva he was. Shōta rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching up into a smirk.

“There’s no need, baby! Not when I could just show you.” His words were smooth as silk and caused a delighted shiver to run up Aizawa’s spine, his toes curling at the deep velvety tone they were delivered in. Grabbing a handful of blonde tresses, he pulled the other down for an impassioned kiss; the effect was instantaneous, Hizashi squealed happily, groaning his approval against his spouse’s lips, a sweet little cry Shōta was all too pleased to swallow. A frisky kitty, and feeling particularly mischievous, he yanked. hard. So hard in fact you’d be surprised if the DJ’s neck hadn’t snapped. “ahhhHHHHH-!” The force behind the tug disconnected them and Yamada’s shout of ecstasy resounded throughout the entire apartment. The floor vibrated beneath your feet and your ears rang from the reverb. You clutched them, dropping to your knees in a vain attempt to block out the sound, and your eyes scrunched with the effort. You knew he had a set of pipes, but damn. You couldn’t even hear your own thoughts. Everything was shaking, your body hummed, and it felt like your brain was being scrambled. So focused on trying to tune him out, you failed to notice that the foundation had stopped quavering; but you caught on when you’d regained the ability to hear yourself think. Rising shakily, you allowed your arms to fall; looking back at the pair, you saw Aizawa with his hand around Yamada’s neck. “-eckk—!” The sound cut off at the hand gripping his throat “The neighbors are going to complain,” and it only tightened, eliciting a choked moan from Hizashi. “again.” With no small amount of effort did he raise his head in order to flash his man a cheeky smile, straining against the grip holding his hair back. “But I bet they know your name, handsome.” He reared forward, diving back in with a ferocity that knocked the erasure hero back, hailing him with a flurry of perfervid kisses and leaving a few blonde strands behind. Shōta received him with open arms, and you winced as you heard their teeth bash together in Hizashi’s voraciousness. It didn’t escape your notice how his voice had lost its cunning. His once honeyed words ebbed into hoarse calls of his partner’s name—lacking his usual loquacity.

For someone whose jobs centered on the use of his words, they seemed to be failing him; desperate strangled noises left him between each frenzied kiss. In his urgency, he tugged impatiently at Shouta’s bottoms, you shifted awkwardly, debating if it would best to try again at a different time. Aizawa caught your movement from the corner of his eye.

Although he didn’t mind an audience, he felt he should let his husband know.

Removing the hand from Hizashi’s neck, he used it to gently push him back, their kiss breaking with an audible smack—

“mmph!?”

Hizashi voiced his complaint, a whine built in the back of his throat as he once again tried to close the distance between them, blindly following his lips; Shōta dodged by holding a hand to the emcee’s face, stilling him. Yamada’s green eyes finally snapped open and he looked around in confusion.

“Wha???” He sounded so lost.

“Wha’s happenin’?”

Shōta’s head craned towards you.

“We’ve got company.”

Hizashi followed his line of sight and those emerald eyes landed on you. They were misty and he was still a bit disoriented; It took him a second to register but after blinking the tears away his face lit up with gladness, a gasp left him and his hands clasped his mouth. He shrilled in elation, bouncing excitedly on his husband’s lap. He shot to his feet, fighting the desire to rush over and squeeze the life out of you in an affectionate hug. The DJ waved exuberantly instead, “Hey, babygirl!” His voice was rough, a cough racking his frame before he continued, ”H-how are you?” He questioned softly, carefully, treading lightly, as if you’d scurry off if he so much as raised his voice or moved too quickly.

His face glowed from their gameplay turned hot and heavy. You knew better than to assume it was out of modesty because you had learned they held no shame. You recalled one morning where you’d awoken to tremors; the penthouse shook so violently you thought there was an earthquake. In your half-awakened state you’d panicked, ripped off your covers and sprinted into the living-room spouting about said earthquake, and you felt like you were in the Twilight Zone when Aizawa snorted into the back of his palm, snickering in amusement amidst your tirade, he’d looked as if he were battling laughter, his shoulders trembling. Hizashi rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly as he hurriedly explained there was nothing to be alarmed for. He’d just gotten a little carried away and—! Unable to contain himself, Shota had burst into peals of uncontrollable laughter as the hilarity of the situation finally became too much for him, something you’d never seen him do, you felt like you’d witnessed an anomaly. He seemed to shock even himself, his hands flying to his mouth, endeavoring to smother the traitorous noise to no avail, meanwhile Hizashi whined and hid his face in his husband’s shirt, said man wheezing and gasping for air, jostling him with each breath. It was then that you’d stopped to take in their position. You’d soured at the conclusion you’d come to, as obvious as a slap in the face. Having leveled them with a glare, you’d turned and stalked black to your room, throwing a dirty look over your shoulder for good measure. Howls of laughter and frenetic apologies for disrupting your sleep played you out. A dull thump followed by frightened calls of a certain raven-haired teacher’s name could be heard, mirth having overtaken him and effectively taken him down.

No Shame.

The radio star always wore his heart on his sleeve, a trait you’d initially found charming; meaning you could practically see him restraining himself; Hizashi’s fingers danced in antsiness, wanting so badly to reach out for you; the fidgety digits drew your attention and he promptly clasped them behind his back, offering a disarming smile when your eyes flitted back to his face.

“Hello, kitten. Did you need something?” He wasn’t as barefaced as his companion with his delight at your appearance, though both his expression and words were filled with warmth, the latter holding a tinge of innocence as if he hadn’t known you were there all the while.

You’d been a bit moody the last few days, never hostile, just a bit more withdrawn, and they were ever so happy to see you up and about again, they were always happy to see you.

Your eyes squint at him but your head tips forward a fraction in what could barely pass for a nod.

“Looks like we’re gonna hafta put our game on ice.” The DJ commented, looking over his shoulder to regard his partner whose gaze was fixed on his ass. You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the grin in Hisashi’s voice, “Enjoyin’ the view?” Shōta scoffed, scowling up at his husband as he crossed his arms. “‘Just luck’, huh?” Now that the voice hero was standing, he had a perfect view of his backside, it’d virtually been shoved in his face when he’d stood; while he’d initially given it a cursory glance, miffed at having it block his field of vision like a freaking solar eclipse, with how tight his pants were, he could make out the familiar shapes jammed into his back pocket.

“What can I say? With this ass I’m always winning.” Hizashi winked, and quick to change the subject he turned back to you, tossing a few pawns from his pockets and into the discarded pile.

“What’cha need, beauty queen?”

Oh god, by some absolute fucking miracle, you’d managed to drag your tired body out of bed and stumble into the sitting area with the full intention of demanding supplies, only to freeze up from a pang of embarrassment under the inquisitive gaze they pinned you with, now the subject of poignant interest.

“I...I need—um...”

This isn’t in any way going how you envisioned it would; you’d mentally rehearsed, you were gonna waltz in here and demand that they—if they wouldn’t let you leave, the least they could do was ensure your basic needs were accounted for, and you had every mind to tell them such; unfortunately for you, all that came out were stammers and soft squeaks resemblant of the pet name they so loved calling you.

“Kitten?”

Aizawa stood to join his husband’s side, both of them hanging on your words, patiently awaiting a response.

“I n-need,” It was so much more embarrassing than you’d thought, but it wasn’t like you had anything to be shameful about; what you were experiencing was natural and normal, and you refused to be ashamed over it, if anything they were the ones who should be ashamed for not taking into account that at some point you were going to require certain essentials; their claim after they’d swept you away was that they were hgoing to see to your every need, just ask, and you’d receive—how you’d never have to worry about anything ever again. In the current state of affairs, you didn’t think they were doing a very good job.

You just wished you could find the nerve to voice such concerns.

“uh...” no longer able to maintain eye contact, you looked off towards of the kitchen; your skin prickled, your head was pounding, and you were overheating. You felt light on your feet and in this moment you just wanted the floor to swallow you up; if it were possible, you’d recant every past rejected wish to Saint Nick in exchange for a new one, a vanishing quirk. ‘Cause no way were they letting you walk away from this. Not after you’d garnered their attention. This was a mistake. You couldn’t do this. Maybe you should just—

“Pumpkin?” More gentle prodding. “What’s the matter? You ain’t lookin’ too hot.” (Harsh jab from Aizawa) “Ow! You know that’s not what I—”

“I mean you always look hot—smokin’!” He quickly rephrased, “It’s just uh...ya look kinda...sick? Like yer gonna hurl.”

“It’s okay, Kitten. You can ask us anything.”

“Yeah! Y’now you can come ta us with anything.”

“I-“ Your world spins, and suddenly, you’re seeing topside. A momentary loss of balance, courtesy of the headache between your eyes, has them rushing to your side; one of them scoops you into their arms, instantly coddling you. You look up to see frightened green eyes, and a halo of blonde tresses that tickled your nose as they fell into your face.

Oh. It was Hi-Fi.

“My poor baby! Are you okay?!” He’s peppering kisses all over your cheeks.

A hand presses against your temple, it’s coolness giving you moderate relief. “She’s warm,” Low-Fi.

“Pretty kitty, please let us know what you need; whatever it is, we’ll do our best to provide it.” Shouta cups the side of your face, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb and Hizashi places a kiss on your heated forehead.

“All’s ya gotta do is phone in that request, listener!”

You burned with more than just a temperature. Indignation coursed through your veins, burning you from the inside out. You shouldn’t have to rely on them for anything. You’d had your own job, your own money, your own business; you hadn’t had to lean on anyone, loathed the very thought of it; and climbing the sharp-edged ladder of success—clawing your way to the top, lacerated palms and displaced qualms, you’d made certain you’d never again have to depend on another soul for as long as you lived. Dull from being doled disappointments, you were of the gospel that you couldn’t count on anyone but yourself; you bought your own things, you felt your own tits, a certified boss ass bitch. When you’d first started seeing the couple, it was you that picked up the tab despite their protests, you who wooed them with fancy gifts, reveling in their flushed expressions—and as flattering as it all was, how could you ever come to rely on them the way the heroes wanted if you had it all figured out? Quickly enamored, the pair was swift to offer you a room in the penthouse, their hearts burned whenever you were apart; but to their dismay you’d declined; you already had your own home, one you’d worked hard to obtain, taken the time decorate, a home you were unwilling to part with; and truthfully, you simply hadn’t been ready for such a transition. Lovely as their companionship was and as much as you joyed in their attachment, you’d only been dating them a few months, it was a little too soon for all that. Of course they were disinclined to accept your answer. They chipped, and chipped, practically took a sledgehammer to that ladder, and marveled as you fell spectacularly, like an angel falling from heaven, their angel, who fell right into their arms. And you watched as the life you’d built, and tried so hard to maintain came tumbling down, everything you tried to salvage crumbled to dust in your resentful un-relinquishing grip, and of course they were there to help pick up the pieces. The metaphorical scars, and phantom pains rendered all for naught. You hated needing anyone for anything, and they wanted you to rely on them for everything. The thought embittered you, of giving them exactly what they wanted, and despite your pride you swallowed that bitter pill; after all, no one can fill those of your needs that you won’t let show right?

“I...I need feminine products?”

Hizashi’s brows knitted in befuddlement, and you could practically see the cogs turning in his brain as he processed your words, mentally cataloging every sanitary item he’d purchased.

You had a plethora of bath and beauty products, he’d made certain of it. Shampoo, conditioner, facial cleanser, perfume, shaving gel, body wash, etc. He’d ensured your bathroom was fully stocked. “Songbird, sweetie, yer gonna hafta be a bit more specific.”

Maybe you could say it without actually saying it.

“Um. You know, like, feminine hygiene products?” You stressed, hoping they’d catch your drift, but they continued giving you blank stares.

The pair exchange a look, perhaps to see if the other was making any more sense of the situation than they were.

“You’re going to need to be frank with us, kitten.”

“Yeah! Rip it off, like a bandaid!”

“Ineedpadstampons,femininewipes,femininewash,andmaybeadouche?” Your face was on fire but it was impossible for them to misconstrue with how painfully candid you were. Stealing a glance, you saw they both sported similar blushes; Hizashi held a pink tinge around his nose that bled into his cheeks and Shōta adopted a rosy tint; their coloring more out of shame than embarrassment due to their oversight.

In a race to rectify their mistake, their voices overlapped, tripping over themselves to scramble for apologies.

“Oh my gosh, we’re so sorry, princess!”

“We’re very sorry, kitten. It was never our intention to-”

“-we’ll do better! Me ‘n Shou’ll be better about takin’ care-a you-!”

“-we hadn’t even considered—”

“-I promise! I swear—!”

“-just let us know what you need, just tell us and we’ll—”

“-Yes! Anything, anything at all-!”

You already did.

“-It won’t happen again, kitten. We promise—”

“-Oh god, I’m a fuckin’ failuuuuuuure.” Hizashi bemoans, having been the one in charge of your toiletries.

Their remorse was palpable and their guilt endless.

Although you shouldn’t, you were starting to feel bad for how much they were kicking themselves. Their self-flagellation was seriously taking the wind out of your sails; your own frustration paling in comparison. Not to mention you were still under the weather, and their constant back and forth was worsening your dizzy spell. Eagle eyed, Aizawa takes notice and undergoes the task of reigning in his husband, the blonde pressing impossibly close and nuzzling desperately into your neck, apology after apology spilling from his lips. Shōta grasps his shoulder, but to his surprise you beat him to it.

Your head inclined and a hand covered his mouth, halting his speech. The pain behind your eyes praised you. “Hizashi, you guys, it’s not that deep, stop being so dramatic.” He pulled back to appraise you, he didn’t seem convinced. “...I forgive you, okay?”

He lit up like a Christmas tree, perking up instantly. You were squished against his chest once more in a suffocating hug. A joyous shout of, ‘FUCK YEAH!’ had you cringing away from Hizashi as he fist pumped ecstatically.

“Not so loud, ‘Zashi.” Came a gentle reproof, resulting in another apology from the boisterous blonde.

“Sorry, lil listener.”

...

“Do you..uh...need ‘em right now?”

You nod.

“Cool! Cool! No problem-o! Uh...Just run that list by us again. Hit us one more time, baby!”

“You said it so quickly we hardly caught what was said.”

Heat rushed to your face. You couldn’t fucking do it again. The first time just about killed you.

They must have sensed your demur because the pros upped their persuasion.

“You don’t have to be so shy, kitten. We don’t mind. It’s really no trouble.”

“You don’t gotta get embarrassed, it’s only us!”

“We only want to provide for you.”

“Most guys don’t wanna hear about that stuff...” You were pretty sure they didn’t even know what those things looked like.

“Um, songbird? W-we aren’t, uh, it don’t bother us. Like, we aren’t grossed out or nothin’.” Usually loud and lively, Hizashi was soft-spoken and sincere as he gently clasped your cheeks, encouraging you to look him in the eyes. Taking your smaller hands in his own, Shōta pitches in as well.

“We can handle a little blood, it’s sort of unavoidable in our profession.”

When you’re stubbornly tight-lipped, the emcee proposes a different idea.

“K! How ‘bout you type out whatcha need in Shō’s phone? That way we’ll have a list to check off, make sure we don’t forget anything.” He looks to his partner to see if he’s down with the plan and Shōta’s already pulling out his mobile. “One of us should stay behind with kitten. That could have been a nasty fall.”

“Shō! Hold KitKat,” It’s an abbreviation of ‘kitty cat’ one of Hizashi’s many nicknames for you. “I gotta hit up Google.”

You’re carefully transferred to Aizawa; the hero plops into the couch with you in tow, sagging into the cushiony oasis. Once you’re settled in his lap, he hands you his phone; It’s new, sleek, black and already opened to the notes app; a bulletin greets you, the yellow bar blinking in and out of existence as it awaits your command.

“So which one-a us is headin’ out? We could all go, could do a pickup order?”

Any other time you would’ve jumped at the opportunity. But you felt like absolute trash. You weren’t interested in going anywhere but back to bed.

“I’ll go. I have a few things to grab anyways.” Figures. The erasure hero was even keener on keeping you indoors than his husband.

“Anything we need for the house? I might as well get them while I’m out.”

“Oh! Now that‘cha mention’ it, I could use some-” There’s a back and forth as they discourse on what supplies and groceries are low on stock, ingredients and meal planning for the following week; their chatter is drowned out whilst you busy yourself inputting the necessities you need into the phone with nimble fingers, tapping away at the large screen and carrying a certain finesse that impresses Shōta, the type of guy that just lazily swipes his thumb across the keyboard. He urged you closer with a delicate motion, complimenting your dexterity and gracing you with a chaste peck on the cheek. They ask your opinion on numerous things, how you felt about particular dishes, if you were running out of anything, if you wanted Shōta to bring you back something, et cetera. Satisfied with your list, you handed the device back to its owner for him to pocket. “-babe, you already know munchkin hates carrots.” Hizashi chided, rooting through the cabinets and taking inventory.

“He needs a vegetable, you can’t allow him to eat junk all of the time. He’d live off of pizza rolls if you let him.”

“Hey!” He whirls around, “My meals are perfectly balanced! An’ comin’ from you?! Do you even know how much sugar we go through?? Not to mention the coffee I’m constantly havin’ to restock??”

Aizawa cuts his eyes at him. “This isn’t about me.” He reaches forward and nabs his mug from the table, taking you with him and taking a very long, very loud obnoxious sip. Hizashi just looks so done at the display. He chases it down with a marshmallow and slaps the ceramic against the glass once he’s finished. “My diet is perfectly healthy.”

“Mmhmm,” the emcee crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, “are you done?”

You’re jostled again as he pushes the mug forward. “This needs more sugar.”

Yamada sighs, coming to swipe it from the coffee table. And as he’s heading back to the kitchen, Shōta adds, “More whipped cream and marshmallows too.” A dramatic groan of, “Ughhhhhhhhh! I hate it here!” is given in response. You sit in silent amusement at their banter, enjoying the homey atmosphere.

Aizawa observes as you become increasingly agitated, squirming and fidgeting in fits and starts, restless. Quiet huffs accompanying each jerk. “Is something the matter, kitten?” “Uh...it’s-” You shift, and he isn’t sure if it’s bashfulness or something different. “It’s just cramps.”

“Tummy troubles?”

“Aw, d’ya want some Tums? Pepto Bismol?” Mic asks, carrying a plate of cookies. They’re placed on the table and Shouta’s mug is returned to its coaster. You lean forward, reaching for one of the confections. The aroma had teased you since the moment you’d left your room, titillating your tastebuds. Hizashi looks confused-concerned, when you grimace and fold into yourself, nursing your midsection. Not touching, only hovering protectively; your pelvis had protested the movement, making its disapproval known by way of stabbing pains.

“Noooo,” Your response was moaned, a lamentable sound that pierced their hearts. “not stomach pain, menstrual cramps.”

“Oh.” Their eyes leapt toward one another, sharing a panicked glance. “Well, we...might have some Tylenol?” Shōta’s words were optimistic though his tone was laced with uncertainty; he looked to his husband for confirmation. “Would that be okay?”

“Yeah! Uh...maybe? I dunno.” While his reply had started enthusiastically, a hype man at his core, he quickly lost confidence. It bled into hesitancy near the end. “I’m sure we got some though, lemme go check!” He raved, keeping the faith.

“Cutie ‘tootie?” There’s light rhythmic tapping at your knee. Mic squats beside you, his palm upturned as he presents you with a cookie. You gladly accept, thanking him. After administering a loving pat on the head he’s standing and off in search of pain relievers.

Suffice to say, you made quick work of the treat.

Shō was pleasantly surprised when you fastened his arms around your waist, wearing them like a seatbelt. You secured one of them in place with your own arm, as if he’d ever withhold his touch from you. You slipped your fingers between his, intertwining them together. He allowed you to do so, to manipulate him however you saw fit, willing and pliable under your ministrations. He flexed them, wondering at the sight, and sensation of his hands in yours. There’s a dusting of rouge to his cheek as he squeezes back.

——————————

“What did you find?” The erasure hero asked, drowsily watching his other half pace to and fro, Hizashi’s faced glued to his phone.

“Says it’s okay, how many ya want, honey bunch? One or two?”

“None.”

They glance at you as you’re quite adamant about not needing pills, and Shota begs to differ. The death grip on his hand spoke otherwise. And he thinks, as you clamp down on him after another contraction, that he knows what it’s like to be a husband in a delivery room. Something he never thought he’d experience. He isn’t complaining, anything to help ease your discomfort; he’d offered reassuring presses of his own, but he’d be lying if he said he understood your opposition.

“But-!” Hizashi looks put out, disappointed. “Dont’cha want somethin’ to take the edge off?”

Your head shakes negatively, and he frowns. He goes to insist but he gets one from his husband as well. He sighs, snagging a set of keys from the rack.

You’re honestly surprised they let it go so easily, they never let things go. In hindsight, you supposed you should’ve been a bit more suspicious, but you’re just glad they dropped the subject. You didn’t feel like fighting them on it.

“I’ll go warm up the ride, you warm up with princess before ya jet!” He leans down, and Shōta meets him halfway as they share a kiss. “‘Kay caffeine king?”

“Mmm.” He hums an affirmative, burrowing further into the couch, enjoying the heat you donate as you too make yourself comfortable by cuddling into his chest. His eyes close, and there’s a click indicating the blonde’s departure.

You sat for a bit, listening to his steady breaths, the lull of his heartbeat, rocked by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. You twist around to view him, and he cracks an eye open to regard you when you stir. You spend a good chunk of time simply taking him in, with him doing the same, and you aren’t sure whether it’s the lighting, music, the complicated feelings you can’t suppress—because as angry and frustrated as you are, you still care for them, terribly so, or perhaps it’s the cloying sap you tended to become around this time of month, but you find yourself extending a hand to brush his bang aside, revealing that handsome face you’d grown so fond of. You wished he’d show it more often; it was too cute to be hidden under all that fringe, and you tell him so.

“I like being able to see your face,” Deft fingers card through his hair, and using both you fashion the fluffy mane into a faux bun, “I’d love to see it more often. You should wear it up every once and awhile.”

His lidded eyes are wide on yours, a blush quickly blooming, and suffusing to his ears, cute little things you rarely ever see.

“Means I’d get to praise that pretty puss,” Shouta’s pupils are dilated, and you swear they’re expanding with each compliment as he basks in your hero-worship.

“and it means I get to do this!”

You smooch his forehead, another thing you’re usually unable to view. Like before, the erasure hero withdraws into his sweater, muttering a low, “Thanks, kitten...” His delivery is soft and tender, one of those diminutive winning smiles tugging at his cheeks. He’d always been so fun to tease, responsive and susceptible unlike his blonde counterpart, whose life’s mission was to see you self-implode. “You look so pretty in pink, sweet prince.” It was nice to flip the script now and then.

His dietary habits a sore point of contention, he grumbled, shaking his head so that his hair fell into his face once more, hiding his deepening flush from scrutiny. You toss it up again.

“There’s that cute face!” You coo, smiling broadly. Aizawa slouches even further into the couch, burrowing deeper into the cottony collar of his pullover. “Aww, cutie!zawa!” A thumb caresses his face, just below his eye where his scar lies, and ever so gently do you inch forward, and with as much care as you can muster, you kiss him, your lips meet the mark in a delicate press. But It wasn’t a blemish, it was the testimony of his survival. It did nothing to detract from his rugged beauty; in your opinion it only enhanced it. “This is your cutie mark!” You excitedly declared. You’re struck with the realization that if it hadn’t been for his tenacity, his strength, there’s a genuine possibility he wouldn’t be here with you now. Overcome with emotion, you crush him in a firm embrace, dolling adulation after adulation.

“You’re so strong.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

And despite everything,

“I’m so happy I was able to meet you. You and ‘Zashi.

“You guys...mean a lot to me.”

Weak, Shouta quivers in your hold; his Adam’s apple bobbed as he floundered helplessly to form an articulate response. His heart swelled with adoration, and he squeezed back just as tightly. Your sweet words were sending him, and having been left without your touch for a spell has him starved for your affections. “Can-” Your head raises at the wobbled utterance, and he connects your forehead with his, just barely able to restrain himself. His pupils are pulsing as he looks into your eyes—dilating back and forth, his gaze downright imploring. “May I kiss you?” An unspoken plea hung from his lips, and his words carried a noticeable tremble, showing just how affected he was. He eyed you with a reverence the likes you’ve never seen. You’re taken aback. Your breath falters, and you know it isn’t a platonic kiss he’s asking for. Anxious, your teeth worry at your bottom lip as you contemplated, those onyx pools track the movement, lingering perhaps a bit too long before his eyes met yours. He swallows thickly, “Please...?” He’s practically begging at this point. And to convey it he took your hand in his, guiding it to his throat where you felt palpitations dance wildly beneath your fingertips, showing you just what you did to him. He looked so vulnerable, so in need.

And he’s heartbroken when you pull away, withdrawing your warmth, and leaving him cold. “Kitten—” Shouta’s voice cracks, it’s a question, a plea, an extension of something that had been boiling beneath the surface, and it’s been a long time coming. He felt as if he’d endured an eternity without your loving-kindness, and after what felt like a lifetime were you finally sweetening back up to him, and bestowing the passion he’d pined for, the affection he and Hizashi panted after. You’d been so distant since they’d brought you home, and his heavy heart was breaking. Were you-were you upset with them?

You aren’t sure you’re comfortable with such an intimate gesture. Most of your days were spent in a domestic daydream, and while it was easy to fall into the illusion, playing house, and palling around, without fail, something always happened to shatter it, reminding you of the reality of your situation. In this case, needing items and being unable to go out and purchase them. Ordinarily, you have no issue with having whatever you required brought to you; you couldn’t say you were choked up over not having to endure crowded stores, and checkout lines that moved slower than molasses, but you preferred to buy those products yourself. It was so demoralizing to have to go up to them, like a child, and bring up your needs. The pair always gave your orders a once over, ensuring you weren’t ‘purchasing anything naughty’ ‘nothing you could get yourself into trouble with’ It felt like you couldn’t do anything without the heroes knowing about it. You probably couldn’t even pass a stool in this house without them knowing about it. And you just—didn’t think it was...healthy to feed into their delusions, you didn’t want them to think you were okay with what they’d done, and you weren’t sure where your relationship stood with them anymore, but like a fool you still had a soft spot for them, they’d long since carved a special spot for themselves in your heart, and because of that, you couldn’t stand watching his break in front of you.

Against your better judgement you cradle his face in your palm, he shivers and is instantly nestling into the soft touch, slumping forward to press himself even closer, singing low in his throat when your lips join, it’s hardly discernible, yet the vibration is unmistakable as he pulls you close, clutching your sides; uncontrolled moans were plucked from him with each candy-coated kiss you awarded. And all too soon were you drawing away to rest your forehead against his.

“Kitten, again.”

“Kiss me again.”

“Please?”

He made no move to initiate, only wishing, hoping, waiting, on you—for your reply. And, a purr rumbled from deep within his chest when you indulged him.

Hizashi bursts into the apartment eager to escape the cold and is greeted by his loving husband, whose hair is tousled, and in an even worse state of disarray than usual, which he finds kinda strange since it certainly hadn’t been that way previous to him leavin’ out. And stranger yet, a small saccharine smile played on the erasure hero’s lips. He looks between the two of you and internally gushes over the pretty picture you both painted; you cuddlin’ up on Shou, mussy hair...

Wait a minute.

Hizashi’s giddy squeal cuts out like a record scratch when he comes across the now empty plate.

“You guys...”

Neither of you even has the decency to look contrite.

“They were good, you’ve really outdone yourself.”

“I get sugar cravings around this time, they were amazing though.”

Compliments were the way to his heart, and was all it took for him to forget his disapproval and become starry-eyed, gasping a cute, “Really?”

“Yeah! You did awesome, Awesomeasaurus!”

“Aww, thank you, suga’pie! Though I gotta feelin’ that wasn’t the only sugar you were smackin’ on.” Mic teased, a knowing grin with too many teeth splitting across his face, and this time you do become abashed as Aizawa grinned right back like a cheshire cat.

They chuckle among themselves as the host with the most lifts you from Shouta’s lap with all the care of a mother tending to her newborn; he swoops in to steal a kiss, amused by the scandalized expression you pull. “Shouta can’t be the only one gettin’ kisses!” He nabs a couple more, stopping only when you tuck to the side to escape the barrage. “If he’s gettin’ kisses, then I’m gettin’ kisses.” He proclaimed, easing you down onto the cushions still warmed from the erasure hero’s body heat.

“Your chariot awaits, Prince of Slumberland.” A pair of keys are dropped into his hand, and his shoulder is bumped affectionately. Hizashi follows Shouta to the door, helping him into his jacket. The latter melts into the hug he’s given, and with a smack to the derrière, he’s sent off. Yamada is halfway across the foyer when he stops, looking as if he’d forgotten something; he spazzes, swinging back around, “WAIT!” He shouts, attracting the attention of Shota who was partially out the door. “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” He jogged up to his lover with a smile, “I forgot my goodbye kiss!” Shota’s face is cradled in his palms as he kisses his hubby on the lips. “You be safe, honey butter biscuit.” The home-room teacher smiles softly, covering Hizashi’s hands with his, “I will. Promise.” The kiss is returned, equally as doting; Aizawa gently removes his lover’s hands, pressing a kiss to the knuckle of each one before returning them. He’s starting out of the door again when another call for him to stop rings out. Shōta turns, wondering what he could possibly want this time. He wants to protest as his spouse lifts you, their darling shouldn’t be manipulated right now, even if she was handled with extreme care. Hizashi makes a short walk of the distance and is already presenting you to him, his husband’s beam is even brighter than before. “Can’t leave out, sugar snap pea!” Shota leans forward, and watches as you elevate your neck for what you thought he had in store; well, he has to keep you on your toes doesn’t he? He administers the endearment lower than anticipated, bestowing you a smooch on the lips as he’d done with Hizashi. He chuckles as you gingerly touch the spot, looking up at him owlishly. Cute. It’s a sentiment Hizashi echoes, although verbally. He adds another to your forehead, leaning over you to kiss the radio star one last goodbye.

—————————————

“Alright! Let’s get some food in ya, ginger spice!” Mic exclaimed, striding into the kitchen. His baby needed some grub and a few good snugs! He sits you on the island and his hands are a whirlwind of motion as he ransacked the cabinets, grabbing all the goodies he could find. And when he turns to face you he’s supporting an armful of mixed munches, an abundant assortment of eats. His neck is folded to house a packet of candy and there’s a bag of chips clenched between his teeth. “Vish should vast ‘til Shou gets home, vwatcha fink?” His goofy appearance and impeded speech is enough to have you cracking up. His smile radiated pride as he passed along the treats, “Can ya hold these for me, Sweet?” Arms full, you’re hoisted up and the radio star throws you a wink, “I already got a snack to carry.”

Upon entering the living area he lowers you, and the array is dumped on the table, it’s surface completely engulfed and no longer visible. It’s laid out like a food fanatic’s fantasy.

“C’mon, lil mama! Come cuddle with me!” Mic dove onto the couch, arms splayed open wide, making grabby motions towards you with his hands, his legs parting in invitation.

———————————

The drone of the television did little to distract you as the blonde had hoped, you were writhing in pain; your cramps had worsened as the night had progressed, increasing in both frequency and intensity, and all he could do was you hold you. Hizashi hugs you to his chest, providing snuggles. It’s unconscious on his part, but he’s squeezing you like a human-sized stress ball. All he can focus on is you, your pain, your misery, how useless he felt.

What does he do?

What could he do?

And as his thoughts begin to spiral he doesn’t even notice his grasp constricting, tightening and tightening until you yelp. The pressure is removed instantaneously.

“Ah! Sorry, songbird. Is your tummy tender?”

You and Mic resume cuddling without further incident, his grip tightens with each pained whimper, but never reaches the same intensity as before, both in an attempt to offer comfort and to assuage his own worry. Seeing his princess in pain was seriously throwing him off his game. And him not being able to do anything about it? He buzzed with nervous energy. His knee bounced anxiously, where the hell was Shō?! Another anguished groan and Hizashi answered with his own anxious whine,

“Do-do ya need anything? Are ya—ya sure you don’t want any pain meds?”

You’d snubbed any offers of pain relievers much to their disappointment and ever growing disquiet.

Okay, he’d admit that it was kind of precious how you always refused to take medication of any kind, the same way a child might, but you wouldn’t even go for the flavored stuff! If you wouldn’t do it for your sake he wished you’d at least do it for his. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of seeing you like this; with each passing second he grew all the more fretful and evermore fidgety.

To his immense relief you end up asking for a heating pad, they have one surprisingly, hero work comes with its aches and pains! Sure their closest was a mess and Shōta was sure to get on him about it later but it was for their darling! A trashed closet was a small price to pay for their beloved’s comfort. The voice hero was so amped up to finally be of assistance that he nearly ate carpet twice in his haste to get what you’d requested. After very gently maneuvering you, he’d shot off towards their shared bedroom at break-neck speed. A shout of, “Don’t touch that dial!” Thrown over his shoulder.

From your spot on the couch, you heard the sounds of him tearing up the room, exaggerated groans and a victorious crow at his acquirement; and when he’d returned, he presented his prize proudly, like an energetic puppy craving praise. “Who d’ya love cuddle-bug?!” If he had a tail it’d be wagging. “Thanks, snug monster. I really appreciate it...” Your eyelids and tone are weighed heavily from the pain, it left you drowsy, with slowed movements, but you manage to smile up at him, and Hizashi thrills as he’s rewarded with a smooch. He’s tickled pink, and can’t even begin to hide the blush he’s sporting, he doesn’t even try. “Aw, ya know it ain’t no thang! Anything for you, cutie.” You stretch to get your fingers on the pad, eager for relief, however the blonde keeps it out of reach, an unidentifiable emotion twisting his features, his expression an odd mix of stress and desperation, panic flickering in his eyes. “No, let me! ...Lemme help you. Where do you need it?” You’re re-situated on his lap, and he gingerly flattens the pad against your lower abdomen; the soothing heat acted as a balm, loosening your tense muscles; you sigh, leaning into the sensation, covering his hand with yours to urge him closer. “That’s it, mama. Just let me take care of you.” You can’t help the gratified moan that slips past your lips, the warmth doing wonders for you, and Hizashi could see the tension fading from your body. “Feelin’ good?” He’s given a nod in response as you relax into him. The DJ releases a relieved breath of his own, finding solace in your improved condition. His rigid posture slackens. He lays his head atop yours, heaving another weary sigh, his nerves overstrung. “Daddy’s happy to hear it, baby...”

[transmascfrankiero]

all of mcr’s songs ranked out of ten based on whether or not you can strip to them:

romance: could work if you were going for a Super Melancholy smiths-esque vibe but overall too slow and pretty. 1/10

honey: headbanger soundtrack to showcase your revenge body to ur ex. bonus points for underlying ‘gonna murder shitty boyfriend’ context thanks to audition-inspired video. but slightly too angry to be seductive. 5/10

vampires: too goth, too many feelings. reminds me of pot dreads frank. would not work. 0/10

drowning lessons: this song is cursed and cannot be listened to in public unfortunately 0/10

sorrows: if u were going to do a strip routine while beating the shit out of someone for trying to stealing ur tip money this would be a gr8 choice 6/10

halos: it’s about blowing your own head off and taking too many pills to cope w/ wanting to die all the time. 0/10

turnstiles: please do not!!! strip!!! to a song!!! about 9/11!!!! what is wrong w/ you!!! -100000000/10

monroeville: if u were doing a private lil strip dance for your george a. romero-obsessed s.o. where u both cry over the idea of having to kill the other person b/c they turned into a zombie then sure??? but other than that no. .5/10

best day ever: ehhhhhh. too fast. kinda weird to get sexy to unless u have a hospital kink. 0/10

cubicles: wow the thought of doing a strip routine to a song about pining for ur coworker who doesn’t know u exist is too sad to even joke about -20/10

demolition lovers: it’s a long song but it’s got cool tempo changes for variety and if u got the stamina then go for it. 4/10

helena: so, like, i get it. it’s a bop. u could dance to this beat for sure. the costumes and color scheme from the video make for gr8 stage pictures and the dancing corpse lady is v pretty. i could understand why if u were doing an emo strip routine u would want to use helena. but please for the love of all that is holy do NOT strip to a song gerard way wrote about his dead grandmother okay i am BEGGING you -∞/10

give ‘em hell kid: FUCK YEAH YOU LOOK PRETTY WALKIN DOWN THE STREET IN THE BEST DAMN DRESS U OWN. 10/10

to the end: this would be a hilarious choice for a bachelor party ngl 7/10 for that alone

prison: absolutely you could strip to this song but u gotta COMMIT okay u gotta light something on fire onstage and challenge gender norms while screaming your head off 8/10 but only if ur not a coward

i’m not okay: it’s a bop, but can u strip to it? no. 0/10

ghost of you: mikey way did not die on a beach in fake normandy for u to strip to ghost of you. seek help -5/10

jetset life: dude this song like. actually works??? for a strip routine??? so long as you don’t actually listen to the words, from a musical perspective, u could totally strip to this 10/10

interlude: what kinda weird catholic shame kink do u need to have to strip to this song. also it’s too short and too pretty. -5/10 (unless ur into catholic shame idk)

venom: this would require such a high energy routine but if u can make being sweaty work then this is a gr8 choice 7/10

hang ‘em high: this is a BATSHIT INSANE choice for a strip routine but if u want to do it then PLEASE do. i like ur style. 8/10

deathwish: u can strip to this only if u introduce ur routine by dedicating it to everyone who ever said eyeliner on dudes was gay. 5/10

cemetery drive: i think not. 0/10

never told you: if u are a highly theatrical highly murderous stripper then yes definitely 7/10

desert song: this song is Way Too Beautiful to strip to sorry you can’t have it -300/10

the end.: the only sexy thing about this song is how good gerard’s voice sounds so no. 0/10

dead!: this is a bold fucking choice but u have to play your cards just right. high risk high reward but SO much to potentially get wrong 6/10

how i disappear: u could. but why. 2/10

sharpest lives: holy SHIT yes ABSOLUTELY u should strip to sharpest lives. the drama. the beat. the spy rock guitar that frank accidentally nailed. this is one of THE choicest options from their catalog. why aren’t u stripping to this right now 50000000/10

wttbp: cute idea but don’t actually 0/10

i don’t love you: again, a bold fucking choice. u could strip to this in an edgy, meta sort of way but it’s missing the trashy factor so it’d have to be part performance art and part strip routine. if ur into that then totally 5/10

house of wolves: i mean i would pay money to see someone strip to this song so 7/10

cancer: LMAO YIKES -2000000/10

mama: this would be GLORIOUS if u fully embraced the sheer insanity and went Bonkers in Fuckin Zonkers burlesque-show-in-hell w/ it. 100/10 but u gotta pound the floor wailing at some point

sleep: i’m conflicted on this one like on the one hand it’s a good tempo for stripping but on the other hand it’s a song about being cruel to ur loved ones in order to force distance between u and them b/c you’re terrified of them getting hurt and it being all your fault. so maybe don’t strip to this one actually 0/10

teenagers: a bop w/ a great beat and fun costume ideas from the video but two major drawbacks being 1. ur getting naked to a song about teenagers which is uhhhh sort of Inappropriate and 2. it’s kind of also about school shooters which is also Inappropriate to get naked to. 0/10

disenchanted: why would u want this. you sad fuck. idek what to say except if you want to strip to this song i’m crying on your behalf -100000000/10

famous last words: don’t????? don’t. Do Not. stop that. -12/10

blood: this is HILARIOUS omg please strip to blood 10/10

kill all your friends: sure?? no objections but it’s an odd choice. this goes for the demo too. 2/10

heaven help us: if u want to strip to this then you definitely just read unholyverse for the first time and while u are valid, Don’t 0/10

my way home is through you: not an especially sexy song but it’s fun!! you do you 3/10

astro zombies (cover): uhhhhhh it’s a no from me dawg. i’d be thinking about danzig, like, the whole time. 0/10

desolation row: sure but u gotta be willing to get punched in the face by the riot squad for maximum effect 4/10

common people (cover): just b/c gerard would strip to britpop doesn’t mean u can. 0/10

emily: NO!!!! -50000/10

party at the end of the world: nah. 0/10

not that kind of girl: literally please consider the subject matter of this song and rethink ur life choices. -10/10

all the angels: it’s a cool song but don’t strip to it that’s weird -2/10

jack the ripper: you and the person who wants to strip to astro zombies can go sit in the suicidegirls corner together how about that. 0/10

na na na: a banger!! strip away my friend 9/10

bulletproof heart: a good song but not a strip song 1/10

sing: sorry this song is [REDACTED] it gets no score

planetary (go!): you could try to strip to this but it’s such a classic four-on-the-floor that i think you’d end up just regular dancing to it and forget to be sexy so 4/10

the only hope for me is you: are you doing a strip tease for michael bay. stop. put ur shirt back on shia lebeouf 0/10

party poison: like this is a hilarious option and i support you but realistically it’s pretty fast for a strip song 3/10

save yourself, i’ll hold them back: this is a safe option. Too Safe. almost soulless. a person who’d strip to this would avoid eye contact the entire time and never smile and later when you went out for a smoke break you’d overhear them on the phone with their ex arguing over child support payments. 4/10

s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w: the more i think about it the more fun the idea of stripping to this becomes so i say go for it 6/10

summertime: i’m Certain that gerard would prefer if you didn’t -5/10

destroya: is this objectively the best mcr song to strip to? Absolutely. it’s got everything you could possibly want right down to built-in moans and fever dream drums. but the only person in the universe who Can Must and Should strip to this song is gerard. sorry them’s the breaks. ∞/10 but only if you’re gerard way

kids from yesterday: don’t. 0/10

vampire money: 100% yes you should strip to this. bonus points for stealth twilight references 1000000/10

we don’t need another song about california: do i like this song? yes. is it sexy? no. 0/10

black dragon fighting society: i can’t understand what the FUCK gerard is saying in this song AT ALL so i can’t recommend that u strip to it b/c i have no fucking idea what it’s ABOUT 0/10

f.t.w.w.w.: i mean. this song is about eating pussy. and robots that are built specifically to fuck. so yes you can strip to this but you gotta dress up like a pornbot 100/10

mastas of ravencroft: again i cannot understand most of the fucking words and the ones i do understand are something something RICKETY BONES RICKETY HANDS so like. probably not the one 0/10

boy division: i could go either way on this one like it’s really fast but it’s also about cocaine so??? 3/10

tomorrow’s money: while this song slaps overall violent nihilism does not a strip song make 1/10

ambulance: no. 0/10

gun.: antiwar messages are sexy but not the right kind for stripping 1/10

the world is ugly: PLEASE no. 0/10

the light behind your eyes: oh my god this is so DEPRESSING why would you want to strip to this who hurt you -2000000/10

kiss the ring: yes yes yes it’s got built-in audience participation conceit factor if u let ur audience kiss ur ring, totally works 10/10

make room!!!: again, slaps, but not a strip song 1/10

surrender the night: dude we talked about this!!! dying violently w/ ur loved ones is Not Sexy!!! 0/10

burn bright: i guess you could strip to this but again it’s Too Safe tread carefully 3/10

fake your death: i want frank iero to strip to this song so i can throw tomatoes at him for being a LYING SACK OF SHIT FOR TWO YEARS i’m not gonna rate this one but frank if ur out there i have a basket of slightly squishy heirloom tomatoes and i am COMING FOR YOU

[shortjeb-probs]

Fic Revival

After being dead for nearly five years, my fic Payback is making a comeback! 

Important to note: Chapters 1- 68 were written by a 15-16 year old and chapters 69+ are being written by a 21-22 year old. Stylistically, the writing will be different, but I’ve tried to make sure that it’s enjoyable regardless. 

Check out chapter 1 below! 

Chapter 1: Then 

It would have been fitting if the dirt beneath your short fingernails was oozing mud. It would have been fitting if the dust caked in the seams of your clothing dripped off the fabric into puddles. Anything would have suited this moment better than the cherry pink rays that mingled with fantastic gold, last vestiges of the beautiful day that had taken place, showering into a brilliant sunset. Anything dark or dreary or gross would have been better than what was.

It would have matched Sans' expression if it was as disgusting outside as you felt inside. Your teeth chattered lightly, and despite knowing that you should have maintained a calm face as you looked up at the storm that was Sans, you couldn't help it. Your brows were furrowed and your lips were tightly twisted in a vicious scowl, your fists were grabbing at the ground and tearing up clumps, and you were poised to spring at the skeleton.

Your belongings lay littered against the dead grass. At least that was fitting, you thought angrily. And maybe you were, too. You were an angry lightning bolt, threatening to pierce back up to the heavens and charge at the storm that had thrust your anger into you. The front of your shoes dug into the ground slightly, grass parting at your force as your toes fought to find a better hold.

He said nothing. For once, that lazy stupid grin you had stupidly fallen for because you were stupid--! You breathed heavily, calm, you told yourself, stay calm. For once, that stupid smile was wiped clean off of his visage, finally. Your heart twanged as you thought that it had taken much too long, you knew it wasn't true. You loved his smile, you loved him.

You couldn't convince yourself otherwise even if you tried. And oh, were you trying.

Scarlet paint smeared on the sky from invisible brush bristles, and your calves began to burn from the position you still held. You lifted your hands from the defensive hold they had taken by your sides, undoing the fists your fists quickly, not stopping to cringe as warmed earth fell from your fingers. Your teeth flashed briefly as a snarl a dog would be proud of curled onto your lips, and you sucked chilly air through the small gap in between the top and bottom sets of teeth. A shiver worked its way to your spine as the cold froze your teeth, but you bit it back.

He stared at you from his place in the doorway, right hand just itching to slam the door it held. You could see his fingers twitching from the desire to shut you out one final time. You wondered how Papyrus, who was away at Napstablook's, would react to see the two of you this way. You, in your near beastly pose, and Sans who stood with his left eye whipping through green, yellow, and blue rapidly. Had he ever seen such a sight, the one that was currently your, now, ex boyfriend? You sure hadn't.

Sans leaned forward suddenly, daring you to so much as move, and you did. You rose to a standing position, towering over the various bags and boxes easily. An army of stuff that you could use at your disposal, should you feel like getting violent. You did, but you held both your tongue and your fury. Your key chain sat heavily in your left pocket, and you dug them out when you remembered they were there.

Sans did not watch curiously, instead his arm, the left, reaching towards you. He presented his hand, palm skywards, and you continued to shuffle through the variety of keys until you slid your home key out of the loop. You didn't even look at him as you tossed it, hearing it clang against his bones as he caught it, and then against the wall after he threw it. You shoved your keys back in your pocket, fingers lingering for a second too long before you threw your hand back down to your side.

You lowered yourself and began to pile box onto box, a makeshift wall to block him from your sights that doubled as a means of carrying your items. You tested the weight, it was light enough that you could carry it to your car with ease, and so you began to do just that. The height of the boxes stopped so that the top one could rest against your forehead, and you maneuvered the familiar grasses like the expert you were. This was your home, you'd be damned if you didn't know it well.

A slur of curses sullied your mouth, waiting eagerly to pour out. You had denied them for so long, but you figured it wouldn't hurt now. You cursed the skies that would not mirror neither your anger nor your sorrow, you cursed fate for having teased you with a happy eternity only to cut it short, you cursed everything from ocean to ocean, and finally, you cursed Sans. "Fucking skeleton," You exhaled, face growing haggard as you refused to let his name slip from your lips again. Never again. "Stupid fucking skeleton. Dumb shit." You'd like to think you were better than this, but if the weather would not cooperate, your growls would have to make do with creating the thunderous atmosphere he had created.

Balancing the stack on one of your arms, you plucked out your keys again and shuffled through them, jamming the correct one into the slot without missing a beat. You swung the door open, narrowly missing the metal as it scraped by, and your fingers thunked harshly against the button that unlocked all of the doors but the trunk. You sidestepped to the right until you were directly in front of the door to the back seats. You swung that open, too, pressure screeching against the door as it shook from your power. You felt the glower of that damned skeleton on your back.

You began to pile the boxes into the car, cursing again when you saw that not all of your belongings would fit. Like hell you were coming back here again. You shoved them in haphazardly, fitting boxes in where boxes would fit before turning on your heels and marching back to the front yard. You had at least two more trips worth of stuff to grab, it would have been one if someone would help, he wanted to see you out as fast as he could anyway, but that damned lazy skeleton--! False malice that masked a deep hurt shadowed over your gaze, not that you trained it on Sans.

You were shaking now, but not with cold, exhaustion, or anger. Though it didn't show in anything but the slight tremors, the cutting sadness was searing through you like a wicked flame that you so heartily wished to douse. You picked up the latest stack, this one heavier than the first by a great deal, but not enough to cause you to falter in your movements as you guided back to your car. You threw the boxes in once more. It took a few tries, but you finally pushed the car door shut, and it stayed that way when you moved away from it. You pressed the still open driver's side door, fingers fumbling for the button that would unlock the trunk. You still had a few boxes from this last trip that would not fit in the back seats, no matter how hard you tried.

You walked quickly back over, picking the objects left by the side of your car up swiftly and traveled to the back of your car, eyes scanning over it as it went. It was a dusty old van you had snagged from the side of the road for a few hundred dollars, a good deal for a decent car, a few years back. You sneered at the color, an enthralling cobalt that mirrored the magic currently flowing from Sans' eye. You'd wanted to get it repainted, anyway.

You shoved the remaining boxes in the trunk and went back for the last of your belongings. As you padded across the grass, you couldn't help but ask yourself why Sans was still waiting on the front porch, his figure present in your peripherals. It would be easier for the both of you if he would just shut that door, you didn't care if it was closed to you forever. Your heart twinged, alright, maybe you did care.

You forced anger into your heart like air into your lungs, gulping it down in slow steady breaths. It simmered in your stomach, boiling enough to threaten the contents of your dinner, but would go no further than that. The tendrils of what you wanted to be hatred snaked up and around towards your heart, but stopped well before they could reach their destination. You cursed your inability to dislike Sans, too.

You slid the few bags over your shoulders and gathered up the last few boxes, a monumentally lighter load than your last, even lighter than the first, and stood. You made no hesitation to meet eyes with your former lover, willing there to be some flicker of doubt, some hesitation that you pretended to lack. Not even the slightest flicker crossed into his burning eye. With that, you turned away from him, exiting the yard for what would likely be the last time for a long time.

You crossed the distance to your car with ease, your shaking having stopped when you looked into his heated gaze that final time. A chilling breeze brushed against your cheek, stinging your skin harshly. That was fitting, you thought almost merrily. The wind only continued to pick up, swirling around you and tickling your fuzz-covered scalp. You dropped the boxes in and slid the bags beside them, huffing slightly as you reached up, grabbed onto cold metal, and slammed your arms down. You ran cold fingers through what little hair you had, promising yourself a hair cut as soon as you could get one, and began to walk towards the only open door.

Your cracked lips began to leak crimson fluids as your teeth tore at the skin carelessly. The inside of your cheeks had been snagged raw, suffering a similar treatment that your bottom lip was currently facing, and you inhaled deeply. The door shut firmly after you had seated yourself, your seat belt going ignored for now. You would get to it later, the very next stoplight or stop sign, you promised, but for right now, you were getting out of here.

The hood of your car was towards the street, so you didn't need to adjust the rear view mirror or look behind you. You started the ignition, turning the heat on once the car was started, and began to drive. You peeled out of the driveway quick enough to rattle your bones, but not so much so that you appeared desperate in your want to leave. You blinked away a sudden wetness as you swerved onto the streets, the distance between your former home and you increasing with every second. You noticed that Sans still had not backed away from the door, its openness likely inviting the harrowing winds that had previously tugged at your clothes.

The sun dipped further beneath the horizon, wisps of dark blue graying the edges furthest away from its fleeting light. You didn't know where to go now. You hadn't woken up and expected to have all of your stuff packed and placed on your lawn, solely their lawn now, you hadn't been expecting anything like what had happened! Your shoulders slumped as you rounded the corner, the bone brothers' home disappearing from view with a sense of finality. When you came home from work earlier, that was what was waiting for you. Brown boxes and soured moods.

The angry flame that had coursed through your veins, bubbled your stomach, and stopped before reaching your heart died out as you continued driving. You wondered if it would ever return again, likely when you saw Sans next, which at the moment, you hoped would be never. The road jostled your car slightly with every odd bump, and after a few minutes, you arrived to a stoplight. You turned your body quickly, buckling yourself in before dwelling on your current situation.

You wouldn't be able to turn to Papyrus, who had quickly become one of your best friends, aside from maybe Toriel. Sans had surpassed the 'Best Friend' status that so little people had just been able to make it to. He had become the wall you would lean against when you needed it, the clock that would offer as much time as you needed, the source of childish joy and wild laughter, the cause of playfully disappointed groans whenever he would utter those awful jokes, the most comfortable person you had ever been with, the being that presented more light than the sun, of which had drooped beyond the horizon and left an inky blue tone in the sky, for the two and a half years you two had been together. The..

You stopped yourself, wounds already clawing deeper within you. The soft trembles had returned, but they were no longer quiet. You shook violently, now, pitiful sniffles you could not push back any longer pairing alongside those awful shakes. You glared into the road, willing holes to burn through the asphalt. That didn't happen, but the light did turn green, giving you something else to focus on.

You juggled your thoughts, staying focused on the road the whole while, before settling. If you could turn to neither Papyrus, for he was busy and would likely side with his brother anyway regardless of what you could say or do, nor Toriel, who had likely heard of Sans' temper and would favor with the friend she had made long before you ever stepped into her life, you would turn to the next person. You idly wondered if Toriel knew what you did not, the source of Sans' immense rage. You pushed the thought back.

You pulled over near an empty street vendor cart, digging in your right pocket for your phone. Like most of your belongings, it was old and outdated, but again similar to your items, it worked, and it worked well. You dialed the familiar number without a thought, pressing the phone to your ear as the fingers of your left hand tapped on the steering wheel lightly. A few seconds later, and a dull click sounded through your speakers. Your voice, rough with disuse and grief, surprised you with the confidence warped within the sound, "Hey, Mettaton,"

Link to Ch2: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700913/chapters/13135003#workskin