#is fucking mortifying and shameful and sickening.

[samuraisharkie]

I don’t think I’m going to be able to convince my parents that Palestine is the victim. My Dad is so aggressively for them every since he heard the propaganda about Hamas “killing thousands of children”, and nothing I could say sounded like it was getting through. He’s a republican so i guess it was kind of fucked from the start. It fucking sucks I had to go to a doctor’s appointment and the tv in the waiting room was just. full blown Israeli propaganda and support and when I tried to ease into a discussion he started acting like I was being tricked and brainwashed and that he was the only one who knew how to find correct sources (his source is Fox News so. and he doesn’t believe in researching both sides, he pretends he does but he doesn’t) I had to leave bc I got called in and pretend I wasn’t shaking with rage and fear. It’s terrifying to see what my Dad has become in recent years. He falls for it every time there’s a “rage bait” propaganda bc he gets so mad he refuses to even entertain that it’s not true. He also refuses to entertain that he could be wrong about anything he believes. It’s fucking mortifying to witness all of this and then watch my family align themselves with such fucking abhorrent evil people. colonizers naturally align with colonizers I guess. I wish I could show them how wrong they are and peel the film off their eyes. I wish I could do something more to make up for their heartless, callous cruelty.

[konigsblog]

König who has a somnophilia kink. (🌽 kink)

TW/CW: NON-CON/DUB-CON, SOMNOPHILIA, DARK CONTENT. MDNI 18+

König knows it's wrong to have sex with you while you're asleep and unable to make a conscious decision for yourself, but he can't help himself from the irresistible, delicious sight. You have the tendency to sleep bare and naked, and König frequently wakes up in the middle of the night after having a night terror, desperate for something to soothe and comfort him. Of course, how can he resist the pretty little thing laying beside him? To König, it's as if you're offering yourself to him, allowing him to take what he believes belongs to him. I mean, if you didn't want to be used like a fuck toy, you would've covered up, right?

Instead of talking about this with you, discussing whether it's alright to take you while you're asleep, König goes for it anyways. He lifts your leg up and grinds against you, admiring your soft facial expressions when he rubs the wet, sticky tip of his hard cock against your cunt back and forth. He breathes out, relaxed and comforted by the familiar sensation of your wet pussy. It's like heaven for König, who can't stop himself despite the terrified and mortified expression on your face when you're finally awoken. He should feel guilty and sickening, but instead of stopping, he gazes into your glassy eyes and promises to be quick and gentle, even if you're already crying through discomfort and fear.

Don't cry, little bunny. You know it's just König and his selfish desires taking over. He'll take good care of your gorgeous pussy, like he always does.

König pushes himself inside your slick pussy and groans out painfully at the tightness, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion and lust as your smooth, soft walls clamp down around his thick base. His grip is firm and leaves indents along your skin, digging into your flesh as he holds you still. He'll quicken his pace if you squirm or tremble, if you whine or weep. Don't you want König to be at ease, relaxed after a nightmare, don't you care about him? Your pussy does wonders for König. Please, Mauschen, let him have you.

“Please, Maus— I need it. You’d give me it if you truly cared, wouldn’t you? You say you care about me, so prove it.” König frowns at you, shame leaving him feeling disgusted with himself. He shouldn't tug at your heartstrings and shame you for not complying with him. He comforts himself by telling himself that it's not rape, that if you really didn't want it, you'd speak up, even if he knows that's not true. You're frozen in shock and don't want to anger your boyfriend.

At last, König finally reaches his orgasm, spurting thick creamy loads of his hot arousal inside of your hole, only to roll over and pass out, his anxieties vanishing from his mind, while you're left shaking, whimpering at the creamy mess left between your thighs and the dirty feeling of König's touch all over your skin.

[quccninchains]

| @bigdaddydaemon sent: 67﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  across  the  face . + reverse

{☾} Her hand collides with the side of his face, the CRACK of skin on skin glittering in their bedchamber. Her chest heaved and she immediately felt guilty. Never had she been so pushed towards violence before. But he had been spotted. He and Rhaenyra. She wasn't a fool--knew they had been intimate though he was married to Alicent. And she had been discreet in her own AFFAIR. But for Daemon to allow himself to be caught with another woman?

Mortified. She was absolutely humiliated. She wanted him to hurt.

"I told you on our wedding night," Alicent breathed out, cheeks brilliant red with shame. Her eyes brimmed with furious tears. "You may embarrass me in private all you wish...but I will not tolerate being shamed in public."

She turns away from him, the black of her sheer and satin nightgown striking against pale skin as she presses her stinging hand to her throat. A humorless laugh curls in her throat and she tosses her head back. Long auburn curls fall down her back and she turns back to face him. Mean laughter shimmering in her eyes.

It is more than just embarrassment that spurs her forward. She is JEALOUS. Down to her core. Sickened to death by her desire to be seen, loved, touched by her husband. Rhaenyra had everything. She was a PRINCESS. And even to her husband, she felt entitled.

"I am at least discreet," she breathes out, lips parting as she slowly sits on the edge of their great bed. "Ser Harwin sleeps with me here, in this bed while you are out with her." Her hands smooth along the blankets, her robe slightly gaping as her naked legs are exposed, crossing over her knee. Heat rises in her neck and cheeks but she keeps going.

"He lets me ride him, right here where you sleep, my lord husband. He kisses me, touches me...he knows all my most secret places," she whispers cruelly, eyes alighting at the memory of her hidden passion. Her hands return to her lap, brown eyes searching violet. The corners of her lips twitch up, an amused smile on her cold features. "He kisses the insides of my thighs and makes me sing his praises as he fills me with his fingers, his tongue, his cock."

"I at least have the decency to let my lover fuck me in the privacy of our chambers, Daemon." She shakes her head, fingers now playing with the rope of her robe, as if she would pull it free. Her eyes roll, a growing realization that he wouldn't care. For all of her passionate goading, She didn't think he wouldn't care.

[raekahwritings]

Shindo Yo: Rankings Don’t Matter (Part 1)

Pairing: Shindo Yo x Reader Rating: General Audience Word Count: 5682 Words A/N: Huge shout-out to @bezczelnyguy​ because I promised to get a work out this weekend <3 But this will have a part 2 to continue the story and ~smut~ later. Not beta-read so pardon any mistakes!  

You were simply an ordinary civilian, a quirk-less person lost in the sea of Tokyo where many pro-heroes resided. Heroes, rankings, and media were part of the everyday life here. It wasn’t uncommon to see them patrolling or to see some incident here and there.

You simply took it all in stride. Despite heroes and villains abound, it wasn’t as if you didn’t have an ordinary life, a place where you liked working, hobbies to do, and friends you could meet.

But there was one person who disrupted the normalcy you’ve always come to expect.

Hence why you were at a nondescript café that was close to work and offered a cozy atmosphere.

“I hope I’m not too forward but are you expecting somebody?” A college-age student had approached you and was gesturing to your empty seat—you gave them an apologetic smile in return. You had been sitting here for awhile by yourself, idly reading a book.

“I’m afraid so.” He looked a little disappointed at the answer. But you pointed out to a table where someone else was leaving. “I think the seat is opening up over there.” You were careful to give a small friendly smile but nothing more. He threw you a lingering glance, but you didn’t really notice since your attention was elsewhere.

How could you notice? Butterflies were jumping around in your stomach; you were nervous yourself. You tried to sip at your tea nonchalantly and conspicuously glancing at the door. Your days were ordinary… with one small exception. Shindo, Pro-Hero Grand from the neighboring agency, had taken to joining you on Sunday mornings. Granted, you had to sit through his rambling about his heroic antics, patrols, and hilarious stories of his fellow comrades. You weren’t sure when Shindo became endearing— he used to be an arrogant asshole that you wanted to take down a peg.

But you got to see past his cocky, smug façade to see the vulnerable pro-hero who was desperately trying to make top ten. You had seen him work over-time, bumping into him at the late hours of the night, and watched him try to laugh off his hard work and dark eye circles as ‘partying’. You knew better—you even sneaked him coffees at his office at those late-night hours. You used the excuse: you were in the area and had seen his office light on. Sure, most people thought he was an asshole—like Bakugo. You had seen him aggravate other heroes but in turn, help them recognize their shortcomings. You knew how preciously loyal he was to his friends.

“Miss me?” Shindo did not disappoint. He strolled through the door and dropped himself into the seat, without a word of askance and simply assumed it was for him. Which you didn’t bother correcting— he knew too well otherwise.  You rolled your eyes at his ‘grand’ entrance, sighing with faux irritation. Not that you really were irritated—Shindo was too handsome today, a black shirt and dark wash jeans fitting perfectly to his toned body.

“What if I was expecting somebody else?” You played off his words with your cultivated façade and blasé indifference. Not that it made a difference because Shindo simply smirked with roguish charm.

“Then you should’ve stopped me.” He waved the barista over, giving her a charming smile. “Darling, would you mind getting me a coffee?”

“Um..” She looked uncertain, holding her hands up in a fraught gesture. “You have to go to the counter to pay…” She nervously stuttered, unused to refusing a pro-hero and unsure.

You stood up, shoving a hand into Shindo’s smug face.  “Don’t worry, I’ll come to the counter and pay.” She looked a little more at ease now, she was clearly nervous about dealing with a pro-hero’s demands. It was good that you dealt with enough of them in your line of work that you were no longer dazzled by them. “With his money of course.” You held up Shindo’s wallet, clasped between two fingers-- Shindo looked up and down in alarm.

“What the fuck?” He looked at his empty pocket. He didn’t even know you could pickpocket, much less sneak past him—he was a pro-hero for god’s sake.

You gave him a saccharine sweet smile—“You don’t get to order the barista around like your waitress, darling.” You used his little pet-name, throwing it back at him. You flipped your hair in an exaggerated gesture, prompting Shindo to laugh despite himself. He didn’t mind sitting there alone as you chit-chatted with the barista while they made his drink. They knew you quite well since you often came during the week.

The coffee barista happily made his drink, especially as you fished out an extra five dollars as tip from Shindo’s wallet, and you leaned forward in anticipation. Smells wonderful. You always enjoyed the fresh scent of coffee. The door opened and you didn’t give it a passing glance. But maybe you should’ve.

You really should have.

Camie and Yaoyoruzu, the two prettiest pro-heroes had walked in through the door. Yaoyorozu with her huge chest and Cami with her flirtatious demeanor. Their laughter rung out in the coffee shop, all eyes turned to them and they provoked a sinking feeling that had your stomach lurching. You hoped they were just passing through. You drummed your fingers anxiously against the bar, hoping Shindo wouldn’t turn around.

But he did. Shindo looked lazily over to you and looked delicious in his seat. From the way that the two other pro-heroes turned, they also appreciated the sight. You could see Camie look coquettishly over and Yaoyorozu put on her most charming smile. And the fucking nerve, they went over to him and you could hear, “My oh my, is this seat taken?”

Shindo didn’t even get a chance to reply before Camie slid into your seat. “Well, I’m sure they wont mind if we wait here a few minutes with you?”

The way she just said that, the way she assumed no one would ‘mind’ had you taking action. You collected your drink and marched on over—the barista even giving you a sympathetic glance. “Excuse me, I think that’s my seat.” You dropped Shindo’s wallet and drink on his table, giving him a heated glare—silently signaling to him that you should’ve stopped them. It was your table that you’d been holding onto.

Camie didn’t even bother to look your way, just cooing to the male pro-hero. “My my, you’ve even got your assistant to bring you a drink? Or is she simply the help?”  Momo giggled at the demeaning statement, leaning over to teasingly snatch a sip of Shindo’s drink and murmured in a coy voice, “My, my, you like it dark and strong?” Camie even pressed a hand to the male’s arms, running her fingers lightly up his arm.

You cleared your throat loudly. “I’m not his assistant or help. I was actually the the one sitting here first so if you could kindly give me back my seat.” You look pointedly at Camie, tempted to snap your fingers in her face and see if she would deign to give you her attention.

When it was clear you weren’t leaving, she finally looked your way and gave you an eye-roll.

It only took a moment to assess you, you were no threat. “Honey, I’m a pro-hero. I need to talk some ‘business’ with Grand over here.” Her voice dripped with disdain, for you, a civilian. “Or did you want to ask for his autograph? That’s a little annoying of you, but fans are so disrespectful now.”

Momo, the creation hero, looked at you with faux-sympathy. “We are sorry to interrupt your ‘fan moment’ but as my partner said, please cooperate since we have patrols with Grand to discuss.” To make things even worse, she was still holding Shindo’s drink, her pink lipstick staining the cup. She licked her lips with obvious innuendo to Grand.

You stood there… a little in shock. They were lying to your face and it was somehow alright because they were pro-heroes? You tried to find words, trying to quell the nuclear fury rising up in you. But Momo put her arm on you, giving a gentle chastising ‘tut tut’ and pushing you gently away. “You’re looking quite emotional. As a fan, please learn to control yourself.” Your indignation shrank rapidly as people started to murmur around you—some even looking at you with a shaming look. Did they hear what happened? No, but Momo had fooled the others with a fake-sympathy look.

“Shindo, you can’t be serious?” You looked at him, he actually looked uncomfortable. Probably because he knew the truth.  Even worse, you noticed he didn’t shake off Camie or Momo. Which made your stomach drop—not only were all eyes on you but Shindo didn’t even offer a word to your defense.

I guess he’s the same as the others…

You swallowed your anger, trying not to let the sickening insecurity overwhelm you. Because, obviously. Every guy is just aiming for a beautiful pro-hero. You probably never had a chance with Shindo—he was probably passing the time with his adoring, annoying fan.

Did he ever even like you? Was he just putting up with you?

“Fine. Whatever. I don’t need anyone’s autograph, Grand.” You injected his pro-hero name with disgust. Hurt, heart-aching, disappointed disgust.

You turned on your heel, boots because you weren’t traipsing around in six-inch heels like Camie, and walked out. Because you were fucking mortified, being humiliated in your favorite café in front of everyone and labelled as a desperate fan.

Surprise, surprise, no one followed you.

You took a brisk walk home. You were too angry to even signal for a taxi or go onto the subway…. You weren’t sure what was gonna happen if you had a moment to stop— you’d probably cry on the goddamn subway. You rubbed your arms, trying to soothe your volatile emotions because you refused to cry in public.

You really thought Shindo was better than this. But no. You pulled out your phone to block all mentions of Shindo across your social media, to block the other pro-heroes. Because you knew if you saw mentions of any of them from today, you probably would die from embarrassment and the cringeworthy memory. For all that it was worth, this incident was gonna be tweeted in a matter of minutes and you only hoped no one would identify you.

You came home, collapsing into your bed and trying to gather yourself. You could’ve called your friends to vent—but god, you felt so stupid. You had waited in that café all morning on your day off. You had stupidly looked forward to seeing him. If you told anyone now, they would know about your crush on the hero. People would think you were the wanna-be fan that Camie and Momo had made you out to be. So you turned on Netflix, drowning out the day’s shitty feelings with numerous rom-coms. Did it make you feel better? Not by much but it helped you not to focus on the hurtful ball of anxiety burning its way through your stomach.

You eventually fell asleep. You eventually woke up and dragged yourself to work. You faked a smile to your co-workers, pretending everything was fine. Your work was done. You avoided the café like a plague. That was day one.

Day one of not seeing Shindo ever. He didn’t even know your phone number, you had always left the meetings to chance. His chance. To tell the truth, you had sat there every Saturday in hopes he would come.

You eventually made it to two weeks—but something happened that you never expected.

You ran into the barista whom you got Shindo’s coffee from. “…Y/N?” The same one that had been there. She looked down at you in the convenience store with you bent over and awkwardly trying to look at coffee grinds. You wanted to duck out and pretend you never heard her. But that was cowardly of you and that wasn’t you. So you gave her an awkward smile—“Hi.” You tried not to look embarrassed. “What brings you around here this late?”

She gave you a commiserating look. “Work ended late. How about you?” You gave her an empathetic nod, you had been putting in a lot more time than usual.

“Same.” You didn’t say much. Images flashed by, little taunts from Camie and Momo and you kept your mouth shut from sounding more like a ‘desperate fan’. She looked at her purchases, seemingly a little... nervous? Well, you were too. So you would make your excuses and leave before she thought worse of you. You gathered your items, trying not to seem in an obvious rush and making an excuse to go—

“Wait!” She blurted out. You froze. “You never come anymore. Is it because of last time?”

Oh god. You wanted to die. Even your friendly barista saw that and commented.

Who were you kidding though, everyone probably saw that.

“Well, it was really embarrassing.” You... admitted. Because this was really hard for you to talk about. “I can’t show my face around right? Everyone probably thinks the worst of me.” Even though I’m not, you wanted to say.

“Um…” She looked around, pitching her voice low. “I know it’s not my place to say but… something happened after you left. And the pro-hero you were with? He keeps coming back and I’m pretty sure he’s looking for you.”

Shindo, looking for you? A small kindle of hope flared but it was crushed nearly immediately. How much more do you want to delude yourself? You shook your head in sad denial. “Believe me, he’s not.”You were an inconsequential ‘civilian’ that was around for him to brag to. He could find those girls, a dime in a dozen, who would probably prostrate for a chance to be seen with him. You wouldn’t humiliate yourself anymore by pretending it was something more. “Thank you though. It’s..” Probably shows how pitiful I am, probably.

But the fact she came out of her way to talk to you… That was really kind of her. “….Nice to know someone noticed I wasn’t around. I hope you believe me when I say, your shop makes wonderful coffee and has wonderful employees.” You smiled, a little more genuinely than before. “I’ll miss it but I’m sure that’s why people, even Grand, comes back.”

You genuinely meant it. They were your favorite coffee place and they deserved to know it. The barista gave you a flustered look, she hadn’t expected the sudden compliment from you. “So…” You didn’t want to make the moment too heavy. “Would you tell me your coffee secret? I honestly need to know what kind of beans you use so I can buy some at home.” You gently changed the subject.

She enthusiastically gave you a recommendation and you both parted ways with a bit of a smile. Your heart weighed painfully but a little less heavy than before.

The next day, you tried to pick up the pieces of your life. You went out for lunch. You laughed a little more genuinely at a a co-workers crazy business antics. You accepted an assignment to help market another pro-hero agency, making preliminary notes on their current heroes and sidekicks.

“You want me to meet up with them now?” You looked up at your manager, a little confused. You didn’t usually handle the interview or meeting side, preferring to work on the back-end computer-crunching and paperwork when it came to marketing and deals. Your manager nodded and gave you a folder.

“This one likes a more personal and hands-on approach when it comes to their team.” What an unusual approach. You… took the folder.

“Hm. Uravity, huh?” You knew this pro-hero—she was definitely one to look out for. Everyone had said she was one of the sweetest pro-heroes around, preferring a personable approach to her business. She could make friends with even the surliest of pro-heroes  That’s how you found yourself in her office with tea and cookies; you had politely refused but she firmly believed in having delicious sweets to accompany the meeting.

Which you couldn’t resist once she shoved a plate at you. “Gosh, this dessert is fantastic.” You almost couldn’t bear to eat the deku-themed matcha pudding. She laughed as you eventually, ever-so-slowly and sadly ate it.

“Y/N, thank you for assisting us! Call me Ochaco, I look forward to working with you…” She eagerly shook your hand. You had been with her for an hour beforehand, discussing potential marketing strategies and merchandise before gathering up your documents and getting ready to go.

“I’ll send you the preliminary marketing outline by the end of the week..” You didn’t get a chance to say much more since the door opened very abruptly, slamming and startling you. Uravity—no, Ochaco didn’t seem surprised when Lord Explosion Murder, Bakugo shouted aloud, “Get this poser fucking away from me! I don’t want to work with two-face here!” The explosion hero shoved someone behind the door, someone you couldn’t see…

Ah. I should’ve left sooner.

You managed to steel yourself because you heard him before you saw him—Shindo. No, you corrected yourself, Grand. He followed Bakugo in, frustratingly trying to re-iterate his side of the story. You inched towards the door since he seemed focused on Bakugo… You tried to look engrossed into your clipboard and rush past.

“Y/N?” He looked at you incredulously. You nearly escaped without a second look but there seemed to be a brief pause in the conversation between the pro-heroes.

You mustered a tight smile. “I’m sorry but I have to head out.” You pushed past him into the hallway. “Please excuse me.”

You speed-walked to the elevator but diverted to the emergency stairwell, hoping for a moment to pull yourself together.  Shindo was as handsome as when you walked away at the coffee shop. Was it too much to hope that he magically got uglier? The low burn of humiliation still stayed at the pit of your stomach, tempered by time but still there. You could keep your composure but for how long?

Shindo abandoned his argument with Bakugo to follow you. He was a moment too late though, he tried to head for the elevator but saw no one. Damnit. He walked back to Ochaco, determined to find out why you’d been there. He had been looking for you for weeks but you hadn’t come back to the café and he never got your full name to start asking for you.

“Uravity!” She looked startled at both your sudden departure and Grand’s abrupt return. “What’s Y/N doing here?” Ochaco tilted her head in confusion. “She’s one of the civilians on our new marketing campaign.” He gestured impatiently for her to continue. “I can give you her company information and business card if you’re looking for her?”

Shindo nearly tripped over himself to get to Ochaco. “Yes.” He, with cool finesse, don’t let Bakugo tell you otherwise how he fumbled with the card—noted your information and took a picture.

You made sure to throw yourself into work for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the growing pit of anxiety in your stomach. Shindo was a bad premonition. Like when a black cat crossed your path and mirrors would crack. You weren’t superstitious though so you tried to push it out of your mind.

Work was where you were safe and comfortable. Nothing bad will happen, you reason. So when you finally decided to call it a night much later than usual— it was already 8 pm? They would lock your building soon. You wished you could stop by the coffee store to get more work done… Like I can go back there. You tiredly tried to massage your frown away, rubbing between your eyebrows as you packed up and left. You even thought you smelled their special brew…. No, you were probably imagining things.

Right up until you saw Shindo outside your office door, holding an iced latte in his hand. You stared at him; honestly you thought you were dreaming— so you decided to slam your door shut.  

You gave yourself a moment to breathe. You had run into him earlier today so surely you were hallucinating.

“….Seriously?” You heard his muffled voice through the door.

I’m not dreaming then. You, honest to god, wondered if you could get out of the fire escape. But the likelihood of you climbing out your window and breaking your neck outweighed the nervousness and fear of opening your door, like a normal human being. Just be normal, Y/N, don’t freak out.

So you did open the door.

“Did you find the wrong person? I don’t recall having an 8 pm meeting.” You tried to be curt and short. If not... who knows what you would say?

“Uh.” Shindo was thrown off by your brusque words. Honestly, he didn’t think this one completely though. He had decided to see you, maybe catch you before you could disappear again. He’d been at the coffee shop, dropping by with a hope of seeing you. And with each casual look, with each hopeful inquiry, he realized you hadn’t stopped by since the time with Camie and Momo…

He had sat there on Sunday, hoping you wouldn’t be holding any grudges— but thirty minutes in, Shindo had left. You weren’t coming anymore.

So what though? He had sullenly stayed quiet. It wasn’t like you two were dating, it wasn’t like you two had promised anything. He had nothing to apologize for. He didn’t need to sit in a coffee shop, you didn’t help his rankings.

But he didn’t get to see your laughing face when he re-told his arguments with his fellow heroes. He didn’t get to see the fond smiles you threw his way. He didn’t get to see you standing sheepishly outside his agency with ‘extra’ coffee just the way he wanted it. Black as hell, and not your usual sweetness. He didn’t get a chance to walk you to the station.

He had seen the hurt flicker on your face, he had been at a loss for words. And the worst part was that no matter how he justified himself, he couldn’t get rid of the acrid feeling that lingered in his stomach.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I haven’t seen you since…” He trailed off, not quite sure how to put this. Shindo was rarely at a loss for words, he usually had a number of things to say. He knew what people were like and what they wanted to hear. It was just a matter of pushing the right buttons.

What every girl wants to hear. Shindo lathered on the charm a bit and held the latte for you. “I just wanted to see you. Is it a crime?” He knew the drink was one of your favorites. “It’s a hero’s dream to walk a beautiful girl home after a long day of work, hm?”  He gestured to you and the late night, holding out a hand to you. Hook, line, and sinker.

He knew he got you when you finally looked at him. When you reached out to take his hand… Now everything will be fine, you’d be happy, he’d be fine—

“Go fuck yourself, Grand.” You held up your middle finger.

Shindo was in fucking shock. Shit, if you had a camera out, you would’ve loved to take a picture. You had never seen Shindo’s mouth hang open, the delayed look as he tried to process your words. 

“Oh, I’m sorry? Maybe I should’ve told you more clearly.” You had time to think, you weren’t scared off by public shaming—not here and now. No cutesy, bitchy pro-heroes to stop you now. “I’m not one of your fangirls who’ll fall for that little line. I’m not sure why you’re here but you need to leave.”

You locked the door behind you and walked away.

Walked away from him.

“Y/N.” Shindo tried to stop you. “Why are you being so cold? I thought we were friends, I thought we had something more going on for us.”

You turned around, indignation fueling your sudden and startling courage to walk back and get into his face. You grabbed onto his shirt, pulling his infuriating face to yours. “Us? Shindo, you think I’m something more than a little fangirl who adoringly listened to your stories?” You waited a beat for his answer. “Because you made it pretty fucking clear, that’s what I am.” You both knew what happened in the coffee shop that day.

“Y/N, are you seriously mad about that? What did you want me to do? What did you want me to say?” Shindo glared down at you. What the hell did you want from him? Why were you so angry?

You laughed but it was harsh and acrimonious, to both of you.

“Oh god, is that your answer? You really think I’m just a fangirl. You come up to me, you say these sickeningly sweet lines and you think I’m just gonna fall over for you? You think I’ll follow your script? Did you come because I stopped showing up and losing one of your little worshippers?”

Shindo…. Couldn’t deny it. And you saw from the split-second look of guilt before he schooled his expression into a cajoling one. You knew because you had seen it a million times before, every-time he would face the public, every time he would get on TV. Two-faced was the right word. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve fallen his sugar-sweet words and missed the flash of guilt.

“Y/N…” Shindo knew he could get you to calm down, to soften up towards him….

“Don’t say anything Shindo. I can pretty much guess what one-liners you’re gonna feed me next.” You shook your head, a little in disbelief and a little in hurtful realization of what you’d say next. Because this was the moment, this was when you could face him honestly and get it over and done with.

“Shindo, I like you.” You could finally say it aloud. And you could feel relief wash through your chest at finally saying it. “I came every Saturday because I stupidly hoped you actually liked me and enjoyed my company.”

Shindo’s look soured. “I didn’t promise you anything and I most certainly didn’t encourage—”

“You didn’t.” You gestured to him, a melancholy look peeking through your resolute face. “You hate agendas, you hate when people lie to you, and you didn’t ask for it.” You said this as a fact, and Shindo couldn’t agree more. He despised it. You knew how much people forced things onto him and the overbearing expectations that came with being the so-called perfect hero.

“And that’s why I never said anything, I just wanted you to know that someone actually cared, that I want to listen to you and make you laugh.” The memories washed over you—you both had shared stories in the coffee store until your ribs hurt. There were hours of conversation and stories between you two. You had never asked for more— he gave all that he could give.

You barreled on. “That the heroes that everyone sees? They actually are people, and you don’t ask for people to fall in love and become, I don’t know, become crazy stalkers and shit.” He had numerous experiences with those. He had told you that he moved apartments a number of times. “That you don’t need to be this dumb Casanova everyone thinks you are and you can just be a huge dork.” You loved it when Shindo had admitted to you that ‘cool and manly’ things were kind of shit, that he had secretly made references to dumb rom-coms that you both pretended not to watch.

What little you knew; you knew for certain. “So yes. You didn’t ask for me to fall in love and I never wanted you to know. Friends was more than I could’ve asked for.” You could feel your eyes watering and you wiped it on your sleeve. You looked at him, really looked at him through a hurt smile. Shindo was letting you talk and at least for that, you were grateful you could get this mess of a confession off your chest.

“But I never thought, never thought you’d be cruel enough to let Camie and Yaoyorozu talk to me like that.” You got a little choked up and consolingly ran your hands up and down your arms. The warmth gave you courage to ask about the doubts that had been plaguing you. “What were we? Fangirl to a hero? Friends? Acquaintances?” You no longer knew. From the looks of it, Shindo didn’t know either.

“Whatever we were, I know that I didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that.” Shindo looked like he wanted to find the chink in your logic, something to say—but there was no way around it.

“Y/N, that wasn’t what it looked like.” He tried to find the words, he tried to justify himself.

You genuinely wondered what Shindo had to say. “Tell me more.” Because you couldn’t see how it could be anything else.

Shindo…. Found himself grasping at straws. “I wasn’t trying to be cruel, I just didn’t think it mattered to you—“ You both heard what was unsaid. If you were ignored. Some words, even unsaid, couldn’t be taken back. “Shit, I didn’t mean It like that. I just thought you wouldn’t mind waiting. They’re pro-heroes, I can’t look bad in front of them.” Shindo said frustratedly.

“Waiting.” You nodded. “Looking bad.” You shifted the bag on your shoulder, coming to a conclusion by the way you extricated yourself from the situation. “I guess that’s that.” You brushed past him.

Shindo watched you brush by…. Watching you walk out again. Damn if he would let you leave with such an arbitrary statement— he swiveled you and caught your shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”

You gently pried his hand away. “Good luck finding someone waiting as you climb those pro-hero rankings…. Grand.” You pushed him softly back, away from you. To Shindo, this was nothing. You had little strength; it was a gentle tap at best. But damn, did it make him feel like the air got taken out of him. It left him with a dirty, gut-wrenching pit in his stomach with the finality of it. “You don’t need a civilian like me holding you back in front of all those oh-so-successful pro-heroes.”

Shindo watched you walk away from him, latte ignored, and you left the office. Because what could he say? You were right, he desperately wanted to get to the top ten pro-hero rankings and no civilian would stop him.

[eclecticmiasma]

Freudian Zip (Yandere!Bucciarati x Reader)

You tried to escape Bucciarati’s suffocating love with the help of your fellow gang members. All of you failed miserably, and now they must watch you prove your worth.

NSFW

Warnings: Non-con, yandere, forced voyeurism, abuse, degradation, female pejoratives, cockwarming, choking

It doesn’t make sense, how it all went wrong so quickly. One moment you were running through the streets of Naples, broken and fearful but free.

The next, you were falling endlessly. He must have opened a hole in the ground before you. Always, always one step ahead.  

Falling.

Falling.

It must have been seconds but it felt like years. You had all the time in the world to wonder how he knew, how he managed to find you despite everyone’s help. With Fugo’s masterful scheming, the gang crafted a fool-proof plan to help you escape your captor’s clutches. It went off without a hitch.

Until your body came crashing back to him, back into the desk of Bruno Bucciarati.

You hit the solid wood with a sickening thud, sharp pain jolting through your spine. The world spins as your body bounces and lands on the floor. With the wind knocked out of you, all you can do is stare helplessly at the ceiling and let out a silent sob.

His form manifests above you, no doubt from an opening he made in one of the walls. He looks down at you with a cold expression. You flinch as he leans to hover over you, icy blue eyes glazed over in calculated rage. An explanation for what happened forms on your tongue.  

Part of your fear isn’t only for yourself, but for the rest of your team as well. The last time you had tried to escape you were on your own. When you were caught, Bucciarati unzipped your limbs and left you in his bedroom for weeks. You knew you were a lost cause, that he would probably see fit to kill you for what you’ve done this time, but the others… What would he do to them?

“Bruno, it was all my idea, I’m so-” In a swift motion he zips your mouth shut and drags you up by your hair.

“You know what I hate the most in this world is a liar!” He shouts, pulling your hair until you give a muffled scream. “I lavish you, tesora mia, with anything you could want in this world. You have my kindness, my generosity, my love, and yet you see fit to continue to spit in my face! Not only that…” He drags you up and slams you into the desk so that you’re bent over for him. His strong thigh worms its way between your legs. “…you seduce my team to help you do it!”

Violently, you shake your head, wanting desperately to tell him that they had nothing to do with your escape. He flips you around with inhuman strength and slaps you hard across the face so hard that you see stars.

“Do not lie to me again, troia! I see the way they look at you, the way their eyes follow your body when you leave a room. I worked so hard to keep you safe from their insatiable lust for you, and how do you repay me? You go behind my back and give in to their desire?” He nearly growls into your ear. All you can do is sob at the accusations, knowing that a single shake of your head will result in more injury. With his free hand, Bucciarati unzips your pants and underwear so that they fall off to the side. He ignores your pitiful whines of protest.

“Why else would they agree to help you? You know you can’t hide anything from me. I know you spread your legs for them,” You hear another zip, and his thick, stiff cock slaps against your stomach, “Showed off your pussy to my men like a greedy little slut and entranced them to steal you away from me. Well, you’re all going to learn a valuable lesson. If you’re going to be a puttana then be one. But after today, everyone will know without a doubt that you’re mine.”

Bucciarati pulls away from you and drags you by the hair from his tear-stained desk to the center of his office. He zips off your shirt and bra before forcing you, naked, to kneel on the hardwood floor. You stay absolutely still, sobbing as he moves chairs from around the room in a row several feet in front of you.

There’s a knock at the door, and you freeze. A million possibilities flood your mind at once. You imagine Bucciarati unzipping and stringing Mista around the room by his entrails. You imagine him zipping Narancia and Fugo together into some kind of Cronenburg-esque monstrosity. In your mind, you see Abbacchio and Giorno dying slowly of starvation as he refuses to unzip their mouths for weeks.

“Come in,” He says sternly. You cry out for them to stop, but your mouth is still zipped tight.

“You wanted to see us, capo?” Fugo enters first and stops dead in his tracks when your eyes meet. Bucciarati orders him to enter and he reluctantly obeys. Mista follows, crestfallen to see you captured once again. He slaps a hand over Narancia’s mouth so that the younger boy doesn’t cry out at the sight of you. Abbacchio and Giorno enter last, equally stoic in their reactions at your presence. Once they have all entered the room, Bucciarati orders them to sit in one of the chairs. They do.

The sound of Bucciarati’s footsteps cuts the deafening silence. He strides over to you and cups your chin with his hand. You give him one last pleading look. He smiles softly, and for a split second you have hope that he’ll lecture all of you and then let his men go. Any punishment he had for you, you could take. But seeing your team members, who had been nothing but kind to you as you bore the weight of Bucciarati’s affections, be hurt or killed for your sake would be unbearable.

“I’ve decided to give all of you what you want,” Bucciarati states darkly. No one moves a muscle. He pulls out something from behind his back and puts it in front of your face. Your eyes grow wide as saucers as you realize it’s his cock, unzipped at the base, “Take it,” He barks. Horrified, you grasp it in your hands. It’s still warm and soft, slightly glistening at the tip. It’s pulsing against your skin.

“Since all of you can’t keep your filthy fucking hands off of my [y/n], and she can’t keep her slutty little hole to herself, I’ve decided to be generous. Even though you’ve all betrayed me today, my love for you knows no bounds. I’ve come up with a solution that will satisfy everyone involved, and will teach you all a little lesson in-”

“C-Capo, we would never-” Narancia began before his peers could stop him. Bucciarati interrupted his protest with a low, measured threat.

“I will not hesitate to throw your head, alive, into the Golfo di Napoli do you understand me, Narancia?” The boy squeaks and nods his head furiously, “Good.”

Bucciarati turns his attention to you, “All of you will learn today, that [y/n] belongs to me and me alone. Cara,” He leans down and strokes a few stray strands of your hair behind your ears. Slowly, he unzips your lips, but you don’t dare speak, “Let this be the last lesson I have to give you. Now suck.”

You look at your mortified team members and back to Bucciarati. His cock feels like it has eyes, and it watches you from your palms. Bucciarati’s face turns sour.

“I suppose you’ll need a little help, then,” He grabs his cock from your hands and twists your mouth open with his fingers. You make a pitiful choking sound as he pushes himself inside. You hear someone’s breath hitch. His cock is salty and heavy on your tongue. Briefly, you wonder what it must feel like, wrenching your own dick inside of someone’s mouth like a dildo. He begins to slide it in and out of you, pushing so deep into your throat that your eyes water and you fight to not gag around him.

“There, you see?” He asks you in the condescending way you would a child, “Look how well she takes my cock. I think you can do it now, can’t you carina?” You close your eyes and nod. He hands his dick over to you and leans himself against his desk. “Turn toward them, show them that today was just a little mistake. That you truly do love me.”

You do as Bucciarati says, shifting your body so that you know your taught nipples are pointing straight at the men. You push his cock down your throat just as he did, swirling your tongue along it as it slides in and out of you, pushing along the veins that you know your capo loves best. Maybe, you think, just maybe if you give a good enough show he’ll leave the others alone.

Bucciarati lets out a soft moan of pleasure, and tosses his head back, “Choke on it,” He orders. You force his cock farther and whimper at the burning stretch of your esophagus, “Good girl. Spread your legs for them, and open your eyes.” Reluctantly, you follow these orders too, spreading your knees so that your pussy is fully on display. The shame from opening your eyes nearly kills you, but you look at each of scandalized looks spread across everyone’s faces. Narancia is hiding his eyes beneath his hands, peaking through the gaps between his fingers, a tent beginning to form in his black pants. Mista is entranced but disturbed, swallowing to ease his dry throat, tanned face burning red. You can tell Fugo is angry beyond belief, but a tell-tale blush of arousal also covers his features. Abbacchio is stoic, but fully erect. Giorno’s entire body is flushed a deep crimson, and he can’t stop biting his bottom lip.

Somehow, shamefully, their reactions arouse you. Knowing their focus is entirely on your heated, naked form makes your clit pulse in time with your rapid heartbeat.  Six men all staring at you hungrily, ready to fuck you senseless if ever given the opportunity. A gob of precum leaks from Bucciarati’s dick and you reflexively moan at the taste. You can’t see it, but Bucciarati grins triumphantly.

“Take it out,” You whimper at the feeling of emptiness as his cock leaves your throat, “Rub myself on your pussy. I know you’re wet for me and I want to feel it.” As always, you obey your capo’s commands, lowering his cock down to your core. He twitches against you as you slide the head of his dick in circles around your slick hole. You happen to make eye contact with Abbacchio as you slide Bucciarati along your folds. For a split second you imagine it’s him and you grow even wetter. A groan escapes your lips. You roll your hips so that Bucciarati’s cock slides up along your clitoris. Abbacchio clears his throat, but holds your gaze fast.

 “Bella,” You startle at the sound of Bucciarati’s voice.

 “Y-yes, Bruno,” Another moan rips from your lips as you continue rolling your hips along his cock. Bucciarati walks over to you and jerks your head up to look at him. The man you found so frightening, so detestable moments ago is now electrifying in your eyes.

 “It’s time. Show them what I mean to you. Show them that the only cock in this world that can satisfy you is mine.” You nod furiously and tip his cock so that it’s vertical below your entrance. Bucciarati leans down and kisses you as you push his member inside of you, causing you to moan wantonly into his mouth. He practically shoves his tongue down your throat, and you reciprocate, desperately pushing your tongue against his in a contest of power.

He pulls away from you, drool smearing his chin. You mewl aloud as his cock bottoms out inside of you, angled to hit your g-spot in just the right way.

“Look at them,” He turns your face to the men before you. Their expressions are worn out as lust overtakes them. Even Fugo is subtly rubbing his thighs together in an attempt to feel some relief. Narancia is not-so-subtly palming his little prick through his pants. Mista and Giorno are glistening with sweat. Abbacchio shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Look at how desired you are. We all want you…” Bucciarati reaches down and rubs your breasts with one hand. He places the other on your neck. You continue pumping him in and out of you, twisting your hips and moaning at the sensation. Your eyes flick from man to man, marveling in their unique reactions to your masturbation, “But now they all know that only I can have you. They see your love for me, how well you take my cock, how it belongs inside of you,” His hand squeezes your neck tighter and tighter until your vision begins to blur, “Tell them how I feel, tesora,”

“…I-it’s amazing,” You choke, leaning back against Bucciarati’s chest, relishing in the pressure of his large, lithe hands on your throat.

“What’s amazing?” He coos, kissing your temple softly.

“C-cock…your cock feels so good, Bruno,” Bucciarati hums appreciatively, kissing you again and lightly thumbing your right nipple.

“Tell them you love me.”

“I love you…”

“Again.”

“I love you, I love you!” You thrust his cock into yourself so fast it almost hurts, squelching noises filling the air around you.   

"Cum for me [y/n], prove to them you love me, only me,” He orders, low and harsh, so that only you hear it. He squeezes your throat so hard you choke.  

“I…Bruno!” You whisper hoarsely, knees buckling, orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Your toes curl and you see stars as Bucciarati continues to choke you out. For a moment you feel like you’re floating. Bucciarati’s gang marvels as you squirt all over his cock as you cum, continuing to pump it in and out of yourself even as your body falters. You’re certain you hear Narancia topple over the edge himself.

“Brava ragazza!” Bucciarati praises you in earnest, showering your head with kisses, “All I want in this world is for you to know my love for you, and for you to know your place…” You gasp and collapse into him as he lets go of your throat. He takes his cock from your exhausted hand and continues pumping it into you himself. “My beautiful girl…do you want me to fill you? Everyone’s watching…” All you can do is nod your head and clutch desperately to his arm as he continues fucking himself into your abused hole. His breathing hitches and he lets himself lose control, his own orgasm wracking his body. You mewl with pleasure as he releases himself inside of you.

The room is silent but for the sounds of you and Bucciarati panting against one another. After taking a moment to gather his breath, he looks up at his underlings.

“What do you say?” He searches their eyes with a stern expression.

"Thank you, capo,” They say in unison, Narancia lagging a bit behind after being nudged by Fugo. Bucciarati nods, satisfied.

“You may leave,” He doesn’t need to say it twice. Narancia scrambles out of his seat and practically runs out of the room. The others excuse themselves with similar haste, faces flushed, eyes out of focus. Mista gives you one sad glance before leaving the two of you alone.

Bucciarati leaves his cock inside of you and runs his hands up your body in a gesture of tenderness. His lips meet yours, and you lose yourself to the feeling of his soft, warm tongue rolling against yours. He pulls away, “What did we learn today, bella?” You swallow hard.

“I’m yours,” Now that you’ve come down from your high, some of the fear and resentment begins to return. Bucciarati nods and runs his fingers along your ribs.

“Promise me you’ll never run away from me again. This world wasn’t meant for you to be without me,” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Bile rises in your throat.

“I won’t. I promise.” Bucciarati smiles knowingly.

“I know you won’t,” He reaches down and pushes his cock so deep inside of you that your hole closes around it. Overstimulated, you whimper softly at the feeling. You prepare to have to beg him to take it out, but the familiar sound of a zipper stops you cold. You look down to see that Bucciarati has zipped himself inside of your pussy. You whip your head to face him, wide-eyed, terror building within you. He simply cups your face and strokes your cheeks gently with his thumbs, gazing at you with a loving expression so contradictory to his true nature.

“You won’t, because I’ll always be with you, tesora mia.” *all original work belongs to me. do not re-upload without explicit permission.

[emybain]

Rainy Day

i tried posting this earlier but tumblr was a butt and deleted it so here’s a second go. there’s angst but at least there’s some nodrian. this is also part of the au where nova’s family lives:) im posting from my phone and ive never done that before so if something weird happens let me know. just some background (as i forget to explain my hcs for this au 95% of the time): the anarchists want nova to join them bc they know she’s powerful. they contact her and confront her on the streets and stuff. no one knows but nova, and since this started, she’s sickened and scared bc she sometimes agrees with some of their points against the renegades. she’s terrified bc they (*cough* Ingrid) vaguely threaten her and her loved ones. she’s also scared of what could happen if it gets out. we LOVE living in the spotlight bc we have an infamous uncle! hope y’all enjoy:D

_________

It was pouring outside, much to Nova’s luck. She only prayed that she wouldn’t crash her car in this weather; she wasn’t even sure if she had grabbed her wallet in her hurry to leave her house.

She couldn’t go back after this. Her parents were done. Disappointed. Ashamed. Angry. She had betrayed their trust once again, but this time, it went too far. This was a secret she never should have kept from them, and now they were going to kick her out onto the streets.

Thankfully, Adrian only lived a few blocks away, so she didn’t have to leave the neighborhood. Stepping out of her car, she could barely even register the fat raindrops that began to drench her entire body.

He answered on the fifth knock, looking as if he had just woken up from a nap. Nova didn’t even let herself take in his ruffled state. He blinked at her, frowning at her red eyes and wet clothes.

“Nova? What’s wr-”

“Are your parents home?”

Opening the door a bit more, he shook his head slowly, obviously confused. “No? They’re at headquarters righ-umph!”

Nova launched herself at him, burying her head into his sweatshirt. His armed immediately wrapped around her, although his body stiffened in alarm.

“Nova, hey, Nova.” He relaxed quickly. A hand made circles on her back. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m here, yeah?” He held her as she sobbed, muttering incoherent gibberish into his chest. She was probably getting tears and snot all over him, but that was the least of her worries.

Struggling for air, she gasped, “I can’t go home, Adrian. They’ll kill me. They’re go-going to kill me. I...I-I-I can’t go home. I’m never going to see Evie or-or Thomas ever again because I’m a fu-fucking idiot.” She felt a hand on her head, running through her hair.

He made small shushing sounds. “Is this about another piercing? Or did you finally get a tattoo?”

Nova heard the door shut behind her and the lock. She shook her head into the sweatshirt. “Much...much worse.”

As if to remind her of her situation, a loud Bang! Bang! Bang! resonated in her skull. Suddenly she felt as if she were falling and gripped Adrian. Her entire body shook, despite the fact that she was burning up.

“Breathe in and out, Nova.” She felt him gently guide her to the floor, something he always did for her when she was having an attack. “I’m here. You’re in my house, okay? Everything’s alright. I’m not going to leave you.” He backed up a little to give her space, but she made a whimpering noise in the back of her throat and reached out for him. He pulled her head into his lap, one hand going back to tracing circles on her skin and the other holding her hand.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before she finally felt her breathing slow down. Exhaustion rolled through her body, and she fell limp against Adrian’s knee. Somewhere far away, he asked her a few questions, to which she nodded to, only partly paying attention.

Somehow, she ended up on his bed with a glass of water in her hands and his soft comforter over her legs. He sat beside her on the edge, the lines on his forehead showing just how worried he was. Only when she silently gestured did he move to sit closer to her on the bed.

She was quiet for a long time, but Adrian was patient. He always was. She had had many breakdowns in his presence, and he knew how to help her get through them every time. Even though they had drifted apart in their earlier teen years, they were now both making the effort to spend more time together. It had been about a year since they made this commitment, and while it was hard and her teammates and friends teased her about it, it was the best decision she had made in a long time.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she mumbled, setting the still-full water glass on his nightstand. She curled her legs up to her chest, kicking back the bedspread.

“Take your time.” He reached for her hand, and she gladly accepted his.

Nova sniffled. “For a while now, the Anarchists have been contacting me.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. “They’ve been feeding me lies about the Renegades, taunting me for betraying my own blood.”

Adrian inhaled sharply. “Nova...what? I-”

“There’s more,” she snapped, but her voice shrank again. “They...they want me to join them, saying that the Renegades are liars and that they wanted my family to die that night.” She swallowed, feeling disgust wash over her. “And now, I’m afraid of what they’re going to do to me or my family.” She glanced at him, hand tightening around his. “To you. They know how close we are.”

Adrian searched her face. “You should’ve said something sooner, Nova. This is serious. How long has this been going on?”

She shrugged, looking down at the sheets. “A year and a half?” Adrian cursed under his breath. Another tear dripped down her cheek. “Adrian, you can’t tell anyone, okay? You know the shit I get every day just for being an Artino. I’ve had to prove myself since I was six, had to...had to play the part of a media darling just to stay on most people’s good side. All that could vanish if this got out. It won’t matter that I’ve ignored them. You know how the tabloids are.”

Adrian shushed her as her voice started to rise and shake again. “I can’t just do nothing, Nova. You know that.” Something flashed in his eyes. “You matter more than anything else in the world to me. I can’t stand to see you like this.” Nova blushed, only then becoming aware of how close they were sitting on his bed, how weirdly handsome he looked in his grey sweatpants and sweatshirt. Her eyes drifted to the necklace peeking out from his sweatshirt, stomach dropping at the thought of it hanging over her.

She shook her head, partly in response and partly to get her mind away from such imaginations. “My parents found out today and confronted me when I came home from headquarters.” She inhaled shakily. “I was a dumbass and left a letter out on my desk.”

Adrian’s face softened in understanding. “They were angry you didn’t tell them?”

“Furious,” she breathed. “They...they told me I wasn’t their daughter if…” her face crumpled, and he wrapped his arms around her again, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. “If I was actually thinking about joining them.”

“But you’re not,” he reassured her, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. That only made more tears fall.

Nova leaned back, wanting to tell him more. How she had actually considered what they said. Not about joining them, but what they mentioned about the system being corrupt and unfair. Sometimes, when she really thought about it, she could see where they were right. It made her feel dirty inside and out for betraying everything she ever knew.

“You’re a good person, Nova.” He attempted to smile. “We’ll talk about what to do about them contacting you later. Everything’s going to be alright. You’re one of the best people I know. No, don’t shake your head,” he laughed, which caused the corner of her lip to lift up just slightly. She loved his laugh. “You are. They’re just upset right now. Any parent would be. Give them some time to think through things. You know my dads never mind how long you stay.” After a slight pause, he added, a bit awkwardly, “Okay?”

Nova glanced down at his lips, pinched in worry, then back up at his eyes, and she may have responded, or she may not have. But the next thing she knew, her lips were pressed firmly against his. He made a noise in surprise; Nova felt his body go stiff beside her. She pulled back, an apology already forming in her mouth. He blinked at her, the hand that had been rubbing circles on her arm now still. Then he did something that sent Nova over the edge: He kissed her back.

She gasped, allowing him to deepen the kiss and pull her closer. Nova’s entire body shook as she climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. One hand splayed at the small of her back, the other reaching up to dig into her hair. A soft moan escaped her lips at the way her skin tingled from the contact; she would’ve been mortified if Adrian didn’t act like the sound was the best thing he had ever heard.

He broke the kiss, only to murmur her name and words of affection as his lips, great skies his lips, traced a path from her jaw down to the hollow part of her neck. Nova’s head was pounding, her heart racing, her body feeling about a thousand new emotions all at once.

Nova had kissed people before, had even kissed Adrian once when they were fourteen as part of a dare and came close about a year ago. But none of those kisses were like this one. No, she had never, ever, ever been kissed like this before. As if she were the most precious thing in the world; as if she mattered and was cared for.

His lips returned to her face, kissing away the tear stains on her cheeks before returning to her mouth. An explosion of stars lit up behind Nova’s eyelids, and she welcomed his caresses fervently, pressing her body so close to his until she felt as if she might suffocate. But at that moment, she didn’t care.

For so long, she had dreamed and thought of and imagined what it might be like to kiss Adrian Everhart. Partly in shame, for he was her best friend. They had known one another for ten years; they weren’t supposed to feel this way about one another. Every time she had ever thought of a life where they were something other than friends, she chastised herself. She couldn’t ruin their friendship and reveal her true feelings for him if he didn’t feel the same. When she was younger, she had seen Adrian as something akin to a brother. That had all changed after they had first kissed as awkward, naïve fourteen year olds. But if he had been like family for her before then, surely Adrian only thought about her as a sister. Right? Now she wasn’t so sure.

Adrian’s fingers ran over the length of her thigh, then his hand came to rest in the crevice under her knee. Nova shook in his hold, her breath beginning to grow shallow. A sick, heavy brick dropped in her stomach, the exact opposite of the feeling of pleasure she had felt just minutes before. What if this wasn’t all she had wanted? What if they were just caught up in the moment, and Adrian was only kissing her because she had initiated it? He could break the embrace at any moment and push her away in disgust when realization would hit, and just like that, the best ten years of her life would go down the drain.

She needed air, but also didn’t want to let go just yet. A new wave of tears threatened to spill behind her closed eyelids. She was such an idiot. Adrian could never, would never, love her the way she loved him.

Not knowing what else to do, Nova allowed her power to roll through her, gently so as not to hurt him like she would with criminals. It had been years since she had been kind with her power; she hadn’t used it that way since Thomas was a screaming toddler. The effects were the same, though. Adrian broke the kiss as his head lolled back against the headboard. Fat tears streamed down Nova’s face. Adrian had offered her a place to stay, but after what had just happened, how could she?

Legs shaky, Nova pushed herself off of him and scooted toward the end of the bed. She wanted nothing more than to just curl up beside him and fall asleep in his arms. After all, he was one of the few people that made her feel safe enough to fall asleep. But no. She had to go. Where, she wasn’t quite sure yet. Anywhere but here. Maybe she would call up Danna or Ramona and explain the situation. Both were familiar with her home life and the occasional desire to just disappear for a while from the chaos that was the Artino household.

Thank the sky above that Hugh and Simon weren’t home, or else she would have some explaining to do. Due to her current state, just making it out of the large house was a miracle. It was pouring harder now than it was when Nova came over. She closed the front door and, finding the spare key hidden under a small statue, locked it and hid the key again.

Between the pouring rain and her blurry eyesight, seeing was very difficult for Nova while getting out of Adrian’s neighborhood. She could barely think, barely breathe, even as she called Danna through her car’s Bluetooth system because she was at the top of her contact list. In the corner of her mind, she heard her Papà’s voice telling her she needed to slow down because of the slick roads, like he always tells her to drive slowly in the rain. She can hardly process even that warning.

“Don’t be an emotional driver,” Papà would say whenever she got upset back when she was learning to drive. “Pull over somewhere safe if you’re upset or angry, va bene?” And Nova would nod her head and take deep breaths to calm down.

Images of Adrian flitted through her head, only succeeding in making her more upset than she was. How was she going to explain herself when he woke up and inevitably called her?

“Nova? Nova, are you there?” Nova fixed her eyes on the little screen in her car where it showed a call was in process. Blinking she tried to read who it was, not quite sure she remembered who she had called. It was Danna. Right.

Nova looked back up at the road just as she ran a red light, being t-boned by an incoming car.

[alliswell21]

This was a prompt I saw @lovely-tothe-bone had posted. You know me, I suffer “shiny-red-ball syndrome” or actually “puffy-tail-plot-bunny Syndrome”

Anywho... Rated M for language and adult situations. Modern!Everlark. Also, I stole a line from @mega-aulover and I’m not sorry! 🙃

The Garage

The Panem Mockingjays were in the Super Bowl for the first time in history, a true Cinderella story of perseverance and teamwork that brought them to play against none other than the legendary Capitol Mutts, who were getting the beating of their life! 27 to 3 with only thirteen minutes on the clock and one timeout left.

The trophy was in the bag, and it was beautiful!

The Mockingjays were in possession; the Mutts ran an aggressive defense, but the Mockingjays’ quarterback sidestepped a tackle and scored a 30 yard touchdown.

The whole room in the Everdeen home exploded in cheers!

Katniss had been squirming half the evening in the loveseat she occupied with her best friend, Peeta Mellark, and decided she couldn’t take the tension anymore. She had to do something about it.

Looking around, Katniss stood up and motioned Peeta to follow her. She put a finger to her lips to shush him, then wrapped her hand around his, and pulled him out of the den, where their families were celebrating raucously the victory they could practically taste.

“Where are we going?” Peeta whispered harshly, trying not to trip over his feet.

“Somewhere quiet, where we can be alone for a minute.” She responded in a similar tone. “Now, stop walking so loudly, would you?”

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, and really tried to step lightly on Mrs. Everdeen’s pristine hardwood floors.

They made it to the kitchen, but instead of turning left, to the staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms, Katniss went straight, out the kitchen door to the backyard, and on to the detached garage.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Peeta asked nervously.

The garage was Mr. Everdeen’s pseudo mancave, complete with a mini fridge, a rickety couch and an ancient TV set on top of his work bench. Their fathers hung out there for hours drinking beer, working on projects, deploring sports statistics and generally gossiping about whatever it was grown man gossiped about.

Katniss winked and closed the garage door with a click behind them.

"Our parents are so drunk, they won't even notice we left. Calm down." She told him as she fell to her knees, making quick work of his fly and undershorts.

Peeta tried to argue— honest! but Katniss was fast with those clever fingers of hers— her mouth on his cock shut him up quickly.

Peeta stood there uselessly, struggling between watching her suckle his dick while pumping the parts of him she couldn’t fit in her warm little mouth, and letting his head fall backwards and enjoy the ride until it was his turn to reciprocate the favor; and Lord in Heaven, did he wanted to reciprocate!

She had really gotten good at this, he thought when feeling the telltale tingling at the base of his spine. He was so close!

He couldn’t help his slow, whiny moan, “Katnisss… fuuuuck!” His eyes squeezed shut, his hands grabbed onto some surface he’d knocked his ass against when he started coming into Katniss’ gloriously wet mouth.

It wasn't until the door opened, that his eyes were able to focus again... on the angry face of Mr. Everdeen as he took in the sight of his daughter’s full mouth.

“What the fuck is this?!” The man slurred loudly.

Katniss scrambled to her feet, somehow blocking her father from seeing Peeta tuck himself back into his pants. But nothing prevented the man from watching his daughter wipe the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

It only took the man a surprising two steps to cross the garage and reach his child. He was about to grab her upper arm when Peeta pushed her behind his broader frame.

“I can explain!” Peeta shouted fanning out his arms to shield the girl.

“You can explain? What, how the two of you stabbed me and everyone else in the back by sneaking around like this?” Mr. Everdeen’s bloodshot eyes were crazed, spittle flew everywhere out of his mouth. “You can explain you disrespected my home and my daughter by taking advantage of her under my nose?”

“He didn’t take advantage of me!” Katniss protested ducking under Peeta’s outstretched arm to face her father. “I wanted to do it. I brought him out here ‘cause we like each other… a lot!”

Sensing danger, Peeta grabbed Katniss by the waist and shoved her out of the way. “Sir, I swear is not like—”

“You little shit!“ Mr. Everdeen took ahold of the boy’s collar and yanked him away from Katniss.

She leapt forward, scratching at her father’s wrist. “Stop it! Let him go!”

“What’s going on?!” Another man’s voice boomed in the chilly room.

As if the situation wasn’t mortifying enough, everybody spilled out of the house and crowded around the garage’s open door, watching the scene with wide eyes.

Mrs. Everdeen rushed forward to pry her husband’s fingers from Peeta’s crumpled, stretched out shirt.

Mr. Everdeen rounded up on his neighbor and best buddy, “I’ll tell you what’s going on. I caught your back-stabbing son defiling my daughter!”

“What? That is preposterous. Our Peeta is a good boy. He would never do such a thing. It was probably that wild child of yours that threw herself at him.” Said Mrs. Mellark in that condescending tone she liked using even on her own family.

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Everdeen dusted her slacks exaggeratedly. “Katniss isn’t wild!”

“It’s that boy of yours! I knew his innocent, helpful, quiet kid next door facade wasn’t to be trusted! He better not had gotten my baby pregnant, or there will be hell to pay!”

“First you’ll have to prove it’s his. I’m more worried my son could’ve contracted something!”

“How dare you insinuate—“

“Enough!” Bellowed uncle Haymitch, whom usually had his moments of deep wisdom when really inebriated. “Y’all are acting like a bunch of morons! All you’re accomplishing with this yellin’ is making your kids even dumber than they already are.”

Ouch!

Everyone stopped bickering at once, looking rightly shamed and partly stunned by Haymitch’s outburst.

“Now, there ain’t enough booze in this house to make freezing my ass out here, worth watching y’all bitch over two fucking 18 year old college students who’ve been glued at the hip since I can remember, doing the horizontal lambada together.”

Nobody argued, so Haymitch continued.

“I’m not saying what the Boy and Sweetheart did was smart, it was in fact pretty stupid. But you too did dumb shit as horny teenagers,” Haymitch glared a both sets of parents, now blushing. “Give the kids credit, they’re legally adults. You’re blind if you haven’t noticed them making puppy-dog eyes at each other. Is sickening!

“I’m starving, and it’s too cold for this shit!” Haymitch burped, “I’m going inside now.”

Peeta and Katniss were wrapped around each other during the hullabaloo. But slowly loosen their hold to face their family.

“I’m not… pregnant.” Katniss squeaked. “Not even a small chance.”

“Neither of us has any diseases.” Muttered Peeta scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Not much chance for that either.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mr. Everdeen snapped, still not ready to let his anger go.

“What are you using for birth control? You can’t depend on condoms alone,” Declared Mrs. Everdeen.

“Mom!” Exclaimed Katniss scowling, “Geez! We are not actually doing it! What Daddy walked in on— and believe me, I wish he’d never seen that— is as far as we’ve gone.”

She peered up at Peeta and he smiled down at her, squeezing her hand in his.

“Look,” Peeta exhaled and then faced their parents. “We are sorry we didn’t say anything before, but we knew you guys would react… exactly like you did. We can assure you, nobody has anything to worry about. But just to put your minds at ease...” He took a decidedly shaky, deep breath and confessed, “We are still… virgins.”

“TMI, dude! Nobody needed to know that!” Called Peeta’s middle brother. His girlfriend’s bulging eyes followed the shit show with interest.

Peeta threw his brother a withering glare, but it was Katniss’ fourteen year old sister, Primrose, who answered.

“Oh please! Why the Hellman’s real mayonnaise are you here then, Rye?! You didn’t protest our parents belittling Katniss and Peeta in front of everyone, when Daddy interrupted their private moment! Grow up!” The teen crossed her arms over her chest petulantly.

Maybe Prim felt a tad jealous and kinda out of sorts seeing her secret crush’s girlfriend at her house, but nobody messed with her sister and brother-in-law on her watch! The thought made Prim looked guiltily at her parents; but then she remembered how they’d been screaming, blowing things out of proportion, and felt smuggly vindicated. She could still hold a couple of secrets for her sister without blabbing.

“Everyone should be happy Katniss and Peeta are together. They love each other and will keep each other safe! Uncle Haymitch’s right, you guys are just selfish.” Primrose turned on her heels so fast heading for the kitchen, her long, blond braid smacked Rye on the chest with a dull thud.

Mr. Everdeen sighed. “I’m still angry with you both. And I still think you were disrespectful. But I guess Prim’s right. We’re lucky Katniss is not bringing home some lazy hooligan with a criminal record. I just wished…”

“I know, Daddy.” Soothed Katniss still holding Peeta’s hand. “I’m sorry. We both are.”

“We, all are.” Said Mrs. Everdeen sidling with her husband. Then she turned to the Mellarks, “I think we all owe the kids an apology. And each other.”

Everyone apologized for the things they said and promised to be more supportive and less reactionary, despite still being disappointed Katniss and Peeta hid their relationship from them.

“Well, that was terrifying.” Peeta whispered shuddering when their families finally left them alone.

Katniss chuckled. “I know. I wonder if we should’ve told them this all started ‘cause we got shit-faced and eloped two weeks ago?”

Peeta smiled wryly, wrapping an arm around his “for-now” wife. “Nah. My mom would’ve gotten an aneurysm. She’d probably drag us to the hospital to get tested for STDS, pregnancies and DNA. In that order.”

“Yeah but, they would’ve calmed down when we told them we were getting an annulment.” Katniss said a little unsure.

“About that…” Peeta trailed off catching Katniss’ curious eyes peering up at him from his chest. “What if… we just kept… married?”

Katniss bobbed her head, although there was nothing to consider, really. “We could apply for housing together.” She offered.

“Share expenses.”

“Go further... than oral?” The question came out high pitched and ragged.

Peeta breathed out a sigh of relief, he wasn’t the only one thinking about it.

He nodded readily. “Together?” He bit his lip, and pulled a black pouch out of his pants pocket. A ring with an iridescent pearl on top spilled into his open palm.

Katniss’ eyes widened, but she lifted her left hand, spreading her fingers apart so Peeta could slip the ring in place.

Admiring her new jewelry, Katniss smiled.

“Together!” She confirmed rising on tiptoes to kiss her “for-Always” husband in the lips.

[konigsblog]

i'm so tired wtf (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

thots™️ about best friend-könig taking what he wants so badly...

cw: somnophillia, non-con.

thinking about perverted könig who relaxes his beloved best friend, watching you begin to doze off in his arms as you relax further into his burly chest, sprawled out across his big lap whilst he runs his blunt fingernails up and down your bare, soft thighs soothingly. your snores quickly become audible, yet silent and interrupted by the sounds of your breathless, choked moans and whimpers, nuzzling against his chest whilst he slides his calloused fingers into your cotton panties.

watching the fabric dampen, become wetter the more he pumps his digits into your slicken hole. your sleeping body shakes and twitches in his strong arms, eyes closed tightly and your lips parted as whines and mewls flow from your soft lips. könig adores the sight of you like this; wet and sticky, coating his fingers in your sweet juices, your thighs trembling.

you poor thing, you're mortified when you wake up to your best friend acting on his depraved fantasies, eyes wide and glistening, flickering between his silver eyes and his wide fingers stuffed deep into your swollen folds. a cruel smile curls the sides of his mouth as he rubs your clit, watching you grind down against him desperately, yet utterly humiliated as you weren't expecting to be awoken to something so vulgar and perverse...

your attempts at protesting and pushing his large hands away are fruitless - he takes what he wants, and that's to feel the inside of your gummy cunt, to feel what he'll be fucking soon. your poor face, looking bashful and ashamed as you come down from your sudden and unexpected orgasm, slick and transparent droplets of your arousal running down his hands, your hips bucking and jerking as he pulls them away, light-headed and confused, unable to string a coherent sentence together as he cooes at you teasingly.

your body longs for his sickening touch, whilst you lower your head in shame as you gaze down at the sight of yourself; swollen cunny, wet and warm, covered in sticky fluids that only leave you disgusted with yourself.

[friendlylocalwhumper]

I was reading the set of fics where Emory and Lux are being held hostage, and noticed that part where they asked if Lux could walk, and it said that if he tried, he’s pass out. Anyways the point I’m making is ohmygod I can’t stop imagining Lux trying to stand/walk and just absolutely crumpling to the floor pitifully. Do you have any fics where something like this happens?

i do now! hope you enjoy.

content warning: implied noncon, explicit threat of noncon.

“Get him up, come on.”

Emory seethes as he watches Lux getting pulled to sit up, wincing at the pain it causes him. Lux is made to slip off the bed and stand up - but Lux goes pale, and whines dizzily, and then crumples to the floor.

Of course he can’t stand, let alone walk. Too much of his blood is staining these bedsheets, and he’s in pain, and he’s hardly been resting or eating much.

Emory can’t see Lux until the warlock is hauled up off the floor, hands wrapped around his upper arms. Lux groans, not even trying to make his legs work.

“Stand up,” One of the men orders, and Lux’s head rolls forward. He makes a single keening sound behind the duct tape.

“He can’t,” Emory growls. “You know he can’t.”

“Why can’t he? What, it hurts too much? Stand up.”

Lux tries. He rises a few inches from his heavy slump to force wobbling legs under himself, whimpering as he does. The man before him grips his chin and forces his head up.

“You can walk,” The man insists firmly. “You can walk yourself right over to that chair. If you decide to give up and fall before you get there, you know what I’m going to do to you?”

Unable to shake his head, the warlock’s eyes glisten with fear as he waits to be told what the consequences will be for failing.

“I’m going to send everyone else out of the room so it’s just you and me. I’m gonna take that crowbar there -“ He nods to the tool being held by one of his cohorts, “And I’m gonna beat you to high hell with it. Then, when you’re all bruised up and crying, I’m gonna fuck you so hard that after, you won’t be able to twitch your leg without begging for relief into that tape.”

Tremors run through Lux, some slight and others jarring, as he processes the threat.

“Why? Why!” Emory cries, mortified. “He can’t walk, it’s your fault, you’re the ones who hurt him! Why are you punishing him for it?”

“Because I’m bored,” The guy answers, frustrated as he shifts his focus off of Lux to glare at Emory. “You’re taking your damn time getting us our money, which means we’ve gotta stay here longer. Now, come on, get walking, kid. Right to the chair.”

Lux gives a soft hum of understanding, waiting until he’s not being touched and then shuffling forward. His fists are cinched shut tight where the zip tie keeps them bound together, his skin losing its color as he strains to stay upright and conscious.

With slow, painful steps, Lux makes it to the chair. He stands there for a minute, staring down at it, agonizing over the difficult and confusing deliberation of how he can sit without causing himself new burning agony.

The room slips, and spins, and Lux trembles harder until his legs give out and he’s crumpled to the floor again. He presses his forehead against the leg of the chair in an attempt to make his stomach stop churning, to make the sickening blur to his vision go away.

“That’s it, you knew the deal,” He hears, as tears prick in his eyes as he’s hauled back up, shoved toward the bed. Emory is being led out. He’s going to be hurt now, for messing up, for falling. Lux shakes as the zip tie is cut, his arms falling free. It’s so his back can be struck by the crowbar without his arms breaking.

He lies and waits for the beating to begin, stomach all twisted up from shame at having earned this. He’ll feel better, maybe, once he’s deeply bruised and bleeding and in the worst pain yet, being held and murmured to by Emory. He’ll feel so much better, after. Punished and too hurt to be tested like that again, free of blame.

[askultimateluckytrash]

Hey just so you know, the mods involved with the rape stuff are saying its not a big deal and that it wasnt actually rape or that it mattered. That it was entitely consensual and fine. I am disgusted.

“Since this is the fifth time someone has brought this to my attention, I’ll address it.

That’s…a lie. That’s just a lie.

There is no possible way to say that scene was not a rape scene.

Mod Ash, at the ask-nhp blog, admitted that it was a rape scene shortly before they deleted. I wish I had a screenshot of the post, so I could remember it word-for-word, but here is what was said. Someone told them about the threats made to me and Zetsuko, saying ‘can we not go into people’s inboxes requesting that they be raped?’, talking about the threats made to me, about how the anon said I should be raped to have a complete set. In response to this, Mod Ash said ‘Mod does not condone rape at all. Akihito did what he did because he is a sick, twisted individual with no morals’ and then went on to condemn the behavior of the anon who made the threats. They said this in the context of people talking about threats made to rape me and Zetsuko. They admitted that the scene itself was of something wrong, that Akihito raped someone, and that another Nagito was raped. They said it was rape. If they’re saying that it isn’t now, they’re backpedaling.

And, there is just no way that the scene was not a rape scene. Every single person who read it, thought that it was rape and was horrified and disgusted by it. If every single person is saying that this was a rape scene, a graphic and accurate enough rape scene to cause them considerable distress, then it probably was. If this is your idea of consensual sex, I’m very concerned.

I have more practice in literature than you might think, and that was most definitely a rape scene. I don’t want to go into detail for those of you who haven’t read it, but to get my point across I think I might have to. (Please don’t read it if you haven’t already. It’s incredibly damaging.) Aside from everyone who read it agreeing that it was rape, the way that the characters felt and the themes that were pushed were incredibly disgusting and rapey.

There will be a little detail here, so please be careful reading this. I’ll try my best not to make it nearly as upsetting as the original.

----- (upsetting content ahead)

In the scene, Akihito orders Nagito to fuck him. As he’s doing it, he’s constantly thinking about and saying things to Nagito about possession, control, power, hatred, and revenge. Thinking about owning him completely, controlling him, corrupting him, violating him, etc. Saying things like “I wanted you to see how despair fucks hope”. Clearly this is not a sex scene because they both just want to get off. Akihito is doing this because he hates Nagito and Hajime/Izuru, because he wants power, because he wants to win.

Nagito’s behavior is even more upsetting. The entire time, he’s only passive, submissive, allowing it to happen because he was ordered to. He’s confused, helpless, powerless, and has no control of the situation. Those are emotions he explicitly expresses. He doesn’t know why Akihito wants this or what’s going on, he’s only letting him do it because it’s his Master and he was ordered to. Which is coercion at the very least, and is still very much rape. However, the disgustingness of the entire scene pushed rape themes so hard that I would say it’s much more than just coercion.

Then, it gets much worse. Hajime/Izuru, someone that Nagito loves and Akihito knows it, comes into the room. Nagito asks about it, but Akihito hides it from him. He lies to him and rapes him in front of someone he loves just to show them up, to make them angry, to win and show off how much power he has. Then when Nagito realizes who’s in the room with them, he tries to stop, but Akihito forces him to cum anyway. Again, just to show that he won, to have more power and control, to get revenge, to ruin Nagito’s relationships, and to shame him. Nagito then feels incredibly mortified, ashamed, humiliated, disgusting, and ruined. Blaming himself as if he’s done something bad, as if it was his fault. That was the part that sickened me the most. That is how a victim of rape feels.

Don’t even try to tell me that wasn’t rape.

Even if all of the mods agreed to and were in on this scene, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t rape between their characters. Nagito was not consenting, and Akihito was doing it strictly for the same reasons people commit rape in real life: for power, control, and revenge. Nagito felt the same way a victim does: confused, helpless, ashamed, blamed, and gross.

And even if the scene had been nothing but sweet, vanilla sex between Akihito and Nagito where they were both enjoying themselves, done for no other reason than to have sex and feel pleasure- it would still be rape. It would still very much be rape. Akihito got Nagito on his side by brainwashing him. He brainwashed him into obeying and worshiping him, turning him against everything he cared about and all the people he loved. Nagito was brainwashed. He did not have control of his thoughts or actions. He could not consent under those circumstances. That is the equivalent of drugging someone or giving them a love potion, then fucking them. It is not consent. I can’t say for sure, but prior to the brainwashing, I believe that particular Nagito was at least scared of Akihito and disgusted by the idea of a relationship with him, if he didn’t hate him entirely. How can that be called consent? If he was forced to obey everything Akihito said through brainwashing, and worship him, then it would be rape no matter what.

I am not a sensitive person. I have no triggers, and nothing really gets to me in fiction. I am not a rape or sexual abuse survivor. I’m not sensitive to that kind of thing. I have both watched and read things containing extreme gore, violence, death, explicit sex, and rape. I have seen it countless times in the past, and it has never bothered me before or made me bat an eye.

But this? This made me sick to my stomach. This made me lose sleep. I still get sick thinking about it. It was so graphic, and so detailed. The themes it pushed, and the things the characters felt, were so accurate to rape that it felt as if I was going through it myself. I felt disgusting afterwards. It didn’t feel like ‘there is rape happening in the story right now’. It felt like ‘here is exactly what it is like to rape someone and be raped.’ How could it possibly not be rape? If I have seen many rape scenes in the past and never been bothered, how could this have been so accurate and graphic that it made me sick, and yet not been rape? How could it somehow be worse than any other rape scene in fiction I have ever come across, and yet not be rape?  

Now, I am a strong advocate of never censoring anything in fiction. People should be allowed to write whatever they want. As long as all mods were okay with it, there was nothing inherently wrong with writing that scene. But, that being said, they should definitely have warned people. There should have been a cut and read-more, and an explicit warning that graphic detailed rape would be in the scene. I checked their blog one time, to see if Akihito was finally dead, and I immediately stumbled upon that scene without trying. It made me sick, and it came out of nowhere.

But saying that the scene wasn’t rape? That is incredibly wrong, and disgusting, and dangerous. You are normalizing that kind of behavior. Acting as if doing that to someone, or getting it done to you, isn’t really rape, and is perfectly fine. That is so dangerous to other people. It’s one thing to have handled a rape scene a little recklessly. It’s another entirely to write a scene like that and act as if it was perfectly fine. That is condoning rape. That is absolutely condoning rape, and it’s disgusting. They should not be defending themselves by saying the scene was not rape. That is infinitely worse than apologizing for making a reckless mistake.

It also invalidates the feelings of everyone who was affected by this, and blames them. It tells the people who were triggered, disgusted, and offended that their feelings were wrong and unfounded. That they are the ones at fault here for just ‘not understanding’ the scene. It’s our fault because we didn’t get it. Believe me, the people who were triggered and sickened by that scene had every right to be. That explanation is insulting and accusing.

I can’t speak for anyone but myself here, but it also feels like it’s invalidating what happened to me and Zetsuko. I don’t blame the mods for the threats that were made. My anons have gotten hateful and out of hand before too, with Zetsuko and Chiaki in the past. I understand that we can’t control what other people do. But saying things like that makes me feel insulted, like I’m being accused of overreacting. In fact, one of the mods came to me themselves and said they were sorry for what was happening to me, but then immediately also said that the scene was misconstrued and not rape. As if that had anything to do with it. Whether the scene was rape or not, it doesn’t matter. Zetsuko and I were explicitly threatened with real rape. That is indisputable. The anon said it themselves.

Especially an event like that, where people were being constantly dragged into either being a part of it or answering asks about it. If someone was uncomfortable with being involved in an event that featured rape as a highlight, then it was too bad for them. I had major issues with the entire event right from the start of Akihito being brought back to life, and I wasn’t comfortable talking about it, but that’s another opinion.

That explanation is just…irresponsible, insulting, and dangerous. I feel like it isn’t true, that they are just trying to save face. But, if it is true, that’s honestly more concerning. If you wrote a scene like that and you really think that is safe, fine, consensual sex, then I’m worried. You need to take a good long look at what consent really means to you, because I don’t think you get it.

Obviously, I don’t support that explanation. I really hope that they aren’t saying that, (even though I think they are because one of the mods said it to me), because these people were nice to me, and I thought we were sort of friends. I would feel incredibly insulted, disgusted, and betrayed if this is what they decided to do about the situation.

I don’t want to start discourse, or get involved in a scandal, but I don’t feel like I can stay quiet either. That is infuriating and insulting and just outright dangerous, to imply that the scene wasn’t rape. It was, and I will not accept anyone trying to tell me differently just so they can try and cover it up. That would be even worse than just apologizing for not putting the scene under a read-more warning. I would happily have accepted an apology for reckless behavior. But I will not accept a dangerous lie just to save face. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so upset, but this is really bothering me.”

[missusignisscientia]

Love your writing! /( @ 3 @ )/ With the holidays coming up, I'm slowly dreading my family coming up. I mean we love each other but we can never seem to get along, with fighting, jealousy, and just an overall bad attitude. If I may ask, how do you think the Chocobros would help if their s/o was in a similar situation and went to their s/o's place for Christmas? What would they do to make this Christmas catastrophe a Christmas to remember? Thanks for all you do and keep up the great work!

Thank you sweet Nonnie! \(; w ; )\ I do hope your holidays go well and that this year your family gets along so that you all can enjoy each other’s company! *hugs* Hope this helps even just a little! These scenarios are long so they’ll be under a cut!

Noctis: With the holidays always being a pretty quiet affair at the Citadel, Noctis is quite surprised at how loud your family is. And unfortunately, it’s not loud in the best of ways. When you invited your boyfriend to spend the holidays with your family (after months of begging from him so that he could see what a big family was like during this time), you were quick to warn him that while your family loved each other, they had a hard time getting along for long periods of time, especially during Christmas. 

He didn’t expect it to be this bad. True to your word, it only took minutes before fights were erupting between members of your family as tempers flared. Noctis noticed the way your shoulders tensed, embarrassment clear on your face. Gently taking your hand in his, he tugged you away from the scene and to the closet where your coats hung. Handing you yours, he slipped into his coat and lead you out into the front lawn. The snow crunched underneath your boots. When the door closed behind you two, you turned to your boyfriend, an apology already leaving your mouth.

“Hey, Y/N, let’s build a snowman.”

Your mouth snapped shut at Noct’s suggestion. You stared at him with wide eyes as the raven-haired prince scooped up some snow and started to form it into a ball. The kind, loving smile he sent your way filled you with warmth. It was one that he reserved for you to let you know it would be okay. That he was here for you and you weren’t alone. While your family fought inside, you and your prince made a small family of snowmen, laughing and just enjoying the Christmas season together.

Prompto: “Prom, babe, are you sure you want to spend Christmas at my aunt’s house? My family is not known for getting along and the holidays don’t make it any better.”

Prompto laughed heartily, pulling you against him to place a kiss on your forehead.

“Babe, don’t worry! I’m sure it’ll be fine. ‘Sides, the noise will be better than the silence that I’m used to,” he reassured you.

He kind of missed the silence. He stared wide-eyed as you tried to meditate a fight that broke out between a cousin and your mother. The way the two women were shouting at each other, inches away from your ears, was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. 

And it broke his heart.

Your eyes were beginning to glisten with unshed tears as you struggled to keep your loved ones from ripping into each other. The shouting was almost deafening. You shouldn’t feel so mortified; after all, you knew this was going to happen. But the feelings of shame washed over you, knowing that your boyfriend was witnessing a shocking scene. 

You hadn’t wanted this for him. You knew that Prompto didn’t have the best childhood growing up. Left alone most of time even during the holidays, you knew he was excited to spend it with you. When your mom had invited to spend Christmas with everyone, he jumped at the opportunity, not even noticing the way you tensed. 

The fighting last the entire visit. The car ride home was silent save for the few sniffles that came from the passenger side. Prompto tightened his hold on the steering wheel. When the two of you entered your shared apartment, he right away dropped to a knee in front of you, taking your left hand into his.

He took in your appearance. You stood gaping at him, eyes puffy and red from crying. And even still, you looked like an angel that descended from Heaven. He knew that this was exactly what he wanted. He prayed that you would agree.

“Y/N, I had been waiting to do this until I had enough money for a ring but after tonight, I don’t want to wait anymore. I want you to know how serious I am about this. You mean the absolute world to me and watching you tonight just proved to me that you’re exactly the person I want forever in my life. Y/N…will you marry me?”

Gladio: Pissed couldn’t even begin to describe how Gladio was feeling at this moment. 

He had watched you for the last three days flitting around your shared home, trying to make sure that everything was ready in preparation of your family’s arrival. He knew you were incredibly stressed and nervous about, not only, hosting for the first time but also, how your family would behave.

When you two first started dating, you told him countless stories of your family; the good and the bad. But the Christmas stories, or rather, the holidays in general, were censored. You didn’t divulge much information and Gladio certainly wasn’t going to push you.

It wasn’t until the second year of your relationship that you finally told him everything. The fights, the arguments, the screaming and accusations. The drunken rages. The tears. Christmas was not a happy time for you. Your parents tried to make it a happy affair but they would soon, too, fall into the pattern of fighting. Your family just didn’t get along.

When your mother asked if you’d be willing to host Christmas dinner, you caved pretty quickly to her request. After all, you had Gladio and many of your family members had yet to meet him. Plus, your place was much bigger thanks to the wealth of the Amicitia family.

And that was all it took for a few members of your family to start the arguments. 

“How nice it must be to not have to worry about anything but lounging around and blowing money all day.’

You froze, smile faltering. Gladio was just as stunned to hear something so cruel slip out of your family member’s mouth. Did they not know how hard you worked at the Citadel everyday? Did they not realize that Gladio had to beg for you to move in with him into this home? Did they not know how you refused for the longest time, afraid that someone would make the assumption that you were just using Gladio for his money?

“Hey, don’t you talk to Y/N that way, you dirt-bag! I don’t care that it’s Christmas, this is our home and you WILL respect her or get the fuck out!” Gladio snarled, towering over the family member who dared utter such words to you. 

The room grew silent as everyone turned to look at Gladio. He glowered at everyone. 

“The same goes for the lot of you. If you can’t keep your mouth shut, I’ll gladly shut it for you.”

Turning to you, Gladio’s expression softened. He strode over to you and leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“Is that the pumpkin pie, babe? Looks great. I can’t wait to eat!”

For the first time in your life, Christmas was a quiet affair for the rest of the night.

Ignis: Ignis wondered for the hundredth time that night how someone as lovely as you came from a family that seemed so hideously cruel. The senseless remarks that flew from each other’s mouths both stunned and sickened him. 

Your hold on his hand tightened as you watched. The fights and snide remarks had been ongoing all day. From the time you had arrived, in fact. 

You hadn’t wanted Ignis to see this. You so very much wanted to just celebrate Christmas with just the two of you or even with the other boys. But then you received a message from your parents that your grandmother was dropping by and wanted to gather the family over.

You dreaded the thought but didn’t have it in you to say no. When your mother told you to invite Ignis, you jumped at the request. It wasn’t ideal but at least with him there the night would be somewhat manageable. 

Ignis knew about your family’s volatile history and how Christmas day ended with the cops being called due to the many fights that broke out and the screaming matches that seemed to last for hours. He knew how badly you didn’t want to go. He gently cupped your face between his hands when you invited him. You seemed to relax in the hold, nuzzling your cheek against his palm.

“Kitten, we don’t have to go if you truly don’t want to,” Ignis said. 

“I know…but I already promised my grandma that I’d be there. She’s been wanting to meet you as well,” you replied, taking a deep breath. “We’ll only stay for a few hours.”

Six above, you wish you were back home. It was embarrassing to watch your family behave like they were in high school again. You had prayed all night that your family would behave for a while. Just while you were there with Ignis. But that had been too much to ask.

Ignis’ jaw clenched when another crude remark was thrown. He had had enough. You didn’t deserve to spend Christmas like this. Keeping his hold on  you, he briskly escorted you towards your mother, telling her that while you two had a lovely evening, he wanted to spend the rest of the night with you…alone.

He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he was pulling you towards the coat rack where your jackets hung. Helping you into yours, he thrrew on his coat and led you outside and to the car. Ignis unlocked the car and, once he saw that you were buckled up, he started the car and drove away from the fighting household. 

You had been silent the entire time, too surprised at the sudden departure. Before you could ask him if he was okay, he spoke.

“I am taking you home. I am going to cook us up a wonderful dinner along with your favorite dessert. Then we are going to watch your favorite Christmas movies before opening our presents. And from now on, we’ll spend the holidays with those who appreciate and love you. You deserve a happy Christmas, Y/N, and I intend to make sure you have them for the rest of our lives.”

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

How about a fic where Peter gets a concussion while playing basketball and starts like puking and tony has to come get him bc idk parent tony au xD

(Hey beautiful friend, here’s your not so beautiful fic, for a beautiful person who deserves a better fic but tbh this is all I can produce!! Anyway, so here’s a short little fic starring parent Tony bc that’s some good shit yo)

Peter had never liked sport.

He hated how his chest felt like it was on fire when he ran, how the world seemed horribly heightened and horrifying. He felt out of control, and felt as if the world was tipping out of balance as he’d become painfully aware of his existence.

Peter would dread gym, often purposely leaving his gear or trying to find jobs to do around the school. He’d seek out the nice little old receptionist lady or the janitors or workmen to see if they needed help, just to get out of gym. Peter had gone as far as to fake injuries in the past, to a successful degree. Middle school drama had served its purpose, and Peter was thankful for it.

In fairness, ever since the radioactive spider incident, exercising wasn’t quite as agonising as it used to. His bones wouldn’t screech at him and his lungs wouldn’t be begging for air as he ran, or how exhausted and heavy he felt after a basketball game. Having a new spider body was pretty good, and he could do sit ups without struggling and failing to get up, his core aching and like it was being weighed down by a rockslide worth of stones.

But something Peter would never ever get used to was the pressure of competitiveness.

It only seemed to get worse.

Peter hated how the world seemed to be teetering on his shoulders, appearing to threaten to topple over at any second. He had one body, and he couldn’t do it, and he certainly couldn’t do it with glaring eyes and monstrous voices yelling at him. He hated there angry voices echoing in his head, pushing how he wasn’t good enough, how bad he was. This hyper awareness he’d get was too much, his hands wouldn’t feel like his hands and his legs would feel wrong. He felt like he didn’t belong in his own body, and the anxiety rendered him functionless.

It was a hundred times worse with the spidey senses. The heightened senses that came with the whole Spiderman ordeal proved to be useful for the most part, allowing him to fight baddies to a better standard but came at the cost of heightened anxiety and illness. Everything was too much, so much that the world would spin and that he’d feel horribly woozy and just want to drop down on the floor and cry.

Peter didn’t really know how, but despite his utter detestation of sport and physical education, he ended up going that fateful Thursday.

He wasn’t quite sure what had happened, if he genuinely felt bad for missing that many classes at a time and felt like he should turn up because otherwise he’d feel wrong, or some holy light shone upon him that morning and flicked a switch and made him go, “You know what? Screw it, I’m going! What’s the worst that could happen?”

A lot could happen, and Peter wished he didn’t make that dumb decision. But this was him, he was Peter Parker and this was his life, so of course it happened. It was written in the stars.

Peter let out a tiny squeaking noise as the basketball flew right by his face, narrowly missing the margin between Hannah and his face.

“Dammit Peter!” He heard one of his teammates yell out frustratedly.

“Cop on!” The same person hiss angrily.

“Sorry!” Peter yelped squeakily, awkwardly trying to run after the ball.

The ball seemed to be flying around like some kind of golden snitch from Harry Potter, unbelievably swift and hard to catch with the human eye. It was a horrendous experience, like when the movie seemed to be fast forwarding ahead of him, way beyond his own pace as he frantically tried to find the buttons on the damn remote and stop as it reeled on and on, further away from his reach. Except now he couldn’t even find the damn remote, he had no control of himself.

Peter didn’t even know how much time had past when he was being scolded again.

“Dammit Parker, wake the fuck up, will you?!”

“I’m sorry–” Peter had tried to say, and suddenly the air around him seemed to drop into the negatives as it froze. It chilled his bones, goosebumps emerging as the hair on his arms stood up. His eyesight seemed to focus in, hearing increasing and everything seemed to slow into this agonisingly slow pace, as what was once a horrifying warped world fastforwarding into light speed turned into a never ending slow motion.

Then the impact.

The disastrous and pain inducing collision of his head and the basketball, the sickening thwack of the velocity of its contact. The concerned and mortified screaming of Ned, the ringing in his ears. And finally the lightness of his body as it free falls and thuds against the cold wooden floor.

“Parker!” The coach yelled in shock.

“Flash, what the fuck?!” Michelle yelled out from the sidelines, running towards them.

“I didn’t mean to!” Flash gasped defensively, eyes widening.

“Sure thing, Barry Allen! You just killed a dude!” She shot back aggressively.

“What?! Oh no, Peter!” Ned whimpered, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

“Oh, fuck, sorry, no, Ned. He’s not dead, probably a concussion,” Michelle apologises, beginning to crouch down to examine Peter’s limp body.

“I swear I didn’t mean to coach,” Flash said worriedly to their teacher, who was currently in the middle of scratching his head in confusion.

“Yeah, so you just happened to aim the basketball towards his head by accident, and now you’ve killed my best friend!” Ned accused tearfully.

“Shh, Ned, he’s not dead,” Michelle reassured as she proceeded to check for a pulse.

“I just wanted to wake him up!” Flash protested, growing to be genuinely concerned and guilty.

“Smart move, jackass, now he’s more asleep than ever,” Michelle taunted, then proceeded to avert her attention back to Peter.

“Peter? You hear me?” Michelle tried in vain, hoping she’d get to him somehow.

No response.

She sighed deeply, “Yup. He’s out cold.”

“…uh…so, what should we do?” The coach asked quietly, lost.

“Huh? What should we do? Dude, you’re the coach, aren’t you supposed to know what to do?!” Flash exclaimed, a little taken aback.

Michelle rolled her eyes, “This is our school, did you expect much?”

Flash shut his mouth.

“We’ve got to get him to the Nurses, just to make sure there’s nothing serious going on,” Ned suggested.

“Good idea Ned,” Michelle stressed, shooting daggers in the direction of the coach.

“Here, I’ll lift him–” One of the jocks offered, crouching down to lift him when Peter stirred.

His body convulsed for a brief moment, beginning to awaken from its short slumber. Ned gasped in alarm and got to his knees to level with him.

“Peter?! Peter, my dude, are you okay?!” Ned asked worriedly.

Peter opened his eyes and gagged immediately as a sudden wave of intense nausea hit him hard, causing his stomach to whirl and churn uncomfortably. He pressed his hands against his stomach to try and calm it to the best of his ability, biting his lip to try and withstand the intense pain pounding harshly at his head.

“Peter?”

“Whhhuhhhh….?” Peter slurred.

“Do you know who I am?” Ned asked cautiously and slowly.

“Ned,” Peter slurred, squinting and struggling to keep his eyes open as he began to see double.

Ned managed a shaky, relieved smile at that.

“Do you know where you are?”

Peter squinted, trying to look around but every little movement he made caused the world to rapidly spin like it was a spinning top. Which in turn caused another wave of dizziness and nausea. A state of panic and confusion as he couldn’t quite make out where he was.

“H-hang on, I need to stand up t-to see w-where I a-am,” Peter tried, lifting himself off the ground with his hands.

“Wait, no, Peter, slow–”

Peter leaped up onto his feet, only for the world to double, quadruple and go around in circles on a confusing and nightmarish hell of a merry go round.

“Woah,” Peter choked as he felt the dizziness and wooziness get to him, incredibly shaky and unstable, trying to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground only to find all the forces all joining together in a joined attempt to uproot him.

It didn’t take much to do so.

Because the world tilted rapidly and the floor rose and ripped him with it, and he was falling again, but this time before he could fall there was a pair of strong arms catching him by the waist and dangling him over.

Ned’s arms were firm, holding him steady, far away from the ground. He wasn’t going to fall. But Ned was a little too firm, holding him on the stomach just a little on the wrong side. Whatever it was, it was just enough to push him over the edge.

Peter pushed off him frantically, hunching over as his stomach contracted and cramped painfully and then the contents were pushing up his throat horribly, scorching it on its way up. Then he expelled onto the floor, heaving and gasping for air as his muscles clenched and retracted as he vomited.

“Oh, gross!” Peter could hear someone gasp in the background, causing him to heat up and go red with embarrassment and shame.

When he finally finished, Peter felt so exhausted and weak and drained he couldn’t help but drop to his knees. He shook violently from how ill he felt, and the dull ringing at the back of his head was a bit too much and the panic and shame was too much he started to cry.

Ned frowned, approaching Peter gently, after saying, “Go call Tony.”

Peter cried for the next while, feeling so ashamed and embarrassed and full of self loathing, but Ned remained by his side the whole time.

Peter couldn’t quite stop crying, and cried through being gently escorted by Ned to the Nurses office.

He kept crying as he was escorted onto a bed, and kept crying as he laid his weakened body down and cried into the white sheets.

He felt horribly embarrassed, unwell and ashamed. Peter wished that he just decided to help old Hilda instead, and wondered why the hell this always happened to him. He wondered if there was some cure to this odd unfortunate occurrences curse he seemed to acquire from his parents. If there was, he better be hooked up fast because he wasn’t quite sure if he could deal with this any more.

But the moment Tony walked through the doors of the nurses, his soft kind voice calling his name out like a lullaby, everything felt a little bit better.

Tony had this magic about him that filled him with fatherly reassurance. An anchor that kept him steady even during the strongest of currents.

“Hey buddy, how’re you doing,” Tony asked warmly, his approach gentle and soft. He pulled a chair over and sat down, looking at him with such kindness that made Peter forget about how ashamed he had just been moments ago.

“Awful,” Peter whimpered, tears beginning to spill from his eyes yet again.

“Awh, I’m sorry kiddo, hey, c'mere,” Tony cooed softly, opening up his arms and taking Peter in into a loving and comforting embrace.

Peter melted into the embrace and cried softly, shaking, but still steadied by the strong embrace. He felt a little more okay just then.

“I’m so embarrassed and ashamed..”

“Of what? There is nothing to be ashamed of when you’re you. You are the most remarkable kid I’ve ever met, and I’m Tony Frickin’ Stark, I’ve met plenty of remarkable kids. So..That’s real saying something. There is nothing to be ashamed about.”

Peter couldn’t help the soft smile that laced his features.

“You’re going to be just fine, kiddo. We can go home and watch Rick and Morty, how’s that sound?” Tony offered, a warm smile playing on his face.

“The ‘home’ part is enough.” Peter chuckled shakily.

“Then I will deliver,” Tony promised, slinging an arm around his son’s shoulder as they commenced their journey home.

“I know, you always do.”

[i4z-0892-il]

Eggshells 6

Author: Jena @i4z-0892-il

Summary: AU Serial Killers Sam and Dean Winchester find themselves in a bind when the Reader gets caught in the cross-hairs of their plans.

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,001

Warnings: dark!fic, NSFW, 18+, Very graphic descriptions of violence, mature themes, death, mentions of death, torture abuse, language, assault

A/N: This has been one of my favorite fics to work on and I’m pretty proud to share it with you guys, so if you felt something please let me know. I literally survive off of your feedback.

Inspired by my girl @alphvjensen’s incredible story Sex and Violence

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

If you like my work consider buying me a Coffee, or leave me some Feedback!

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Red droplets splattered across your hands had your eyes transfixed, relinquishing you to a state of catatonia,your mind shutting off in the horror of the sensory overload you'd just endured. You just killed a man. The circumstances didn't matter, none of it made sense. You just killed a man. He was just alive, screaming for help and you killed him. The wet thud as the ax buried itself deep in his clavicle echoed in your head. The warm spray of red on your face was a sensation straight out of a nightmare, but you weren't dreaming, no... If you had been dreaming you'd wake up safe and sound in your bed. Instead you were trapped,Dean's words barreled through your head, you were one of them. He was right, you couldn't leave now, what would you say to the police if you did manage to get free now? You murdered a man, to save your own life. If you hadn't you'd be a dust red stain on the floor too.

“He didn't deserve to die...” You muttered meekly. You didn't deserve to live, not after that. “I....I killed him.”

“Yeah sweetheart, you did.” Dean said, as he crouched at your side admiring your handiwork. “You know, I wasn't sure if you'd do it or not.” He stated, unlatching the magazine from the hilt of his pistol.,“but a killer will always recognize another one.” He finished as he dropped the clip into your dirty hands.

Empty.

You met his eyes mortified by what you'd done, and by what was left unspoken between the lines. The stench of copper and death hung heavy in the stagnant air leaving you little room to breathe. “Oh my god.” You whispered the world spinning around you threatening to pull you under. He took your face in rough, large hands, and pressed his forehead to yours.

“God doesn't exist Y/n. And if he does, he doesn't care. Not about you, not about me, not even about devout Jimmy over there. There is only one power in this world, and now it lives in your hands.” Dean said almost lovingly. You shook your head in defense not willing to even entertain the ideas he was trying to sow in your head.

“No.”

“Yes, Y/n.”

“No!” You shouted, everything around you, the world as you knew it scattering like ash in the wind. Any chance at living a normal life after this forever dashed with once fell swoop.

“Yes! Tell me you didn't feel powerful. Tell me that you didn't feel more alive than you'd ever felt!” He demanded, searching for the truth in your eyes, when you couldn't respond he got his answer. “You're a killer Y/n. Just like me.”

“No!” You snapped. “I'm not like you! You made me!”

“I didn't make you do anything, you have proof in your hands-you were never in any danger.” He said softly, his thumb running over a dot of blood and smearing it across your cheek.”You look beautiful in red.” He said before standing and leaving you alone in the cellar with your corpse.

“You what?!” Shouted Sam angrily. He'd never felt such heat course through his veins in his life.

“I said I took care of it.” Den said nonchalantly as he pulled a swig from her beer; number 8. Who gave a shit how the problem was solved as long as it was solved. You hadn't left the cellar, hadn't even tried, he knew he'd won. There was no need for restraints anymore, you were stuck there now.

“No, Dean, you didn't take care of it. You forced her into this, she had no other choice.” Sam spat venomously.

“She had a choice, and personally I think she chose right.”

“You made her believe you were going to shoot her in the head if she didn't!” Sam shot back. “Dean you've done countless stupid things in the past but this one takes the fucking cake. I told you to wait until I figured out our next move! Not to fill her head with your gas lighting bullshit!” He couldn't even believe he was having to explain just how wrong the entire situation was. “You know, maybe we should have let her go, maybe it's time you were caught.” Sam said, knowing that even if he could go back in time he would have still followed Dean's lead. There were times though, that he wished he was just a little stronger, strong enough to say enough was enough, to just fess up and tell the police everything. But it was Dean, the only flesh and blood he had left in the world, and without him... He couldn't even imagine what life would be like without his brother. This was different though, this was too far, and he couldn't even stand to look at him.

“What would you have done if she'd refused? What then? We'd have two people to deal with because you can't fucking think things through!”

“She wouldn't have refused.” Dean said too nonchalantly. “And it wouldn't have mattered if she did anyways, the guy  would still be dead, and not my problem.” Without another word Sam turned away from Dean and walked out of the house. “Oh Sam don't go away mad, just go away.” Dean called after him. The door slammed behind Sam leaving Dean alone again in the home that haunted him. He sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, his eyes trained hard on the floor. His stomach twisted into tight knots,a sickening fog creeping in around the edges of his sanity. There was little light left there, and after what he'd done today  he wasn't sure if there was much hope for any of the light returning. Sam was right, he'd gone way too far this time, he couldn't allow himself to admit it, he was not only too stubborn and prideful to admit he was wrong but if he did, how could he ever look at himself again.? The smell of vanilla settled around him easing the tension in his mind. He turned his eyes to the side, not wanting to move too quickly, knowing just how elusive she was, but he needed her there with him more now than ever before.

“Dean what are you doing?” He could almost hear her whisper a cool breath against his cheek.

“I don't know Lis...” He muttered his voice straining, desperate to feel her touch, to have her sweep away his troubles. “I miss you so fucking much Lisa, I don't know what Im doing without you” He should have never put you in that situation, it was too late for regrets now though. Nothing could undo the things that had been set in motion, and no amount of mourning could have brought her back.“She reminds me so much of you. I don't know what to do without you, and she- she's changing everything.”

“Is that so bad?” He heard her this time clear as day, but when he turned to face her she was gone, leaving nothing more than the faint smell of perfume, and the room somehow colder, and emptier than it had ever been. Beer was no longer a strong enough solution for his problems, he stumbled to the kitchen breaking out the whiskey. He paused for a moment deciding whether or not to drink himself to death or not.

Long legs carried him to your side swiftly, Sam knelt at your side. You hadn't moved all day, your eyes firmly on Jimmy's lifeless body. “This wasn't your fault.” He said softly, you turned to him and held the barren gun clip to him.

“I did this.” You choked.

“No Y/n, don't let him get in your head, he did this.”

“I could have done something, I could have fought back. I could have freed him, I could have chosen to let him live. I- I killed him.” You admitted, the flood of everything coming out by saying it out loud. “Sam I killed him!” You sobbed, your body going limp as you caved. He pulled you tightly to his chest as your hysterics reached critical mass. No matter how much you didn't want to believe Dean he was right. Something in you had surged with a terrible excitement, even if it was only a fleeting moment, it was there, and you had no idea how hungry it could be.

He simply held you as you rode out the emotional train wreck that wreaked havoc on your entire self. In the moment Sam became a solid grounding rock, one you hadn't needed in the past, but in the whirlwind 72 hours you weren't able to even comprehend how far off the reservation you'd flown. He held you tightly an with just enough pressure to force some sanity back to a mind past the brink. It'd never occurred to you what you might actually do to survive. Everyone likes to think they'd do the right thing, after all isn't self-sacrifice the most noble thing a person can do? You'd always thought of yourself as a humanitarian, willing to help and learn, if someone was injured you figured you'd try your best to help. But thinking of yourself as a good Samaritan was easy, the doing in the face of your own demise on the other hand- an entirely different matter.

For a moment time hung still in the air as the razor-edged blade of the ax sliced through the air carving through flesh and bone like butter on a warm day. The spray of warm red sizzled electric across any exposed skin; a shock of thunder had quaked your very core as soulful blue eyes locked unreadable on yours. The life drained from him and into you through your fingers, the dangerous might of power coursed through your veins triumphantly. It was the single greatest, and most shameful high you'd ever experienced in your life. It churned your stomach, but not for the reasons it should have, you were disgusted not by the fact that you'd murdered that man, but because you'd enjoyed it. Dean's words crashed through your head like a freight train uprooting your foundations, forcing you to question everything you'd ever known, everything you'd ever thought about yourself.

“You're one of us now.”

Sam watched you lose yourself, the thousand yard stare on your face driving him beyond reason. He couldn't justify Dean's actions anymore, and he couldn't continue to stand idly by and allow the disease of death that followed his family infected and suffocated yet another innocent life. His mind was set and he ran through his plan quickly. He shook you gently, rousing you from your thoughts.

“We're leaving.” He said taking you by the arms to help you stand. A cold chill shot through your body as you started to pull away involuntarily shaking your head.

“No Sam, he said he'd kill me if I tried to leave again.” You pleaded.

“No, no I won't let that happen. I promise Y/n. He won't lay a hand on you again, ever. We're leaving.” He coaxed easing you out of the cellar with as much patience as one could possibly have while in a hurry. He tucked you into the passenger seat of his sleek black charger. He slipped in and backed away carefully, silently. Your heart thumped erratically in your chest as you waited with nervous gaze to the house expecting Dean to crash through the door and shoot you both before you even leave the drive way. Through all of your frazzled nerves Sam remained calm and unmoved, he gripped your hand almost immediately quelling your anxiety. That was just Sam, collected in everything he ever did- careful, methodical. The second he felt he was far enough from the house he hit the gas and tore down the road.

Tags: @roseangel013bf, @sanityoverrated27, @nibeca, @deanlenaotp, @deanandsamsbitch, @classyjellyfishpoetry, @sarahbearccxc, @smiling-meerkat, @goldenangelbloodcastiel, @pearlparty, @aquabrie, @lindsaylove1226, @notnaturalanahi, @mogaruke, @deansbitch1967, @ladylustitia, @supernatastic101art

[2centsofsilver]

1/20/17

Inauguration Day. I love making life funny by creating my own relevant hashtags to bullshit. Some of my instagram hashtags today were: endorphins social justice worst day ever world going to hell fuck inauguration 2017 cats are life my cat is my best friend art party blaze pizza 21 day fix talking myself through this justice for pizza splurging pizza cures political depression pizza got me out of bed today pizza saves lives it was gluten free no i don’t need a glove change blaze trying in 2017 Trying in 2017 is probably my favorite hashtag ever! I use it sarcastically, but honestly ANY time I am trying to make 2017 go well and something interferes with it. I love coming up with stupid, funny hashtags that make other people laugh. My confidence is very much centered around social media.... *rolls eyes* Today me and my cat slept/stayed in bed till 4pm. I was so depressed I just couldn’t get out of bed, understandably. Pretty sure all of America felt the same way. I laid in my bed and watched live protest videos streaming on facebook/CNN mixed with other random shit to balance it out. I woke and fell asleep hundreds of times, had weird dreams. I felt very cloudy. I try and lighten the mood lately by, when I do finally go outside, saying something like, “No wonder you feel so shitty Katie, look at the weather!” *rolls eyes* I have absolutely no idea why and am sickened by the fact that police are arresting protesters and blocking them from entering the streets.  Tonight I really wanted to go to the Kzoo peaceful vigil march downtown and I asked two people who I knew were going, if I could come along. Of course they don’t have facebook messenger on their phone *rolls eyes* so they never got the memo. I’m always greeted with a well-meaning message way after the fact saying something like, “So sorry Katie, I didn’t see this! I hope you still ended up going!” *rolls eyes* No, I obviously did not end up going because I had no one to go with. Did you not read your message? Was it not clear?  Social Anxiety Disorder prevents me from absolutely everything I ever want to experience. Most people I know chose not to attend after a lot of thought because they were concerned for their own safety. That is just. I, on the other hand, was concerned about people seeing me alone, especially people I knew.  That doesn’t make any sense (to others), but it makes sense and is reality, to me. It’s like last summer when my friends got married and I was scared to socialize at the wedding receptions alone. So I asked 20+ people I knew, half were people I knew VERY well, close. The other half were such a stretch that I had to shield myself from the inevitable embaressment I caused myself in real-time, as I did it, because I couldn’t face my own reality within myself. Let’s be real. They didn’t go NOT because they couldn’t, but because they didn’t want to. I’m not an idiot.  Also, this is random, but because I’m feeling extraordinarily sarcastic, I’m going to say it anyway. I do not intend to be pushy. Recently, someone I was supposed to go on a date with in East Lansing, sent me a text the morning of, saying I was too pushy about it. Any my response was, “You’re the one who invited me over to your apartment to wait while you got off work when we have never even met each other. You’re the one who asked me to drive us around town because you don’t have  a car. You’re the one who would not shut up, listing a million places along Grand River that we should go, when really I only had about an hour. There is something wrong with you here.” I didn’t actually say ALL of that, but I said most of it. My response to all of that was, “Yeah for sure. We can do that. Honestly I’m open to anything. Whatever works for you. Whatever is easiest. Whatever makes sense.” You pushed and you pushed and you pushed, and I remained flexible, but practical. And you came back and told me I was “pushy.” Fuck you. What I was going to say, however, was that I don’t intend to be pushy and it was the first time anyone had ever called me that and it immediately threw me into mortifying shock when I realized that maybe that’s why all those friends last year left. Like, maybe they thought I was too overwhelming or pushy or needy. I can see it. I’m not an idiot. They thought I was too excessive. I am excessive. I don’t WANT or TRY to be excessive. It’s actually something I really hate about myself because it’s not who I really am or try to be, it just comes off that way accidentally, because I fear getting hurt. Example: Charlevoix Friend from work makes plans with me earlier in the year Cancels Friend reschedules Cancels Friend reschedules Cancels Friend “definitely” (she says) reschedules for when I am up north later in the summer Given I was with my parents, I knew it’d be hard for me to get away to visit her, so I decided to DRIVE MYSELF UP NORTH 10 HOURS SEPARATELY FROM MY FAMILY IN MY OWN CAR. Get up there, Day 1, she cancels. Parents resented me for the entire next week and a half that I was stuck up there with them trapped Endless fights. It’s maybe when and how we became SO fucking bad recently. We went to the U.P. and it was the worst experience of our lives because “Katie ruined the trip.” We all hated each other and they told me they were never going anywhere with me again. They told me it was the worst vacation of their life. This is a location we’ve been going to for 25 years together. It’s a very special place together, very close to our hearts, very meaningful. VERY VERY special annual time we spend together.  And this entire fucking thing ruined the entire fucking trip to the point where we can never go anywhere with each other ever again Example to Demonstrate Point Above: When friend cancelled Day 1 of us being in the cabin together, I could not face the reality/embaressment within myself of what had happened. I had no idea how to break that to my parents because they would look down on me the whole trip for “a good friend cancelling on Katie.” AND OF COURSE, inevitably, it was MY fault for ruining the trip by driving my own car up north. They resented me wanting to spend an hour or 2 with a friend up north away from their time with me. They said I could not drive their car. I had my heart set on seeing this friend who I made through work. It was something I’d looked forward to ALL YEAR LONG. I proposed driving up there separately to make it easier for the entire family. But no. I was a horrible, horrible person for wasting all the gas and driving my own car all the way up there. I was a horrible person because, “of course it didn’t work out Katie. Why would she ever want to hang out with you?” So on Day 1, sitting in that rocking chair on the top of the hill overlooking Lake Leelanau at Whaleback Inn, outside, when this friend told me she could no longer hang out, I pressed her. I pressed and I pressed. I acknowledged that she couldn’t. I said I understood.  I DEFINITELY expressed disappointment and attempted to slightly imply that it was sort of inconvenient and shitty considering I had driven up there specifically for her, but I didn’t use those words.  I didn’t press as in, forced her. I just “continued” by saying things like the following: “Aww ok I understand, well let me know if anything changes.” “No no of course I understand. Life comes up! You’re a busy girl. You have a lot going on! You just moved into your new house. Don’t feel bad. Of course I understand. If you end up having an extra moment where you just wanna get away from it all though, let me know.” That’s what I mean when I say pressing. I wouldn’t personally call it pressing, but I guess I can see where I might come off as pushy. What she and everyone else doesn’t understand is: I’m not actually meaning to press/push them personally. I am trying to make up for the humiliation I then had to face within myself for the entire fucking ordeal: own personal shame/embaressment for not being enough to this friend, own personal shame/embaressment for driving all the way up there, and the absolute hell I would soon have to face from my parents. I was putting up shields. “Of course I understand, just let me know if you change your mind!” Like pure absolute kindness and understanding. But trying to remain positive (for myself), leaving it open-ended (for myself)- So I wouldn’t feel so fucking horrible and sick about it. If I just left it as, “I understand.” or “That’s ok.” or “No worries, I hope you get all your stuff done,” I failed. I failed as a friend, human being, person. Everything would be on me, my fault. Like the world would be saying, “Aww, that’s too bad Katie. That it happened again.” So then later, fucking MONTHS later, I commented on this girl’s FB status. She posted like, cupcakes or something with a celebrity face on them, and I said something like, “Haha who’s that?” And one of her friends commented back to me saying it was “none of my business.” I was so confused, like a smack in the face for something absolutely ridiculous. Several days passed, maybe even a few weeks. I started having “S word” ideations, and reached out to this friend who I hadn’t spoken to in months. Hadn’t heard from her. But that’s sorta how our friendship was. Like wouldn’t talk for months, but she’d randomly text me or vice versa and we’d just pick up where we left off no problem. So I sent her a random text while I was in the bathroom one night that said, “Having feelings of not wanting to live lately, it really sucks. Lots of problems with my family. Hope you’re doing well, really miss you. And by the way, I’m sorry for commenting on your fb photo a few weeks ago. I’m confused by what I did wrong, but I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” She wrote back the LONGEST FUCKING TEXT MESSAGE EVER about a plethora of unrelated things: How she didn’t want to hurt my feelings up north, but had this this and this going on, how I just wouldn’t let up about it, and it made her feel guilty, how she cares about me very much and hopes I feel better soon, but that if I mentioned the ideations again, she would report me to law enforcement, how she takes S word ideations very seriously (as if I don’t), how she wants to be there for me/cares about my happiness a lot, tons of smiley faces, etc, and then ended it with a nice big fat, “I do feel you think this friendship is more progressed than it is.” :0 What in the fucking hell was that. I will never forget that response. I started shaking, I was appalled and stunned and didn’t understand any of her logic or connections. Nothing in her text had anything to do with my text. And she certainly made no attempts to talk to me about any of it ever and didn’t come off as someone who was building things up and just snapped. It was very odd, very bizarre, very strange, and very unnecessary.  She sent a ton of smiley faces and said she cares etc etc, then blocked me on facebook, and never made contact with me again. I sent her 1 text message several weeks later expressing profound confusion. No response. Pretty much told all my friends. Kept it from my parents and therapist. Never wrote about it. Internalized everything. Sought support from my friends, received the support, it helped. I moved on relatively quickly from that loss, but added onto all the others, it definitely contributed to one hell of a year. So yeah. If “pushiness” contributed to that August 2016 fiasco, which also I should mention mirror-resembled verbatim from a prior friend’s email earlier that summer (they work together), then I honestly have nothing to say other than I’m sorry I come off that way. I do not mean it. I’ll take 40% of the blame. But it isn’t a reason to walk away from someone. You want to help someone by leaving. There is something messed up about that, but it’s also one of those stereotypical responses, outdated, that you read about in classic literature.  I don’t know what the hell is wrong with people. I take half the blame. But still. I don’t know. People say I have to stop blaming myself so much. But I don’t want to fully blame others either. They say by saying this, I’m taking everything on as my own fault. I feel if I don’t though, I’m constantly coming off as if I think I’m off the hook. I don’t.  Ultimately, I know I’m the deficient one for some rhyme or reason. There is something wrong with me as to why so many things happen. I get the implication loud and strong from others that I should take a look at myself since the pattern just keeps happening. But I do. I’m not an idiot. I’m not an idiot.  I do have friends who consistently tell me, “You just keep coming across the wrong people. It’s not you. We love you. You gave us that chance to get to know the real you, and we’re not going anywhere.” It’s black and white. The contrast is black and white. I have friends who act like they love love love me and then people who fall off the face of the earth. That’s how I know I’m a good person. I mean even without that validation, I know that I’m a good person. It’s just.... this experience didn’t make any sense. Neither did the one preceding it or the one following it. All 3 experiences were almost completely identical.  So is there something wrong with them, me, or all of us. Or none of us. We’re all human. I still think they’re good people.  I’m not an idiot.