#it could be a good thing. but it'd still sting

[kk-cats]

Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.

It's a running joke, really.

And it helps. It really does. Because Alfred is a constant, and the thought of losing him is a terrifying thing, isn't it?

Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.

It's a running joke, really.

When Bruce's hairs start going grey. When his bones ache just a little more than they normally do. Alfred's still there. And so they laugh over it, just a little. They joke that he's going to outlive them.

Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.

Isn't that a good thing, this little joke?

He's got contingencies, after all. Preparations. So the family can take care of themselves when he's gone. Notes and books. Reminders. He worries, after all. What they'll do when he's gone.

Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.

Isn't that a good thing?

Generations after generations of Waynes. And he'll be there. To watch over the children. To be a steady constant.

Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.

But Bruce Wayne is not.

What does it mean to outgrow your young charge? To watch him go into danger. To watch him don a suit and fight.

No parent should watch their child die of old age.

But you do anyway.

Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.

But none of his children are.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Missed You | Bucky x Reader | Mutually Beneficial AU | Drabble

You and Bucky have been dying for some alone time and there's a new thing he wants to try.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, dom!Bucky, dirty talk, pet names & honourifics, daddy kink, oral sex, p in v, creampie, fingering, praise kink, bondage, spreader bar. S for smut and D for Daddy.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Mutually Beneficial Masterlist

Bucky held the flat silver tag between his metal thumb and forefinger, leading you towards your room as he stepped backwards.

"Missed you, Babydoll" he hushed.

"I've been right here, Sarge," you were aiming for even and controlled, but the way he leads you so gently, his dark eyes, you're already under his spell so your words are followed by a breathy gasp.

"No, you weren't, not really. And neither was I." He was right. It'd been such a long week. A mission gone horribly wrong led to an Agent in Bucky's squad getting shot. Not fatally, they were currently milking their wounded soldier status across the compound. But the guilt of it was burning through him. Between his mission, your reports, briefings and a mission of your own you hadn't had any time to be truly together.

"I know, Sarge. But I'm here now, whatever you want from me, I'm here," and you meant it. His need for some semblance of order, of control, to bring joy and not pain, you would always give that to him if he could. You leaned up, nudging your nose with this, planting a light kiss against his lips.

"Do you trust me?" He cooed, so close you could almost taste the sharp coldness of his minty toothpaste.

"Yes, Sarge," you can't help how quiet you become with him, barely a whisper.

"Good. Climb on the bed, Baby. Clothes off." You scramble onto your back, shedding your clothes in a pile on the floor. Eagerly you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him watch you back, blue eyes blown dark.

He steps forwards slowly and reaches under the bed, pulling out a metal pole.

"I saw this, do you wanna play?" He holds it up in the dim light. Black metal with a soft cuff at either end.

"A spreader bar?" You thought you were wet before but this is nothing. Bucky researching on his own, buying sex toys while he thinks of you gives you such a rush you can barely contain yourself.

"God, yes, please!" You lay back again, legs spread waiting for him. Gently he cuffs one leg then the other, there's a little movement when you wiggle your ankle but you can't move your legs together or apart. Bucky looks down at you hungrily, watching as you test the limits of your bondage.

His hands danced up your legs, featherlight, "you look good like this, Babydoll, all spread out for me." His thumbs ran over you, teasing your drenched folds. Apart, a tentative swipe, and then together again. The ache worse than before, "you look beautiful. All mine. And you'll do as you're told, won't you, because you're a good girl." He tapped lightly with one finger against your clit illiciting a wanton desperate moan.

"I asked you a question, you'll be my good girl, won't you?" He tapped again, harder. You're not sure you've ever fallen so fast into subspace. You struggled for words, your brain fighting for coherent thoughts.

"Answer me, Babydoll, or have I got you wrong. Are you a bad girl after all?" He slapped the inside of your thigh, the damp of your own slick making it sting harder.

"I'll be good, Daddy," it slipped out before you could stop yourself but you're still reeling from his hands on you, too gone to notice.

"What did you call me?" He sat back, his patented stare in full effect, bringing you slowly back into the light.

"I'm sorry, Sarge, what did I say?" Heat suffused your cheeks, burning your skin.

"You called me Daddy." Bucky's voice was a low, rough growl that had your knees bending in.

It's not a word you'd used before with Bucky, once or twice with other partners and certainly in the porn you watch. But you haven't talked about it. This wasn't in your negotiations. Your blood runs cold and that single coherent thought that struggled so hard before floats to the surface 'you've ruined everything'.

"Sorry, Daddy, I mean, I said Daddy, sorry, Daddy, I mean Sarge, Daddy, Sir. Sorry."

Bucky smirked and licked his bottom lip before taking it between his teeth briefly.

"Are you angry, don't be angry, Daddy, Sarge, Sir, sorry. I, I can't think. I - please. Just punish me, I'm sorry. I-" he let's his lip drop, licking over the bite mark again. He knew exactly what that did to you, how it made you feel hot all over.

"You're not in trouble" His hand was gentle as it skimmed your cheek. "Didn't know you'd like that. Didn't know I liked that" His thumb rubbed over your lip, and you took the opportunity to lick the pad, pulling the digit into your mouth. Vibranium doesn't really taste of anything, but the action was soothing, a hint of your own arousal lingering.

"You keep calling me that, Baby, and you can have anything you want. Okay?" He popped his thumb out of your mouth and trailed it around your nipple before giving the nub a little tweak.

You squeaked in surprise, "Yes, Daddy," and he groaned back.

"I think it's been long enough. I need to feel you, Baby, you be good and still for me, okay." He tugged the bar between your legs, pulling you further down the bed before carefully flipping you over, ass in the air and face pressed into the blankets.

"Yes, Daddy," you chanted again and Bucky was glad you couldn't see him, pressing his own face into the curve of your spine to hide his grin.

"Good girl," he pushed in as his praise made you flutter, griping your hips as he set a slow, firm pace, pressing against the soft secret spot inside that makes you see stars. His pace wasn't fast but Bucky was always relentless, no space to think, just him and you and the way he makes you feel.

"Feels good, I missed you so much, I needed this." You moaned out, whining before you could stop the pathetic noise from escaping. You were back to black, nothing but the feel of Bucky inside you, his hands on your body. He roamed further, pressing gently and tweaking at your clit, hard and aching under you. You rutted back trying to get some control to push you over the edge he had you dangling over.

"No, no, Babydoll, be a good girl." He grabbed the bar and slowly pushed it further up the bed, forcing your knees closer to your chest and bending you almost in half, "you can be good for me, right? All I need you to do is stay there," he punctuated his command with a slap to your ass, but you were already nodding your head as hard as you could, your hand under your forehead to keep you upright, "I knew you could be good for Daddy."

That did it, hearing him say it back was too much, electricity coiled up from your toes, a shock of lighting up your spine as you spasm and clutch at him however you can.

"Daddy!" You mewled as you came, your hand reaching back for his, fingers closing around your wrist and holding it down against the bed as he lost control, hips stuttering, bruising against your back. You both fell forward into the mattress as he filled you, deep and hot, painting ever inch of you.

"Jesus, fuck, baby," his nose rubbed against your back, hot kisses running down your spine, keeping you spread out, hands above your head.

The cuffs left your ankles but you stayed prone on the bed anyway, only turning enough to smile back at Bucky, his hair sticking up with sweat. You followed a droplet down his chest, gulping when you noticed he's still half hard.

"Let's take a minute," he kissed each ankle while he helped you turn onto your back, wrapping each leg around his waist and holding you against him as you come down from your high. "Oh baby, don't wanna waste anything," he chided, lifting your hips a little higher, leaning forwards and sliding a hand over you where his cum seeps down your leg. Two fingers swiped through it and meet your lips encouraging you to suck. His other hand palmed his seed back into you, fucking two fingers in and out slowly, gently curling and pulling another surprising orgasm past your lips. Silent and begging you gasp and writhe beneath him, too tired and fucked out to do more than take the pleasure he was giving you.

His kisses were back then, fluttering over your temple and your ear.

"Beautiful, Babydoll, beautiful," is the last thing you heared, floating into sleepy bliss.

"Thank you, Daddy."

[chlorinecake]

“convenient chances” 🎱

summary: Your obsessive ex-boyfriend Jay Park goes to extreme measures to ensure that you submit to his ruthless control, and with your body weakening with each pitiful day that passes, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to put up a fight…

pairing: Stalker! Yandere! Enhypen x Fem! Reader

contains: Suggestive, Non-con Kissing and Touching, Degrading Nicknames (crybaby, play thing, etc), Mentions of Self-harm and Other Violent Themes, Heavy Angst

word count: 5.3k -> previously . . .

YOUR BODY WAS fully awake, but your mind needed a moment to catch up.

The feeling of moist soil on your scalp somehow helped to comfort your body’s soreness as you laid down in the shallow ditch of dirt which was inevitably dubbed as your bed last night…

You could hardly push past the pain in your tired eyes, having cried yourself to sleep and back awake more times than you could count while meddling about with only one emotion coursing through your starved out veins:

Despair.

Not in the sense that you were ready to forfeit your role in this one against seven battle, but you worried your body could only take so much more of their combined insanity before giving up…

Just to let Jay claim you as his noble prize in this one-sided race for a twisted love—

Pat, pat, pat.

Your ears keened in on the sounds of nature surrounding you, eyes lazily opening up again as sprinkles of dry earth kissed your forehead, followed by more pats from above.

But the pats came with friends, the sounds now becoming more layered, louder as they approached the rim of the steep hole.

It was them.

The six goons, excluding their crookedly righteous leader who to this day leaves you baffled as to why you even dated him in the first place.

If only he wasn’t so good at pretending…

Pretending like everything was normal and that your past relationship with him was somehow reconcilable.

Your vision was still a bit cloudy given the poor lighting provided by the hardly risen sun and surrounding forestry, however you could still make out each boy's face as they stared back down at you. Jake, the nicer one, slowly guided a rope down to meet you.

“Can’t imagine you got much sleep down there, did ya’ cutie?” Heeseung’s voice started, stinging your soul like venom as he cooed at you with pouty lips from above, “don’t worry, I’ll give you a good morning kiss once we get you outta there…”

What a raging creep.

“This isn’t gonna be easy, but the only way to get you back up here is if you climb…”

Wow. He almost sounded like he cared about you when he said that.

Almost...

“C’mon, we threw you in a ditch, not a fucking volcano,” the tallest one grumbled impatiently, annoyed by your seemingly feeble demeanor.

“Niki,” Sunghoon scolded sternly, the younger boy shrugging in defense, “don't encourage her to resist us, alright?”

Jay must've been too busy to come and get you himself today, given all the work obligations and tasks he had lined up for the week.

So unfortunately, as if your luck could get any worse, you'd have to deal with his violent clan of minions until he got back.

Jake gave the rope a little shake to draw your attention back to it, your eyes having wandered off for a second in thought.

These boys were capable of the darkest evil's, but you knew it'd be better to comply than give 'em a hard time right now.

“Atta girl,” Jake smiled, watching as you stood up on wobbly legs before making your way to the dangling rope, “take your time coming up...”

Someway, somehow, you managed to climb up the rope, despite the dizziness clouding your mind on the way there.

Jungwon greeted you with a half-friendly expression, pulling you out of the ditch the rest of the way with a strong hand.

You honestly struggled a bit to stand up properly on your own, given how long your legs had been idle for, so Heeseung took it upon himself to carry you.

All the way to the nearby van, whose black exterior sent chills down your spine, despite how inviting the morning sunrise looked while casting upon it.

“Look at you,” Heeseung cooed, eyes scanning the fresh scar tracing the back of your hand as you clung to his shoulder for support, “so vulnerable and fragile...”

He took your hand and pressed a kiss to the flesh there, but you couldn't be bothered to pull away from him, thinking in your mind that you had to seem submissive.

You had to escape.

And tricking them seemed to be one of the few options you had left, especially with Mandy out of the picture.

Yes, you felt weak, but nowhere near as much as you were gonna pretend to be.

You were always a fighter, and you didn't plan to give up just yet, no matter how many times you'd have to get up just to fall back down again.

Sunoo held the car door open for Heeseung to help you get in, the rest of the boys already loading themselves into the vehicle at either side.

The sound of dirt stalling the trucks tires filled your ears before Sunghoon slammed his foot on the gas, forcing the car out of its mossy patch.

The trail back up was rocky, which made Niki reach an arm over to keep you in place as you kept wobbling in your seat.

You knew it wasn't because he actually cared for your safety, especially not with the bitter look plastered over his features.

“Since when did you get employed as a human seatbelt?” Jungwon asked with furrowed eyes, confused by Niki's behavior.

“Just trying to keep Jay's play thing safe,” he smiled facetiously, just as his eyes turned up to a tear in the roof, or more accurately, an empty slot where a seatbelt once was… “since you overgrown fuck-nuts like horsing around in here...”

BY NOW, THE car drive was nearing its end, human civilization barely coming into view through the dark tinted windows.

Sunghoon's eyes were trained on the road ahead as he started to speak, “So... we don't have many options for breakfast, but given how hungry you are, I'm sure you won't be picky...”

He pulled into the drive-thru of a nearby fast-food restaurant, the scent of deep-fried breakfast foods infiltrating the cold air behind the truck windows.

Meanwhile, your mind was stuck on Niki's mentioning of the broken seatbelt earlier, simply because no seatbelt meant no restraints, and ultimately, nothing was holding you back.

Truly, what you were plotting to do next was quite obviously a very bad idea... but, with the little strength you had left, you decided to push through anyways.

Literally.

Slam.

You pushed passed Niki and slung open the car door, slamming it behind you just as Niki’s hand barely grazed your arm, cursing to himself as you took off into the morning fog.

Thud, thud, thud.

Your sneaker-clad feet hit the pavement with harsh steps as you ran off into the opposite direction of the boys, treading as far as your dry bones could take you.

With your heart pounding like a drum in your chest and your eyes glued straight ahead, you knew looking back would only slow you down.

That’s when you noticed the parking lot was completely empty, which meant that no bystanders were present once Heeseung’s long legs eventually caught up to you, grabbing your shoulder to halt your tracks, right before leaving a slap clean across your face.

You fell to the ground, scuffing your elbow in the collision with a now busted-lip complimenting your dark under eyes.

“Pretty energetic to say you’re running on an empty stomach, aren't you, baby face?” He pressed with aggression, taking your jaw in his fierce grip to make you look up at him, “What? Too scared to talk now that I’m being rough with you?”

All you did was wince at his words, the adrenaline boiling in your chest only increasing with fear as the rest of the goof-troop approached the scene.

“Aww… you scared her into silence,” Sunghoon pouted while kneeling down to meet where you sat, “what’re we gonna tell Jay about her sudden case of muteness, Heeseung?”

“Hmm... I can think of plenty ways to force some pretty sounds out of that mouth of hers,” the eldest grinned, releasing your chin only to grip your hair this time, pulling you back with force.

“Ahckk,” you groaned in pain, gripping his arm in an attempt to keep your sounds in, but he was already snickering at you, noticing the rosy red bruise raising to your skin from how hard he slapped you earlier.

“Oh?” he cooed, tilting his head as he spoke… “I didn’t mean to hurt you, ____,” he whispered sarcastically before his lips met the sore part of your face...

“Let me make it feel better.”

Heeseung's lips moved lower down your neck as his grip on you only tightened, his rough teeth grazing the surface of your skin before pinching down on it, all while the most satisfying smirk stained his features.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t, a voice in your head reminded as your brain returned to reality, brushing off the wild scenario you'd just came up with.

“That’ll be it, thank you,” Jungwon said to the lady over the drive-thru speaker as Sunghoon pulled up to the next window.

“What’s on your mind?” Niki asked, noticing the way you became quiet all of a sudden, your previously shaky breaths settling to a near inaudible decibel.

“N-nothing… just a little tired I guess,” you stuttered, not meeting his nightmare-like eyes to which only made him hum in response.

“Welp, I hope you like coffee, because Jay has something special planned for you two later, and you wouldn’t wanna show up all drowsy like this...”

You had known Jay long enough by now to know that something special was code for a disaster in the making—

“____ loves coffee,” Sunoo blurted out in a nonchalant tone, “I used to buy her five cans every weekday from the convenience store to keep her stocked for the whole work week...”

Until I switched to banana milk, you thought to yourself, a tiny smile rising to your features at the wholesome memory.

Sunoo’s gentle voice trailed off as he hung his head low, the boys looking at him in confusion at his sudden comment.

You sulked quietly; Sunoo had became so cold towards you since the day you scolded him after he betrayed your friendship for Jay... so much had happened since then that you almost forgot how close you and Sunoo used to be before all this…

“God, I don’t know why I even said that,” he cursed himself with a sigh, looking out the window to avoid their judgmental looks.

“It’s uh… it’s fine buddy, just… pass me us a twenty please,” Heeseung continued, Sunoo pulling out a $20 bill and passing it to Jake to pay for the food.

“Have a good day,” the cashier said with a forcefully chipper voice, Sunghoon already driving off as her final words were cut off by the sound of the truck engine.

He took another short path that led to a gas station nearby, letting Jungwon, Sunoo, Niki, and himself take you inside the corner-store to eat while the rest stayed back to pump gas and shit-talk.

The shop resembled one you might see in an apocalyptic video game, the food-stained tables and flickering ceiling lights only adding to the unsettling aura.

That's when the wall-mounted TV, just a few inches beside the glass entry doors, broadcasted a live news report featuring a woman by the name of Mandy Reeves.

You felt part of your soul descend at the mere mentioning of her name as the scratchy-voiced newswoman began to report from the speakers...

“62 year old Goldman's 24-Hour Convenience Store worker Mandy Reeves was reportedly found tied up with a rope and non-responsive in the establishment’s storage room around midnight. While Ms. Reeves is in better condition now, authorities have concluded that this attack was from within. Here’s what Mandy had to say concerning the incident.”

“Oh my God,” you said louder than necessary, eyes wanting to brim with tears until you noticed the equally worried looks on the four boy's faces, but of course, the five of you had pretty different reasons for looking that way.

“This is Sydney Baker with ENN News… Ms. Reeves, can you please share an account of what you remember most from your attack last night?” the reporter interrogated with a fat microphone in her hand.

From what you could tell, Mandy still seemed pretty shaken up about what happened, even from the blurry TV screen.

You couldn't help but feel guilty after sending her through all that, knowing she was the type of person to stand up for someone even if it meant she'd end up getting hurt, too.

“I… all I remember was a bunch of boys… T-too many of them to count, but they all looked like trouble from the moment they walked in the store,” Mandy stuttered before the camera, eyes wandering all over the place with her gray mane an utter mess on her head.

“And what did you say about another girl earlier? Did she assist the attackers?” The reporter asked back.

“NO! No, not at all... she was the one in danger! I... I-I can’t remember her name, but she’s a good friend to me… always stopped ‘round the shop at night… treated me like I was her own mother…”

“But the attackers, ma’am. Are you genuinely sure this wasn’t some kind of set up?”

“One of those buck-crazy hooligans were in an abusive relationship with her! His name was… Jay… s-something like that… he must’ve built up some kinda gang to get her back.”

“Ma’am, you said earlier that your memory is a bit foggy… are you certain the information you’re sharing with us is accurate?”

“Yes, this all happened before they jumped me… that girl… she’s been hiding from him for over four months now I believe… my guess is that he finally caught up to her... I went to call the police and—”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Mandy, but we’re running low on time… once again this is Sydney Baker reporting live from Goldman's 24-Hour Convenience Store. Back to you, James...”

The reporters voice faded into the background as Niki and Jungwon made direct eye contact with each other, looking at Sunoo next who sat with a worried expression on his face.

“That old fucking bitch-”

“Niki, chill out, alright?” Jungwon interrupted, standing up from the table to gather your food and trash.

“Hey, I was still eating that,” you complained, taking one last sip of your drink before he snatched that from you too.

“Tough because we’re leaving,” Sunghoon said sternly before aggressively hooking your arms in his, despite how gentle he wanted it to seem to anyone looking.

“She thinks this shit is funny,” Niki scoffed, opening the gas station door for Sunghoon to lead you back to the car, “just look at the way she’s beaming right now…”

“My 'beaming' has nothing to do with you assholes getting busted for not covering your tracks properly, but everything to do with your actual response to the news,” you corrected, feet struggling to keep up with Sunghoon’s fast-paced walking as his hold on your arm fastened, “you all should be scared...”

“Interesting comment coming from you,” Jungwon retorted, right before calling out to his hyung’s ahead of him, “we gotta get her outta here as soon as possible.”

“What happened?” Heeseung asked first, considering how fast you guys came back.

Jake had just finished pumping the gas when you all reached the car, disgruntled looks on the three boy's faces as Sunghoon began to explain what happened.

“We were on TV,” Sunghoon said, opening the back door of the truck and practically shoving you in, “that old chick gave the cops a name, too…”

Heeseung's eyebrows furrowed at his friends words, “I... I don’t understand, what’re you guys saying?”

“We don’t know much yet, but someone found Mandy last night and she spilled as many beans as she possibly could,” Niki spat somewhere in between, all of them getting in their respective seats as Jake caught on to the dilemma a little sooner than Heeseung did, “we’re fucked.”

Slamming his foot on the gas, the vehicle took off out of the parking lot, the entire vibe somehow feeling much darker than before now that they were potentially being man-hunted.

“Whose name did she drop?” Jake asked angrily over the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from the intense grip.

The boys fell quiet, Heeseung being equally confused and curious as they sat with clenched jaws, body’s rocking a bit with the car's bolstering drifts as you decided to speak up on their silent behalves.

“Jay,” you started, voice like a single note of a piano that rung strong in their headspace as chills ran down their tensed backs… “she mentioned Jay...”

ABOUT AN HOUR had passed before the sleek black van pulled up into Jay’s driveway, a feeling of shock and gratefulness washing over you at the fact that the boys didn’t take a pit-stop at the “classroom” to teach you any lessons.

“Get her out,” Jake practically barked, Niki almost instantly grabbing your arm at his hyung’s words.

“Isn’t Jay still at work?” You asked somehow in between all the action, Sunghoon having opened the car door to your right and grabbing your other arm, too.

“Yes,” Sunghoon sighed, not even meeting your face as he spoke, “but he’ll be here shortly—”

“I’ll put in a tip that the crybaby missed him very much,” Niki added, speeding up his footsteps until you all reached the tall, mahogany front door, the simple sight of it bringing back one too many memories you wished you could forget now…

Memories of when you loved Jay sincerely, and he loved you… memories of when he used to never put you in harms way… memories of when you were able to look him in his handsome face without gritting your teeth with rage—

Click.

Jungwon unlocked the door with a spare key that was so conveniently placed beneath the front porch statue of an eagle.

Sunghoon and Niki let your arms free in unison, a tingly sensation running up and down the length of your limbs thanks to the force they initially applied.

The four of you stood there awkwardly for a moment, up until you felt a hand tap your shoulder.

“Make yourself at home, ____,” Heeseung began, startling you from behind as your mind became aware of his daunting frame behind you, “and make it quick before a bug flies in, please…”

“O-oh,” you stammered, taking a few rushed steps until you made it all the way inside, the flashy interior of Jay’s home somehow widening your tired eyes.

The sound of Jake’s boots traveled somewhere behind you, his arms being filled with a black dress, pair of heels, and velvet jewelry bag.

“For you, if it wasn’t obvious,” he said plainly, facial features as blank as a fresh canvas.

“Jay wants you to shower before he comes back… and also,” he paused for a second, handing you the items he held before his hand snagged at the rubber band holding up his man-bun and passing it to you, “try to make yourself look nice, alright?”

. . .

Twist.

The faucet creaked slightly as you hopped into the shower, it’s stream of warm water soothing your grimy skin.

You took a moment to let the water moisten your entire body from head to toe before reaching for the loofa and bottle of soap, sudsing up the product before lathering it in.

The tiny pool of water around your feet was muggy and dark, reminding you of just how dirty you had been the whole day, even though it didn’t really bother you after a while.

Twist.

You turned the faucet off, guiding your freshly shampooed hair into a towel while you dried off your body, stepping out of the tub with dry feet to avoid making a mess of things.

The house had become so quiet that even the water trickling down the drain sounded loud.

Pumping a few squirts of lotion into your palm, you massaged it into your thirsty skin, just as your eyes caught sight of the pink razor sitting idly on the counter.

It’s set of three silvery blades shined eerily beneath the overhead ceiling lights, especially against the foggy bathroom mirror.

That’s crazy, your mind internally scolded itself, even though the razor was already in your hand by now.

It’s not even worth it, you heard another voice say, but this time, in an almost daring tone.

Your eyes narrowed in on the squiggly train of green and blue veins decorating your delicate wrist.

You felt your heart start to throb the longer you stared, not out of nervousness, because your heart beat was relaxed in this moment, but out of pain from the sharp sensation that traveled to your finger tips, a stream of dark, rich red trailing down your forearm and dripping onto your bath towel.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hey, you almost done in there or what?” Heeseung’s voice asked from behind the door, your mind just now realizing that the razor was still inches away from you, resting in its initial spot.

No blood.

No pain.

Just your head playing tricks on you again—

“Uh… y-yeah, just gimme a sec.” You stalled, hand almost instantly grabbing the black dress from its clothes-hanger and sliding it up your hips.

Heeseung still stood behind the door, very aware of the fact that you weren’t even close to being ready… regardless of this, he turned on the heel of his boot and called out, “She’s almost ready, Jay!” indirectly letting you know to hurry the fuck up in there.

“How does she look for me?” You assumed Jay asked from outside, given that Heeseung responded with a cheesy “absolutely beautiful.”

Jay made his way into the room, knocking gently on the bathroom door... not peeking, just listening to your soft yet nervous breathing, “I’ll meet you downstairs, okay love?...”

You didn’t answer, but instead, fastening the zipper on the side of your dress, clipping in the crystal earrings, silver necklace, and two beaded bracelets for either wrist while double checking yourself in the mirror.

That's when you heard Heeseung’s footsteps walk away with Jay’s, just as a new set followed right after.

“It’s me, ____,” Sunoo’s voice began, “can I come in for a sec?”

Once again, you didn't answer, only letting an exasperated huff fall from your lips as you looked into the mirror, the act of trying to style your slippery wet hair with Jake's flimsy hair-tie only adding to your stress…

“I know I'm probably one of the last people you wanna talk to right now, but I can help you,” he continued, part of you wishing he meant 'help you escape'—

Click.

You unlocked the door knob with a creak, the misty bathroom air hitting Sunoo’s dewy skin as he walked in, directing his hand out as a sign for you to sit on the toilet.

“Close your eyes for me,” he said, pulling out a tube of mascara to apply to your lashes.

“Thank you,” you meant to say, but you were interrupted by his voice saying, “I'm sorry” first...

“Sun, can we please not do this right now?” You sighed, an apology from anyone being the last thing on your mind right now.

Sunoo’s chest raised with an anxious exhale before he let the air out through his nose as he whispered the words, “I had to say it ____… It hurts me, y'know?... seeing you like this... seeing what I helped them all do to you...”

An unsettling silence swarmed between you two before the sad-eyed boy reached in his pocket, pulling out a blush compact to apply a bit of hue to the apple of your cheeks with his fingers.

He then pulled a few hairs out from your head, trying to emphasis your natural beauty instead of stressing over a specific style.

“We won't be toying around with this, by the way,” he smiled softly, taking the rubber band from your hand and tossing it into the bin beside you.

You let yourself chuckle a bit at his actions, but it wasn’t the kind of laughter that made you feel good…

It was the kind of laughter that you have with a friend in grade-school while sitting in detention, waiting for your angry parent to come and pick you up for a good scolding—

“So,” he started, placing his hands at your shoulders as you stood up from the toilet, looking at yourself in the mirror, “what do you think?”

Looking back at your reflection, all you could do was smile softly, not for genuine purposes, but for Sunoo’s sake, a familiar smile spreading across his face too at your appearance.

“You're welcome, then,” he meant to say, but you interrupted him first by turning around, wrapping your arms around his waist and whispering a cracky “I forgive you...” against his chest...

BY NOW, SUNOO had left you alone to gather your emotions for a few more minutes before coming down.

He told you a series of simple steps to follow once you'd leave the bathroom:

1. Walk down the staircase.

2. Greet Jay with a smile, either fake or genuine.

3. Don't do anything stupid.

The hardest of these steps? All three if you were being completely honest... but by now, you had already completed 1% of step one, your nervous legs standing still and firm at the very top of the staircase as Jay's voice called out to you.

“My love, what's the delay for?” You heard Jay ask from the bottom, not being able to see you given the way the stairwell curved, “I'm ready to see you...” he went on...

The gall of this man... to demand your presence like he had a right to it or something... this whole thing was just so... dehumanizing.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this Jay,” you blurted out, letting your first mind speak before you could even rationalize a more suitable reply... before you could even take your next step down the staircase...

“I'm giving you an opportunity to cooperate by your own persuasion, ____... please don't abuse it,” he warned coldly, resting his hand on the staff like structure of the staircase as he kept envisioning you coming down the steps, almost as if his thoughts could manifest it happening...

“You're not even listening to me, ____,” you scoffed, thinking back in your head how this clown-show would've been avoided if you actually just picked up that damned razo-

“That's nonsense, and you know it, ____... I understand that you're stressed, but please-”

“No, Jay, because that's the thing,” you interrupted with a raised voice, “you don't understand a damn thing about what I've been going through, all at the hands of you and those strange boys you puppet around...”

“Baby, I get that this is a difficult situation, but I'm trying my very best to make this work,” he pleaded, looking at top the stairs as if you could somehow see his forlorn face.

By now, you had already skipped step 2 and entirely ignored step 3-

“Well, pardon me for adding to the difficulties, but fuck your efforts,” you spat, kicking off the heels you wore and tossing them beside you with a loud clatter, “they've only been out of vanity this whole time anyway...”

Anyway...

The word echoed within your soul, right before it became like wind in your ears...

Your heart skipped a few beats as you suddenly felt like you were falling, both down with gravity and out of the world at the same time, eyes widening with the gasp that escaped your tightening throat.

The feeling of forceful hands left your back, your feet tripping over your steps as you whipped your head to see who pushed you, the whole moment occurring in slow-motion as your eyes met Niki's piercing ones, his large hand waving facetiously at you as you continued to tumble down the staircase.

Your back hit the final step with a loud crack, your consciousness leaving you instantly as your now sleeping face met Jay's, and even though you couldn't see it, his eyes filled with utter terror, boot-clad feet running towards your feeble body.

His words came out like confused soup, but each sentence was something along the lines of 'don’t leave me like this.'

“She brought this upon herself, hyung,” Niki announced shamelessly, coming down the staircase in harsh, slow steps as the shadow of a menacing smirk remained clear on his face, “just let her go...”

Jay looked up at Niki with tears in his eyes. “You idiot!” was all he yelled before scooping you up in his arms, Heeseung running over from the kitchen to see what happened from the noise.

“Oh my God,” Heeseung gasped, running to take you from Jay's hold only for his hand to be swatted away with a nonverbal 'I can handle her,' on his behalf.

“Just open the door... I have to get her outta here,” Jay's voice bit back, trying to stop himself from breaking down at the sudden course of events.

“If she doesn't wake back up soon, promise me that the five of you will make sure that Niki doesn't live to see another day...”

YOUR EYES CRACKED open slowly like rusty door hinges, a throbbing sensation from your head being the first thing you noticed upon waking up.

And the second sensation? Well, it was the tingly feeling running up and down your back, extending all the way into your tied up wrists.

If you didn't remember falling down the stairs before, you definitely remembered it now as you felt a bit of blood drip from the poorly bandaged cut in your brow, your entire being physically cringing at the memory.

Step, step.

Your eyes darted to the source of the sound, only to find Jay waltzing around in an idle circle around the room.

Or more specifically, the classroom...

You're not sure why he decided to bring you here instead of a proper hospital to be checked out, but then again, you didn't really understand anything that Jay did.

Like for instance, why he decided to tie you up in a basement like a criminal within minutes of you literally flying down his staircase-

“Where’s Sunoo?” You began upon making eye contact with Jay, not giving him the chance to start a conversation first.

There was an awkward pause before he finally responded with a blunt, “What’s it matter to you, anyways?… He hated you with every bone in his pathetic body...”

“That's a lie!” You barked back, surprised by your own intensity.

And God, yelling at him only made your head hurt even more.

Jay scanned your bruised face for a moment, communicating to you with his eyes that it’d be best to watch your mouth from here on out considering how it landed you at the bottom of a staircase not too long ago.

His eyes then fell to the sight of your arms that were tied securely behind your back and to the chair post, all by the likes of Heeseung.

You were already treading on thin ice here, so you knew that if you were to say anything at all, it would have to be at the very least somewhat respectful...

Jay smiled softly as your facial features relaxed with the exhausted sigh you let out, the slim sign of compliance compelling him to pace around the room more freely this time.

“To answer your question, love… I suppose some people are just simply,” he delayed in thought, looking up for a second til the right word came to mind… “Replaceable,” he finally finished, voice sounding eerily low as he now made a fierce eye contact with you.

You didn’t understand why he was taunting you all of a sudden… almost as if his previously compassionate demeanor had been corrupted by someone…

“A set of six friends that help you commit crimes… the meager cashier at a local convenience store… there are plenty of kindred spirits for those type of people… for instance, we’re both bound to find another Sunoo… and you, another Mandy—”

“What gives you any right to speak of them in such a way? After all the pain you’ve cost in their lives,” you questioned with a broken voice, hesitant tears welling in your eyes as the pain in your wrist increased with your emotions, the tight restraints only feeling worse any time you moved even in the slightest bit.

Jay caught onto this, too… watching the way your body winced from behind every time you even thought to disrespect him… it brought one of the most sincere smiles to his chilled face that you’ve seen in quite a while.

“Does talking back to me make you feel powerful, love?… c’mon, you can be honest… I won’t laugh…”

You never gritted your teeth so hard in your entire life as you did in this moment, staring back at him with bloodshot eyes as your vision started to blur from the tears.

“No,” you muttered out wobbly, hanging your head low as it became too hard to keep looking at his face, “it doesn’t make me feel anything at all…”

His feet paused in their pacing, right before he turned to meet you where you sat, taking your chin in his hands and forcing you to look up at him, an unreadable but nonetheless threatening look in his eyes as your heart fluttered with nerves...

“I see…,” Jay continued, eyes not meeting yours but still wandering over the expanse of your face, observing your bruised cheek bone, the tiny cut in your lower lip, and the wrinkle between your furrowed brows. “Allow me to help you feel something for once, then…”

“Something painful, I’m sure—”

“I prefer the word pleasant,” he smiled, still holding your chin in place as his free hand reached for the dagger sitting on the side table, its sharp blade still shining before you despite the dimly lit atmosphere.

In this moment, the only pleasant thought in your heart was death, but Jay knew that would be both too good and bad of an ending for you.

Kneeling over you, he lined the blade up with the thick rope entrapping your weakened wrists, slicing back and forth in skilled motions until he felt your hands release.

A relaxed sigh left your mouth at the feeling, the simple sense of relief still mixing with anguish as Jay locked his eyes back on yours.

He knelt down now, letting your chin go as he cut the restraints from around your ankles, placing the blade in your lap before standing up to take a few steps away from you.

“Jay, why are you letting me free—”

“Because I love you, ____,” he stated firmly, removing his jacket from his shoulders as he watched you from where he stood, “that’s always been my reason behind everything since the day I first met you… since I realized that a soul like yours isn’t replaceable…”

“I… I don’t understand what you're trying to say—”

“Stand up,” he continued, voice sounding so deep that you felt it in your feet, “and pick up the knife…”

He watched your trembling hand reach for the blade as if in slow motion, your knees flexing to stand up, weakness plaguing your every step as you walked towards him, his usually sharp eyes softening to a state of meekness…

Or perhaps, it was another state in reflection of the twisted love Jay had chased for months on end… right before he decided within himself that he was willing to finally give it up if that's what it'd take to keep you safe... to see you happy...

“All you’ve ever wanted was to make your own choices… to have that freedom back that I took away from you... this is the only time I’m willing to give you a chance at liberty—”

“I’m not going to kill you, Jay,” your voice came out quietly with a crack, silently hiccuping now as the tears continued to fall, your anxious body somehow craving none other than his strong arms to catch you in case you fell… or even just for the fuck of it...

“Then don’t,” he whispered, maintaining a gentle smile as you practically fell apart from the inside out right before his eyes, “you can do whatever it is that you wish to now... Kill the thought of me along with this version of yourself, and run away for good… I won’t chase you anymore…”

This whole thing... it was becoming far more confusing than you could bear… all this time, all you ever wanted was to be your own person again... who could make decisions without having to look over their shoulder in fear anymore...

All you ever wanted was to live a happy life without Jay and his games, but right now, you couldn’t really remember or imagine what a life like that would look like anyways...

Even if you did run away, you’d still have all the memories from these horrors attached to you… all of the fears cementing every corner of your being like a dungeon... you’d still be reminded by all the bruises and pain...

Your life had come to a point where there was no more pleasure to seek from here, as Jay had filled every possible void and meaning in your life with fragments of his insanity for you...

Just as he operated and just as you concluded to yourself a long time ago, broken toys were Jay’s favorite objective, and if you weren’t already broken upon being found, you were bound to be by the time he finished playing with you.

Simply put, this traumatizing love game was nearing its demise, and you had come too far, become too weak to still put up a fight...

You fell into Jay's chest, his protective arms holding you close to him as your cold tears met his warm skin.

You desperately clung to his shoulders, hoping to gain any sense of comfort from the contact… any sense of that pleasantness he offered to you.

The dagger fell to the ground with a shattering clink, all of your nerves melting away as Jay continued to hold you, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head as you continued to sniffle.

He always knew you’d come around, because that's how things went for him as a Park... though, he also knew it’d still hurt you in the beginning until you'd become adjusted.

You exhaled in his embrace, eyes shut tight even though the tears continued to spill.

“I don’t want to run anymore either, Jay,” you choked out, still clinging to him as he hummed at your words.

“I know, ____…” he said, almost in an apologetic manner, “but now…” he stalled in the silence, peeking down at the knife on the floor, “you’ll have to learn to love me again… but in the meantime, things will be different between us... better... and I can promise you that, love...”

All you did was nod against his chest, finally letting your eyes open up as you spoke an almost inaudible, “I hope I’ve made the right decision…”

He broke from the hug, still connecting your bodies by the waist as he took your hand in his hand to place a kiss against the tender marks on your wrist, a single thought resting in the back of your troubled mind...

You had just given up on your only chance of survival, and was that a foolish or wise decision? You’re not so sure as of now… but either way, one thing remained certain… a thing that you dreaded to acknowledge even now as Jay held you in his arms…

You could only hope that this certainty wouldn’t haunt you til the end of time, and that somewhere within the depths of your broken heart, you’d grow more accepting of the simple fact that Jay, in all of his efforts, had finally won, leaving the two of you now as a united pair to pick up and rebuild the pieces together…

☆ This concludes the CONVENIENT CHANCES series’ season finale everyone! I’d like to give special thanks to @yourmomscuntis2tighy for originally requesting this piece, and to all of the amazing people who supported this series to the very end 🤍🤍🤍

☆ NOTE: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

☆ TAGS: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @ashgonedash @addictedtohobi @wonbinisbabygurl @cherlv @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled @haechansheart @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee @naddii @valhrts @tinyenha @lisaaannna @valentineluvr @heecries @espyluvsyou @tokusatsutoad @confuse20x @teddursa @riviyw @tamii4 @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07 @tubatusoobs @03sunoos @oshsha @elleflying07 @jjungwonss @soobins--dimple @heeseung-min @heerinnie @wonbyf @smouches @ilovesunoosm @whattheflipbroski @starrylovesu @jungwonloveer @idkdykilr @jays-property @daintysan @oddracha @miinie6300 @lilyuwon @meowmeowjang @sun00027 @kkamismom12

[hwajin]

— slow it down, make it bouncy

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✦ :: bang chan | 4k follower event

genre: smut

pairing: chan x fem!reader (implied chubby reader 😝)

req

send me a request!

"Mhhh, slow down baby, fuck- slow down."

Glistening back facing him, his body laid out beneath you, your hands prepped on Chan's thighs. You felt his own on every inch of you he could reach in laying position, though not seldom they made home on your behind, groping and grabbing at your bum, sighing out in newly-found pleasure whenever he did. You were sure he was salivating by now with the sight presented before him — your body on display, the dip in the small of your back he adored so much making presence with every roll of your hips you gave to take him in, your derriere jelly-like with every movement altogetger — though you'd never give yourself the credit, not aloud.

You obeyed him, your body slowing down, hips rolling torturously against his own, suddenly feeling him everywhere, all around you, so deep within you your body jerked forward, struggling to keep composure, to fight against bubbling exhaustion. Whimper after whimper rolling past your lips, increasing in volume, in pitch — whining out when his hands found your bum anew, taking a handful of voluptuous flesh, squeezing to his liking, nails digging to leave crescent moons. Granting you stability with mere touch, gaining composure for your sake.

"Yeah, bounce just like that baby... so good, so- mhh, so beautiful."

Sighing out with each word, struggling to get it past his lips. Your body reacted to the praise, thighs contracting, hips rolling and bum meeting him harshly, skin slapping onto skin, eliciting sounds that bore themselves into your senses. Your fingers created similar shapes on his body as his did on your own, marked in unison and bound together in pleasure, in utter satisfaction. Hips meeting hips in building impatience, Chan rutting up to chase high, to chase release. Moving your body with his own, making every bit of your flesh dance in waltzes addicting, making you move like still waters on darkened nights - he couldn't take his eyes off you if he wanted, intoxicated, entirely under your mercy and he wasn't sure you were aware.

Spasming around him, butterfly flaps around his length and he knew you reached release, confirming when your body fell forward, hips yet rolling, his name falling off your lips in melodies most alluring, melodies favourite to his ear. He'd never grow sick of the way his name sounded past your mouth, so loving, so needing, enticing. It'd be the only thing he'd wish for you to say, if only he had the choice.

Painting you in white moments later, unable and unwanting to keep composure any longer when you were the body he was feeling, when your satisfaction lulled him in, got him seeing stars, made his whole long and urge for you, for mutual contentment. Hands on the curve of your hips as he rode out the last of his orgasm, eyes shut and seeing stars with the way you milked him off his very last drop, only discharging off him when the sting of stimulation hit you in most pleasurable pain, when your body gave out, when you thought you couldn't take it anymore.

Though you always could, and Chan always knew. Repositioning, finding himself on his knees before you, motioning tired body to roll onto back, and you obeyed momentarily, eager of his plans, though exhausted simultaneously. And his lips connected with your wetness, tasting you, tasting him on you, and the night wasn't bound to end in the following hours, not until sunrise stroke the earth, made your bodies sleep to the sound of early morning birds.

@tangylemonade @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @a-cute-french-fry @felixinameadowandthesuniswarm

[hazbinshusk]

husk x gn!reader. a hurt/comfort piece for @aluss. the reader's having a particularly bad day, and husk is the one to find them. tw: depression, self-isolation.

You stir reluctantly from under the pile of blankets you’d buried yourself in sometime yesterday, a frown furrowing your brow as you’re dragged unwillingly from your dozing. A soft knock sounds on the door again, and you press your face stubbornly into the pillows with a groan, silently willing whoever it is to go away. You just can’t handle even the idea of the unfaltering upbeat attitude of Charlie Morningstar right now; group activities and redemption be damned.

The knock plays across the wood again, quiet and brief.

"Hey." your eyes open, and you stare across the room at the door, vision half-obscured by the blankets. "It's Husk."

That furrow in your brow deepens; if someone was to come knocking on your door to urge you to join the others for whatever Charlie has cooked up, you wouldn't have expected the bartender.

"Hey, I'm..." he clears his throat awkwardly, and you can almost picture him glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone else is in the hall. "...I'm jus' checkin' in. I... Charlie's worried about you."

A venomous pang of guilt at her concern pinches the inside of your gut, and you pull the blankets around yourself against it. You want to roll over and ignore him, but something about his voice... it's warm honey, and the comfort of it manages to break through the shadows still clinging to the inside of you.

"Look, I don't blame you for wantin' to skip out on the group thing tonight." he continues into the door. "I ain't exactly chompin' at the bit to make friendship bracelets either, but I... it'd be good to see you downstairs, y'know?"

Humor colors his voice, and you're sure there's a self-deprecating curve to one side of his mouth as he next speaks. "We can suffer through it together."

You feel a tear break past your eyelids, and your arms feel too heavy to wipe it away. So, you let it sting at the corner of your eye for a second before it fell to stain your cheek.

Silence stretches out between the two of you, filling your room and curling around your psyche. He's given up, you're sure of it. Why wouldn't he?

"...Doll?" His voice's reoccurrence surprises you almost as much as the pet-name he uses. His voice has dropped lower, barely audible, and his tone is almost... bashful? "I really hope you're not asleep and I'm not jus' makin' an ass of myself out here."

You can't help but breathe the smallest of laughs at that. You find your voice again, hoarse from disuse. "I'm awake."

"There you are," he says softly, and for such a bitter man, you're once again sure you can hear a smile in his voice. He clears his throat before continuing. "I, uh... look, I feel like an asshole standin' out here talkin' to a door. Can you... Please, let me in."

You hesitate, eyes squeezed closed. "...I look like shit."

Husk breathes a quiet chuckle, and you could almost swear he responds under his breath with, "Not possible."

"Please, doll?" he says, and this is loud enough that you don't have to question whether you're imagining it. "I don't judge."

The silence returns before you force yourself to push back the blankets and stand. Your body aches from being in bed for so long, and you grimace as your ankles complain with the sudden weight upon them. Still, you pad across the room and take a steadying breath before opening the door.

Husk stands there, comfortingly the same as ever, his eyes slightly wide with surprise at the door actually opening.

"There," you say blandly, waving a hand down at yourself. You're wearing a stained sweatshirt and a pair of old sleep shorts, and your hair is mussed and greasy from two days without washing it. "I'm still alive... or whatever. You happy?"

The bartender's brow furrows as he takes you in, his ears lowering slightly. His tail hooks itself around his ankle. "What's wrong?"

You give him a tight smile, shrugging a shoulder. You turn and head back to the bed, sitting on the mattress cross-legged. "Nothing. What could possibly be wrong?"

"Doll..."

"I'm fine, Husk." you tell him dismissively, pulling the blankets up over your lap. "Just... I didn't sleep well. You can tell Charlie I'm fine."

Husk swallows, turning back towards the door. Despite your insistence that he go, you feel your chest clench at the idea of him leaving. But he doesn't... no, Husk closes the door with a quiet snap, enclosing the two of you in the quiet dark of your room. He doesn't seem to notice the mess of it as he faces you again, stepping hesitantly towards you. He lingers at the edge of the bed, paws twisted together in front of him.

"Charlie... she didn't ask me to come see you." he admits gruffly. "I... I missed you downstairs."

You look up, surprised. "You...?"

"'s nice havin' you around." he explains, the bridge of his muzzle burning pink. He takes a seat on the edge of your bed by your feet, eyes on his hands as they hang between his knees. "You're jus' about the only one here who's half-sane."

You choke on a bitter laugh, tears suddenly spilling onto your cheeks.

"Hey," Husk looks up, alarmed, at the sound of you sobbing. He holds up his hands almost defensively, turning to face you with wide, worried eyes. "Hey! I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

You chuckle wetly, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. "No, I'm sorry, it's not you..." you take a shuddering breath, wrapping your arms around yourself. "It's just... been a rough couple of days. 'Half-sane' might be the best compliment you could have given me."

Husk raises a brow, studying you for a long moment. You stiffen slightly as he reaches out, and he notices, his hand stopping, withdrawing. You shake you head, breath shaky. "Its okay, you can... I'm okay."

He nods slowly, reaching out again. Your eyes close as he cups your face in his hand, the claw of his thumb ever so carefully brushing a stray tear away from your cheek.

"...You're not okay." he says softly, his brow furrowed in concern. "Are you?"

You hold his gaze for a moment before you feel the dam walls break, and sobs wrack through your body and burn your chest. Husk moves instinctively and you find yourself moving to meet him, collapsing into his lap. Husk wraps his arm around the middle of your back, feeling each heaving breath through your ribs. His wing spreads out over you, and you feel his other paw come up to touch your hair, mindless of the grease still clinging to the strands.

Husk strokes a soothing rhythm through your hair as you ball your fist in his pant leg, tears soaking his thigh.

"Shh..." he hushes you gently. "It's... it's okay to not be okay, baby. I've got you."

He holds you like that for as long as you need, the steady rhythm of his breathing helping yours to settle, so slowly. He murmurs reassurances, his claws trailing soothing patterns over your back.

"I've got you."

[love-toxin]

File 11 - Miguel O'Hara

plot: as much as it hurts, he knows you were meant to be together, even if you don't remember the man you once loved.

cws: miguel pov, fem!reader, atsv spoilers, smut mentions, interdimensional romance timelines, lovers -> strangers -> lovers, casual hookups, kids/pregnancy talk, angst + fluff, denial of feelings (man's got it so bad), mutual pining, character death mentions.

word count: 2.8k

Every morning he wakes up without you is torture.

Plain and simple. Torture. Pure, unadulterated torture that cripples his heart each morning he cracks open his eyes and finds the place beside him empty. It's cold even on the hottest nights, bristling the back of his neck no matter how much he sweats in the long summers. It's always been terrible–ever since that day that you, your daughter, and his whole world ceased to exist, Miguel hasn't truly found peace even in passing moments. Eating his favourite meal from the commissary to finding a breakthrough in his plans for the spiderverse, it just doesn't feel right.

And while he'd long gotten used to that feeling, the dull ache has soared into a sting now that he faces you each day he comes into work.

It's not "you" per se–not his version of you–but the you that stands in front of him each and every morning has your face, your smile, your laugh, your cheeky sense of humour, everything. You have everything. Everything except a memory of him, even a shred of it, because as much as he wants you to see him and throw yourself into his embrace, you have no memory of him. You don't see him as a husband, a father, a friend, you see him as Miguel–not to say that you don't also consider him your savior, which you certainly do. He rescued you from a dying dimension that some other hero screwed up, and broke his own rules in doing so because he just couldn't watch you die twice. He still can't bear watching it replay in his mind every time he falls asleep, that first time when he truly wished he had just died alongside both of you to spare himself the pain. To spare himself from hearing your screams and your daughter's terrified sobs as his world disappeared from within his very arms.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he wonders if there was a Miguel in your own dimension. If you loved him or were destined to love him, but you never got the chance to live out your life together. Maybe he was just a normal guy. Not a hero, not a spiderman, not anyone. Just some average joe with a crush on someone he never imagined he could actually settle down and have a family with. Maybe there was–and maybe nothing ever happened because he just simply can't have anything good last in his life.

That's why, despite how heavy that ring feels on his left hand, and how much his heart aches at knowing that you're right there, Miguel goes to bed every night alone. In the beginning he rebuffed you, shut down any ounce of flirtation, didn't even take it when you made lighthearted jokes or someone else did in your place. He can't go through those losses again, but more importantly he can't put you through those losses again. That dimension was one thing, but what he's built here can't be replaced or broken down. He's mapped out the avenues and deduced that if he pursues you, he loses. So instead of allowing himself those simple pleasures of being close to you, he pushed you away so frequently he could tell it was starting to wear on you. You wondered if you even belonged in the society, your delicate self with nothing but a wristband that still didn't always keep you from glitching on occasion.

But that all changed just a few months ago. It's still burned into his brain, that first time–his muscles still itching for the feeling to meet them again. The feeling of you.

It hadn't hit him until then just how long it'd been since he'd taken care of those needs. He'd spent so many long nights with the company of no one, or the satisfaction of nothing but his hand, that the promise of being with a woman again both frightened and exhilarated him. But it wasn't just any woman, because he's well worn out that mat, it was you. You who might not have remembered him, but you remembered the way you two always made love because it came to you so naturally. You pleased him like it was a second skin, did it without even trying and when you did try it was nothing short of heavenly. You were and are godlike in every which way, your body so soft he worries he'll cut you on his own hard, jagged frame, yet so pliable it's second nature to press your knees back to your shoulders and pipe you like you're a pretty little milking cow and he's a raging bull in heat. There's been times he genuinely couldn't help himself and just gave in to his desires to breed you, his cock straining for your deepest, most vulnerable spots that you gladly gave up the moment he begged to knock you up. Yes, begged–he was at your mercy even in his rawest moments, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if the conversations afterward were awkward and filled with cheap laughter as you both sobered up from your lustful haze.

God, you felt so good. Every occasion is better than the last–every chance to feel you pressed against his skin is nothing short of a blessing.

"Mr. Miguel?"

His hand twitches at the interruption of his thoughts, his cup tipping off the desk but stopping with a quick shot of his webs–luckily for him his instincts are still rather crisp, or else he'd be making a mockery of himself in front of the very object of his desires and spilling water all over his floating monitors.

"Mh? Yes?" He turns his head, and there you are in all your radiant glory. Pen tucked behind your ear, outfit of the day clean and prim, eyes sparkling as they always do even when you look at him with concern. How precious. It's just a cup.

"O-Oh, sorry! Nice catch," You add rather hastily before holding out a stack of files, each one labeled and organized by name just as he asked you to do since you started. "Here's the paperwork for the newbies. Do you want it anywhere specific, Mr. Miguel?"

"Set it on the counter there, I'll have Parker look it over. Might busy him and May for awhile." He grumbles that last part under his breath, finally turning around completely from his screens and rolling out his shoulders from hunching so much over them. Fully facing you now is a problem…it's always a problem with how tight this suit can be.

"Oh, you love her, don't even lie." Lie. Lie. Lie. For god's sakes, just lie.

"I tolerate her presence in my workspace."

"Isn't she just adorable, though? She gives me baby fever like mad–don't you feel it too?" One look at you, one shared glance is all it takes in that moment for him to crack.

"...Maybe. Just…a little bit, though." And you just grin. That big, dumb, pretty grin that has him turning away from you in a hurried bid to hide the restlessness stirring beneath his spandex.

That first time was barely memorable in clarity not because of your performance or his, but because you were both drunk out of your minds after Peter's birthday party and couldn't peel yourselves off of each other when he took you back home. You'd gotten on top of him, he'd tugged your dress off, you kissed and the rest was history–rough, drooling, heart-pounding history as you rode his lap and whispered things into his ear that to this day he wishes he had recorded. No precautions, no inhibitions, no worries about your lives as they would go on, just the two of you getting yourselves off and spilling out some foul compliments on the way there. How he loves the way your eyes roll back when you cum and how good his tongue feels inside you, how you want him to finish inside you, please Miguel-

"Don't forget to eat, Miguel. You're still human, you know–not just a worker bot." A pat on his shoulder, a whiff of your perfume, and you're gone again. A wisp of memory that mingles with the heated sweat trickling down his neck as he remembers what you looked like on your knees.

In reality, it's been more than that one time, more than twice or even three times. For a couple months now he's found comfort in you after hours, had his needs taken care of completely by the person that so embodies who he was in love with not so long ago. It's taken him awhile to accept it but he knows for sure that you are that person–you and her are one in the same, the only difference being that you haven't yet fallen for him and started your family together. Well, maybe you have, for all he knows. He can't get his hopes up….not quite yet, at least.

Could you be pregnant already? The idea passes over his head and the mere thought of it pools a heat into his lower stomach that he's quick to drown with a sip of water. It's possible, that's true, but…well, you've certainly forgone protection together a couple times after that first encounter. You could be. But if you are, he's got a whole world of problems coming his way. But it would make him so happy. So would Parker, he'd have a friend for Mayday to play with–but he has to shake it from his mind with total urgency, because that's not his purpose and it's not what he should be focusing on at all. You're a coworker and a fling. Nothing more. A piece of meat to sink his teeth into when he feels the urge, a bloodbag to drink from when you so graciously allow him to, an assistant to shut up and do the work he demands of you without question.

He's trying so hard to convince himself of that that he can barely keep his eyes on the screens. Because the moments where he feels you twitch around him and when he sinks his fangs into your throat during the heat of the moment don't nearly affect him as much as those other moments; the softer ones, the ones where he brushes some hair from your face and you laugh at his cheesy attempt at a joke, when you fall asleep in his arms and he cradles you close like he did when you were married, when he lays awake and ponders not taking you back to your room but keeping you under his arm all night. Warm. Safe. Here. Not just in his memories, but in real life.

Maybe if you did fall in love, and if you did get married, and if you had his child, he'd even get to see his precious Gabriella again. His life. His love. His fingers flicker towards the secure files on his hard drive without him even noticing, and in moments he has those videos up and playing like he hasn't watched them a thousand times over. Those darling smiles and that precious laughter…he would just die to hear it again in real life and not through his speakers, and who's to say it wouldn't happen? If he'd allow himself a moment to indulge, how could he be sure that you wouldn't have Gabi in your lives again if you tried for her? Would you even object if he told you the truth and showed you these videos as proof? You have such a kind heart, he'd struggle to believe you wouldn't offer to give him his dream if you knew it even existed.

But a better question is; is the fate of the spiderverse worth it? Would his act of subverting destiny again ruin even more lives than the ones in his own dimension? Is it worth…..no, it's not worth the risk.

With a sigh, Miguel closes the videos and, for the umpteenth time, hovers his fingers uselessly over the delete key. Those memories of you and her are all he has to cling to, but as always, he's reminded of the cost of dwelling too far on times he'll never get to relive. Gabi's gone, you are gone, and no matter how often he entertains it in his mind he'll never have the life he wants back. Ever. It's just not possible, and it's not fair to expect the sacrifices of every other hero in these dimensions while avoiding his own. He has to be a pillar of strength, even though it feels like he'll always be worthless as his hand lowers and he moves the files back into his storage. Gabi's voice crying out "Gotcha, papi!" on that last video as she smushes her dessert into his face, his gaze halting as he watches his past self and his daughter laughing while you hold the camera. You're so beautiful you transcend your own image; your mere presence is absolute beauty and the thought of you is as pure as the joy in those videos.

"She's adorable, too."

In a split-second, Miguel's head whips over his shoulder and he locks eyes with the one person who he swore he could never let see these videos–you. You, who clearly didn't leave when he thought you had, and had casually wandered up behind him completely unnoticed as he got wrapped up in the past. Like a man possessed, he throws his hand out to slam the pause command on the hologram and stop you from witnessing any more, because if you realize that it's you that's also in this scene, then…well, he has no idea what to do, then.

"Y-You weren't supposed to��puta madre–I thought you left, what're you doing sneaking around?" A twinge of guilt hits him at the rejection that dims your eyes, but you lighten up almost as fast and skirt around him to peer closer at the video, still paused on himself and his daughter propped up on his shoulders.

"Nothing. Is this your daughter?" You ask it so casually he almost falls victim to offense rising inside him, up until he reminds himself that the you he's talking to isn't Gabriella's mother. You have no recollection of her, and it…it's very difficult not to want to talk your ear off about her like she's still here, and he's still her papi.

"I…yes, this is–was–my daughter-"

"Gabriella?" Your eyes flick up towards the file name, something unusually placid about your gaze.

"Yes…Gabriella. Gabi."

The silence beckons him into anger, to turn to rage in the absence of a proper answer to this predicament. But instead of raising his voice and shouting you away, he waits and watches you watching the hologram because it isn't moving, but there's something there. Dare he consider that the depth of your gaze is because there's some flicker of recognition in your eyes? This video is, after all, from your perspective, so would it be so far-fetched to think that maybe you might be seeing yourself in that little girl that shares your smile?

"...Y'know, I miss people from my world, too." You finally turn your head to look up at him, your head full of clouds like always. "It's not all bad to reminisce, Miguel."

I know that. That's what he wants to say, how he wants to react; with a bitter amount of snark that would turn a lesser companion away. But for now, for once, he just shuts his mouth and turns his eyes away. He can't bear to meet your gaze no matter how much he wants to bask in it.

"Are you busy tonight?"

"I…I don't think I have plans." Those words choke themselves out of him by force but they don't turn you off. The heat on your skin, the furrow of your brow…somehow you're only dialed all the way up.

"Mmh. Sounds good. Let's hang out, yeah? I'll help you loosen up." You pat his shoulder with more impact this time, you actually mean it this time as you step down to take your leave. But you're not gone yet, you still linger for him to wish you were and weren't all at the same time. When you look at him, as conflicted as he feels, all he sees are stars in your eyes. "....Gabriella, right? It's a really cute name. I like it."

Maybe you know. You giggle just as sweetly as the you in that tape–maybe if you don't know, it's just as good. Regardless of who he was and who you were before all this, despite everything, he still has you. That's more than he could ask for in any world, and in any lifetime.

[stuffeddeer]

ddeeeEEER 😭 you have me clutching my chest dying from ur fluff good LORD

i'll be the first to ask for the rest of what you wrote post that shit NOW this is a threat/j

ouggggh ur dazai makes me want to squash him and blend him up and smash him into bits

butt anywho happy thanksgiving!!

-🩵

uefiuhseufh THANK YOU 🩵ANON!!!! i wrote these literally seconds after "pt1" but didn't wanna clog ppls feeds w thousands of kissing hcs um oops

PT1

(not necessary to read, just more silly ideas)

15!Dazai who, whether it's you who leans in first or him, gets so overwhelmed. The rush of emotions and warmth he's never been shown causes him to panic, which makes him push you away! (Quite harshly at that..) He doesn't mean to but omg Dazai is just SO not used to affection and comfort that the warm fluttery feeling in his chest makes him sick to his stomach. Processing these feelings makes him feel flustered and sheepish and AHH!!!!! It's too much!!! He'd avoid you so horribly after he's so stupid, ducking into other hallways or using his hands to physically cover his face (very obvious to poor you!!) all so he didn't have to acknowledge the fact that you made him feel different. It'd probably take Chuuya yelling at him for his stupidity for him to realize he really really likes you! And that feeling is actually good!!!

PM!Dazai who's cocky and knows exactly what he wants; He's the demon prodigy for a reason. This Dazai is an asshole who kisses you without warning - no "I'm interested in you" or slow lean in or anything - just cuts you off with a long kiss that takes your breath away before he moves back. He'll tease you for being "so in love with him, as many are," before waving his hand dismissively and leaving. Dazai is a total jerk so when you ask if this means he likes you, he denies it: just saying that he knew you liked him and thought he'd be generous and give you your first and last kiss with him. Dazai flaunts a pretty smile and leans suspiciously close as he says this before immediately leaving under the guise of some meeting he's definitely lying about. He'd start doing things to draw your attention to his lips after this just to mess with you - putting on chapstick and the like. PM!Dazai would love to see you get frustrated and annoyed with his antics but not do anything, knowing it'd only make it worse. grrr biting scratching clawing i need him gone

ADA!Dazai who's anxious. He's so totally in love with you and is overwhelmed by it all! His eyes sting and his throat turns dry, a sign that he feels like crying, but he just stands there at the sight of you. You 'd be the one to initiate it first, an anxious look on your face as you pull back to a ghostly white Dazai standing frigid. The thought of oh fuck, did I overstep? leads to you apologize profusely. Once he finally gets his breath back (you feeling downright horrible with every moment he's silent), Dazai practically hangs off of you, pathetically gripping onto your arm with both of his and holding you close. You ask if this means he likes you back but he still can't speak, just burying his head into the crook of your neck. Give him time, he's still working through everything!!!! It's been a long time since he has actually liked someone, especially so deeply, so it's hard for him to come to terms with it :( He just wants to be near you but he can't find the words to express that just yet. Being vulnerable is so scary!

Beast!Dazai who gets horrifically drunk. How else could he manage all of the things he has to go through? Just knowing he could never confide in Oda like he once has leads him to throwing back drink after drink... Until he ends up on your doorstep. He'd wanted to keep you at arms length, to stop you from following him down the dark road he was paving, but with a few too many drinks in him he found he didn't care. You let him in right away, more than happy to pour him a glass of water and let him crash on your couch for the night. Before you could even turn towards your kitchen, he pulled you in for a passionate kiss, full of love and need and every feeling he has felt for you across lifetimes. The kiss would last a minute or so before Dazai would pull away, hugging you tightly and making you promise him that you'd never leave him, even if he makes horrible decisions and drives everyone else away — you are his, remember? In every life.

[randomfoggytiger]

So, ehat was your take of the podcast of these two old friends? I thought it was lovely and different than his other podcasts. She gets him to relax.

Now, what about the recreation of the picture they said they would do?:) I think they might have talked about the picture but not when the photoshoot would happen. Xmas is around the corner. Come on guys, give the Fandom a merry David-Gillian gift of all time! It's been a dry spell without your loving craziness. Hike up those stockings on your little legs, G, and hop onto those DD shoulders.

It'd be funny if they did, wouldn't it? It'd also be funny if they recreated it in a way that wouldn't hurt either of their backs, shoulders, or knees, too. XDDD

I had an excellent time with the podcast! It confirmed every single one of my suspicions, theories, and guestimations of their friendship: their personalities, their focuses, their dynamic then, their dynamic now, etc. It was refreshing. It was, for lack of a better word, simple: the facts were the facts were the facts, and there wasn't anything big or grand to be made of their interactions, past or present.

I liked hearing them talk over each other. I liked that both admitted to already butting heads in Season 1. I liked that both admitted they'd never thought to trade childhood stories, or cross their personal lives over.

Most of all, I loved their candor: David admitting he felt dumped in the Revival, and that Gillian didn't know and felt sorry in retrospect. That Gillian didn't feel dumped during the first run. That Gillian thought the Revival's story line reduced her character, especially the ending. That David felt trapped and villainized over the pay gap issue; and only later learned his pay wasn't due to his merit so much as internal favoritism. That Gillian now understands and feels for his pain. That David still feels the sting of Vancouver hating him and being forced out of rehab anonymity, and all the pain he gathered from both incidences. That Gillian admitted she doesn't process shame, just stays too busy to have to face it. That David felt comfortable to say that was unhealthy, and that she felt comfortable enough to hum in agreement. That both know their children have to fail, because they would fail their own children if they stopped those failures. That David tried to drill into his son that he's a miserable person and nothing is as it seems; but that that perspective hadn't worked. That Gillian feels motherhood is the most fulfilling thing for her, yet chooses her work over and over (again, staying too busy to feel shame.) That DD knew as early as Season 1 that Chris intended for Mulder and Scully to be an end goal-- asking CC if he wanted to send GA and himself to couples' counseling as their characters. That GA forgot and laughed over the memory. That Gillian arrived late after he offered her a ride on his private aircraft; then wrote him a beautiful letter, on the plane, instead of saying those words in person. That he marveled she hadn't gone insane from the pressure. That she no longer feels the need to run from Scully's legacy. That both admitted that communication, though important, was non-existent during that time in their lives.

There are so many good bits. But I have two takeaways:

They have the same frenetic drive, the same "crazy" as David calls it; but I can see why it drove a wedge between them (and could, now): they wouldn't be able to tolerate that same freneticism in each other in large doses. (Hence, why they didn't speak for weeks while on set, and were already exchanging "blows" in Season 1.)

Most importantly, they were two old friends who purposefully dug in and rediscovered new things about each other. The camaraderie was different: settled, more "in-character" to how I think they talk when David doesn't feel like he has to perform (though there was a bit of that) and Gillian doesn't feel uneasy, or anxious, or "watched."

In short: they felt wholly the same, but in a new way. :DDDDD

[oliversrarebooks]

fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace part 2: you can't be fucking serious

Masterlist > Next

TW: abuse, injuries, concussion, sedation, medical whump

Morgan awoke slowly, the sting of antiseptic in his nose. The only thing he could hear past the painful ringing in his ears was the soft beep of medical equipment. His body ached, especially his knee and upper back, and his head was pounding. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He knew exactly where he must be -- in the medbay at his boss's lair -- and the longer they thought he was unconscious, the longer he could relax and heal before the punishments began.

His memories were vague. Lights overhead. Voices. The beeping of medical equipment. A rubber mask on his face.

He lay there, drifting in and out. The pain felt so fuzzy and indistinct. Painkillers? That was new. Salcedo never gave him painkillers. He loved to watch Morgan suffer way too much for that. You wouldn't make it far among the crime lords of the city if you didn't enjoy your work, after all. 

Maybe there was some trick to the fact that he was being allowed this pleasant buzz. Let him relax and let his guard down so it'd hurt more later. He could figure that out when his head felt better.

"...awake..."

Fuck. It was starting. Morgan tried not to react.

"Morgan, are you awake? We just need you to respond to make sure you've woken up from the anesthetics, and then you can go back to sleep, promise."

Morgan couldn't help his face twitching as he recognized that absolutely infuriating voice. Arthur. His blasted nemesis.

Oh, that's right, he had been captured. Lucky fucking him. He got to be completely at the mercy of the hero he'd been tormenting for years. And at the end of it, he might get the wonderful experience of his boss busting him out of captivity only to punish him for his failures.

"Morgan, please, wake up."

Begrudgingly, Morgan opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. Even the dim light of the room was like an icepick to the brain. He looked over to see the smug fucking face of Arthur, and that was even worse.

"I'm awake. What do you want?" he said, his voice weak and slurred. He was definitely drugged, he could tell, because he could barely even muster up the strength to be scared of what was going to happen to him.

"Good. That's very good," said Arthur. He sounded kind. No, he sounded like he pitied Morgan. Oh, fuck that. "You gave us all quite a scare. It was a little touch-and-go for a bit there, but the surgery went well, and you should make a full recovery, as long as you get lots of rest."

Morgan swallowed hard, trying to comprehend this. He'd been given surgery? What the fuck had they done to him? He was in pain all over, but he certainly didn't feel like he'd been turned into a mantis-man hybrid or anything like that. Or been lobotomized.

...Had they seriously just patched him up? After everything he'd done? If there was anyone naive and soft-hearted enough to do that, it was his fucking nemesis.

"How are you feeling?" said Arthur, his voice too gentle.

"Like your whole team shoved me into a woodchipper and danced on the mulch."

"Yes... Julie went a little too hard with the energy blasts. She's still learning how to control it," said Arthur. "But you know, you were..."

"None of this would've happened if I weren't trying to install a zombification device inside city hall? Yeah, got it, lesson learned, next time I install it in your stupid fucking hero lair."

Arthur scowled. "Was the plan your idea or your boss's?"

"As though my boss could build something like that. Did you even notice the craftsmanship, or were you too busy punching it apart?"

Arthur sat back in his chair, looking as if something was on his mind.

The room was filled with medical equipment, the kind Morgan could control with his technomancy. He reached out slowly, feeling like he was fighting through a wall of cotton, and got no response. The familiar, tell-tale feel of power suppressors. They were probably in the restraints. 

"You know, Morgan," Arthur said after a long moment, "when we had you under for surgery, our medic, Laurel, performed an examination."

Morgan turned away. He could tell where this was going.

"There were a lot of injuries there. Injuries that didn't seem like ones you got while fighting us."

"Training."

"It looked like you'd been kicked in the ribs repeatedly without proper healing," Arthur said. "And there were marks that looked like they'd been left by a taser, and a lot of electrical burns."

"Heavy training."

"That's not training, Morgan!" Arthur actually sounded angry, now, and it took all of Morgan's willpower not to flinch away. "I'm not even discussing the massive amount of nasty bruises or that infected cut on your shoulder. Those could've been sustained while fighting heroes. But not all of that. And even if they were, everything looked like it had healed wrong or been left to scar. There's no way that's normal. I know your usual activities. I see the reports of all of your fights. No hero did those things to you. Certainly not my team."

Ugh. What was the point of all this? To humiliate him? Now his nemesis probably knew all about his poor condition, his chronic pain and his trick elbow and the scars littering his back. And it wasn't like it was going to get any better when his boss got him back. Fucking wonderful.

But Arthur didn't sound humiliating or mocking. He sounded concerned, which was almost even worse. "Morgan, did your boss do those things to you?"

Morgan rolled his eyes and turned away. Or he would've turned away if he weren't so heavily restrained he couldn't roll over.

"Morgan, I'm serious. Did your boss --"

"No, of course not," said Morgan, packing his voice with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "You know how Salcedo is. Every time you defeat me, he gives me a nice pat on the head and a participation trophy, and he tells me that it's okay I failed, because I tried and had fun."

Arthur sighed. "He's abusing you."

"He's giving me my quarterly performance reviews. You're abusing my patience."

"While you were sedated, you kept fighting us off, saying you weren't allowed to sleep. Does he prevent you from sleeping?"

Fucking drugs. Morgan barely remembered what had happened, much less what he'd said. He remembered hitting the wall, pain, pain, pain, and then the most beautiful and relaxing feeling in the world, and finally oblivion. 

"...It's been obvious to me for a long time that your health is deteriorating."

"Shut the fuck up," said Morgan, his sarcasm dissolving with his frustration. "You don't understand a goddamn thing about my life, so don't pretend like you do."

"I understand that you're being abused!"

"I'm being trained to fight your team," said Morgan through gritted teeth. "Rich of you to go on about being abused when it was Julie who gave me a sixty mile per hour impact with a concrete fucking wall."

"That was an accident and you know it. And there's a huge difference between thwarting your plans and casually abusing you."

Morgan looked down at his hands. Like he hadn't noticed how the hero team always pulled their punches to avoid injuring him too much, even when he was scheming something really nasty. Like he wasn't so much more afraid of his boss than his nemesis. Like he really needed his nemesis's smug pity.

Why couldn't Arthur just fucking take revenge or whatever? It wouldn't even be that bad while he was hopped up on drugs. Hell, Arthur was probably too soft a heart to pull half the shit Salcedo liked to, even though he had far more reason. Just get it the fuck over with.

"Could you spare me your fucking after school special bullshit and just tell me what you're going to do with me?" With any luck, they would throw him in ordinary jail and not that awful psychiatric hospital. Either way, it wouldn't stop his boss from finding him and pulling him out again whenever he decided Morgan was needed. Or needed to be punished.

"Well, we can't let you go free, obviously," said Arthur. "But if we put you in jail, you're just going to get captured by Salcedo again."

Oh, Morgan hated the way he phrased that. Captured. Like he was a civilian being taken hostage and not Salcedo's right hand man and a terrifying villain in his own right.

Arthur was leaning in closer. "You don't have to work for Salcedo, you know."

Morgan's eyes went wide with shock as he realized the turn this conversation was taking. He laughed sharply, a little maniacally. "Are you serious? Are you fucking serious, Arthur?" he said. "Did you also hit your head on a wall? Did you forget who you're talking to?"

"I think I know you quite well by now, yes."

"And you're seriously trying to get me to go straight? Join your merry little band of idiot heroes?"

"...it would take a lot of work, and a lot of trust, but yes, eventually. It's something I've thought about on more than one occasion," said Nemesis, who, against all odds, seemed to be completely serious. "Look, let's cut the bullshit. Salcedo is abusing you. Don't even try to deny it, because I've seen more than enough evidence. He's beating you, burning you, god knows what else. He's working you to the bone on ridiculous plans that will never work, and makes you the fall guy for them while he escapes unscathed."

Every word of that was true, and hearing it from Arthur made him want to punch him in the face.

"You're a smart guy. Ridiculously smart. And despite what you claim, you have ethical standards. Remember the time the two of us teamed up to get those kids out of the burning school?"

"They were kindergartners, c'mon --"

"You have ethical standards, no matter how shaky they can be. And you have courage and talent," said Arthur. 

"You think I can be won over with cheap flattery, seriously, Arthur?"

"How about cheap flattery and a cool costume?" he said. "But seriously consider what I'm telling you. You're a smart guy. We pay well, maybe not as well as Salcedo, but enough, and you'd get overtime when you have to work late. We have health insurance. Most importantly, nobody is going to beat you to within an inch of your life if you screw up."

"Oh, yeah, sure thing, I'll just do that," said Morgan. "And I'm sure that, after everything I've done to you, you're all just going to protect me when Salcedo shows up to get me back."

"Yes. I will. I absolutely will," he said. "...Because he's going to kill you. We both know that. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday. And you don't deserve that."

Fuck. He sounded so serious. He was using his superhero voice. The one he used to tell terrified hostages that he was going to save them and that nobody was getting hurt. The one that was usually directed at the civilians Morgan was menacing.

 "I don't expect you to make this decision overnight," said Arthur, standing up. "You've got a lot of healing to do. A lot of time to think over where your life is headed."

"And you're just gonna let me heal?" said Morgan skeptically. "You've got me totally at your mercy in what I assume is your underground secret lair, and you're just going to let me lay here and heal up my injuries?"

"Yes. I mean it. I know you don't believe me, but it's true. As long as you don't try to cause harm to any of us, no harm will come to you while you're here. I swear it." Arthur turned as he was about to walk out the door. "All I'm asking is that you think about what I said to you. We'll talk again. The nurse is here to see you."

And he was gone, and Morgan felt utterly exhausted.

An older woman wearing scrubs with pride-flag-colored fish on them entered the room. She looked tired and a little scared. "Well, uh, Arthur tells me you're awake and lucid, Mr.... uh... Mr. Morgan," she said. "That's good. You were in pretty bad shape."

"Hmph."

"Can I look in your eyes with this penlight, please? You had a really nasty concussion, so you're probably going to be very tired and disoriented for a while as you recover."

Great. It was super great to be concussed and useless in the hero's lair. Still, he submitted to Laurel's eye exam without a fuss. It was one thing to sass his nemesis -- putting up a fuss for the medic was pointless when she was just trying to do her job.

"The only thing you can really do right now is get some rest," she said. "I can give you some painkillers, and some sedation if you think you'll have trouble sleeping. Would that be okay?"

Morgan let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sure, yeah, I really want to be drugged up and helpless in the hero's lair."

"Well, you're not going anywhere," she pointed out. "You'll heal a lot faster if you get some rest."

Morgan scowled. He couldn't afford to be lounging on a bed in a drugged haze. He had to work on finding a way to escape, preferably with some valuable information or a hostage, in the hopes he could catch Salcedo in a good mood. 

But no matter how he looked at it, he was already exhausted, concussed, power-repressed, and in restraints. He wasn't successfully escaping a team of heroes in this condition, sedated or not. And if they wanted him at their mercy, they could come knock him out whenever they felt like it. 

So what difference would it make if he were drugged again? God knows his life was going to fucking suck enough once Salcedo came to drag him back. Might as well feel artificially good for a few hours.

"Yeah, I'll take it. Give me the good shit," said Morgan. 

"Right away," she said with a laugh. She pulled a few bottles of clear liquid from her pocket, and, consulting a chart attached to his bed, began to measure out doses. "You know, it's really interesting to finally get to meet you, Mr. Morgan."

"Scared?" he said, attempting his most menacing grin.

"...well, I haven't forgotten the things you've done," she said, which really wasn't what you wanted to hear when someone was preparing a syringe for you. "But the team thinks you deserve a chance, and it's a medical professional's responsibility to provide care for anyone, no matter their past. So I'll treat you like I would any innocent person. You have my word." The look in her eyes was distant. "You're not so frightening now, anyway."

Morgan tried to push down his unease. "Fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace."

"Of course you are," she said, injecting the drugs into Morgan's IV line. "This should kick in in a few minutes. It's going to make you very drowsy. I suggest actually getting some sleep and not fighting it. We'll be monitoring you, but if you have any complications, hit this button."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Morgan, smarting from the fact that he couldn't even intimidate the medic. He was at her mercy. He didn't like being at anyone else's mercy. He knew how he treated people he had at his mercy. How his boss treated people.

He hated being on the receiving end, when he was normally such a fearsome and threatening...

Fearsome and threatening...

Ohhh.

Whatever Laurel had injected hit him like a truck, because suddenly he was feeling real fucking good. It was like all of his anxiety melted away, his tight muscles loosening, the pounding in his head finally lightening up. He felt like he were being wrapped up into a wool blanket and carried off on a soft cloud to slumberland. 

Any thoughts of trying to scheme his way out of the hero's stronghold evaporated from his mind. He didn't even bother fighting as his eyelids grew heavy and threatened to close. He was so tired and felt so good. Sleep would feel amazing.

You're a smart guy. Just think about it. Arthur's words echoed in his mind as he began to drift.

Fuck you, Arthur. Like it was all so fucking simple.

Arthur probably knew him better than just about anyone. He must know that it would never work. Why even bother?

Morgan couldn't help but picture himself laughing and joking with Toshiro and Satomi and Julie, dressed in one of their ridiculous bright uniforms, working on gadgetry to help people instead of constantly getting his beautiful machines smashed to bits. 

Ridiculous. The fact that he was even thinking about it was the drugs talking. And now, the drugs were whispering to him that he should really just get some sleep. When would he ever get to sleep this well? Certainly not when his boss came to pick him up.

Part 1 >> Masterlist > Next

@cardboardarsonist @zeiniszein @crystallizedme @mistythedritten @pigeonwhumps @whumpshaped @sparrowsage

[necrotic-nephilim]

ok but bc of tim's stalking he's the only one who knows that robin is what dick's mother called him and him taking (very badly) dick making damian robin to mean that he doesn't want tim to be part of his family anymore

OH OH THIS IS SO DELIGHTFULLY ANGSTY.

bc you're so right now that i think about it, i don't think Dick has ever explicitly told any of the other Robins *why* he's Robin? the metatextual explanation for the name Robin was an homage to Robin Hood so i could see them all assuming that and Dick just never correcting it. bc he has so little of his parents so he's vulnerable about having to share any of it. he wants to hold onto what he has so no one can take it, yk.

but bc Tim is Tim and he's Dick Grayson's #1 Fanboy, he would know. like at some point he finds old footage of Mary calling Dick that name or something similar. and he never tells Dick he knows, bc it's personal and Tim wants to respect that. but Tim always holds onto it and it makes Dick giving him Robin all the more *special*. bc not only is Dick trusting Tim with this heroic mantle, but he's trusting Tim with a family title. Dick didn't give Robin to Jason, but he gave it to Tim. and Tim knows he has to do right by it bc this is a family title. it's calling Tim family.

and the delightful miscommunication of the passing of the Robin mantle always gets me. bc Dick hag legitimate reasons that made sense! but he did a poor job of communicating them to a grief-stricken Tim and an even poorer job of handling the transition between Tim and Damian. and maybe that's something he got from Bruce, since Bruce did it to him first, but to Tim, that's more a reason why he would've never expected Dick to do it to him. bc Dick knows firsthand how bad that *hurts*. and since this is a family name, the rejection stings deeper.

i love it being so unspoken that Dick can never correct this assumption Tim has made. and it drives Tim even further away from Dick. that's just so good. i think it'd make them making up later on even more difficult. bc to Tim, they're not family anymore. Dick made that clear and now Tim is trying his best to move on. maybe even when Bruce comes back, Tim is still distant.

the kind thing to do would be to have them talk and slowly make up as the miscommunication gets talked out, but i'm a sucker for hurt/no comfort so i like it if they never talk it out. or worse they try to, and Dick feels like his privacy is wildly violated by Tim knowing that fact in the first place and it causes an argument that just drives them further apart. they end up so deeply shattered. i just love DickTim angst so dearly. i think they should love each other so much but always be bad at talking to each other and it leads to them just always fucking up. i adore this thought dearly.

[tsukimefuku]

Tie me up

After failing to make a romantic dinner, you're very upset. Hiromi volunteers to “help you out” with that frustration.

WC: 3.5K

Tags: +18 SMUT, Jujutsu Kaisen, Higuruma Hiromi x OC/f!Reader, little to no plot (finally), filth, fluff, movement restriction kink, f!top x m!bottom dynamic, she's a tease, he bottoms so well it hurts, consent and talking is sexy (do not change my mind). NEVER tie anyone right over their joints.

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma long fic I might write. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots and short stories, please visit my masterlist :) 

Disclaimer these stories are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

Tag list: @g-kleran @redlikerozez @otomesass 

"So, I believe we kinda suck at this." You said, defeated, staring at the pan. It had what was supposed to be your and Hiromi's dinner, completely charred, and smelling dangerously close to setting off the fire alarm. Earlier, Hiromi had tried cooking a small piece of meat with some rice, only to end up with a coal barely resembling food and mushy white paste.

"I think we should order some take out." He answered, sitting with his jaw on his hand, elbow on the counter top of his kitchen, while looking at you. "How about pizza?"

You nodded at him, then locked your eyes on the ruined food, grunting, displeased. "I hate doing things I'm not already good at. I don't know why I thought this was a good idea, this is no fun at all." Your arms were crossed in front of your chest, and your lip formed a pout. 

The plan you both had for a stay-in cooking date went out the window. Hiromi told you he couldn't cook for his life, and you weren't the best cook in the world either, but still wanted to give it a try, believing it'd be a fun experience. Up until this point, it didn't quite feel like it. He noticed you were upset, and got up, walking towards you. He had his home clothes on, comfortably dressed with a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants that hung loosely around his hips.

Hiromi stopped right behind your body and embraced you, pressing himself against you. Then, he began planting some kisses on the side of your neck.

"Hey, come on. The night is not ruined. The way I managed to get spices all over the kitchen was kind of funny. It still stings, though." He had tried opening a small packet of mixed spices and ended up tearing the thing apart with his enormous hands, sending a painful powder throughout the air, eliciting a terrible cough from his lungs. After the debacle, Hiromi changed his previously more formal attire to his home clothes and tried washing the burning sensation away from his face, while you did your best to keep down your laughter while aiding him.

This robbed a chuckle from your mouth. "I guess. I was trying not to burst into laughter."

He hummed amused, nosing your neck, sliding his hooked nose up your earlobe, and down again. "I noticed, darling." Hiromi breathed warmly against your skin, a smile on his voice as he spoke.

You sighed. "I'm still a little angry at how things went south, though." To the sound of that, Hiromi turned you with his hands on your waist. Now facing you, he got closer, and began brushing his lips to yours, while pinning you against the edge of the kitchen sink. That instantly relaxed you a little, and he pressed a kiss on your mouth, breathing you in. You cupped his face, deepening the kiss, as you both stood there, taking in each other for a minute. As your lips parted, he seemed to have had an idea, and you waited for him to speak.

"Want to let some of that steam off on me?" You blinked, slightly confused. Does he want me to... hit him?

He noticed your puzzled face. "I meant in the bedroom." He chirped, spirited, taking a step back and pulling in you by your waist to lean on him. You could feel his taut muscles under the fabric of the shirt, grazing the tip of your fingers on his abdomen. Just the thought of him half naked from his waist up thrilled you, riling you up and making your heart skip a beat.

"Yes, please." You huffed against his mouth, sliding your hands up to dig your nails to the back of his hair. "Yes." Excitement had officially taken over you.

Hiromi let out a chuckle and began walking towards the room in reverse, pecking at your lips and face, never letting go of the embrace his arms had around your body as he did so, pulling you with him. 

As you both finally made it into the room, you glanced at two ties he had hanging over his desk's chair, and that gave you some... ideas.

You both got to his bed, and you pushed him with one hand on his chest to get him on the mattress. Stepping deftly into the push, he fell on it, supporting himself on his elbows, as you stood before him with mischievous eyes. He took notice of that, and smiled.

"What is on your mind?" He inquired, curious.

You felt suddenly shy, and chuckled a little, diverting your gaze somewhere else before answering. "I think... I'd like to tie you up."

He was definitely surprised, tilting his head to the side, eyes slightly wide. "Like... To the bed?"

You were still looking away, smiling hesitantly. "... Not exactly. Take your shirt off, please."

Still not fully understanding what you meant, he followed your command, and tugged his shirt up his head, revealing his figure. He looked like a slender and statuesque Greek God, and you could perfectly see the definition of his muscles, his flesh. Your mouth instantly began watering at the sight, as you made your way to grab both the ties.

Now, Hiromi was completely at a loss.

You approached him and put one of his ties normally on his neck, letting it fall over his bare chest. He lifted a brow and looked at you, amused. "You keep getting more interesting by the minute."

You chuckled. "I sure hope so. Don't go getting tired of me just yet. Now, slide a little further in the bed and put your hands back."

Hiromi sat up, doing as told, and rested each hand behind him, beginning to understand what you were on about when you said you wanted to tie him up. You went behind Hiromi, folded his forearms over the middle of his back, and circled the open tie close to his wrists and around itself. Then, you gave it a basic knot, tugging at the tie just to be sure it wouldn't slip. After it was all well and secure, you crawled your way back to be in front of him. 

With his shoulders propped back by the tying, he looked at you, smiling, but still a little puzzled. You pushed him delicately, just so Hiromi would be resting against the wall. That was when he stated, "Ok, now I understand what you meant by tying me up. However, I still don't get the point to this," he said, looking down at the tie you had previously put around his neck.

"Oh, that?" You answered, grinning slyly. You approached Hiromi, putting your legs open over his, and grabbed his neck tie, giving it a sharp tug to pull him closer. He instantly blushed, gazing at you like he was ready to become nothing but a puddle under your thumb. "For this. Like a dog collar."

“Oh” was all he mustered up to say, face flustered with a tiny smile forming. 

“Will you do as I say?” After asking, you bit his jawline, having Hiromi trembling and nodding in response.

“Of course. I’ll get rewarded if I do, won’t I?” Hiromi purred, loving being tugged and pushed around by you. You chuckled softly, pressing him back towards his initial position.

Then, cradling on his lap, you pressed your clothed sex softly right under the edge of his sweatpants, as you could feel the pulsing barely covered by fabric. Hiromi let out a soft moan, shuddering with relief from some friction. You began grinding your hip over his, and in response, he involuntarily squirmed underneath your legs, grunts stuck in his throat, bucking his hips up, pleadingly looking at you. You were gasping softly, using his shoulders as support for your hands.

"Behave," you said, smiling at him in between pleasured sighs, using one of your hands to grab his face, nails digging into his cheeks, "or I won't kiss you when I'm touching you."

That elicited a whimper from him, as Hiromi tried earnestly to still his hips and let you lead the dance. "I’m doing my best, I promise" he said, biting his lower lip in a delicious anticipation.

Ah, just the sight of him starting to break apart for you was breathtaking.

"Good boy."

He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, relishing in the sensation this praise washed over his body, no witty comeback this time around.

You got off from him and stood just beside the bed. "Now, open your eyes, or you'll miss the show." You cleared your throat. “I mean, not a show, but you get it.”

He chuckled softly and promptly obeyed, opening his eyes  to gaze at you. First, you began to slowly slide his pants and boxers down, with him swaying his hips side to side in order to make the task easier. As you were finished, you saw his cock splayed over his belly, already leaky and flush-red. Then, looking at him and not breaking eye contact, you began to lift the edge of your shirt, watching as his jaw slightly dropped. Hiromi's eyes glazed over your body, and began following your hands.

You pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside on the ground, revealing a simple black bra. Then, you began sliding your pants down your legs, making it possible to see you had a somewhat matching set of underwear — at least in color. You didn’t have many sets of underwear — it was definitely not a priority for you as a jujutsu sorcerer — and tried to at least have the colors match for this date.

Hiromi couldn't care less, completely hypnotized, thinking how sensual and erotic it was to simply watch you undress in a perfectly ordinary way.

After taking off your clothes, you looked at him, and he seemed like the boy that got exactly what he wanted for Christmas. Delighted, you said, "open your legs", getting back on the bed, still covered by your underwear. Hiromi immediately did as you told him to, and you kneeled right in front of him, in between his limbs.

You put your left hand on his left thigh and began slowly sliding your way towards his groin, making sure you were pressing firmly on his skin as you did. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, opening his mouth in a soundless whimper. As your fingers clasped around it, giving a few soft pumps just to acclimate your touch and check how sensitive he was, he jolted his head down with a groan, looking at you eagerly. He was definitely sensitive with all that foreplay.

You giggled softly, leaning over him, while still striding your hands up and down at a steady pace. He began wriggling under your touch, making every humanly possible effort not to fuck into your hand. Regardless, he failed, and began bucking his hips, desperate for it to be quicker, stronger. You clicked your tongue behind your teeth disapprovingly, and looked at him. "What did I say?"

"I-I'm sorry," Hiromi replied, trying to halt his movements as much as he could.

Abruptly, you got a hold of his tie and pulled him, unceremoniously. "No kissing, then." 

You heard the man grunting in complaint, and smiled lustfully, eyes flickering with delight. Without warning, you removed your hand from his cock, putting your middle and ring finger tips on top of his bottom lip, as you ordered, "open up." 

He did, and you slid both fingers inside his mouth, pressing them against his tongue, as you still had a tight hold on his neck tie, pulling him into a sitting position. "Now, suck on them."

Hiromi whimpered, completely in the undertoe of your commands, and began sucking on your fingers. You let your other hand go off his tie and grabbed his length again, resuming the pumping around his cock with a tight grip. He moaned and whined with lips locked around your fingers, sending vibrations that traveled down your whole body.

You picked up the pace, having him sounding progressively more desperate, before you took your fingers out of his mouth, stopped pumping him and put those same fingers inside your mouth, just to taste his mouth indirectly. His entire body stiffened up, as a frown took hold of his face and he dangled his head back, despairing for relief.

It felt good to finally be in control, doing something you were very good at.

“I’m edging us both today, you won’t regret it. I promise.” You kissed his forehead as he opened his eyes, looking at you. His eyes begged for more.

“Woman, you will be the death of me,” he said, panting lightly, with some sweat starting to form on the surface of his body. 

You laughed, content, and slid yourself back on the mattress, having another joyfully wicked idea. He must’ve seen the sparkle in your eyes, because he instantly said, “how else are you planning to torture me today for us both ruining dinner?”

You covered your mouth, blushing a little at the thought of it. His face was just looking so gorgeous, his lips, his hooked nose, his perfectly messy black locks falling a little over his forehead, his angular jawline. “Can I sit on your face?” You asked. “I mean, I’d like to sit on your f-“

“Please. Sit on my face. Now.” Hiromi said that taken by some kind of unknown urgent desire of smothering himself while tasting you.

You were pleasantly taken aback at such urgency and grinned at him, amused. “ Okay, then. But I’m not coming just yet.” 

You pulled Hiromi gently by his tie to put two pillows right behind his body, just so his upper back and head would be comfortable and not pressing his hands tied to his back as he laid down. 

You got up and stood by the end of the bed, poking fun at an idea you entertained.

“I’m going to manhandle you now,” you warned.

He was confused for a few seconds. “What do you m-“

You gripped his ankles and pulled him, having his whole body slide down the mattress, and landing his head and upper back on the soft pillows. 

You could distinctly see him sighing before he let out a satisfied groan. “I really enjoyed that.”

You laughed and took off your underwear while he waited for you. ��Did you, now?” You asked, slowly climbing on Hiromi, extremely amused at how thrilled he seemed to be with this entire thing.

You put each shin beside him and sat on his chest for a moment, caressing his hair, brushing your nails delicately against his scalp. It felt wonderfully soft. “If you need a moment to breathe, bite my leg, okay?”

Hiromi smiled coyly, as he gazed at you from the bottom, face softly blushed at the sight of your entire body completely bare and exposed to him. He also quivered at the sensation of your wetness smearing over his chest. “Oh, I definitely won’t.”

The way he said that, sounding like a ravenously hungry animal, had you shuddering. You propped yourself forward, putting one hand on the wall directly in front of you for support. Your other hand, however, traveled down his pitch black locks on the top of his head, and entangled in them, giving it a firm tug at the roots. Hiromi moaned, his mouth nearly touching your folds, bottom lip trembling with bated breath.

Adjusting your legs, you began descending on his face, and as soon as you were in range, he projected his mouth forward, latching his lips around your clit. You gasped, and he began lapping at it with the tip of his tongue, now opening his mouth to graze his entire face with you. Hiromi was effectively making out, in the messiest way possible, with your dripping cunt.

You were actively trying not to hump his face, but his relentless licking against your folds was turning it into a nearly impossible task. What broke you, however, was the moment he nuzzled against your clit with his nose, digging his tongue inside your entrance as far as it could go right after. Trembling, you involuntarily began grinding against his face, and Hiromi noticed it, letting out a feral groan that reverberated all throughout your core, sucking desperately at you, intent on making you reach your tipping point before you could escape his mouth.

Your mind was hazy enough for you to almost ignore the moment your body began tightening, getting ready for the snap. But, you had said it — you were edging the both of you tonight. 

Realizing you were about to climb out of his face, Hiromi tried his last desperate attempt, starting to suck intently at your nub as he grazed over with the tip of his tongue. You let out a cry, and projected yourself behind, body convulsing from your near orgasm experience. Hiromi groaned in utter and complete frustration, as if you had interrupted the meal you both hadn't had the chance to eat tonight, yet.

“Smart ass,” you said, sitting on his abdomen while panting, trying to regain the air for your lungs as you felt the need to support yourself with both of your hands on the bed.

“I was top of my class,” he huffed, a smile creeping up the corners of his mouth, “I guess I do come with some brains along with the pretty face.”

You laughed, and reached for the condom, opening it up and quickly sliding it over his cock, having him gasp softly when you finished rolling the rubber over his length, giving it an appreciative squeeze. Both of you were edged enough, and the desperation to fall apart with him inside, filling you up completely, was now an all-consuming fire.

You motioned over and began sitting on him. Then, you grabbed his tie, bottoming out instantly, at the same time you sharply tugged at it to seat him up. As he violently jolted forward, Hiromi let out a loud — emphasis on loud — mix of a groan and a moan, staring at you, glassy eyed and out of breath. He had your wetness completely smeared all over his face, and his debauched looks were rosy tint flustered. 

You just knew you both wouldn’t last long at all.

You began riding him, mewling and moaning as you bucked your hips skillfully, having him sliding lusciously inside you. He motioned his hips too, as best as he could under the restriction he was currently under, desperate for his release tightened by the plush of your walls. 

You drove one of your hands under your body to rub on your clit, and both of your arms accidentally pressed against the sides of your breasts, perking them up. Hiromi was completely enthralled by the view, and began trying to lean himself over. Noticing it, you pulled on the tie to help him reach your breasts, and he took full advantage, immediately sliding his tongue over one of your nipples, pressuring it with a tang.

And it was all just too much. Your verged pleasure, your fingers rubbing your core, his hot and wet mouth over you, all intensely tipping you over the edge as you came with a cry out for his name, desperately. Your entire body jolted and seized on top of him, while you still kept a firm hold on his tie, now completely crumpled and disheveled.

At the ungodly tightening around his cock, along with the tugging, the breathlessness, your taste, your smell, the relentless teasing, Hiromi came with a shout, all of his muscles getting impossibly tense against their restraints. Following suit, the man felt all of his limbs weaken as he pumped sloppily into you, nearly whimpering — from release, desperation or bliss, he did not know.

“We’re so much better at this.” You said, huffing and laughing softly at the same time, pressing a quick kiss on his lips. You could still feel your essence on his mouth, and shivered in response.

“Mm-hmm…” He answered, nodding, trying to regain his strength.

And then, panting into each other, a memory started tickling the backside of your brain.

"Hiromi..." You said, slightly lifting yourself and parting your bodies for a moment, pulling him closer to untie his hands on the back of his body, while his face cradled in the small of your neck. You did, and lightly pressed over his skin, feeling the markings dipped over, massaging them softly.

He was still coming back to Earth after biblically orgasming, wondering if he ever came this hard before in his life. "What, love?" Hiromi asked, still in that subspace of blissful stupor, as he brought both of his hands to hold your waist, sinking his digits on the plush of your skin, pressing soft, breathless kisses on your neck and chest.

"Did we ever order the pizza?"

--

End notes:

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[goshdangronpa]

Where to begin in sharing my thoughts on Class of '09: The Flip Side ...

Well, how about the positives? Everything I've seen is so negative, and trust me, I have thoughts. But I enjoyed quite a lot of it, and I wanna do my part to balance out the discourse. So, here's a list.

Jecka makes for an interesting protagonist compared to Nicole. She's far more emotional - I swear, she breaks down crying in every route, which is genuinely disconcerting. She's also way less savvy. I'm not fond of how overwhelmingly negative these endings are (more on that in another post), but it at least makes sense. Nicole gets the upper hand in several endings from the previous two games because she's usually cunning enough to avoid potential problems, manipulate her way out of them, and/or get people in serious trouble. Jecka may be a bit of a bitch (and I love her for it!), but as she says in one ending, she kinda needs Nicole. Putting her in the protag role isn't just subbing her in for Nicole. Flip Side explores how things would go for someone with slightly more conscience and way less guile.

Jecka's so goddamn gay, oh my god. Wanting to look for a "goth work girlfriend" at Hot Topic. "I can afford holes, Imma buy me some hoes!" Kissing Ari! She says she only did the latter for attention, but girl ... girl. Someday she'll ask someone "Doesn't every girl think about sleeping with their gal pals?" and be shocked when that someone says no. (Tbh when I heard that one route would explore a previous game's route from Jecka's perspective, and when I saw the CG of the jeckari kiss on Tumblr, I created an entire plotline in my head that didn't come to fruition. Pity - it'd at least make for a good fanfic.)

"It's been seven seconds." The scenes based on this bit are some of the funniest in the whole series ("Why don't you magically gather some friends?"). Like something straight out of South Park. If the Co09 anime Kickstarter had reached the stretch goal of a full 25-minute episode, would this have been the script? I've heard people say that Flip Side doesn't feel like Class of '09, or that the dialogue isn't as good in this one, but this part, among others, works for me. "Can anyone do the math?" "... I thought this was health."

I'm a lifelong FYE patron who will drive 40-odd minutes to visit the only remaining store in my entire region. So for me especially, the entire FYE storyline was a ride. It reminded me of American Dad, where every episode turns something mundane into an elaborate conspiracy or wild adventure into its secret underbelly. It's awesome from beginning to ... well, not the end, but it's mostly awesome. And we get to hang out with Kelly! That's neat!

This is apparently my hottest take: the "foot whore" routes are not that bad. For starters, they're not presented in a way that fetishizes Jecka herself. You never see her feet, or see what she does with them. Yall can still find the suggestion of it gross if you want, but comparisons to Quentin Tarantino seem unwarranted! More importantly, the foot services enable the writers to explore topics of sex work while keeping the game light on actual sexual activity. It's rare to see such subject matter broached in a thing like this, yet we get to see how circumstances can pull desperate people into selling their bodies, and how swiftly and easily they can have their boundaries violated and their safety compromised by the customers they depend on. The increasing disruption of normal conversations by the text notifications of Jeffery's donations is a genuinely despairing plot device. Both endings are troubling for different reasons (again, that's for another post), but the game's got something to say in a way that, to me, is fairly mature yet distinctly Class of '09. (Credit to my partner for this observation, I'm so grateful I could play this with them.)

... Uh ... the music sting from the opening monologue bumps ... It sounds more Class of '17 than Class of '09, but it's still cool ...

Okay so I can't think of more, at least not right now. (EDIT: How did I forget the Hatman? That was cute!) Flip Side may be the most flawed game in the series, but it's still pretty good. At the very least, I don't think it's the shitshow other people are making it out to be ... though there is a smell. I'll go deeper on the negatives in other posts.

[torahoes]

(IDOLiSH7) Ryunosuke Tsunashi - Drama Collection 2 Summer Rabbit Chat

Please note that I am not a professional translator. If you come across any mistakes, feel free to let me know and I will make the necessary corrections.

Haruka Isumi: Good work today, this is Haruka Isumi from ŹOOĻ.

Haruka Isumi: Um

Haruka Isumi: About tomorrow’s drama promotion, I don’t have much experience with location shoots so I might cause you some trouble, but I’ll do my best. Looking forward to working with you!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Haruka-kun, good work today! This is Ryunosuke Tsunashi from TRIGGER. Thanks for reaching out!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: It’s a location shoot at a resort, isn't it? I’ve been really looking forward to working with you one-on-one. Let’s do our best to get a lot of people to watch the drama! ✨

Haruka Isumi: Thank you! I’ll do my very besh!

Haruka Isumi: ↑ I'm sorry, that was a typo

Haruka Isumi: I’ll do my bast

Haruka Isumi: Ahhhhhhhhhhh

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: It’s okay! I got what you meant! 😊

Haruka Isumi: Mannnn, I’m really sorry

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Don’t worry about it! It kind of feels like I’m chatting with my little brother, so it's comforting

Haruka Isumi: Oh right, you have a little brother, don't you

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: That's right! I have three younger brothers: one in first year of high school, one in first year of middle school, and one in fifth year of elementary school

Haruka Isumi: All younger than me…

Haruka Isumi: I’m not usually like this, I promise!! I’m usually more well put together

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Of course! You lead your group as the center of ŹOOĻ, and I always find your performances incredibly powerful and cool!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Oh, speaking of which, yesterday Torao-kun told me, "Take care of Haruka" ✨

Haruka Isumi: Huh, for real!?

Haruka Isumi: I mean, really!?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Yeah, after we wrapped up filming for the drama! Maybe he was worried because the location is a bit far from the city 😊

Haruka Isumi: Torao, seriously — that guy's too overprotective, I swear...

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I’m a bit worried about you too, Haruka-kun 💦

Haruka Isumi: Eh, about what!?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Have you been getting sunburned during the shoots? Are you okay? I’m used to it since I grew up on an island, but it can get really bad and painful with the stinging and peeling, so I was concerned.

Haruka Isumi: Ah, I’m perfectly alright! Rokuya-san shared some good tips with me, and I’ve also been using the expensive sunscreen Torao gave me

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: That's a relief! Nagi-kun struggles with the summer heat too, after all 😅 When he showed up for the shoot in an outfit that completely hid his face, I assume for sun protection, I was surprised ☀️

Haruka Isumi: I panicked; I thought I messed up during the shoot…

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: No way! You’re a great actor! That scene where your character evolves and says, “I used to think it'd be nice if the four of us could always be together. But there’s still so much I need to learn,” really struck a chord with me! 👍

Haruka Isumi: T- Thank you! ✨ There were quite a few scenes where I was the only one sulking or crying, and they were a bit complicated, so I'm glad to hear that lol

Haruka Isumi: And Tsunashi-san, you were like the mood-maker, always cheering up your childhood friends

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Until now, I haven't had the chance to play such a lively and high-spirited character, so it’s really refreshing 😳 And since my character's rich, delivering the line, “I’ll take everything from here to here in this store,” got me really excited! Lol

Haruka Isumi: It's definitely one of those things you want to say at least once, right? 😳 lol

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Right! Lol. Filming has been a blast, including the drama-filled chaotic scenes that unfold when we have no choice but to take care of a wealthy acquaintance's son and daughter during vacation 😆

Haruka Isumi: Same here! I came to realize that this is what a lively summer vacation spent with friends must feel like. I’m pretty shy like my character, so I haven’t had many experiences like this

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Oh, I know! If you'd like, how about hanging out together sometime when we're both free? 😆

Haruka Isumi: Eh, is that alright?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Only if you're up for it, Haruka-kun 😆 Since you’re close in age to my brothers too, I’d love to learn about what’s trendy and stuff from you ✨

Haruka Isumi: Rather, if you're okay with me, I'd be happy to...!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Thanks! I'm looking forward to it! 😊👌

Ryunosuke Tsunashi:

Haruka Isumi:

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I'm excited for the drama's completion...! Will you watch it with your family, Haruka-kun?

Haruka Isumi: Yes, I plan to watch it with my grandma. Though it's a bit embarrassing

Haruka Isumi: How about you, Tsunashi-san?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: My brothers saw the commercial for the drama the other day apparently and gave me call

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Since I really took to the child actors, it seems my youngest brother got a bit jealous, so it ended up being an angry phone call 😂💦 Lol

Haruka Isumi: Cute lol. Did you guys make up?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: As I asked him about what happened at school and other things, he started feeling better 🤝

Haruka Isumi: That's good! Being an older brother sounds tough

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Maybe it bothered him more than usual since I haven’t been home much recently 💦 Haruka-kun, what do you want to do in the summer? I'd like to hear it as a reference 🤗

Haruka Isumi: Um, I'm not sure

Haruka Isumi: Maybe have Nagashi Somen...? [1]

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Nagashi Somen!!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: That's great! It's also something you can enjoy with a large group! Thanks for the wonderful suggestion! ✨

Haruka Isumi: I- Is that really good enough...?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: You won't believe this

Haruka Isumi: Yes?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: They've recently launched a raffle in the nearby shopping district, and the third prize is a Nagashi Somen machine!

Haruka Isumi: No way!!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: And to top it off, it's named "Nagashi Somen-kun Hyper Great Ver.!" The name was so impactful that it stuck with me. Lol

Haruka Isumi: Sounds like those noodles are gonna flow super fast!! lmao

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: We have no choice but to win it now, huh?! How about we try our luck at the raffle when we hang out? 😂✨

Haruka Isumi: Absolutely!!! I'll make sure we win 🔥

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: That’s reassuring...! Then, let's have a strategy meeting tomorrow! 🔥

Haruka Isumi:

The End.

----------------

[1] Nagashi Somen: A traditional Japanese summer dish where somen noodles are served flowing down a bamboo flume filled with ice-cold water.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 8 - Band Politics

Summary: Eddie is down in the dumps...and the guys know the best way to cheer him up.

Word Count: 991

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Swearing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Eddie's an asshole but hurt people hurt people so...

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Let the record show that Eddie Munson wasn't an angry man.

Or a violent one.

And he didn't yell very often.

Ok maybe that one was a lie.

Regardless...his bandmates were really testing his fucking patience over the past week, so whatever fate befell them? They fucking deserved it.

It'd been a normal week in the normal month of May where normal things happened.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

And if there was? Well, it wasn't anyone's business but Eddie's.

So it was a good thing nothing happened.

And yeah, because it was such a normal, boring week...he might have been feeling a little bit down.

Leave it to his friends to disturb the peace.

"I think I should have a solo," Dave was the first one to start shit during practice.

"Oh you do, do you?" Eddie questioned the abrupt declaration.

"Gareth and I were talking--"

"Oh you were?"

"--and we think if we added songs that featured bass and drum solos would really make our sound stand out. It can't always be guitar."

He knew Dave had a point; shit, he wanted the band to really showcase all of their abilities but it was the way Dave had done it. Stopping in the middle of a song, while Eddie was working on a solo of his own, to announce his dissatisfaction.

It really made him grind his teeth.

"Alright, take the stage then Cliff Burton," he snapped and whipped his guitar off so he could watch the genius idea unfold. "Put your money where your mouth is."

The next was Jeff.

Jeff of all people; the one person Eddie thought had his back.

"We voted to change the logo for Corroded Coffin," he announced before Eddie even had a chance to sit down at lunch. He passed a stack of notebook paper with different variations scribbled all over them and pointed to a few favorites. "I like this one, but Gareth likes this one. Dave doesn't like any of them. We figured you should get a say."

"Oh," Eddie pressed a hand to his chest. "How considerate of you. I'm only one of the founding members of the band."

"Yeah, you get it," Jeff smiled cheerfully, either missing the sarcasm or ignoring it altogether. "Which one do you like."

"I like the logo we have," Eddie scoffed. "I'm the one that drew it!"

"Yeah well," Jeff shrugged. "There's always room for improvement. You've told us that a million times."

Eddie felt a sting in his chest and at the corners of his eyes. Then he looked down at the stack of paper, at all of the scribbles, and felt the need to tear them all apart.

"Fine! Whatever!" He shouted and pointed vaguely to one of the pages. "Pick whatever you want. That one. Gareth's." He said it, mainly out of spite for Jeff.

And then Gareth went and stabbed him in the fuckin' back too.

Little shit.

Eddie had been juggling his binders on the way to Hellfire, late thanks to some extended double detention that Coach had given him, as if his week hadn't been shit normal as it was. And when he got to the drama classroom? Gareth was talking way too loudly about dumping Eddie and forming a new band with their own sound.

It was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings as Eddie processed what he overheard. Feelings of inadequacy and failure, feelings of overwhelming disappointment.

How much had he tried to pull it together and succeed again only to face another barrage of defeat?

Enough was enough.

"Are you kidding me?" Eddie snapped as he shoved the door open and found his friends sitting around the table looking cool and casual. "A fucking mutiny?! Is that what's been happening?"

Dave looked like he was about to shit himself at Eddie's appearance but Gareth and Jeff definitely looked a little too sure of themselves.

Well that ended right here right now.

"If you guys want out of the band, then you're out." He dropped his things on the table and then held the door of the classroom wider, bowing and gesturing for them to go. "All week, all week I've had to deal with all of these bullshit, revolutionary ideas of yours and if it wasn't a bad enough week as it was finding out I'm not graduating again.

"I'm. Fucking. Over it!"

He stood there--shoulders heaving, teeth gnashing, fists balled--as he watched his friends stare blankly back at him.

And then the tears finally came. One by one, dripping down his cheeks silently as the disappointment and rage just became too much to handle.

"Oh shit," Jeff muttered, quick to his feet to cross the distance and pull Eddie into a hug. He held him tightly, even as Eddie tried to push him away. "Hey man, it's ok. Let it out."

There were a few beats of silence as Eddie regained control of his emotions before Jeff took the chance to speak again.

"We knew something was bothering you," he said softly. "But we couldn't figure out what."

"So we figured we'd just be annoying little shits until you blew up," Gareth added.

"Like you usually do," came Dave's hesitant addition.

"We didn't know that..."

"That I failed senior year technically again because of fucking gym?" Eddie let out a watery laugh, earning cries of indignation from the boys. "Yeah I know, it's so stupid."

The following few minutes were filled with more of his enraged shouts and flailing hand gestures and the breaking of several foam props from the drama department before he looked at his friends again.

"So...you guys don't want to quit the band?" he asked softly, looking at each of his friends, and he was met with their resounding support, and promises about how they would see Corroded Coffin through to the end.

Or die trying.

Of course Dave had to add, "I'd still like a bass solo though."

[cebwrites]

comfort after nightmares (Law)

masc reader, they/he law cw: unwanted dream advances (nothing explicit)

word count: 0.6k

You turn your head to the side as one eye opens before the other, bleary and disoriented but able to ground yourself in the here and now; in reality. Your nose wrinkles at the scent of sweat staining your pillow.

Scratching the back of your neck, you don't need to check the time to know that it's some ungodly hour of night. The texture of rough, shaved hair against your fingers was a comfort.

There were at least some people up at all hours to keep the Tang running but you didn't feel like disturbing the peace. Still, sitting in the cold darkness of your room, you knew that there'd be one person burning the midnight oil for sure.

Law mumbled something noncommittal on the second knock, either too engrossed in their work or too tired to offer their full attention. That is, until you stepped quietly into the doorway of his office with a look Law recognized almost immediately.

"It's that dream again, isn't it."

"Yeah. Can you hold me?"

Usually it'd take a lot more pleading and promises of kisses, followed by actual kisses, to coax the good doctor away from their deskwork but Law did little to protest this time.

The couch they'd managed to squeeze into this stuffy old office is well worn - well loved - Law took a seat in the habitual dip on one side against the arm and you joined them in their lap after a beat.

Wrapped up in strong, tattooed arms against the steady thrum of his chest, you hid your face in the crook of your captain's neck when the sting behind your eyes returned.

"They've been happening more frequently, hm?" Law mused quietly, your answer was a small hum against their chest.

Never "recurrent enough" for you personally to really consider a problem but still upsetting nonetheless, it was just a month or two ago where you'd confessed to Law - your captain and beloved - about a nightmare that manifested in recent years.

Of how no matter who the antagonizing force was - that there'd always be a person in these dreams, not a monstrous figure or horrifying creature, just—a person. A person (although usually a man) encroaching on your space even as you begged for them to stay away. Though you'd thankfully wake up before anything more horrific could happen, the lingering sensation of dread could stick for days.

Judging from their concerned reaction to this information, maybe you should've considered it a problem a lot sooner.

"Sorry." Law's worried frown deepened, one hand moving to brush against the dampness of your cheek while the other remained a much needed comforting support on your back.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"For pulling you away from work. I know you've been itching to get things done all week."

"Very little is more important than comforting you in times of distress, __. Reorganizing old notes hardly comes close."

You offer a wry laugh. Even if you aren't quite in the headspace to believe that yet, you still lean into the comfort Law's kiss against your forehead - chasing them for one against their lips in return.

The both of you remain like this, fighting sleep to simply bask in each other's presence, at some point having slid down to lay on the couch properly - one pillow propping Law's head up with yours resting on their bicep, snugly pressed between their gangly frame and old sofa cushions.

If the world of sleep would deny you of safety where the world of waking demanded your rest, you'd find your peace in the drowsy in-betweens with your gruff, scruffy captain.

[sanemisstalker]

As much as I sexualize and objectify him, I just know Sanemi would be so incredibly difficult to get into bed with. For good reason.

CW/ SEVERE Angst/ am.... am i depressed? Maybe, lol/ Discussion of CA / DV / Men's Mental Health / Sanemi is afraid of his dead dad / MANGA SPOILERS/ Panic Attack / ANXIETY / SH - Just general no good times as a result of Sanemi intentionally isolating.

This isn't headcanons or anything, I've just had my fair share of Sanemi run ins in my life, and I know He'd be afraid of you.

Afraid of himself and being just like his dad. He looks just like the bastard. If he didn't have the white hair, it'd be identical. He has those thousand yard stare eyes, and that big, imposing frame. After his mothers death, I just know he starred at that thing for days. Watching it fester and scar... it was easier before that one came in, to separate his face from his fathers- What an ugly gash.

And he was just like his dad, to Genya, at least. He wanted more than anything for Genya to just be happy, and he knew the stupid boy was doing it all for him. To earn his big brother's love that Sanemi had been intentionally depriving him of. And it sickened Sanemi.

He had to make it painfully clear to Genya every step of the way that nothing he did, no matter the triumph, no matter how proud Sanemi was- was ever going to make Sanemi snap and just say it.

Genya was too good to be good enough. Sanemi thanked his father, briefly, for that trait about himself. Sanemi turned everything off the day his mother died. Everything except for his dad.

Genya did not deserve a tie to the woeful underbelly of the world. Those silly things Genya said after Sanemi killed their mother were Sanemi's saving grace. He never would've been brave enough to start removing himself from Genya's life if Genya hadn't believed he opened the door.

It's why he tried to take his eyes when he found out Genya had been eating demons- Genya was a man he just couldn't protect anymore, because Sanemi kept tabs and he hadn't known that about Genya for a while, now.

It was all so... scary, Sanemi struggled to even think about it sometimes. Anytime he would a pit would grow in his stomach. Anytime he thought about snapping and reconciling with his brother, telling him how proud he was- that pit would be right back. It was like he was starving.

And God, when he meets someone he loves it stings. It stings because Sanemi was always the one walking the others out of the house when dad got bad. It stings because he knows exactly what that bastard did to his mom- he knew the movements intrinsically, and that's all he knew how to do to those fly away demons he'd been slaughtering for months as a teenager.

Back when he could still resceitate a smidge of his empathy for the things. He just started imagining them as his dad.

Because the pathetic piece of shit died before Sanemi could get penance. Kyogo should've been alive for Sanemi to kill, to get big and strong, and beat his father down into submission like Kyogo had been beating him, his mother, and his siblings down for years...

He should've been alive to do the bare minimum and protect his wife- to have fallen to slaughter in her stead. Because there should've been a bigger man in the house- To not only protect Shizu, but to protect Sanemi... but there just wasn't.

The love stings because every time he's reminded of how weak he is.

He loved Kumeno. With everything in his body, he knew he loved Kumeno. He wouldn't dare say a word. He had such a soft smile, Sanemi felt yet another drop of color fade from his vision as he watched Kumeno's smile fade away.

God, he loved Kanae more than he hated the world. He knew it radiated off of him when she entered a room- Because she treated him so softly. The news had shaken him for weeks. He doesn't even quite recall where he went or what he did.

He was greedy to want anything when he wore that uniform and wielded that blade. The first time in a long time he bothered to try and love, the world reminded Sanemi of his place.

And good for it, too, He'd figure. He would've beat Kanae, he bet. Would've reduced such a kind and caring woman to a sniveling dog beneath his fists.

It was better, that God took her away. She was safer from him dead.

His thoughts are never this formulated. They're thicker with self-bashing and the like. He can't bare to look at his face, only his torso- He crafted that himself, his dad was never this strong.

I know if he likes you, you'd just never know. It'd be like pulling teeth, but somehow worse. He doesn't sleep with anyone because that's disrespectful. No woman is an object to be used once, maybe seven times, and then cast off to deal with the brunt of it.

I'm sure beating up the Kakushi that made Mitsuri's uniform was more than cathartic for him.

I'm sure, if you manage to get through to him inspite all of this, he'd be afraid to touch you. He yanks his hand away, and never initiates kissing, even though it's all he wants to do.

He cries when he loses his virginity because fuck, god is going to yank you away. and he knows he can't do anything about it because he messed up and weak. He got so close to you, and god is going to smite you for it.

He's never the one that bares the runt of his sins.

He can't finish. He has a panic attack, it's visceral, and terrifying, he cant even manage to cry. It takes every bone in his body not to lash out screaming, breaking, and destroying while you cradle him against your chest, because God, fuck, he's a mess.

It would take him months to even consider it again. He begs you to leave him and find a man that can treat you better, because it just isn't him-

And it hurts because you see how strong he is to just be alive everyday. Sanemi has never been strong, though. And he doubts he will ever be strong enough to love you correctly-

It's not like him to quit, though.

God I might part 2 this, he's such a little fucker lmao.