#of killing them both with my bare hands for very different reasons

[tedoculus]

When you watch a movie in 2016 about a complicated emotionally abusive father and you related so strongly to the son who hated him so much he didn't want to go to his funeral and then you rewatch it again in 2023 and you lost all memory of who or how you related to the movie on the first watching and this time you're relating to the grief, loneliness, and financial destitution of the father and you simultaneously forgive your own father and dead step father

[mcondance]

come close; hobie brown

getting high and talking about anarchy with some old 90's shit playing is a crazy way to fall for someone. but it happens.

pairing hobie brown x Black!afab!fem! reader

contents lots of weed, different terms for weed (mary jane, cess), talks of killing politicians (y’all r both anarchists so.), masturbation (both you and hobie), making out, fingering, riding, missionary, mating press, creampie, unprotected sex (they're horny man dwbi), dirty talk, cervix kissing, lotsssss of praise, porn with plot (sorry i love plot 🙏🏾)

words 4.7k.. back on my longer fic shit!

warnings reader wears lipgloss, barely proofread so if you see any mistakes pls shoot me an ask!, umm i use the n word once!, i’m also,, not that great at writing his voice yet so.. hope it’s at least sorta accurate :3

extras the form i wrote this in is kinda,, unique igs but it flows rlly well i feel.

song shoutouts special thanks to lipstick lover by janelle monae, come close by common and mary j. blige, and green eyes by erykah badu!

signing off happy father’s day to hobie 🫶🏾

—

not quite plug!hobie, but hobie who always has weed, who you smoke with the first time you buy from him.

you usually don’t smoke with randoms, but you hear some old 90's rap playing from inside his car, and he invites you in when you comment on it.

"what you know bout this?" you ask with a smile.

"a lot, actually. you wanna smoke and listen?"

not quite plug!hobie who's fine as fuck as he sits opposite you in his ride, tall and darkskin with cool ass hair. wild ass accent and even wilder style, but he makes it work. his music taste adds on to his overall allure.

but his political views? god. the charm in the shape of a little 'a' surrounded by a circle hanging from his mirror lets you know that he ain't like these other niggas.

he's an anarchist. so far, you're the only anarchist you know. it's so rare to find someone who has the same values as you.

not quite plug!hobie who's car you leave with music recs clumsily typed into your notes, and someone to talk about politics with, though you're too shy to text the pretty boy with the good weed, so you're sure it'll never happen.

not quite plug!hobie who texts you when you get home to make sure you arrived safely.

"driving while high ain't safe, ya know? you at home?"

"i've done it before. i made it home."

not quite plug!hobie who's so nice to you, complimenting your outfits and hair, even noticing when you meet him the 3rd time with a new style.

not quite plug! hobie who you find out has been giving you discounts when your friends ask if you ever bought from him after their recommendation, and you run them in on the details. you think it’s just cause y’all smoked the first time you ever bought from him and you bonded over political views and music. you don’t think nothing else of it.

not quite plug!hobie who you find yourself thinking about more and more often, ever since that first time y'all smoked together.

not quite plug!hobie who finds himself in the same predicament.

not quite plug!hobie who answers the door on your 6th buy in a pair of red sweats and a tight white t-shirt that hugs his lanky frame, hair tied up with a blue shoe string. he invites you into his crib, citing reasons of having no one else to talk to about his views with. after all, it's the first time you both have time to sit and talk and listen to music instead of a quick deal since that first time.

not quite plug!hobie who you get faded as fuck with, this time sharing a joint on his janky couch, heavy hands brushing against each other with each pass. he tries to ignore the aching in his very core every time you speak your mind, your aligning politics driving him crazy.

you mirror him, shaking off the.. arousal?.. no, it can't be. you can't be getting all heated just cause a man is an anarchist. whatever. just ignore it.

not quite plug!hobie who laughs when you tell him straight up, “people aren’t killing politicians anymore. that’s our fuckin’ problem.”

"really? you're wild. but i get it."

"course you do." you nod, taking another drag of the joint. erykah badu's "green eyes" is playing quietly in the background of your convo. hobie starts laughing.

"what?" you smile.

"song's called green eyes, right? well we got red eyes." it's corny and wouldn't be funny if you two weren't high as shit, but you are high as shit, so it's fucking hilarious.

not quite plug!hobie who's eyes linger on you as he pulls laugh after laugh out of your chest with his snarky little jokes.

not quite plug!hobie who walks you to your car after your smoke session, telling you to get home safely. he passes out after his head hits the bed, that after smoke sleep being some of the best he's ever had. he tries to chase you out of his mind as he succumbs to the cess.

not quite plug!hobie who lights a joint and then pulls his dick out the next day, hard and heavy, and strokes it thinking about his pretty little client— friend? whatever — hips stuttering as he wraps his hand around his thick base. he's tried to shake you off, went all day distracting himself with this and that, but it's not working.

not quite plug!hobie who cums in white spurts splattering on his chest to the thought of making you cum in a room filled with smoke, some old r&b playin as he dicks you down the way he's been wanting to since the first time your pretty ass came to him asking for some weed. he wants you bent over on the end of his bed, eyes low and red while he fills you up and fucks you good, gives you his dick like he feels you so rightfully deserve.

not quite plug!hobie who you seriously can't stop thinking of. last night's smoke session has you on edge, so you light another joint, but weed always gets you horny, so when you slip your fingers into your panties and touch yourself to the thought of the pretty darkskin boy with the piercings and cool hair pushing his fat cock into your pretty hole, you blame it on the mary jane sitting pretty in your veins.

the fault lies in the mary jane for making you think about him laid on top of you, talking you through it as he damn near kisses your cervix, his wiry hands roaming your body. the fault lies in the mary jane for having your legs shaking, imagining your pretty plug folding you in half and ruining you, leaving you and your cunt sore and satisfied and dripping his cum.

not quite plug!hobie who cleans up while telling himself that he can't do this again, that you're not interested in him.

not quite plug!hobie who you block out of your mind as you shower. what you did wasn't right. it won't happen again.

not quite plug!hobie who you don’t buy from for a minute, cause you’re trying to stop smoking so much, for a while. you still keep in contact with him, though. daily texts, funny memes, and of course talks of anarchy. one day, you call him “bee” instead of hobie, and it sticks. he likes it.

not quite plug!hobie… who you fuck yourself to again, this time slipping three fingers inside your greedy cunt to satiate the need for him. it’s almost every night, and it’s a different fantasy every time. 

in the backseat of his car, bent over on his counter, pressed into his couch cushions. your head pressing into your pillows while visions of hobie’s lips pressed to your ear praising you endlessly for being his good girl and taking him so well torment you. you’re insatiable, but when you text you have to pretend like you don’t want his piercing scraping against your clit as he eats you like a man starved.

not quite plug!hobie who has the same dilemma as you.. he can’t even go a couple of hours without growing hard in his sweats, glimpses of you spread out on his bed with your thighs thrown over his shoulders, or you face down ass up, sobbing in pure ecstasy. it’s not made better by y’all’s constant texting, more and more of your personality being revealed to him each day.

you both share one brain, really. and that one brain finds each other attractive, of course, but it’s not just that. it’s not just pure lust. you two have more in common than anyone you’ve ever met, and that sinks ache and want so deep into you that every night and day is spent trying to rid yourselves of it.

not quite plug!hobie who you buy from again almost two weeks later, two weeks that were filled with funny conversations and deep discussions of politics through text. two weeks that solidify the growing feelings you have for each other. this time, he’s wearing a pair of blue sweats and a tight black tee, and his hair is tied up just like the first time you came to his house. this time, brandy’s playing throughout his crib.

you’ve only known each other for about two months, but it feels like longer, for the both of you. you take your seat on the couch as he grabs his stash and his papers, pulling out one paper to roll up.

not quite plug!hobie who sits a little bit closer than he did last time. he smells good. your head is swimming already. 

not quite plug!hobie who lights up and then lets you take the first hit, watching you wrap your glossy lips around the joint like he doesn’t wish they were wrapped around his dick instead. you pass the joint to him and settle onto the couch, raking your eyes over his lanky frame, and what you swear is a hard-on. no way. it has to be the weed. 

he settles back onto the couch too, extending his long arms on the back. his arm comes up behind your head, and you rest your head on it, smiling dopily when he directs his hazy gaze your way. his playlist must have ended. you're left with him and your thoughts.

“you’re funny, you know?” he says through a breath of smoke, passing the joint to you.

“yeah?” you reply, hitting it again. “everyone tells me i’m just corny.”

“you’re not corny. you’re pretty hilarious, if i’m bein’ honest.” 

and there it is again.

not quite plug!hobie whose words light that fire in you again, the fire that you’ve been dousing every night for the past two fucking weeks. fuck, not here. not now. you grab the joint from him in an attempt to push more weed into your system to flush him out, but you meet his pretty fuckin’ brown eyes and they’re low and his lips looks so good and he smells so good and suddenly you’re asking not quite plug who you’re two seconds away from fucking!hobie why he’s been charging you less than everyone else who buys from him and why he invited you into his car and into his house, twice.

and not quite plug who really wants to kiss you right now!hobie can’t even joke and twist his way out of this one. he’s tired of cumming alone to the thought of you. the worst you can do is leave. but the best? god, so many things.

“'s cause i think you’re pretty. n' i really wanna kiss you right now.”

“then do it.”

not quite plug!hobie who tastes like weed and chocolate. the hand that was resting on the back of the couch finds it’s way to the small of your back, fingers drawing nonsensical shapes into it. your hands find his knee and his neck as you press your lips into his. you slide closer to him, and then he’s using the hand resting on your back to push you into his lap, hands settling on your hips as you settle above him, your hands circling around his neck.

“how long?” you ask between kisses.

“since the day you walked up to my car.” he responds quietly, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. he’s quick to trap your lips again.

god, he is hard. and he’s big, you can feel him pressing against the inside of your thigh. you hold your tongue, figuring you could deal with that later. right now, you just need to get out what you’ve been keeping in since the day you two met and you spotted the little ‘a’ hanging from his mirror.

the kiss grows deeper and he grows a little less shy, starting to use his hands gripping your waist to grind you against him. heat floods you when you realize that he's pulling you onto his cock, pressing your cunt against him, separated by the fabric of his sweats and your shorts.

you find his rhythm, falling into the pattern of his soft pushes and presses, a gentle lull of bodies moving against each other that makes you even more comfortable than you already are. soft little groans escaping the both of you, mixing with the smoke and infatuation in the air.

he lets you move the way you want, lithe fingers tracing up your back, hovering over where your hair falls onto your neck. he keeps kissing you for a minute, seemingly frozen. but then he's pulling away to speak, "can i- can i touch your hair?"

you stop moving with a smile. you nod. "yeah. thanks for asking." you kiss him again.

"course, love." he nods, and then he kisses you again. his long fingers snake into your hair, gently and softly. he strokes his hands through your locks, in time with your kisses and the movements of your hips that have started again. hands migrating from his neck, sliding down his chest, laying flat-palmed. your fingers slide under his tee, curling and gripping to pull him ever closer to you.

not quite plug!hobie who could kiss you forever. you could too, but you want more. you need him. so you pull away just a little, murmur "can feel you against me." chills rack through him at your words.

"i know. 'm so hard, darlin'." he pushes his hips up just a little, drawing a muffled whine from you.

"been wantin' you so bad.." you trail off. hobie takes it upon himself to move his hands from your hair to the waistband of your shorts, eyes fixed on yours, watching your every move. you nod, giving him permission to snake his fingers into your shorts, fingers that are met with no resistance.

"no panties? did'ya plan this, doll?" he smiles, slim fingers exploring your wetness, doing what he can with the limited space.

"mhm." you shake your head. "'s more comfortable." he hums in agreement. he circles your clit with his middle finger, dipping towards your entrance to collect more slick. you push down against his fingers, causing him to have to crane his wrist to reach you.

"can we take these off? can't touch you the way i wanna." you blush, averting your eyes to focus on the hand that disappears into your shorts.

"yeah." you breathe shakily, standing up and letting hobie pull them down your legs, hands on his shoulders as balance. your shirt is long, and it falls down to give you some modesty. hobie throws your shorts somewhere behind you before he leans back, giving you space to sit back down.

he looks so fucking good, brown eyes staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky. he reaches out for you, pulling you back into his lap by your hips. his hand disappears under your shirt while his lips find yours again, exploring you more freely this time.

"so wet, doll." he murmurs between one kiss and another, smiling when you whine. his fingers move at different speeds, pressing in different areas and circling at different speeds until he finds a combination that makes you jolt against him, whining "bee."

"thaaaaat's it, love." this time, you don't return your lips to his, instead tucking your head into his neck as you hump shamelessly against his hand, his cock pressing hard and heavy against your thigh. "keep going, baby," he urges, "show me how it feels."

and you do. you shiver and shake and whine and groan in pleasure, pressing kisses in his brown skin as he touches you the way he touched himself thinking about.

not quite plug!hobie who presses his thumb into your clit, sliding his hand farther down to tease your drooling hole. "'s wet, love. g'na feel so good 'round me." you moan loudly at that, at the thought of your fantasies coming true. you cant your hips down, sliding down his fingers until they're seated inside you, stroking gently at your sensitive walls.

pulling them out softly, he curls his fingers, twisting his wrist as you whine and mouth at his neck. "'s okay. you can bite." he nods, catching onto what you were holding yourself back from. you still don't, resign to licking and sucking instead.

until his fingers catch the spongy spot inside you, and your teeth are sinking into the column. "fuck," you damn near shout, pushing yourself onto his hand. he groans in response, pleased to be pleasing you and indulging in the pain you inflict on him. thumb on your clit and fingers playing with that spot, he brings his other hand from your hip to your hair to soothe you, to ground you.

it's sweet, really, his hand in your hair while the other one touches you the way you've been dreaming of. coos and hums meet your ears, soft sounds of affirmation egging you on to let yourself get lost in the pleasure he delivers you. arousal steadily dripping out of your hole, hobie's fingers sliding easier and easier inside you until he can pull out and slip right back in.

"you're so pretty, dove, fuckin' dreamgirl." he murmurs, staring down at your pretty face, arched eyebrows turned down in ecstasy, lips parted. the praise takes you closer and closer to the edge, his deep voice reverberating throughout your entire being, the pangs of arousal in your clit growing harder and faster. you're close.

you're so goddamn close to cumming for a boy you just wanted to buy from. his long fingers reach deep, deeper than you could ever even dream of. “hobie- i- i’m g’na-” you stutter against his neck, hips stuttering against his fingers.

“‘s okay, love, cum. i’m right here.” the rubber band snaps, and you're tightening your thighs around his hand while you shake and shiver, eyes closed tight with soft whines of "hobie, god it feels so good" tumbling from your lips. you tighten around his fingers, too, squeeze him so tight he winces, cause he just knows you're gonna feel so good wrapped around him. he pushes that thought away, though, focused on helping you ride out your orgasm.

fingers pressing into your clit and that spot inside you, he makes sure to milk every last second of your climax, eyes fixed on your ethereal features. aftershocks still racking through you, you finally open your eyes, and he takes it as a sign to gently pull his fingers out of you and wipe them on his sweats, and you shudder at the feeling.

"that was. . so much better than i imagined. n' i imagined it being pretty good." you smile and giggle, placing a kiss on his neck. he laughs in response, raising his eyebrows at your confession.

"bet i'm a better fuck than you imagined, too." the air in the room shifts again, and suddenly you're aware of his cock pressed against your thigh through his sweats again.

"bet you are."

you raise up, kissing him again as your hands find the waistband of his sweats and invite themselves in, meeting his dick that's been hard since you first sat down on his couch. "and i'm the one who planned this? you're free-balling." you murmur against his lips, and he mirrors your words from earlier.

"'s more comfortable, 's all— fuck." he's cut off when you pull his cock out of his sweats and run your finger over his pretty brown tip, dipping into his slit. his hips thrust up, chasing your soft hand. "g'na drive me crazy." he almost whines, jerking against you when you swipe your thumb against his aching tip again.

"just returnin' the favor." you shoot back, raising up to hover over him, swiping his leaking dick through your wetness. he wraps his hand around his thick base, moving in time with your teasing strokes. "you're big." you groan, hesitating to seat yourself on him.

"i know, doll, you can take it though. we'll make you take it." he speaks into your clothed chest, muffled and horny, and you’re sure he means what he says. you drip even more at his words, sticky slick wetting his fat tip.

not quite plug!hobie whose hands are on your hips as you sink down onto his pretty dick, whining into his neck as he encourages you. “you got it, baby, you’re takin’ me so well. god, she’s so wet.”

"she— fuck that's so hot," you moan, eyes rolling back at his words.

"mhm?" he hums.

you don't respond, too busy focusing on his fat cock pushing into you, focusing on the way you both make it fit, exactly like he said you would. finally, he bottoms out, your thighs resting against his sweats.

"g' job, babe. knew you could take me." you jolt against him, his heady words sending another pang of arousal straight to where you two meet.

not quite!plug hobie who you tell to move, raising your hips up as he pulls out, meeting him in the middle as he fills you back up. his hips slot against yours again, and his big chocolate eyes are fixed on yours, gazing upon you in adoration, while your eyes are fixed on where he disappears into you.

"so big, feels s'good. ." you whisper, meeting his gaze. the look in his eyes has chills running down your spine as you raise your hips again, choosing to connect your lips with his again. hobie starts to find a rhythm, now, wrapping his long arms around your waist. you swap spit with him as his hips meet your ass, taking over.

body bouncing with each of his thrusts into your pussy, arms wrapped around his neck. his lips slipping against yours, plump and wet. you both take it slow, basking in the feeling of finally being like this with someone you've wanted since you first saw them.

he fills you up so nicely, thick cock nestled in your achy walls, leaking tip just barely kissing your cervix as he thrusts just a bit harder and you push down a little more.

"y'feel me, darlin? 'm all the way in, at the end of you, god, 'm g'na make you mine." he babbles in pleasure, pushing his hips up even harder. still soft, but firm, and deliberate.

you nod against his lips, hand resting on his cheek. "feel you, bee, feel you in my fuckin' stomach, i swear." you feed off of him and he feeds off of you, kissing and slapping your hips against the others, wild and wanting. "fuckin' me so good, bee, makin' me yours."

"makin' me yours, doll, pussy's squeezin' me like she don't w'na let go."

"don't wanna let go, wan' you so bad." you confess, bringing your ass down onto his cock again. "i— fuck," you sob. his cock curves just right, and with his tip pressing against your spot now, hobie's found new determination.

"that it?" he asks, making sure to keep hitting that spongy patch of skin with every thrust, sheathing his cock in your wet heat.

"'s it, hobie, feels so good, shit." the high has worn off by now, leaving pure emotions and desire driving you two. you get tight around him again, cunt pulsing with every slam of his hips against yours. you feel so good around him, so tight and wet.

"'m g'na—, you're gonna make me cum, bee."

he moves one hand from around your waist at that, sliding between you two to toy with your clit, thumb rubbing wild shapes against the throbbing bud.

"fuck," you cry, grinding against his thumb and down onto his dick.

"you close again, doll? wan' you to wet me up, ma'me a mess," he encourages, big brown eyes fixed on yours like they've been the whole night.

"'m so close, bee, wanna cum for you, wanna wet you up."

"then do it." he mirrors your words from earlier, and the pleasure pulsing through your veins and infatuation swirling around in your blood gets to be too much, and you cum on his cock, still slamming your hips down onto him, meeting his thrusts in the middle. "thaaaat's it, doll." you hear hobie praise through the fog in your mind, bounces turned to messy grinds as you get all tight around him, cumming hard.

"y'alright, love?" he asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"mhm. w'na go again, you haven't come yet." he chuckles at your words, wrapping both hands around your waist and kissing you again.

"lay back, love." he murmurs against your lips, flipping you onto the couch. your back meets the smooth fabric as he lays you down, pulling his tee and his sweats off. you follow suit, stripping your shirt off and throwing it somewhere behind his couch. his watchful eyes fall on your face, then your tits, then your cunt, taking your body in for the first time.

he finds his place on top of you, balancing himself on his elbows as he kisses you again. he reaches down, but you stop him. "lemme do it," you urge, replacing his hand. you line him up with your sopping entrance, nodding twice to tell him to push in.

the stretch is so fucking good, his cock bullying it's way into your tight cunt again.

"fuck, that's it," he curses, watching your face as he seats himself in your once again.

"so deep. ." you trail off, looking down at your stomach, and oh fuck, no way.

"hobie, hobes, look," you urge, and he points his gaze to where you're looking.

"oh, love, look at that. can see myself, right there," he presses down on the bulge he creates, ripping a broken moan straight from your throat.

"fuck me, please," you sob, squirming under him. he nods, understanding, and finds his rhythm easier this time, lean hips slapping against you. your body jolts up the couch with every thrust, choppy whines of nonsensical sentences leaving your mouth.

not quite plug who's absolutely pussydrunk!hobie can't get enough of your cunt, the way you squeeze him oh so tight, the wet squelches of your heat drawing him further into madness. he needs to go deeper, needs to fuck you harder, so he raises up, throwing your legs over his shoulders, leaning back down to bury his cock deep inside you.

"baby, fuck." it's a gritted groan, head rolling back onto the couch as he mouths at your neck, licking and biting at your heated skin. his thrusts are slow and firm, dick kissing your cervix, the slaps sounding out through his living room.

you're both quiet this time around, too blissed out to do anything but fuck, allowing yourselves to succumb to pleasure. every inch of his cock fills you, driving you crazy, driving him crazy too. it's intimate, his lips on your neck, your fingers palming at his back, limbs tangled together. and you can feel it building up in you again.

"'m g'na cum, hobes." he moves one of his arms, bringing his thumb down to rub at your clit, still mouthing at your neck. he lets it happen this time, doesn't urge you or change anything he's doing, and you coast into your climax so gratifyingly that you almost cry, squeezing him tight once again. now, your focus is on making him cum.

"wan' you to cum, hobes."

"gotta pull out, love. we ain' even put a rubber on." he realizes.

"no you don't. 'm clean. jus' fill me up, please." in your right mind, you wouldn't let him, but you're not in your right mind, and neither is he. so he cums with a groan, shaking as he spills pressed against your cervix.

the air's.. different now, satisfied and calm. you both lay there for a while, until hobie's picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up.

after, he lights another joint that you two share tucked under his covers, hugged up like a couple.

not quite plug!hobie holds you as you both fall asleep.

[agent-cupcake]

Amen

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f! Reader

Synopsis: No matter the severity of your actions, Suguru would never actually hurt a member of his sorcerer family. Luckily, there are other ways he can think of to punish you. It's for your own good.

Warnings: Explicit smut, dubcon, possessive behavior, manipulation

Tags: Punishment, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dirty talk, vibrators, bondage, orgasm torture, cunnilingus, humiliation

Word Count: 10.4k

Notes: This story is for @laurenzel. I think this can be almost seen as a companion to my previous Gojo story since there's similar toxic motives and means used by the men, but a difference in method.

“Would you care to join me tonight?” was what Geto said to you, smiling so sweetly, so gently. He said it like an offer, or a question, but you both knew the answer. It was the same as it had been since the very first time he asked, since the first time he kissed you, since the first night you spent together.

And you, finally given direction in the big, confusing world, couldn’t even conceive of saying no to Geto. You didn’t have to do, say, or think anything on your own—just follow him. And you did. Happily, you did, thinking nothing of the offer other than how pleased you were that he asked. 

Chills prickled over your bare arms and legs when you walked into his room. The air felt a few degrees too cool, especially when you were accustomed to the August heat. Everything about his room seemed cold. It was furnished in stark contrast to the simple, traditional temple façade the rest of the complex maintained outwardly. Black painted walls, a hard floor, and ebony furniture upholstered with dark leathers and suedes. There was a flat, modern utilitarianism to the room despite its luxury, all at once inviting and off putting. The silky black sheets and dusky saturation of velvety vanilla and citrus lent a sex appeal to the room that you inextricably associated with Geto.

“Will you help me with this?” he asked, gesturing to his clothes. 

“Yes, of course,” you said, rushing to his side to help him undress. Even though the vestments Geto wore were for show, the articles were genuine and required careful handling. A perfect costume needed to be authentic. You unfastened the kasaya first, hanging it up. 

“I think,” he said while your hands were busy, “we need to talk about what you did.” 

You paused, turning to him with your brow furrowed, your stomach dropping in response to the accusatory tone of his voice. “What did I do?” 

“You killed Kurokawa.” 

Your frown deepened, your chest tightening with a harsh burst of guilt. “How do you know that?” 

Geto raised an eyebrow. That was the wrong thing to ask, it made you look more guilty than you were. Besides, the answer was obvious. He knew everything. You shook your head fast, trying to come up with an explanation that didn’t sound like an excuse. 

 “I… I thought you would be happy I took care of him,” you said. “He was causing trouble. He was a bad man.” 

“If you thought I would be pleased, why didn’t you tell me right away?” 

There were reasons, weren’t there? Good ones, explanations that could help you smooth this over. Beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t think of any of them. “I… I don’t, um…  I was going to, but I didn’t want to distract you or anything. I’m not… I didn’t mean-”

“No. You didn’t tell me because you knew you were wrong,” Geto stated, telling you so directly that you couldn’t help but believe it.  

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“To be clear, I’m not concerned with his death,” Geto told you. “I’m worried about you. About what you might do without my intervention. I have been for a while.”  

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you said. That was probably the most true thing you could say, the sentiment that defined your existence. You did not understand. 

“I like to think that you’ve grown since you joined the family, but sometimes I don’t know if I can trust you to act with a clear head. Kurokawa was a doctor, wasn’t he?” 

You bristled at the reminder, mentally pushing back on the idea that you did it for such a personal reason. “He was… he was dangerous,” you argued. “He wanted to get the police involved.” 

“That isn’t my point,” Geto explained. “You acted out on your own. I knew Kurokawa was causing problems, but I didn't ask you to kill him. He still had value to me, in his own way." He paused, considering you with pursed lips. "If you told me what you did immediately, maybe I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, but as it is, all this proves is that you haven’t moved beyond your past experiences. I can’t trust you."

You bit your lip, swaying back as if those words had been a physical blow, only becoming more confused. Completely and utterly confused about how killing somebody who was a bad man, killing a hateful monkey upset Geto. You did it for him. You did it because the man was evil, and because he said terrible things, and because he was a hideous embodiment of the type of person who would see you locked up tight in another drug dispensing, mind-numbing, monkey hospital. 

All you could understand was that you had disappointed Geto, and the cutting violence of his doubt cut deep into your chest as physically as a knife. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“Are you going to finish this?” Geto asked rather than acknowledge your apology, pulling at his collar. You nodded, rushing back to his side to untie the obi sash and fold it, helping him shrug off his black yukata to hang that up as well.

Left in a tight undershirt, a pair of loose pants, and socks he was quick to peel off and toss aside, Geto-sama emerged from his costume looking a decade younger and twice as dangerous. Like this, he was Suguru. You weren’t equals, but you were more than a little familiar. Although, you weren’t sure if you would dare to be so friendly with him now that you understood you were in trouble.

Before, you assumed you were here because he desired you. Now that felt presumptuous and silly.   

You averted your eyes and stepped back, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The silence physically hurt. Apologies built up like a dam in your head, stopping any other sort of thought from getting through as guilt brewed and boiled in your stomach. Worse, you couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe you had knowingly acted against Geto, against the family, because of what Kurokawa represented to you. Maybe you couldn’t be trusted. And, if that was true, maybe you deserved his anger and all of the terrible things that followed anger.     

“Are you nervous?” Suguru asked. 

“No,” you said quickly. 

“Liar. I can hear it. Your heart is racing. You’re scared. Is it me?” He nudged your chin up with the side of his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes and the little smile he wore. “Are you frightened of me?” 

“You’re angry,” you said, shrinking back. “Angry with me.”

“Oh,” Suguru hummed thoughtfully, “so you’re scared that I’m going to punish you. Is that it?” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. 

“You’re right, I am.” 

Your breath caught before you shook your head fast, panicking. “No, you… I’m really sorry. I mean it, I was just trying to… He deserved to die.”

“I understand,” Suguru said, “and I appreciate what you say you were trying to do. The problem is that I don’t believe that was your motive. That is why I’m upset.” He ran his fingers through his hair, putting into a messy bun. “Do you understand the distinction?”

You blinked fast, feeling the horrible bite of tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now… what do you think would be a fitting punishment?” 

You looked up at him in stark shock, hoping desperately that you misunderstood him. He didn’t clarify anything, simply waiting for you to answer. You shook your head again, your mouth opening and closing before you managed a meek, “I don’t know.” 

“But you agree, don’t you?” he asked, going over to his chest of drawers. Suguru looked at you over his shoulder, eying you up and down, drinking your awkward nerves. “You deserve to be punished for your disobedience.”

You exhaled sharply, conflicted about what kind of answer to give. More importantly, what kind of answer he wanted. If you were smarter, you would be able to talk your way out of this situation. If you were better attuned to Suguru’s needs, you would be able to give him what he wanted. If you were loyal, he wouldn’t have been mad in the first place. Those thoughts weren’t helpful, all you could do was stare and try to solve the puzzle of his mood. You had seen that little smirk on his face when he teased Nanako, but also when he killed non-jujutsu sorcerers that had outlived their usefulness. 

“You’re really asking me?” you finally got out, the only response you could muster.

His back was turned to you now as he looked through the drawer, but you saw his shoulder raise in a casual shrug. “I’m curious.” 

 Your gut instinct was to deny that you deserved punishment to try and spare yourself, but you held that impulse. You had already agreed that you did something wrong, so denying that you deserved punishment could make things worse. Then again, if you agreed, then maybe he would take that as permission to do even worse. Either one could potentially upset him too, because it would prove that you didn’t know what he wanted. Suguru did nothing to alleviate your nervous indecision as he turned around, holding an unmarked red box, watching you with that enigmatic smirk.

“If you think I do,” you said carefully, “then-”

“No,” he said, cutting you off. “I am asking if you acknowledge that you deserve punishment for what you have done.”

“I won’t do it again,” you told him, your voice soft. “I promise.” 

Suguru frowned. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I know, but it’s true,” you insisted. Rather than relent to your distress, his eyes narrowed dangerously, finally giving you some indication about the response he actually wanted. “I do!” You said quickly. “I…” The words were thick like syrup, awkward to get out. “I deserve to be punished.” 

Suguru smiled, setting the box on the bed and sitting on the black leather footboard bench, his legs spread wide and comfortable and head slightly tilted.  

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked softly.

“Hurt you?” Suguru asked, raising a thin eyebrow. “I would never hurt you. I don’t think you’re likely to learn from pain anyway, hm? It wasn’t effective for your parents or doctors.”

“But… but you said you were going to punish me?” you asked, looking between him and the box with an increasing amount of anxiety. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Your jaw dropped. “I… My… You mean it?” 

He raised both eyebrows, daring you to deny him. You clutched at the front of your dress, your shoulders curling in. 

“But why?” you asked. He immediately gave you a pointed look, like you were stupid. “This… it’s… You want to…?” You couldn’t even finish the question, the whole thing was so divorced from any coherence you could wrap your head around. 

“You're allowed to say no and leave, I won’t stop you,” Suguru told you. He considered that for a moment, his head falling to the side. “If you stay, we’ll switch to your safe word rather than no. You remember it, don’t you?”

Safe word? You remembered him establishing that the first night he allowed you into his bed, but you hadn’t really thought much of it. Why would you ever want him to stop? Now the thought of it made you feel a little cold, and not because of the air conditioner valiantly chugging away in an attempt to keep the August heat at bay. It had taken a few days to come to terms with sleeping with Suguru after it first happened, but this was unreal in an entirely different way. You felt like you were looking down a very long, dark tunnel, like you were hopelessly and utterly lost.   

“I do,” you said faintly. “I remember.” 

“It’s your choice then.” 

You winced, unable to look at him. You weren’t going to leave. That was unthinkable. The idea of undressing in front of him like it was some sort of show wasn’t especially comfortable either, but you understood that you would do it. “That’s… it’s embarrassing.”

“I’ve noticed,” Suguru said. “You don’t want to think of yourself as the type of woman who would strip for a man. But you are, and you will. For me.”

You flushed darker, avoiding his eyes. Trying to keep your breathing from going completely out of control, you nodded. It was easier to obey. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you left his room right now, where you would go, how you would feel. It wasn’t about you, it was about what you had done to disappoint Suguru, and how you would make it right. He wanted to know that you were loyal, that you had left behind the pathetic wretch you used to be. 

Humiliating as it was, he was helping you. That was all he had ever done. 

“Yes, sir.” 

With shaking hands, you unzipped your dress. Considering the summer heat, you were wearing as little as possible. Three articles of clothing separating you from his eyes. You weren’t sure if that was better, making it so the process of undressing wasn’t so drawn out, or worse because it meant you couldn’t stall. 

“Keep going,” Suguru said when you hesitated with your thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of your panties. Closing your eyes, you pushed them down. The only positive you could think of was that you had the foresight to shave the night before. Ever since the first night you slept together you’d been taking personal grooming extremely seriously. Removing your bra was the worst of it all, but you dutifully undid the clasps and pushed the straps down your arms. He had seen you naked before, you reasoned. Even if you were disappointing, he still had asked to see you. It was fine. 

If Suguru wanted it, it was fine.

“You’re too pretty to be so self-conscious,” he told you in a very calm, matter-of-fact way. 

You tried not to shuffle awkwardly, clasping your hands in front of your stomach to hide their shaking. “Thank you,” you said softly, unable to meet his eyes even if you could feel them heavily on your flushing skin. 

“Come here,” Suguru ordered. In your peripheral, you saw his hand raise, a single finger curling to draw you towards him. 

You obeyed on awkward feet, glad to close the distance. He sat up to meet you face to face, having to look up at you for once and pulling you closer. You automatically parted your lips to kiss him. That was something you knew how to do. But his parted lips only brushed the corner of your mouth. When you tried to tilt your head to catch him, Suguru pulled back. Your eyes fluttered open—when had you closed them?—to see him smirking at the little trick. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, releasing you.

Nerves knotted and tangled in your stomach. There was something hot about his detached control, but you weren’t sure you liked it either. Vulnerability was discomfort. And still, you knew better than to argue or question. Trying to preserve as much of your modesty as was possible, you got onto his bed. It was easier to comply. Better to be obedient like he wanted. You didn’t want to disappoint him again. 

“These are for you,” Suguru said, finally revealing the contents of the red box by lifting the glossy lid. 

You stared into the box with curiosity, and then with a sharp pang of recognition. After that, nerves. Dread. Excitement. Blinking over and over didn’t change what you saw, there was no mistake about what lay inside. A lot of leather. Some chains. Scarf-like ties. You were pretty sure the wand-shaped item was a vibrator. 

Suguru choked you last time you had sex, and he pinned your wrists down and pulled your hair and left marks on your thighs and chest, but this was different. Dangerous. This was scary. 

“Geto-sama…” you said nervously, sticking to the formal address in the hopes that he would understand the sincerity of your doubt. “I’m not…”

“As I said, you’re allowed to stop this at any time,” he said, dropping the lid back onto the box with a crisp snap. “I would never force you into anything. If you truly feel bad for what you have done and want to prove yourself to me, I shouldn’t need to coerce you.”

Guilt and nerves writhed in your stomach. And excitement, always excitement for the simple reason that it was Suguru. You would do anything for him, wouldn’t you? He had saved you. You disappointed him, it was only right that you did as you were told. You pushed the lid off again, forcing a sort of resolve. Your heart beat like a frantic war drum in your chest, and you were flushing so hotly it felt like a fever. 

“What’s this all for?” you asked, your voice hoarse. 

“You won’t be able to hold still on your own,” he replied simply. “Besides, I think you’ll look sexy like this. I was waiting for an opportunity to try it.” 

The bottom of your stomach gave way to anxious lust. You licked your lips, trying to calm yourself down. 

“Okay,” you said softly. 

“Put them on for me,” Suguru said, pulling out four of the leather cuffs. Your eyes widened, your lips parting to argue that as a step too far. It would be so much easier for you if he did it himself, if you didn’t have to actively engage with putting yourself in a literal bind. 

Although maybe that was the point. This was punishment. 

Prove your loyalty. You could do that for him. 

Despite your forced mental affirmation, the whole task seemed too daunting for a moment, you had a nervously suffocating sense like drowning, but you forced that down. You would do anything for Suguru. That’s what this was about. Proving to him that you were loyal, that you would do as he said. That you were devoted.  

You did the wrist cuffs first, slipping the first over your left hand and tightening the strap with your right. There was only one size; they would fit snugly. Thick chains hung from both cuffs. Although they weren’t as bad as pure metal bracelets, the leather wouldn’t be kind to your skin if you resisted too much. Tightening the strap on the right cuff was even worse since you were working with your non-dominant hand. 

“Do you need help?” Suguru asked, laughing at your frustrated attempts to get the tongue through the buckle. 

“Don’t laugh, please,” you begged, talking very softly to hide your increasingly unstable emotions. “I’m trying.” 

“Here,” he said indulgently, “let me.” Suguru held out his hands for you to let him finish securing the cuff. “Do you need help with your ankles?”

“No, I… Thank you,” you said, unable to look at his expression. You could do this. You had to do this. 

Still, your hands trembled unsteadily. When you nervously fumbled with the leather strap around your ankle, he laughed again. 

“Don’t look,” you mumbled. The chains hanging from your wrists playfully clinked against the chains on your ankles.  

“I have to make sure you do it properly. You could hurt yourself.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you whispered, more petulant than anything.  

“I know,” Suguru told you sweetly, “but you’ve been such a good girl so far.” 

Your breath caught at the praise. At the very least, he looked away to pull off his shirt. You used the distraction to get your ankles secured, watching him remove his pants with your hands between your legs to retain some modesty. Suguru, stripped to his boxers, surveyed your handiwork, a little smile growing on his face.

“What?” you asked nervously. 

“Given how shy you are, I thought it would take more than this to convince you to do this for me. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or impressed.”

You frowned with a twisting sense of betrayal, but he cut off your displeasure by grabbing your legs to yank you towards him, leaning over the bed so he could kiss you.  

Before Suguru, you hadn’t really understood what the point of kissing was. It was an act of affection you mirrored with others because it was what people did. When Suguru licked your lips open for himself, you understood. Any touch of his body against yours had a potent effect, but the openly intimate domination of his tongue against yours, his fingers slipping up your hair to tilt your head, the hand on your bare waist, it was enough to clear your mind all over again. Igniting the purest type of motivation—lust. 

You wanted to show him your devotion. You wanted him to know you were sorry. You clung to his shoulders, hoping he could feel it.

All too soon, Suguru pulled back, his lips hovering inches from your own. You tried to follow, but he held you in place by your hair. 

“I’m impressed,” he said, answering his comment from before. “I admire your dedication. I only wish it extended to your actions. I can’t trust you until I know you obey me.”

“I do,” you said. “I…I will.” 

“Not yet.” Suguru didn’t wait for your response, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips, your cheek, and then tilting your head to whisper in your ear. “Move back. I’ll take care of the rest,” he told you, his husky voice making you shudder.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered so softly you wondered if he heard you. When Suguru pulled away, you scooted back to sit in the center of his bed, waiting and watching with equal parts nerves and anticipation. He picked through the red box again, pulling out another set of leather cuffs and a bundle of those silky scarves. 

“Open your legs,” he ordered in a business-like voice as he joined you on the bed, crawling up to you and readying one of the leather straps. The sudden shift of tone surprised you, throwing you off all over again. 

“What’s that?” you asked nervously. He gave you a sharp look and you relented, opening your legs. Being exposed so brazenly made your skin crawl, but he paid no attention to your naked body, wrapping the strap around your thigh and fastening it, repeating the process on your other leg. 

“What is it that the monkey said to upset you?” Suguru asked casually as he tested the straps for give, deeming them satisfactory. The conversational tone burst your bubble of rose tinged intimacy, sending your thoughts back to unpleasant places. “I assume something set you off.” 

“I… um…” As if revealing a magic trick, he unwound a length of the red scarf-like fabric, distracting you from a question you hadn’t really understood in the first place.

“Or did he try to attack you?” Suguru pushed, neatly doubling the scarf and pulling it around your back. He had to sit close as he blindly tied the knot and the cashmeran twilight scent of his skin filled your senses, you held your breath when he pulled away just to keep it close for a moment longer. 

“Have you done this before?” you asked as he wound the scarf around your chest and shoulders with a practiced hand, searching for a distraction from the embarrassment. 

“Does it bother you if I have?” Suguru asked. 

“No, sir.” 

He had to lean forward again to fasten the final knot on your back. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly. “What happened?” 

You winced. “He called me delusional. He said I’m just a… a bitch in your harem, and that I’d go down with you.” 

“I see,” Suguru said, pulling back, his expression impassive. 

“I’m really sorry, Geto-sama,” you said. 

“Are you worried he’s right?” Suguru asked, his voice so saccharinely sweet it had to be mocking. 

“I don’t… I don’t know.” 

“You are special to me,” Suguru told you sweetly, petting your hair. 

“You’re special to me too,” you said, eager to try and express your adoration. “Very, very special.” 

“I’m doing this because you’re so special to me. I can help you grow, and help you move on. I can show you the benefits of an honest life without the petty influence of the weak, but I cannot force your obedience. I need you to choose to listen to me, to obey me.”

“That is my choice,” you said. 

“Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’?” Suguru countered, revealing the final trick of his little magic show. The chains on your wrists connected to those on your ankles with a few inches of slack, your ankle cuffs connected to the straps on your thighs, and the loose ends of scarves from the harness he had just finished tying were threaded into the D-rings on your thigh straps. Unable to balance upright, you rolled onto your back, fully exposed and unable to do much of anything about it. “This is your chance to make amends.” 

Suguru put his hand on your bare chest, right above your racing heart as it beat against your ribs. “You’re scared again,” he said. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Do you not believe that?” 

“I’m just…” you squirmed uncomfortably, unable to articulate what you felt. You didn’t know what you felt, couldn’t figure out anything beyond the intensely physical embarrassment and the panicked disquiet of being bound and exposed.  

“You know what to do to make this stop,” he pointed out, his hand dragging down your chest to your flinching stomach. “Just say the word, and I’ll let you leave.”

Suguru told you that almost like it was a joke. He was daring you to use the safe word and stop him, to show him that you weren’t as devoted as you claimed. His hand reached your pelvis and you whimpered, your hips wiggling in an undecided way. Did you want him to touch you, or were you nervous for that part? You couldn’t tell. The feelings were the same. 

He finally dropped over you, both of his hands resting on your ass before brushing up your thighs, pressing them further apart as he kissed you with an open mouth. Suguru’s tongue urgently met yours, teasing enough to invite your active and enthusiastic participation. To show him how much you wanted him. Of course you did. 

With a surprising bite on your lower lip, Suguru left your mouth to move down, licking and kissing his way across your jaw, following the line of your neck. He stopped there, sucking hard right above your pulse until you shuddered hard, making a soft, helpless noise. Your hands anxiously jerked, but all that did was snap the chains taut. Taking his time, his hand trailed down your thigh, his fingernails scraping the skin, until he reached your pussy. 

When Suguru’s fingers made contact with the sensitive flesh, you yelped, and he bit your neck hard enough to draw that yelp out into a pathetic keen. Your attempt to free your hands so you could push him back served only to pull your legs open wider. 

“Was that too much?” Suguru asked, lightly tracing your slit. 

“Hurts,” you said, your breathing hard and fast. He chuckled warmly, finding your clit and tracing little circles over it, just teasing. You whimpered. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asked, his lips brushing your skin as he moved down your chest. 

You made a choked, conflicted sound in your throat, any coherent response leaving your head the second his mouth closed around your nipple. Electric pulses of pleasure zipped down to your core, made that much more intense by the fingers on your clit. Suguru added more pressure against it, the weight sweetened by the friction of his calloused fingertips. Your hips rolled into the touch, your back arching for every delicious movement of his tongue or teeth on your nipple. 

A hoarse wail left your mouth when he released you with a wet pop, moving to do the same to your other nipple. His fingers were truly grinding against your clit at this point. It wasn’t the sweet enticement of pleasure, but a brute force motion that guaranteed you would come fast. 

You whined and moaned and shuddered, fighting the restraints. Sweat slicked up your skin, chafing beneath the restraints as you jerked, your body going taut to prepare for the sudden orgasm. You managed a choked, “I can’t, I can’t, I-” And then that tension snapped. It was good, but the rush was too fast and fleeting, fizzling itself out before you could savor the feeling. All it really did was make you want more.

With another lewdly wet pop, Suguru pulled off your nipple and sat up, his hand retreating from between your legs. “How did that feel?” he asked.

You swallowed, nodding fast. “‘s good. Tha-aa-nk you, sir.” 

“It’s interesting to me how much more sensitive girls are after coming,” Suguru said, teasing you with his fingers lightly tracing over your slit. “It’s almost obscene. Men need time, but you already want more, don’t you?” 

You shuddered, panting and flushed. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He smirked, although you couldn’t say you really understood the joke. Your entire body twitched, the chains clinking, and he licked his lips, looking at your flushed body like he was eying up a meal. 

Your eyes squeezed shut when he ran two fingers from your entrance, dragging a smear of slick arousal up to your clit. 

“No, don’t close your eyes,” Suguru said, beginning to draw patterns over your swelling clit. “Look at me.” 

You nodded, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze despite how overwhelming it was to be watched while he touched you so intimately. You squirmed, inhaling sharply through your teeth, already feeling the tantalizing build. 

“What about you?” you asked. “You don’t have to, um… um…” Blinking fast, breathing hard, your words scattered like dust and you felt the same tightening in your core, the sparkling promise of release. At the exact moment you were about to come again, Suguru pressed his hand flat between your legs, denying you that final push over the edge. 

Whining and desperate and so, so close, your hips bucked upward, desperate to come again. It was already too late, out of your grasp. “Geto-sama, please, I was-”

“No,” he said simply. 

“What?” 

“No. I’m not going to let you come again. I’ve already given you one more than you deserve.”

“No,” you whispered, horrified. “You… You can’t.” 

“No?” he repeated, his fingers tracing your clit slowly, with the barest amount of pressure. “You remember why I’m doing this, don’t you? I’m punishing you.” He pressed more intently against your clit. Unable to comprehend denial, your body began the process of drawing up tight. “You need to learn to be obedient. You have to learn to take whatever I see fit to give you.” 

“I am,” you gasped out. “I do, I-I will, I’m…” Your back arched, your arms and legs falling aside as if to make an offering of your body in the hopes that he would let you come this time. “I’m sorry that I… that I did that,” you babbled, your pussy tightening around nothing as your body got ready to come. “I’m really… really… I’m-” 

Suguru stopped just when you were on the precipice again, tapping your folds as if to mock your need. You squinted at him, your chest hitching a heavy breath, tears pricking your eyes. “But I said… Oh…” You didn’t finish what you were saying, too distracted by the slick slide of his fingers inside of you. So good. You swallowed hard, your cunt squeezing his fingers desperately as his fingers curled, dragging against your g-spot as they pulled out before thrusting forward. 

“If your words meant anything, you wouldn’t need to be punished in the first place,” Suguru pointed out, although you weren’t paying very close attention, your body awkwardly trying to roll into his fingers as they slowly fucked you. He touched your clit with his other hand, once again ensuring that you would come quickly. 

Too quickly, really. The intensity of pleasure shocked you, especially since you were so sensitive, desperate for more. “Please, can I… will you please… Please?” you begged, your animal need curbed slightly by fear. 

“You should know that no other man will do this for you,” Suguru said. “No one else will ever care for you the way I do.”

You nodded fast, knowing that was the truth. No other person in the world had ever been as kind or compassionate to you as Suguru. Nobody had ever wanted you, or made you feel important, or given you purpose. You loved him. You felt that affection swell alongside your building orgasm. 

He would let you come this time, he wasn’t slowing down. His fingers made a sickening wet schlick as they pumped in and out of your pussy, working in time with the finger on your clit. You were there, your body taut and ready and desperate and-

A wail escaped you when he stopped at the last moment, your entire body jerking in desperation to reclaim your ruined orgasm. As soon as it was gone, he returned to touching you in the same way, vigorously chasing you back to the edge and abandoning you seconds before you could get off. 

“Please,” you begged.

“I told you no,” Suguru reminded you, adding a third finger to pump and curl into your pussy as if to punctuate the cruel statement. You were off the edge now, but your body still stupidly strove to take more pleasure. You blinked tears, confused and needy and trembling, your breathing shallow. 

“Why?” 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. The touch on your clit had you throwing your head back, your nostrils flared and teeth clenched. Chains clicked together when you tried to free your arms, but it was a fruitless struggle. You didn’t want to respond to his touch in the same way, you needed a reprieve, but there was no escape. You were sensitive. Your body remembered coming once, and that was enough of an incentive to try to get more. 

“You can always stop me,” Suguru said. “If it becomes too much.”

“It’s…” you told him, although your attempt to seem brave was weakened by your breathy, pathetic voice. “I’m… I can take whatever you give me. I’m…” You sobbed, overwhelmed by the drag of his fingers against your g-spot. He barely had to put any pressure on your clit, it was so swollen beneath his teasing fingers. “Please, sir. I just… Just one, please?”

“I already let you come once,” he reminded you, amused. 

You moaned miserably, your head tossing back and forth as you readied yourself for another orgasm. You hoped that maybe if you could just come before he noticed, then that would be enough to soothe the horrible ache, the fearful deprivation he kept stoking to a blaze. 

It was there, right at your fingertips, on the tip of your tongue, and Suguru hummed happily when he suddenly pulled his fingers out of you. You shouted, thrashing against your bindings. They all held, keeping you helpless beneath him. 

“Please, I… please.” 

“No,” Suguru said, slowly pushing just one finger into you. You sobbed when he used it to massage your g-spot. Not giving you any real pressure or weight or friction, just that constant reminder of the pleasure you had been denied.

“I can’t,” you said tearfully, straining to get more out of that single finger like a starving woman being thrown crumbs. 

“You can,” Suguru told you. His word was gospel. It didn’t matter what you thought. 

He pulled his finger out before you could get too used to it, only to return with three. You choked, your body jerking hard enough against the restraints to hurt, suddenly thrown into high gear as he properly finger-fucked you, bouncing your entire body. 

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching your clit, you could get off just on this. Your body was thrumming with denied pleasure and you wanted it so bad you could scream. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes—No!” 

You were properly sobbing this time when he stopped, almost horrified by the intensity of your body’s disappointment when his fingers pulled out. You had no idea how he was getting the timing so perfect, but it was worse than if he was just hurting you. Suguru shoved his fingers into your open mouth while you were still reeling, smearing the taste of your pussy onto your tongue. You didn’t need his instruction to suck on them, hoping that the display of thoughtless obedience would earn you some leniency.   

“Good girl,” he cooed, pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth, almost enough to make you choke. When he pulled them out, he didn’t linger, kissing a line down your stomach. Your arms fought the restraints when you realized his intentions because you weren’t sure you could handle feeling his mouth on you like this, not if he was going to keep denying you. 

“No,” you whined. “Please, I… I can’t…” 

“Yes, you can,” Suguru said calmly, not even bothering to look up at you.

A heavy, almost guttural moan left your mouth when his tongue licked past your folds, tossing you right back into the abyss of lustful need. All he had to do was brace his forearm across the backs of your thighs and you were unable to do anything, your trapped arms and legs twitching, your feet kicking uselessly into the empty air, the chains connecting them to your wrists clicking. 

Suguru was good at this, switching between flat-tongued licks and pointed patterns, closing his lips around your clit until you were choking out these pathetic little chirps, your body reacting in a way entirely out of your control. 

And when you were there, right at the very edge, he pressed a kiss to your clit and looked up at you from beneath his dark eyelashes. 

You sobbed, throwing your head back in a childish display of disappointment. 

“You’re alright. Breathe,” Suguru said.

“Please,” you begged.

Suguru hummed as he lowered his head, shaking it side to side with his tongue flat against your clit. Your toes curled, your hands forming pathetic fists.  

It didn’t take much to build you up all over again, your entire body was wired and ready. You didn’t think you had ever felt so aware of yourself. Your skin, your pussy, your heart, your body, everything crackled and blazed. What was he doing, drawing kanji with his tongue? You didn’t know, but it felt amazing. You chased that feeling knowing you shouldn’t, thinking that maybe this time, maybe if you were fast enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe-

“No, please, I just wanna…” Suguru’s tongue stilled and he pulled away, watching you fall apart at yet another denied orgasm. “No!”

He casually pressed two fingers into you, massaging them against that spongy spot with a wet squish that was beyond obscene. “You know what to say to make me stop,” he told you.

“I know,” you said, wishing you could cover your face, wishing for some point of sanity here in this lust-mad haze. “I don’t want… Please, Geto-sama, I just wanna come, please.”

“Oh?” he said, his other hand returning to rest on your pelvic bone to playfully tease your clit. “Do you think you deserve that?” 

“I…” You tried desperately to figure out the correct answer by looking at his expression, but you couldn’t tell and his hands kept you distracted. Deserve didn’t matter, all you could think was that you wanted to come. “Yes?” you said, hoping very much that was the correct response, practically praying for the torment to end. His fingers slowed and you let out an embarrassing little keen. “Ah… No, no I…” His expression still didn’t change, leaving you scrambling. Your chest hiccupped with a sob, your confused spiral boiling down to the pit of desperate need. “I don’t know.”  

Rather than respond, Suguru’s head lowered between your legs once more to tongue your clit in time with his fingers. You felt a hot rush of hope that you got something right, that he was finally going to let you come. Your entire body surged towards the feeling, going so stiff that it made your trembling muscles ache. 

And there, right on the edge, he stopped. You didn’t have it within you to do anything other than cry, openly weeping at this point. If he were only teasing you it would be one thing, but he was purposefully working you right up to the edge and then abandoning you there. It was the feeling of being unable to sneeze amplified to a million, that torturous feeling of almost.  

“I’ll do anything, please,” you told him, your voice coming out broken.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t before?” Suguru asked. You opened your mouth to argue, only to realize that it didn’t matter. Nothing you said or did mattered, you were helpless to him. You had already surrendered everything else, the only thing you could do was obey and hope for his mercy.  

You understood. He didn’t want you to beg. He wanted you to obey. To be good for him without question. 

You could do that. 

Suguru pushed his fingers back into you, repeating the whole process of working you up and abandoning you again. And again. And then he added his mouth. There were several times in your life you’d been pushed to the absolute brink of sanity, and right then you were convinced that you were going to go mad. But you grit your teeth and endured it. You had to. This was your punishment, and Suguru would decide when to end your misery. 

You had to be good for him.  

Had you ever been this wet? Swollen too, all of your blood flowing dangerously hot between your legs. It was disgusting, your pussy was sloppy and red and he barely had to touch your clit at all to build you right up to that edge. And it was just as easy to let you fall, disappointed and unfulfilled and growing increasingly, painfully distraught from the denial. 

You beat your fists pathetically against the bed, hitting your head into the pillow like a madman. Air puffed out of your chest fast and hard enough to make your head spin, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. 

Rather than continue the torture, Suguru grabbed your chin, dragging you out of your spiraling haze. His fingers were slick from being inside of you. You met his eyes through a veil of tears. “Have you had enough?” he asked, his voice wavering with a parody of pity. “I’m worried you’re going to hyperventilate.” 

You blinked fast, trying to gather the coherence to respond. “I can… I can take it,” you told him with a miserable sort of resolve, your voice thin and breathless. 

Suguru smiled. “Really? And if I said I intended to leave you like this, perhaps to go find a way to fix the mess you made?” 

The thought was enough to make you sob. His attention was torturously uncomfortable, but being completely denied any resolution, being left bound and soaking wet and electrified with unfulfilled need, you almost would have rathered he hit you. 

But you nodded, forcing yourself to accept it. Anything less would be to reject his authority over you, right? It would make you seem less loyal. “Anything,” you whispered.

“Ah, that look in your eyes is wonderful,” he cooed. “You mean it, don’t you?” 

You nodded insistently. “I love you,” you told him, speaking without thought, saying it because it was true. “I’ll do… I’ll do anything.”

“Okay, I’ll let you come,” Suguru said, releasing your face so his hand could wander back down between your legs. 

You made a weak noise, your body unconsciously jerking, straining towards him. 

It was pathetic, he barely had to do anything, simply brushing his flat fingers in light circles over your swollen clit. And that was enough. Fear flooded your insides alongside the same frantic, hot rush of pleasure. All of your muscles contracted in a mass of sore, shaking muscles and bestial desperation because you were afraid he would stop again, afraid that he would deny you and there would be no recourse other than pathetic acceptance.

“Please, please, I-I love you,” you plead, your voice whispery, rough and desperate, borderline incoherent.

And he didn’t stop. 

That wet, hot snap of release was one of the best things you had ever felt. You convulsed, chains clicking and leather chafing against your skin and his name spilling from your lips over and over. He worked you right through the orgasm. You were crying again, sobbing and shaking and sticky hot. It felt good. It felt like forgiveness. 

“Another?” Suguru asked. Your eyes had been shut, but now they opened to see his smile.

You just shook your head, lacking the capacity to respond. 

He didn’t wait, pushing three fingers into you while teasing your clit with his other hand. It forced your body through a surprisingly uncomfortable rubbery mixture of overstimulation and mindless need. It left you feeling like an elastic band being stretched and stretched. In spite of that feeling, a few solid, harsh pumps later and you were coming again, your pussy squeezing his fingers to keep them there while he worked you through it. There was very little drama to it, you were already wrung out. But it was good. Hot and wet and good. 

Suguru didn’t stop. You fought the restraints, wanting to move, to writhe, to get more comfortable, to take some control back because you needed a moment to collect yourself. 

“I really-” It was hard to speak. Hard to form the words. Hard to get them out. “Oh God, I—ah.”

Almost painfully sensitive, the rough pounding of his fingers against your g-spot started to register as too much. You fought the restraints, a different sort of panic setting in. To keep your body from rejecting the pleasure of his touch, Suguru doubled down against your clit, pressing a little harder. You had been starving, but now you were splitting full from the assault pleasure. 

“Too—oo much,” you got out through your teeth, although it probably didn’t seem like it was too much when your back was arching accordingly, your pussy clamping down around his relentless fingers, that coiling buildup of release reaching its apex. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, your fingers and toes clawing helplessly at the sheets as you came, practically choking on the hot feverish intensity of your orgasm. 

“No, it’s not,” Suguru told you. His fingers slowed at least, and then pulled out. It wasn’t much of a reprieve, he immediately shuffled down the bed so he could situate his head back between your thighs. 

You hissed, tensing up, your arms jerking against the restraints. Your clit was too sensitive for his tongue, he had to understand that. “You… You don’t… Have to,” you got out, your voice unsteady from how hard you were panting. “I don’t need-” 

“Don’t worry,” Suguru said sweetly. “I’m not doing this for you.”

The wet, warm patterns he drew on your clit with his tongue sent you into a sort of delirium. No matter how sensitive you thought you were, it was intoxicatingly good. He focused entirely on what made your hips try to jump, what made you moan and whine. When he slipped two fingers into your pussy at the same time, you felt ready to lose it entirely. You were falling apart. Splitting at the seams. You came with a harsh cry, Weeping at the fizzling heat of pleasure. 

Suguru didn’t stop. He just hummed and flattened his tongue and kept going, forcing you right past that sickening few seconds of sensory rejection and towards another orgasm. You could do it. You focused on that because even if you weren’t entirely sure you wanted more, you wanted to be good for him. How ungrateful would it be to not come when he was kind enough to eat you out? 

Covered in the sickly shine of sweat and shaking so uncontrollably that it felt like the world itself was trembling, you came again.  

When he was content you were done, Suguru stopped, pulling his fingers out with a final brush against your g-spot to make you whine, your body mindlessly writhing. He sat up, brushing back strands of sweaty black hair with the back of his hand. 

You wilted in place, closing your eyes to focus on your breathing while he messed with something else. It was hard to collect yourself, but you could already tell that you would be sore tomorrow. 

Hearing the shift of fabric, you opened your eyes to see Suguru remove his boxers. Despite your messily deteriorated state, the sight of his cock roused enough of your mind to focus. He was hard, the red-flushed head bobbed as he casually stroked himself which might have been for your benefit. Despite the sensory overload, your pussy tightened in anticipation of feeling him inside of you. If he fucked you and you did good enough to make him come, then you would be done. That was, at the very least, an end goal. One more thing you could endure for him, and then he would forgive you. 

Suguru looked down at you with a fond smile, an expression that seemed more than a little cruel when he was stroking his dick, when he knew fully well that you were painfully oversensitive and this would make it that much worse. 

“Should I make you beg?” he asked warmly, tapping the head against your painfully sensitive folds. You whimpered, squirming. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted this, and he probably knew that, but maybe that was the point. It didn’t matter, you wanted him, you wanted to be good for him, and that superseded every other thing you felt. 

“Please, Geto-sama,” you begged, defaulting to the formal address because you needed him to accept it, because he was your lord and master in every way except by name, because you adored him and worshiped him, and you needed him to understand that. “Fuck me, please. I’m yours.”

“So vulgar,” he said, sliding his cock up and down through the wet, sloppy mess he’d made of your pussy. “I wonder what happened to the sweet, innocent girl you used to be.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Please.”

“I’m kidding,” Suguru told you, bracing one hand on your thigh to force your hips to curl while lining up his cock. “Aren’t you going to beg?”

“Please-”

“No, no. Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look up at him through tear-covered lashes. “Please, Geto-sama. Please, I’m yours.” 

It was nothing for him to push in. You were wet and eager and it felt good. The feeling of his cock popping past the initial barrier of muscle and driving deeper into your pussy was one of the most uniquely pleasurable sensations you had ever felt, no matter what the context. It gave you the sort of fullness nothing could replicate, physically grounded you in a way nothing else ever had. 

Since you were watching, you got to see his expression slacken into one of pleasure. Your pussy fluttered and squeezed, just making room for him. 

You gave up keeping your eyes open as he drove himself even deeper, throwing your head back to just take it, to ignore the discomfort of his cock grinding against what felt like raw nerves. Suguru braced his hands on your thighs as he rocked his hips, taking his time. 

“What does it feel like?” he asked. 

“Good,” you said quickly, your tongue feeling loose like you were drunk. “So… So good.” 

“I want to feel you come again,” he said. “You don’t mind, right?” 

Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, shutting when he suddenly snapped his hips forward. “I can’t,” you whined. “Not again.”  

“You can,” Suguru told you, grinding his cock as far into as he could, pressing as deep as possible, deep enough to make you whimper and writhe. Could he feel that? Could he feel the way you were shaking all the way down to your bones, feel the way your heart raced and fluttered and skipped? 

And then you heard it turn on. When you heard the buzzing, your brain was wildly scattered enough that you thought it was an electric toothbrush which made no sense whatsoever. When he pressed the vibrator directly to your clit, you yelped, trying to buck it off but only serving to grind yourself into his cock. 

A few little circles with the thing against your clit was all it took for you to choke, your body seizing up with another orgasm. You were acutely aware of the way it caused your cunt to squeeze and suck his cock, coating it in a fresh wave of arousal as he pulled out, making a horrible wet slap when he thrust back in. 

Suguru groaned, keeping the vibrator directly on your clit as he chose a slow, steady pace. 

“I can’t,” you tried to tell him, squirming and writhing with renewed vigor as your body started to tense up to come again. You couldn’t stop it and of course it felt good but it was too much, almost burning. You could handle it. If you came again it would hurt, especially coming with his cock grinding so persistently into your overly sensitive cunt. 

“I thought you were being good,” Suguru said, rewarding you with a heavy, harsh thrust that made you wail. And another. That sent you over the edge, whimpering and shaking and incoherent with the overwhelming influx of heat and tingling overstimulation. Like the brittle snap when breaking a glow stick, or taking a crisp, juicy bite of an apple. It should have been good, but all you could feel was the wet, helpless violation of something ruined. 

Suguru moaned openly, driving himself deep enough for his hips to slap your ass with each heavy thrust. Your head whipped from side to side, the only form of protest left to you. He kept moving the vibrator to make sure you didn’t get too accustomed to any one type of stimulation. It was torture. Horrible torture. You wouldn’t have thought coming could be so agonizing, and yet when you drew up for another sharp, shuddery orgasm you couldn’t recognize it as anything else. 

“Is this better or worse than before?” Suguru asked, his words stuttered with each hard thrust. 

“I don’t… I can’t…” You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t do anything except convulse and cry and come. Again. 

You didn’t understand. 

“You don’t know?” he asked, breathy yet amused. “You’ll have to—to tell me later.” 

The problem was that you had no place to think. You were too full. Suguru continued fucking you hard and steady. All you could hear was the slick slapping of wet skin and that infernal buzzing. There was so much weight behind every movement, like he was trying to batter his way into your womb. Each thrust was followed by a whimper or moan or cry. And the relentless vibrator against your clit. It hurt. It burned. 

“I don’t… don’t…” 

“You’re… not done,” Suguru told you, his voice heavy and breaking with exertion. “Come again.” 

You weren’t sure if you were actually crying anymore, or just sobbing and panting and so sweaty it felt like you were crying. You couldn't form any coherent words, or even incoherent rejections. So you obeyed, the taste of blood on your tongue and stars dotting your vision, your pussy burning and inner walls pulsing around his cock as you came again. Suguru groaned, his lovely lips parted and eyes closed. 

“One more,” he demanded. “Just… Just one… More.” That word was punctuated with a hard thrust and an especially cruel grind of the vibrator against your overstimulated clit. There was no point in saying no, or even believing it wasn’t possible. He knew more than you did. You didn’t know anything. 

With a miserable whine, you came again, although at this point it felt like there was just a long, helpless flow of overstimulation marked with waves of overbearing heat, and then your pussy tightened around his cock and it dragged cruelly against your g-spot, and that was all you could manage before you were tossed back into the mindless daze of agonizing excess.

“Even though it hurts, you’re…” He didn’t finish that breathless thought, although his amused smile went away when his hips suddenly stuttered and he fell forward, his forearm resting by your shoulder. 

Mercifully, Suguru shut the vibrator off, letting it fall somewhere to the side, bracing his other arm on the bed next to you as he sought his own end. Your arms and legs fell to the side, slack except for when your muscles spasmed or jerked. Every thrust added to the relentless cycle of too much, especially from this angle, you could feel the way your body worked itself up to come again, responding to his pleasure as if it were your own. 

“Geto-sama… Suguru please,” you begged and there was a chance he couldn’t make out that you were attempting to form actual words, but even with your sanity fraying at the edges from his torture, you wanted him to come. You wanted to know there was a reason for your complete unraveling, that you had a real, good purpose, some sort of justification to exist. 

Suguru forced your knees all the way up to your chest, pushing his cock as deep as possible as he came, working himself through it with shallow thrusts and these intoxicatingly sexy stuttered moans. Distantly, beyond the hellish, sweaty shell of your shaking body, you had the distinct thought that everything was worth it just to hear him moan like that. Just to be rewarded by his pleasure. Because you loved him. Because you belonged to him. Both of you were flushed hot and disturbingly slick with sweat and it hurt for him to be pushing so deep. Out of all the little cruelties he had subjected you to, the fact that you were unable to hold onto him like you wanted was one of the worst. 

When Suguru pulled out, that hurt too. Every part of your body hurt. He left you to fall bonelessly limp onto the bed, rolling around to lay next to you. 

In the relative quiet, your ears rang with a tinny discordance, paired with the engine roar of rushing blood. Your tongue was sandpaper in your mouth—little wonder, you had no idea how you had any liquid left in your body—and your limbs hurt from being stuck in the bound position for so long, but you couldn’t say you wanted to do anything to fix those things. As soon as the severity of those discomforts occurred to you, so were they carried away by the lapping tide of exhaustion. You felt like a sponge that had been squeezed dry. That’s probably what you looked like too.   

“I didn’t expect it to be so… Difficult to contain myself,” Suguru mused softly. You didn’t respond, marveling at his voice. It was very nice. So soothing and smooth. Perfect, just like every other part of him. “It’s wrong, but necessary. You never learned the right way to live, I have to guide you. Otherwise you could hurt yourself. You could hurt our family.” There was more conviction in those words, like he was trying to argue against a point you hadn’t made. 

Even if you were to be unbound, you wouldn’t dare close your legs. You couldn’t feel his cum slipping out, maybe you were too swollen. That would explain the painful heat. 

“I wish I didn’t have to make my point like this,” Suguru continued. “But I'll do whatever it takes for you to get it.” 

Mute confusion was the only thing you had left—you were barely aware enough to listen to what he was saying, let alone divine any meaning from the words. Your body hurt and you were thirsty and sweaty and tired. You didn’t think anything. You couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t even confusion, it was just pure exhaustion. 

“Ah, you’re a mess,” Suguru said, sitting up. You groaned in disapproval when he started messing with the straps around your thighs, taking them off. Without the harness's support, your legs dropped limp onto the bed. Still, you didn’t move. You couldn’t fathom moving. “Hey,” he chided, “don’t go to sleep.”

You grunted unhappily. 

“Will you open your eyes?” Suguru asked, touching your fever-hot cheek. After a second, you did, meeting his gaze with your own dazed, blank stare. His expression was tender, you thought. So kind, so sweet, so gentle. “I need you to listen to me now, hm?” 

You made a sound to show that you were listening, looking up at his beautiful face with a marveling sort of adoration. Suguru really was beautiful. It was little wonder so many people thought he was a holy man. He undid the chains keeping your hands and ankles connected, letting your arms flop lifelessly into the sweaty sheets.

“I forgive you,” Suguru told you, his eyes scanning your body slowly, taking in the sweat and the reddish flush and the twitching, trembling of your muscles with some kind of affection. “But, and I need you to remember this,” he continued, his eyes returned to yours, “next time you disobey me, it will be worse.”

Worse? You couldn’t imagine worse. The idea of worse made your eyes sting, panic threatening to crawl back out of the abyss of your exhaustion to send you into a fit of tears.

You blinked and swallowed against your dry throat. “I’ll be… be good, I promise,” you said in a voice that was little more than a hoarse croak. 

“Shhh,” Suguru shushed softly, brushing your damp hair off of your sweaty forehead. “Don’t be scared. Everything I do, I do because I love you. You are precious to me, you know that, don’t you?”

Those words worked like ether sweet anesthesia through your head and you believed him, loved him, trusted him. He did this because he loved you, and because you needed to learn. Of course. That made sense even if nothing else did. 

[barcaatthemoon]

flustered || ona batlle x reader ||

patri decides that she's over you trying to avoid ona when you come back to barcelona.

you hated the circumstances of your return to barcelona. you had spent so much time in london that you had almost forgotten that it was just a loan. your contract was nearly up, and you'd spend the last season of it back in barcelona, where you no longer felt like there was anything for you. it seemed like the team had completely replaced you, including ona.

your attempts at staying in london were futile. they didn't have the budget the keep you there for another season, not when barcelona had made an outrageous demand for money. jona wouldn't play you, so you didn't understand why they were so insistent on you coming back. still, you returned to spain and tried to get back into your old routine.

training was fairly easy for you. the exercises were different, but you went the same amount of days as you had in london. in your spare time, you went to the gym every single day. it was rare for you to stay in your apartment by yourself. occasionally, you let loose with the team on a bonding night, but never for too long.

it was silly, but you had a hard time being around ona and lucy. not a lot of the girls knew how you felt, but the ones who did left you alone. you had followed ona to england, but ended up staying for nearly two years longer than she did. something had happened up there, and it killed some of the girls not to know what it was.

truthfully, it hadn't been anything nearly as serious as you were making it out to be. you and ona had been friends, best friends at that. there had been seedlings of unfriendly feelings between the two of you, ones that didn't get better with the bit of distance between manchester and london. if anything, they only seemed to get worse for you. you couldn't be around ona without becoming a flustered mess.

it didn't help that when your eyes had met, she'd blush and look away as well. some might have taken that as a sign that she liked you back, but all it did was make you nervous. ona could have been a sure thing for you, but you were terrified of the idea that she liked you back. for some reason, you had convinced yourself that it was easier to pine over ona than to actually be happy with her.

"okay, enough of this!" patri shouted as she clapped her hands together. everybody looked over at her, and subsequently you as well. the two of you had been working out together. for the longest time, ona had been your gym partner at barcelona, and while patri was happy to do it, she couldn't stand watching you look longingly at ona from across the gym.

"patri, what are you doing?" you hissed as she dragged you over to where ona and lucy were running.

"both of you, start talking, now!" patri wasn't usually so forceful with you, and you weren't sure what to do except for obey. you hated that she knew how easily you'd submit with a little force, something you would never forgive leila for telling her. "come on now, i don't have all day."

"patri, please," you pleaded with her. unfortunately for you, the woman didn't relent. she only pushed you even closer to ona, who just barely managed to catch you. up close, you could see how flushed she was, and it didn't look like it was just coming from the workout. "ona, are you okay? you look a little…"

"i'm fine!" ona was quick to shout out at you. both of you winced at the sudden increase of volume.

"god, i can't watch this anymore," lucy muttered. she walked away, patri joining her as the two of them complained about you and ona. the look on your face was nothing short of confused. you could have sworn that lucy was dating ona, and the woman wouldn't have just left the two of you like that if it really was the case.

"a-aren't you going to go with lucy? it's not very nice of her to just leave you here. i'd never do that to my girlfriend," you said. ona's mouth opened and closed as the pieces clicked into place.

she had been so confused about why you were being distant. at first, she had chalked it down to you missing your arsenal teammates. however, as the season went on, she noticed how things were almost back to normal. the exception of you being distant with her had ona's mind absolutely spinning. she couldn't remember there being any tension whenever the two of you had last seen each other. if anything, you'd been a bit more affectionate at the last national camp.

"lucy is not my girlfriend. she thought you were at first," ona admitted. "then she thought it was either jana or patri. neither one of them are yours, right?"

"ona, i haven't had a girlfriend in nearly two years. not because i'm like a freak or anything, it's just hard for me sometimes. there was someone i did like at arsenal, but it didn't seem fair…" you trailed off, glad that you had stopped yourself before you said anything too embarrassing.

"fair?" ona asked you.

"it's not fair to be with someone if you love someone else," you said quietly. ona gently cradled your face in her hands as the two of you stood in the corner of the gym. "i went all the way to england to stay close to you."

"i didn't want to assume at first. and then, well, you never said anything. you just kind of got quiet, so i thought you were mad at me." both of you felt like idiots as the pieces fell into place around you.

"you were making me nervous. i couldn't say anything without mixing up my words. i didn't want to embarrass myself or say the wrong thing," you told her.

"you could never," ona reassured you. "can i kiss you?"

"take me on a date first," you laughed. ona sighed and nodded. she began to turn away from you, but you grabbed her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "patri was my ride, so maybe coffee after practice?"

"you can come see my new coffee machine. the girls are all very impressed by it, even alexia," ona said proudly. you liked the sound of that, unsurprised that ona planned to take you back to her place. she knew that you were a homebody, and a familiar place would make you feel most comfortable.

[novaursa]

Love love LOVE the cycle!! Thank you, both to the anon for the idea, and to you for bringing it to life!

So, what would happen if the reader picked to save Grey Ghost? Or what would happen if Larys (the bastard he is) made the reader choose one, but killed both? What would be the outcome of those different choices 🙈

✨ You are brilliant as always ✨

The Cycle (one for the price of two)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Cregan leaves with his duty to the Wall and you are left alone with a choice Larys Strong brings.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: This is an alternative scenario of The Cycle. For a full introduction to the story and an entire understanding of this scenario, please read the first part.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Next part: justice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: ☺️❤️

The cold night air claws at your skin as Larys Strong’s men drag you into the courtyard of Winterfell. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body numb from fear and exhaustion, but your mind is ablaze with the impossibility of the choice laid before you. Eddard, your son, bundled in one of the assassin’s arms, lets out a small, sleepy whimper. The sight of him—so helpless, so unaware of the danger—nearly breaks you.

And there, just beyond, lies Grey Ghost, your dragon, chained and wounded, blood dripping from the deep cuts along his silver scales. He lets out a pained, guttural growl as he senses your presence, but even that fierce sound is muted by his weakness, the loss of strength that has drained him since Rook’s Rest.

Larys stands a few paces away, his thin, cold smile barely concealing his delight in this cruel game. His voice cuts through the wind, smooth and deliberate. “As I said, Lady Stark, a choice must be made. Your son… or your dragon. One will live. One will die.”

Your heart pounds so hard you think it might burst. Every second feels like a lifetime as you glance from Eddard, small and innocent, to Grey Ghost, who has been your faithful companion since you first took to the skies. How can anyone make such a decision? How can you decide who will die and who will live when you love them both with every fiber of your being?

But you know the answer, even as the agony of it burns through you. You look at Eddard, and the choice is made, your love for him overpowering everything else.

“I choose my son,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of the decision. “Please… let him live.”

Larys tilts his head, watching you with those calculating eyes, his lips curling into something resembling a smile. For a brief moment, hope flares in your chest, the faintest flicker of belief that he might actually honor your plea.

“Very well,” he says softly, gesturing to his men.

Relief surges through you, tears spilling down your cheeks as you look at Eddard, your precious boy, the reason for every breath you take. But then—your world shatters in an instant.

Larys turns to the man holding your son and gives him a slight nod. Without hesitation, the man draws his knife, a quick flash of silver in the dim light.

“No!” The scream tears from your throat, raw and desperate as you lunge forward, but it’s too late.

The blade slices through the air, slitting Eddard’s throat with a sickening efficiency. His small body goes limp, his eyes wide with shock and confusion, blood spilling down his neck, soaking into the blankets wrapped around him.

Your knees give out beneath you, collapsing onto the cold stone, a wail of anguish ripping from your chest. You crawl forward, hands shaking as you reach for him, his tiny, lifeless form slipping from the assassin’s grip into your arms. His skin is still warm as you cradle him, your tears mixing with the blood, your sobs breaking the silence of the night.

You can barely think, barely breathe. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to die.

But Larys’s voice cuts through the haze of your grief, sharp and cruel. “You chose poorly, my lady.”

Your head snaps up, disbelief and fury burning in your eyes as you clutch your son’s lifeless body. “You—You said—” Your voice is hoarse, broken.

“I said you had a choice,” Larys says coolly. “I never said I’d honor it.”

A cold wave of realization washes over you, and with it, a burning rage unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. “You lying—” Your voice falters, your throat choking on the words.

Grey Ghost lets out a low, rumbling roar, sensing your pain, his own agony and fury mixing with yours through the bond. You can feel his anger, his desire to fight, to break free of the chains that hold him down.

But Larys is not done. With a swift, uncaring gesture, he signals to the men surrounding your dragon. “Kill it.”

“No!” Your scream rips through the air, but you are powerless to stop them. You hold Eddard’s body tightly to your chest as the blades flash again, this time plunging into Grey Ghost’s flesh.

The dragon roars, thrashing weakly against his bonds, his silver scales slick with blood as the swords tear through muscle and bone. You can feel every cut, every wound, as if it were your own, the bond between you straining under the weight of his suffering.

You try to rise, to stop them, but your legs refuse to work, your body frozen in place by the sheer magnitude of your grief and rage. Grey Ghost’s roars grow weaker, each one more agonized than the last until, finally, there is silence. His massive form slumps to the ground, his once-proud wings limp and lifeless, his brilliant silver eyes dull and glassy.

You are left kneeling in the courtyard, the snow beneath you stained red with the blood of your dragon and your son. Your heart, your soul, feels as though it has been ripped from your chest, leaving only a hollow, broken shell in its place.

Larys watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he turns and walks away, his men following behind him. “I’ll leave you with your… losses,” he says over his shoulder, his voice cold and distant. “Remember this night, Y/N. It’s what comes to those who stand against us.”

You sit there in the cold, your body shaking with sobs, clutching Eddard’s lifeless form to your chest, your gaze fixed on the still form of Grey Ghost. The fire of vengeance is all that remains, flickering in the ruins of your heart.

They will pay. By the gods, they will pay for this.

Winterfell stands quiet, eerily so, as Cregan rides into the courtyard. The wind bites at his skin, but it’s not the cold that chills him to the bone. It’s the silence. The absence of life in a place that should be filled with the sounds of his people, his family.

He had received no word for days, no ravens from the castle. His duties at the Wall had kept him away, but something in his gut had twisted, telling him that something was wrong. Urgently, he returned to Winterfell, only to find a scene that makes his blood run cold.

His horse’s hooves crunch against the frozen ground, but no one comes to meet him. His brow furrows as he dismounts, his hand automatically reaching for the Ice. Men who should be standing guard are missing, and as he steps further into the yard, the sight that greets him stops him in his tracks.

Grey Ghost.

The dragon lies still, a massive, broken form in the snow, chains wound tightly around its body, blood frozen into the earth beneath him. The beast’s wings are torn, its scales dulled, and there’s no mistaking the finality of its lifeless eyes.

Cregan’s heart sinks, a terrible dread twisting in his gut. His wife’s dragon is dead.

His eyes scan the yard frantically now, searching for any sign of you, his thoughts tumbling wildly. If Grey Ghost has fallen, then what of you? What of his son?

The weight of his worst fears presses down on him as he sprints through the castle, his boots echoing off the empty stone halls. His heart pounds louder than the silence that envelops the castle, every step filled with a rising panic.

Finally, he bursts into the Great Hall—and the sight before him stops his heart completely.

You are sitting in the middle of the hall, on the cold stone floor. In your arms is a small, motionless form, wrapped in bloodstained blankets. Your face is pale, hollow, streaked with tears that have long since dried on your skin. Your eyes are wide, empty, staring down at the lifeless body of your son—your sweet, innocent Eddard.

Cregan’s breath catches in his throat. “Y/N…” His voice is barely above a whisper as he rushes toward you, but you don’t move, don’t react. It’s as if you don’t even hear him.

He kneels before you, his hands trembling as he reaches out to touch you, to make sure you’re real. The sight of Eddard—his son—cold and still in your arms, is a punch to his gut, a blow so devastating he feels like the air has been ripped from his lungs.

“No…” His voice cracks, thick with grief as his hands hover over Eddard’s tiny, lifeless body. “Gods, no…”

You blink slowly, as if waking from a nightmare, your gaze lifting to meet his. Your eyes, once so full of fire and life, are dull now, clouded by a sorrow so deep it seems to have swallowed you whole.

“They made me choose,” you say softly, your voice barely audible, as if the weight of what you’ve endured has crushed it. “Larys Strong… he made me choose… between Eddard and Grey Ghost.”

Cregan’s chest tightens painfully. His throat burns, and his hands shake as he reaches for you, pulling you into his arms as gently as he can. “Y/N… my love… I’m so sorry…”

You shudder in his embrace, your tears wetting his cloak as you clutch Eddard closer to your chest. “I chose him,” you choke out. “I chose Eddard… but they killed him anyway. They killed him, Cregan. They killed our son.”

His heart shatters into pieces, the grief hitting him like a wave of ice-cold water. He pulls you tighter against him, his own tears threatening to fall as he holds you and the body of his son, helpless to stop the overwhelming flood of sorrow.

“They killed Grey Ghost too,” you whisper, your voice fragile, broken. “I heard him scream… I felt him die…”

Cregan doesn’t know how to respond, his mind struggling to comprehend the cruelty of it all. The Greens had come for your blood, for vengeance, and they had taken everything. His son, your dragon—both gone. And now, you are a hollow shell of the woman you once were, shattered by a grief so terrible it may never fully heal.

“I will kill them for this,” Cregan vows, his voice low and trembling with barely contained fury. “I will hunt down every one of them, and I will make them pay for what they’ve done. I swear it.”

You don’t respond, just collapse against him, too broken to fight, too numb to even cry anymore. All you can do is hold Eddard’s tiny, lifeless form close, as if somehow you can protect him from any more harm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Cregan whispers into your hair, his own tears falling freely now as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The two of you sit there, in the cold emptiness of the Great Hall, cradling the weight of your loss. The world outside is quiet, the snow falling softly, as if the gods themselves mourn what has been taken from you.

But within Cregan’s heart, something hardens. A fire ignites. He will not rest until Larys Strong and the Greens feel the pain they have caused him, feel the agony of every drop of blood they have spilled.

One day, they will pay. One day, Hour of the Wolf will come.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

IGNITED

A KINKTOBER SPECIAL - MARKING WITH ROBERT CAPA

Pairing.| Robert Capa x fem!reader

Summary.| You ignite Robert’s jealousy and he has to remind you that you’re still his

Warnings.| Dubcon, hickies, biting, marking, p in v, rough sex.

Word count.| 1.2k

Notes.| I watched Sunshine once as a kid and it actually terrified me so I still haven’t rewatched it. Therefore all knowledge on him is by edits so this one really isn’t very detailed.

It was the way that Mace smiled at you, which ignited the jealousy in Capa’s body. The innocent graze of his rough fingertips, the deep chuckle as his eyes lingered over your bare skin, the obvious eye fuck session he had with you. Capa would always watch from a distance, his arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched and eyes glued onto the way you reacted to his subtle advances.

There was no reason for him to be jealous, you were broken up, or on a break, the pair of you seem to be on different pages with that topic. Robert was indubitable that you guys would eventually sort out your differences. It felt like a punishment for you when you were both assigned for this mission, but the both of you agreed to act professionally as the world’s survival was a far greater issue than your relationship problems.

However, when he caught Mace practically pressed up against you, his arms snaked around your waist, he could have killed him. You blushed immediately and slipped out of his hold, your head hid in shame as you tried to get out of the scene as quickly as possible. For Mace, Capa gave a simple yet strong warning to stay away from you.

Even though everyone else was asleep by now, Robert was wide awake. Staring aimlessing at his ceiling, his chest rose and fell as he clicked his tongue, his finger tapped just below his chest. Fuck it, he needed to talk to you now, you guys needed to hash it out, he’d be completely unfocused until you resolved this. Robert slipped on a singlet and strode down the white halls.

“We need to talk” Capa muttered as he rudely entered your room, completely avoiding eye contact.

You scoffed under your breath and closed your door, the both of you stood firmly, staring each other off. Your hands moved onto your hips as you moved your head forward.

“Well!” you exclaimed, your voice grumpy, clearly from his unplanned arrival.

“Are you trying to sabotage my work?” Robert lectured as he swiped his hand in the air, he shook his head at the thought of you with Mace.

Without thought, you rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. “You’re such an insecure prick” you insulted, avoiding his gaze by picking up your dirty clothes off of the floor.

As you threw them into the hamper, his hand latched onto your forearm, you hissed at him and tried to snatch yourself free, but he held on tightly to you. Those beautiful blue eyes of his were fuel of rage, suspicion and lust. Capa yanked you towards him, the way he looked down at you made you feel so small and helpless.

“You’re still mine? You know that right?” Capa flared his white teeth, his tone dripping of possessiveness.

“No I’m not” you muttered as you lowered your head in embarrassment as you felt your core turn.

“What was that?” Robert snarled, his hand forced your chin back up. The grip hurt you but you tried to act unphased.

“Nothing” you spat as you tried to shake your head free of his hold.

But his grip tightened until you were whimpering out. Your hands shot up to his wrist, however, even though he was of a slim frame, his strength still dominated over yours.

“No, say it again, I want to hear you” Robert demanded, his face flushed with red. His eyes dared you to piss him off even more.

“Get out Robert-” you were cut off when Robert crashed his lips onto yours.

You whined into his mouth, hands flung out to whack against his chest. But Capa reacted swiftly, you were forced onto your back on the small single bed, his hips straddled you down as hands pinned your wrists on either side of your head. His erection pressed into your stomach as he kissed you roughly, his teeth dug into your plush lips.

Since your resistance was pointless, your body turned lump underneath him, Robert huffed out and inhaled deeply through his nose. Saying that he missed you was an understatement. Robert needed you like oxygen, like the sun. Living without you felt miserable, the only thing that would get him through everyday was still being able to see you. The two of you would sort out your differences, he just knew it.

“My girl, mine. No one else’s okay?” Capa stated, his tone warning you not to disobey his views.

You mumbled out as you nodded your head in agreement, a displeased look on your face. But you were obedient, most of the time anyways, the last thing you needed was a scene made in the middle of space. His hands grabbed onto your breasts through your singlet, he roughly tugged at your skin and grunted out. Capa needed to be buried inside of you as soon as possible.

As he roughly yanked your shorts down, you gasped out at the cold breeze. But his thick fingers brushed over your sensitive skin and you moaned out at impact. After he pulled his singlet off, he unzipped his shorts and mounted you, his lips attached to the skin of your neck as his hands worked to line his cock up.

To ease his distress, you were already dripping. It was easy for him to push his thick member inside of you, you mewled out, biting harshly onto your lower lip as your walls adjusted to him. It had been so long, your body missed Capa, craved him to relieve you.

As he buried himself fully, Robert exhaled out, his eyes fixated on your neck. The possessive traits took over his mind, he needed to mark you as his. Capa’s lips latched onto your neck, his teeth nibbled at your muscle as he hummed, his hips snapped back and forward harshly. You whined out, your hands tangled in his hair as your needy hips rocked for more friction.

Every few minutes Capa’s mouth would move over to a new spot. You held his body close to yours, your legs wrapped around his waist. The desperate need of stimulation clouded your judgment, you knew exactly what he was doing, fending off the other men from even looking in your direction. But this act of love sparked your arousal so large that it took over your body.

When your neck was covered in hickies and bite marks, Capa rasped out. He was close, by the way you were squeezing his aching cock, he knew you were as well. His fingers rolled over your clit and you whined out. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix until the sounds of your orgasm coated moans filled his eyes, velvet walls squeezed as tightly as possible to milk him. Quickly, he followed after you, his body stilled as he gasped out in ecstasy.

“I love you, angel” he moaned out, his eyes rolled back as he rubbed his forehead against yours.

“Love you too” you sniffled, your body trembling from the aftermath of pleasure and the initial stage of regret.

Capa exhaled as his body molded on top of yours. He inhaled your sweet scent, finally his anxieties rested at bay. The warmth he gave you angered you, he was always so infuriating to be around, you hated him yet always wanted him by the end of the night.

“Can I stay in here tonight?” Robert murmured. His stubble teased at your skin as he nuzzled you like a cat.

“Yeah” you sighed as your hand rubbed over your fresh art piece of a neck.

[staneros]

water.

you need water.

You've been running around teyvat for what seemed like days, weeks, or even months/years, but whatever you do, you had to keep running...

୨୧----⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆----୨୧

୨୧----⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆----୨୧

You had to keep running you had to YOU HAD TO no matter how much your legs hurt, your body aching, the lack of proper hygiene, just lack of ANYTHING you had to keep on running.

If you hadn't opened your device and actually TRY and farm this wouldn't happened but noooo, nooohoHO YOU JUST HAD TO TRY AND ACTUALLY WORK TO ONLY LOSE YOUR 50/50 TO QIQI

If ONLY you hadn't gone out of your way to farm for lyney. If only, IF ONLY!! BUT yet you just HAD to farm from him and now you're in liyue running through the grass of Guili Plans by the mililith, the qixing, the fatui, AND EVEN THE FUCKING ADEPTI + THE ARCHON HIMSELF

'But why?'

'Why would they chase you FOR NO FUCKING REASON being an ordinary person-ish'

Oh I'll tell you why,

ITS BECAUSE YOU LOOKED LIKE FUCKING CREATOR

While you were running trying to process all this bullshit happening, you accidentally ran into a cliff. How convenient...

"Come back here, imposter!" Ganyu yelled as she kept trying to chase you with other adepti following in pursuit of you while there were meteorites being shot towards you.

So far, the only ones who knew your actual identity was only dainsleif, the traveller(s), and Alice or so, you thought.

You reached a dead end, and out of pure instinct (and stupidness), you jumped off the cliff (wow, so smart)

You thought you were gonna die, but suddenly, you felt arms around you and got a weird ass feeling because the atmosphere felt different now...

so imagine your fucking surprise when you ended up at Mt. fucking HULAO carried by THE adeptus xiao

"Are you ok..?" asked xiao, which is now completely out of pocket, so of course, like any person would do in the hand of the fine ass adeptus, you tried to break free from his grasp despite being 10000000 feet in the air

"WHO ARE YOU??" You yelled since you could barely focus on anything, which is not the best idea when being chased by anything.

"not the right time." Xiao strictly said before teleporting the both of you to the Wangshuu Inn

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Verr, please allow me to make them reside here." Xiao side whilst hiding your face as Verr ,being the kind woman that she is, let him

As you got out of a fresh shower, Xiao had immediately set you down to tend to your wounds

"You aren't gonna hurt me, are you..?" You asked nervously, uneasy that he was gonna surrender you to the authorities to get you killed

"You saved me.. I would never do that. My Everloving Grace..."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Creator's Note: hi yall saurrrrr i haven't posted in a long time now ikkk BUT in my defense my life has been busy since last year (no i did not get hospitalized like the classic author curse) but yk i was graduating my grade, going into a new one, meeting new friends, relapsing last last year and so on and so forth. Anyways I first started working on this since last year and just procrastinated till now.

most likely yall have forgotten me already (I don't blame yall) but since I'm still very small please expect more coming!!

[childeel]

"THE BLOOD OF ANOTHER."

✦ childe, diluc.

'when the blood of another stains his hands'

notes — mentions of murder, violence, angst / comfort.

childe ⟢

tartaglia is a fatui harbinger, he's familiar with gruesome violence, and faces it head-on regularly within his work. he 's taken more lives than he can count on fingers; and he tries not to think about it. hey, he's a harbinger — he 's just doing his job, if he needs to take a few people out on the way, then so be it; if it weren't them, then it was him — it 's just self defence. he tries to excuse himself, but he can't. how could a such a kind and innocent girl like you, end up with a man-made killing machine? he doesn't want that for you, he doesn't want your life to take the sudden turn that his did.

"do you ever wish things were different?" asks childe one night while you're both laid in bed together. your eyes are heavy, and your mind is beginning to tune out your surroundings. but childe is wide awake, his body is tense, and he's restless — and it's really pissing him off. your ear pressed against the beat of his heart, you quirk an eyebrow upwards. you're accustomed to tartaglia throwing questions at you in the dead of night, and so you don't think much of it at first. 'mm..? in what way?' you'd mumble back, slurring your words in a slight haze of sleepiness.

"just... y'know. the fact you ended up with me." he replies after a few moments of silence. his voice is monotone and dreary, but with your ear pressed so close to his chest, you can hear the slight shake in his breath. tartaglia will never be truly honest with you about his feelings, and so realistically, there's no point in asking him about it. tartaglia feels no need to share his negative emotions — he doesn't like vulnerability, and giving people an open chance to rip his heart right from his chest. and so, what it is that made this thought occur for him, was something that you could never be 100% sure about.

tartaglia doesn't want your pity, and you know that. your arms wrap tighter around his torso — pressing yourself closer into him, if you'd left any room between you to begin with. you lift your head that rests on his chest, your eyes desperately searching for his in the thick darkness of the room. your hand reaches to cup one side of his face, and your thumb traces over his bottom lip.

"no. that's never a thought that's even so much as crossed my mind," you begin, simply. one of his hands holds your own, and his other hovers on the lower of your back — and although you can't see them, you can feel your lover staring into you; drinking in every and any sense of you that he can. "whatever goes on in that, crazy, little mind of yours — it's not always right." you tell him, and you can hear him laugh softly. your voice becomes gentler, and you lower yourself, so that your lips barely brush against his own — "i love everything that makes you, you — no matter the reason, or the circumstances. id accept you in any way." you finish, pressing your lips forwards, capturing tartaglia's.

diluc ⟢

diluc has a dark past — one that will haunt him until his very last breath, every day is an aching reminder of those many years ago. his life was bleak and dull, he busied himself with work, his nightly duties; he could go days without sleeping — purely out of choice, as the nightmares he endured were much too a burden to deal with. and then, you came along. his longly wretched and desolate days were put to an abrupt end the day you stepped foot into his life, blazing a bright light into his moonless life. you were kind, and astonishingly beautiful — you had a heart and gold and fought for what was right, and you were notably skilled in fighting too — diluc though that you were just utterly perfect, and he didn't deserve that.

you'd dawdle into the angel 's share late one night — far beyond the closing hours. diluc was behind the bar, washing the glasses, finishing off for the night... or at least, that's what he was meant to be doing. when you'd walked in, you found him seated behind the bar with his head in his heads. the tavern was dim, the lights had been shut off all but one above the bar. you couldn't hear anything, not a sniffle nor a breath — but visually, it was obvious diluc was crying; which was an uncommon sight for you.

"luc..?" you uttered out, cautiously stepping towards him. you weren't entirely sure what to do, or what to say. you'd never seen diluc in such a sorry state in your life. "my love... what's the matter?" you'd ask again after a few moments of silence. diluc had not moved a muscle upon your entrance, he was undisputedly humiliated — he'd been caught, he was vulnerable to the core. besides, he didn't know what to say, talking out his feelings wasn't his forte being strictly honest — the words would get caught in his throat, scratching and clawing, leaving a burning in his throat, and words unsaid. but, he couldn't sit frozen and act like he wasn't there forever — not when you were stood, so beautifully in-front of him, eyes wide, lips parted, one of your soft hands rested against his forearm. you looked frantic, and hugely concerned.

"oh. it's you, dear." he'd clear his throat, trying to rid of the strain in his voice, but to no avail — there was a croak in his glum words. he lifted his head from his hands, his eyes weighted down — glossy and bloodshot, blotches of red painting his face. "it- uhm, it really is nothing dear." he manages to say, when his heart feels as if it were clenched in the palm of your hand. "i really do apologise for the delay — let 's head home, you must be tired."

and like that, he 's hastily clearing out, shutting off the remaining lights and locking the tavern door behind him. he takes your hand in his whilst the two of you walk back to your home, in a heavy and uncomfortable silence. the silence continues when you get home, when he's holding you in his arms — so tight. you understand that diluc may not ever tell you what's going on up there, and if he does — it'll be when he's ready. all you can do in the moment, is make sure you show him just how much he means to you.

[neohoestechnology]

I absolutely love your moodboards and headcanons! Could you do one for Draco? 🥰🫶🏻

Thank you so much!!💗💗

I'm SO sorry it took so long (mainly because I saw the request yesterday 🫠 my university is KILLING me sorry😭). This is LONG so bare with me + my English is rusty af so I apologize for any grammar mistake

☆ Draco Malfoy Headcanons & Moodboard ☆

Okay, so, a quick disclaimer here before we get started -----> now, I really believe that Draco is one the most tricky character to "get right" (speaking of his behavior and thoughts), so I just wanted to say that this is my personal interpretation and could be 100% different from yours so please be kind🥹

Oh boy, it took A LOT for you two to finally get together; a lot of time, a lot of effort, a lot of sacrifice and arguments between both of you and your friends. Just a lot.

I think we can all agree that our beloved boy couldn't care less about girls before during his first years at Hogwarts. Some things changed as time passed by, a lot, actually. He changed in the first place, becoming old enough to finally understand his family affairs and secrets. He HAD to change. He wanted to gain strength to be able to carry this new burden on his shoulders and to show his worth, but it all developed into a self-destruction, never-ending cycle that made him feel left out and alone. You, on the other hand, always seemed to have all figured out, and always looked so calm and caring. Truth is that you also felt like you were missing something, like you didn't really fit in for some reason.

It's not really clear how or why you two got together, but somehow, it happened.

Your caring nature always irritated him. How naive, he thought, but that time you found him crying on the bathroom floor, all alone and desperate, he thanked God that you came.

From this episode, bit by bit, your relationship started to form.

You two are VERY good at keeping it private, very discreet.

At the end of the day, you just have one another to stay with, and you are more than okay with that. People started to get suspicious, though; your friends started to notice your frequent excuses and distance, wondering WHAT ON EARTH they did to make you feel this way. Little did they know about your secret midnight meetings with a boy whose reputation speaks for himself.

Even though you two never show up together as a couple, you actually never feel lonely during the day. It's all about those secretly exchanged gazes, the typical side eye thing from across the room when someone is talking bs, him softly brushing his hand against yours when you are leaving a class and no one can see.

BUT, when you two are ACTUALLY ALONE... Soft touches, hushed words and pleading eyes.

You like to share silence together, there's nothing left to share after your first bathroom rendezvous.

I feel like he smells like wood, like deep forest or something like that, but his smell is kinda comforting (my scent-describing skills are nonexistent sorry😭)

I mean, you can feel his presence even without seeing him.

He has this thing about his eyes, like the way he looks at you. Everyone who played close attention to his gaze could tell it was love and admiration.

LOVES when you run your hands through his hair (sometimes you could swear to hear him purring).

Likes to make flowers appear between the pages of your potion book while taking classes, only to give you a subtle smile and turn his head to read his instructions immediately after.

Your first time together was during the Christmas break, when there were just the two of you in the entire Slytherin dorm. It was the first time he said "I love you" (it's fucking cheesy but I love it eheh). Everything was so slow and sensual. Lips, hands and kisses everywhere. Slow thrusts with your hands intertwined and his head buried in your neck.

His hands are always so cold that he has to keep them in your sleeves (he loves it though)

Likes watching you sleep (not in a creepy way don't worry lol). He'd brush your hair out of your face and caress your face softly.

Would fidget a lot while talking to you, mostly to distract himself from the fact that he gets weak in the knees every time he looks in your eyes, even after all this time. He'd 100% play with your hands or hair just because.

You'd literally yank his hand from his mouth every time he bit his nails or picked at his skin.

He's the type of person who would do hot things without even realizing. He would undo a few buttons of your shirt just to button them up right away just because he thought they looked weirdly asymmetrical, causing you to blush and stutter. And this mf would just tell you to go on and finish what you were saying (okay, maybe he does this on purpose).

You know that the way he behaves around others is just a facade. He is so broken and hopeless that he HAS to act that way around them, but when he's with you, his safe place, he feels so grateful that he gets to get loose from his worries and reveal the real person he is that it scares him how attracted he is to you, how primal his need for you is.

When your friends found out that you were dating Mr Bully Malfoy, they just couldn't wrap their heads around the reason that spurred you to do so. Let's just say that you are not friends anymore. You tried to explain yourself countless times, but they didn't seem to understand nor were willing to do so, and you thought you were better off without them anyway.

He got the same treatment from his friends ngl. It was better this way, honestly. In the end, you just needed one another to feel complete and fulfilled.

He thought about running away with you almost once a day during his 6th year. He knew what, better say who, was coming. He was sure that the death eaters wouldn't spare anyone, maybe himself included. When he first told you, he was sure you would laugh it off and call him paranoid, but instead, you listened to him carefully and decided to plan your escape with him without even flinching.

It was a gloomy night in the middle of the winter. Rushed footsteps were echoing in a corridor, then in the hall, down the stairs. Restless eyes were wandering around the path, occasionally looking back to check no one was tagging after them. A subtle creaking of a rusty gate opening was heard, and then nothing else.

OKAY SO I got WAY MORE carried away than I should and I know this is longer and more serious and dark than what I usually do but I tried my best. Actually, I'm not 100% satisfied with how it turned out and maybe the person who asked it expected something different and more light-hearted, and I apologize for it. Again, writing this character is difficult af.

I do not possess any of these photos, all credits go to the owners.

Love you, B. 🌱🤍

[alexthetrashyracoon]

i desperately need a tf141 beach day episode.

What comes next? A firework episode? A sick episode? The manly males of the masculine franchise Call of Duty becoming members of a 2006 Shojo Anime?

You got it.

CW// Bad attempts at humor, don’t take anything serious, the big boys deserve a break and so do you. Drink water, stay hydrated, eat your favorite snack and pat your pets like I do all the time. Plus, whatever happened in Canon universe, stays in Canon Universe, this is a happy family.

And I hope this was what you meant, just plain old TF141. Not TF141 + Reader. Now I’m having a crisis, not wanting to disappoint :(

Wordcount: 905 Words

A Day at the Beach means a Day away from Base

“That’s it, boys. You need a break.”

If anything Kate was as thick headed and stubborn as a mule, there wasn’t much that could move her from a position she took.

“No, Kate. What we need is finding Makarov and hanging this fucker from the ceiling. He almost killed Soap. I’m not letting this maniac walk around…” Price started, hands still firmly planted on the table where various files about Makarov and his associates were scattered around, before getting cut off by a sharp glance coming from Kate.

Sometimes he wanted to strangle the woman with bare hands.

“It’s a bit like Mom and Dad fighting.” Gaz whispered between Soap and Ghost. “Just missing the bloody popcorn.” He got elbowed by Ghost for that, Gaz knew he deserved it.

“Vacation. Now. MacTavish almost, almost died. This should be enough to give you a reason to start with fresh eyes, which you can’t if you’re as tense as you bunch are right now. Just a few days. A week at max, I’ll keep the operation going, we’ve got enough eyes and ears on the ground and the air… we’ll find Makarov but not if you can’t see the woods for the trees.“

A week later Price sat by the back porch of a small bungalow at the beachside of the Netherlands. It wasn’t like this American movie beaches but damn, it was nice to stretch out his legs, sip his, to be honest very sucky, tea and listen to the annoying screams of the seagulls over their heads.

“Kate was…” Ghost started but got cut off by Prices’ hand in his face.

“Don’t say it.”

“Kate was right.” Ghost snorted and stepped onto the fresh grass, it had rained the night prior and Ghost was barefoot.

A moment later Soap and Gaz sprint out of the bungalow, both dressed in swim shorts, Soap with a water gun in his hands and Gaz carrying a big floaty, both of them looking proud as peacocks. “You two stay where you are. I won’t let any of you madmen out of my sight after last time.” Price reminded them, making them stop in their tracks.

An hour they still sit by the bungalow, this time huddled under the tarp as heavy rain fell down, again. “We could have been swimming in the damn ocean for at least an hour by now!” Soap complained while gripping his mug of coffee. Not even a moment later there is lightning cutting through the sky.

“You would be grilled if you got hit by lightning while swimming in the ocean, Johnny.” Ghost reminded him while watching the rain fall.

For the next three days it was a constant battle between simple rain and heavy storms outside the bungalow.

“Wasn’t this vacation supposed to relax us?” Gaz asked from his spot on the couch, some stupid cartoon running as a background noise. “I am everything but relaxed!”

They had been scooped up for most of the vacation now. It wasn’t any different to when they were out of deployment, just that here they aren’t in the danger of getting shot at. One plus point.

“Blame Laswell.” Price called from the bathroom. “If she hadn’t make us go on a damn vacation we could be back at home, hunting down Makarov and…”

“Sun’s out, clouds are gone. Move your damn asses mates, we gonna drown in the open sea.” Ghost called and pushed the sliding doors open. Within seconds they all had changed.

This was probably the last chance they got to actually relax at the sea, and even if the window for that kind of good weather was a small one, they would use even the smallest chance.

So an hour later Ghost lays on a towel, Price sitting next to him, nursing a bottle of Heineken while keeping an eye on Gaz and Soap who have a water fight with a group of other tourists. And they were pathetically losing right now.

“Sometimes I wonder how they grew up and why they are still alive?” Price snorted between two sips of beer.

“Not everyone can be grumpy assholes like us two when they grow up.” Ghost joked and propped himself up on his elbows, watching Soap getting dunked by Gaz, who in return gets hit with a shot from a water gun.

They clank their bottles against each other while watching Soap and Gaz race through the water, diving under water for a moment or two until the sun started to settle slowly at the horizon and the two Sergeant crawled out of the water and hiding under their towels at the spot on the beach.

“It’s fucking peaceful.” Gaz said after a moment of drying himself and removing algae from his hair, throwing it away and leaned back on his hands.

The sky turned orange, pink and yellow as the sun set, slowly disappearing behind the line of water.

“That’s what Kate had been talking about when she threw us onto this vacation.” Price said as he handed out fresh bottles of beer.

This night they returned real late to their bungalow, enjoying the cloud free sky full of stars over their heads.

A few weeks later a single picture frame decorated Prices office, showing Price, Ghost, Soap and Gaz, all grinning into the cheap camera they had brought for their vacation. A bunch of great memories were made in those few days.

Please don’t hesitate to send in more requests <:

[lav-bee]

Dr. Stone x Reader

You Flinch Because of Them

Character/s: Tsukasa, Hyoga

Warnings?: Flinching 🤷‍♀️ not anything that should be triggering, more of a hurt comfort type fic 👍

‼️Also, spoilers for season 3 in Hyogas part‼️

💛- read as platonic

Tsukasa

- It’s known that Tsukasa is a very nice and charismatic guy. And honestly, ya, he is.

- But you have to admit he’s still a bit intimidating to be near him. The man can kill wild animals with his bare hands, that’s crazy!

- Because of this knowledge, you try to keep your distance. You would never want to accidentally get on his bad side.

- Of course Tsukasa noticed this but he couldn’t understand why you avoided him.

- He knew you didn’t hate him. Why else would you be nice whenever you two would have a small chat?

- There was tension between you guys and he didn’t like that. So he thought the best way to solve this is to have a private conversation…. In the forest… no one to see. Ah yes, this totally isn’t freaking you out at all!

- Not only were you already tense from him bringing you out here alone but a wild animal showed up and attacked.

- It wasn’t a big deal, Tsukasa dealt with it easily.

- After the sudden scare, he turned toward you and lifted a hand to give you a head pat. He paused, seeing you suddenly flinching away, and everything made sense.

- “Oh, I see.”

- His hand dropped to his side and he took a step back to give you space.

- There’s not much that he can change about himself to make you feel at ease, he knows this. But he still tries to be more mindful, slower, when you’re around.

- “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do, I don’t want to let my appearance stop us from knowing each other.”

Hyoga

- Finally, the fight with Ibara has ended. And the Kingdom of Science had found an ally with the villain Hyoga.

- It was a wobbly alliance, but you had to admit it turned out just fine

- Even though Hyoga fought for most likely selfish reasons, there was still a spark of admiration for the man

- Before, during the Stone Wars you couldn’t help but be amazed when he held his spear. He just looked so cool!

- And of course this made you want to learn too.

- Asking to be trained by him was nerve wracking and you weren’t sure if he’d accept. But surprisingly, he agreed. Anyone is welcome to learn as long as they train correctly.

- And now here you both are, alone in the training room. The others had taken a break but you wanted to push yourself just a bit more; you were finally making progress.

- Hyogas ways of training definitely weren’t for the weak hearted. You’ll have many bruises and blisters by the time the day’s over.

- Suddenly, your balance was swept from beneath your feet and you landed on the hard floor boards with a thud

- Hyoga moved his spear and for a moment you thought he would hit or stab you with it. A random reminder of how cruel he once was

- Your arm quickly went to block your face for… nothing?

- “That won’t do. How do you expect to fight against your opponent if you freeze up?”

- When you let your arm down, Hyoga had his hand out for you to take.

- “I won’t ask why, but it’s best we take a break.”

- And that’s not an option, he will make you take a break.

- He won’t bring it up, and he won’t treat you any different. More so keeps it in mind to try not to let it happen again.

[onepieceoftheoceanblues]

Batfam X One Piece Crossover AU

Someone mentioned this sort of au and I went Insane a bit ^-^' hope you guys enjoy!

Okay so a Batfam in the One Piece world au and how I think it would work/go;

I imagine the Batfam were whammied into an entirely new dimension while on patrol so we have the full costumed roster (but not the full extended clan cuz that's so many people lol) so we have Bruce/Batman, Dick/Nightwing, Jason/Red Hood, Tim/Red Robbin, Damian/Robin, Cass/Black Bat, Stephanie/Batgirl (you can pry Steph still being batgirl out of my cold dead hands), and Duke/Signal.

The First thing they do is figure out where they are, an island in something called the ___ blue (idk which they should be in lol, but it's best if they start in a blue I think), and are very obviously not in their world. (I'm gonna say for the sake of Plot either One Piece doesn't exist in their world or none of them have watched/read it because that would be too easy lol)

Ofc the second thing they do is try to find a way home and gather info but uh, they quickly realize this world doesn't have the best tech around to build something to take them home, and places/people they can get to would be either hard to find or in a place that's very dangerous to get to (Vegapunk is their best bet but... not really an option for right away due to mentioned reasons).

They think of asking this "World Government" for help for all of two seconds, before finding out how fucking awful and corrupt the whole system this world has and nixes that idea right in the bud. They're Vigilantes for a reason, after all, and know corruption in governments very well. So honestly, their best bet is either trying to go along and find someone that can help and materials, or waiting for their people from their world to come and get them.

(SO much more under cut im sorry Brain went Brrr)

Tbh it must be so wild to be in this world too tho, for some many reasons. It's close enough, but then you factor in all the different races and species, and how the world is set up. Add the fact most of it not as advanced as their world, except in some places which it is? And how half their technology runs on... snails?????? What a baffling world. Also, people can have powers and are gained from something called Devil Fruits which give you powers in exchange that the sea can and will kill you, except for some races have natural powers due to their biology.

They decide pretty quickly in world of water to not eat the Devil Fruits. Also keep an eye on Duke because his powers, while not too flashy, arnt a devil fruit, and they have no way to explain how he has them, and how he can manipulate both light and shadows.

Its probs also so jarring because like, in their world, they are used to being the peak of what humans can do. They keep up with metas and aliens and are cosidered among the best of the best for a reason, and while they often have to compensate with gear and tech, at the end of the day they can only go so far as humans.

However, it's different in this world. Clearly even though there are humans, their biological standards are different then their Earth, and even just humans without powers can go far beyond their own norm if they train and work hard enough for it.

The Batfam could easily handle the Blue's pirates and marines, and probs all cannon fodder marines, and while I think they could deal with a good chunk if not most people in Paradise baring the strongest in the first half of the grand line, there's no way they could deal with the New World even with their best gear and in peak condition for them. Which sucks because their best bets are likely in that Sea.

Idk where I'd see them, my heart wants them to be pirates of their own little run pirate crew, but I could easily see them being picked up by a canon crew or turning Revolutionaries in exchange for getting help find a way home, or pirates with connections to Revs. The only thing I can't see is them as Marines, as stated a few paragraphs above, lol, but also I figure they run into the law and go fuck you guys and what you stand for and end up with bounties so they are wanted anyways. But either way they are gonna be progressing and trying to find a way home while getting stronger.

I imagine Haki is the first thing they really try to get down after leanring about it. Idk how they managed to find out about it either in the blues or so early in the grand line, but they are expert information gatherers so they do and immediately try to learn it (either tracking someone down who knows it or how to unlock it, or finding adequate documentation in how to do it) and get to work. It's their best chances in getting a leg up in this world.

And they do unlock it! They're pretty much all geniuses, and they already have experience learning weird skills and manipulating their mental will (they can block out telepaths and have strong willpower in general against mind control canonically), so learning to manifest it into Observation and Armament Haki is less about how hard it is and more just if they can (After all they aren't from this world) and how to apply it. Thankfully, it seems they can.

Duke's Observation makes his future vision so much more powerful, so much he actually has adverse effects to it at first before he gets used to it. Observation is great, just helps what they already natrually know but Armament is very much beloved, instant armor that helps you hit harder even against normal people, let alone devil fruit users!! They are big fans.

Conquerors Haki off the table rn because A.) they don't know if they have it and B.) Who or whatever they learned Haki from didn't explain it or have it to explain so that's put to the side for now, but I'm unsure who, if any of them, have it. Maybe Bruce and Jason, and maybe Damian? I feel?? I could also see Dick unlocking his use of it in a fit of protective rage? Im largely Unsure.

I also think it would be neat if the longer they are here, their bodies adapt to this world more and more until they start being able to past their peak of what they could do before and just... keep going. It varies from each batfam member how they feel on their biology changing over time, but they can't do more than just accept it. At least it will help them survive.

Also, they have to adapt in more ways than one. They arrive and their best gear, fully stocked and mostly undamaged, but the longer they are here the more they run out of supplies and things wear down so they have to figure out how to get/make more or alternate for something better. Batarangs thankfully, while having to be made of a different material, can be made from any island with a good blacksmith who's willing to let them use their forges to make them themselves (cuz having to commission them would take money they don't actually have)

Their suits thankfully are fine and reinforced, but over time they're gonna have to likely find a fabric that could replace the stuff their suits are made of or just switch to diffrent outfits inspired by their suits. Dick's Escrima Sticks can't be charged, so they end up not electrified until they find a way to do it later. Jason's guns inevitably run out of ammo then even if he makes his own, they get just damaged so he's forced to switch to the local pirate guns, thankfully not all are just flintlocks.

Damian's sword is apparently very high grade here and is very smug about it, though annoyed other "Swordsmen" keep wanting to know more about his blade and where he learned to use his "weird style". Tim gets a boa staff that has the ends tipped in sea stone.

Their styles also adapt over time. I have this vision of Dick getting his hands on these boots, probs with Dial technology, that let him jump higher and bounce off of walls if he times it right. Jason with Dial guns. They start picking up the 6 powers as well, not all, but Geppo and Soru become very heavily utilized. I think one of them should end up with Voice of all Things, either Cass or Duke, because it's fun lol.

Im... unsure about devilfruits, but I think it would be intrestin to explore if somone ate one, likely out of despration or having little choice. Unsure who or what fruit but just would be neat i think, expecially dealin with the side effects. Tho Dick with a Wind Logia or a winged Zoan of sorts sounds SO interesting. (Can you tell who my favorite batfam memeber is? ^-^')

As for Ponyglaph Runes, Bruce and Tim def find out about it and try their best to tackle it, but It's REALLY hard to learn an entirely different language with unfamiliar sentence structure when you have absolutely no keys or references to work with. They learn of Nico Robin, and aren't stupid so figure it's likely an awful cover-up or more to the story, and decide to lowkey make it one of their goals to track her or any other knowledge on how to learn it down. If they get even a bare hint of a clue on how to translate, I'm sure they'd figure it out over time, but Robin is their best bet.

They find out about Whitebeard, and they are quietly glad Bruce's adoption problem isn't that bad but think its funny. Dick is beloved by all and makes enough friends and allies to rival Luffy's charisma, it's a skill man. I can't decide if their Epithets in this world are just their Vigilante names, and they stay masked, or they get knew Epithets and decide there's no point in hiding, or a mix of both but yee.

The OP world either speaks "Common" they can all magically speak now with some diffrent launages in diff parts of the world, OR Japanese, which some of them know and have to teach the others, OR a weird mix of English and Japanese. There's a point in time that people think Damian is Nico Robin's child or sibling because of the Robin thing, and he's a little demon child. Or hell they still do, and he's very livid while Robin is both amused but also scared for this child who is being tied to her.

They still dont kill for the most part, baring Jason, but some of them are pushed into it and they have to figure out what that means for them and what it means moving fowrard with their no kill policy. Some do better with it, some dont. Bruce still hasnt and wont kill, same with Cass, and Damian decides he doesnt want to but will if absolutly no other choice is offered, thankfully they havnt let him had to make this choice yet. (I just have so much thoughts about a assassin raised child deciding they dont want their hands more red now they have the choice).

One or more of them should end up pulled into the War at Marineford and Ace should be saved because I will try to fit a Ace Lives plot into everything lol

Overall I think if this was a fanfic the plot would be a lot of exploring the differences in their worlds, how they adapt and overcome, and trying to find a way home while also coming to like this world and overturning corruption and fucking over the government. I think them with the Strawhats or another crew would be fun, either as allies or joined idk, but I think with them as their own crew would be cool as well. If they join or ally with a crew Bruce lowkey adopts everyone, and he's given SO much shit for it but christ so many of them have such sad backstories and he wants to help

I think in the end they should get to find their way home and like no time has passed, but they're so changed, and arguably considered powered now because lol, but find a way to go back and visit safely.

Sorry for the word vomit but man im in love with this idea. Feel free to comment or send Asks with questions or comments about the au! Please Reblog, and not just like, as they do nothing <3

[susandsnell]

did you see the current US les mis tour? i'm thinking of going (though i haven't bought tickets yet) and i'm curious about what might be in it for valvert enjoyers (including myself)

OH DID I EVER, FRIEND. It came to Canada this past summer and I cannot recommend getting tickets enough; it's possibly the best the show has ever been, and the cast is incredible. I didn't think I'd still be crying at it at this age and bam, Act 2 rolls around and there goes my painstakingly winged eyeliner.

Valvert is imo the most played up it's been, if you want to go in unspoiled I'll leave it at that, but I'll put more details after the cut. Spoilers/me being a cringe parody of myself below.

They've gone with both a lot more physical blocking between the two of them and a much more humanized Javert + book-accurately violent (albeit For Good Reason) Valjean than previous productions, all of which lends itself very well to the ship. Lot of lingering gazes in prison/grabs at each other, a genuine rapport between Maire Madeleine and the Inspector of Montreuil-sur-Mer, and then there's the Champmathieu trial through the Confrontation. Javert actively lunges for Valjean after his confession and the two leads I saw had such an intense chemistry you could see their eyes burning through that part.

As for the Confrontation, it's been choreographed/blocked to be a lot more suggestive violent than previously; there's a barely concealed smirk on Javert's face during "you'll wear a different chain" that I remember made me think "...my 12 year old self is thriving right now." Valjean doesn't snap until Javert tries to shackle him, at which point it goes into the whole "I am warning you, Javert!" bit. He uses that incredible, Brick-accurate Valjean strength to break free, deck Javert, and garrotes him with his own chain at the song's (heh) climax, until the man goes down to his knees, and if I'm not misremembering, he half-straddles his shoulder to keep him down. Before it gets into the "And this I swear to you tonight" bit, there's a good several moments of Javert left rolling on the ground writhing, gagging, and moaning (this would become a persistent thing as the show progressed) while still crawling towards Valjean, half-conscious and half-mad with obsession, reaching towards him. And then Valjean smashes his head into a wall, Liam Neeson in '98 style. I don't know what you go to the theatre for, but personally I do to see old men cry and beat the shit out of each other homoerotically.

Not much more happens in Act 1 (though the Intervention through Stars has as much reverence to it about the sanctity of their chase and their dynamic as it does the very structures Javert cannot fathom Valjean existing outside of - I think he presses his fingers to his lips a little on "Lord, let me find him" after crossing himself), but Act 2 at the Barricades is where things go wild again. There seems to be an Objectifying The Inspector agenda behind the scenes of this new production and I am here for it. Thus, please know that the Valvert barricade scenes take place with the mainstay of Javert having his shirt needlessly torn open/almost off by Les Amis / his ponytail getting dishevelled / him throwing his head back and moaning / panting at some points over the singing because he got his ass kicked again. Heavy, heavy appraisal in Valjean's "give me the spy Javert"/tugging on his bonds as he pulls him away to ostensibly take him out back like Old Yeller (for show for Les Amis, sure but I sensed a bit of spite/something else). And then Valjean's Forgiveness is just. Okay, so I got good enough seats to say that Javert is licking his lips during "How right you should kill with a knife."

What really made my jaw drop was that Javert, being played a lot more emotionally and erratically at this point, actually reaches with both hands once freed of his bonds to grab hold of Valjean's rifle by the mouth and pull it up to his head/press his whole chest into it on "shoot me now, for all I care". Which, yes, Imagery, but then you have them having a legitimate moment where Valjean firmly but gently pulls the gun away/him away from the gun, and holds his face/shoulder in a way I think was? Deliberately meant to echo the blocking of the Bishop during the whole "I have bought your soul for God" in the prologue. "There's nothing that I blame you for" is almost played as a realization despite the anguish Javert has put him through. As for the sewers through the end, each man is played as having increasing realization of how much they are two sides of the same coin, but during the Soliloquy, you have Javert screaming out/sobbing some of his lines about Valjean and how dare he transcend the very structures that gave sense and shape to his world. It has to be seen to be believed.

Outside of this -- there's actually a lot more work done outside their interactions to parallel them. Javert and Gavroche are given a rapport meant to run alongside the Valjean-Cosette relationship where you see a Javert who's a lot more indulgently annoyed towards this cocky gamin than aggressive (they have such a cute, funny moment together after Look Down/Javert's Intervention bit, Javert's not even mad and more 'are you fucking kidding me I lost to an 8 year old' when Gavroche blows his cover). It pays off because they worked in him paying respects when he sees his body during the Bring Him Home instrumental as they did in the movie (albeit more organically, because the scene is staged from Javert's POV seeing all the bodies at the barricade + he stops over Gavroche, kneels to close the boy's still-open eyes, and with a stricken expression, makes the sign of the cross over his body), to the point that you absolutely get the impression Javert is seeing his younger, disadvantaged yet striving self in Gavroche. With the instrumental cue being Valjean's song of paternal feeling for Marius, the staging really drives home that Javert had so many opportunities himself to go through a similar journey of personal growth through fatherhood. And there's power in these parallels when they're not interacting, too!

All in all, they went all in on every character relationship in this production and I cannot recommend it enough. The costumes are beautiful, the sets/effects are phenomenal, and the orchestration reveals just how beautiful the score really is. Go see it!!!

[dark-dragon-8]

In case you guys couldn't tell, Dick Grayson, AKA Nightwing, is my favorite DC character. Specifically because I can just write/imagine him however way I want, within the realm of (fanon) reason, and someone will agree with me/there's already a fic about it.

Want to read about a murderous character? Nightwing has once killed the Joker and (as far as I know) didn't regret it. Not to mention Renegade also exists (along with former Talon AU, secret/resolved "killer" AU, where he kills but doesn't tell anyone, and more minor ones as well) and there are several fics where he takes on that alias in order to deal with some "unfinished business" regarding his family.

Want to read about an undercover character using their looks and flirting to their benefits (and having the attention of everyone at the bar by simply existing and being hot)? I have read so many undercover Dick Grayson that wore the sluttiest outfits just to get info. Even read a few where he did it to make his siblings (mainly Jason) more comfortable since they weren't comfortable with it yet that was his forte (regardless of whether or not he liked doing that as well).

Looking for a rich (kinda spoiled, an act, but still lovable and amazing) Nepo baby that everyone thirsts over in the gala? Richie Wayne is right there and is the eldest Wayne/heir, that's bound to cause some drama at parties/Galas (esp with protective Batfam) and I love that (please give me more fics like that, I can barely find any).

Want a badass vigilante that can beat the absolute life out of criminals and defeat Batman with relative ease? Nightwing is one of the strongest members of the Batfam, if I remember correctly he even defeated Cassandra/an opponent equal to Cassandra before.

Want to read an angst filled story about a character that feels like they're being objectified all the time and just wants a break? Do I even have to say it?

Want a character study about how the annoyed/stubborn/exhausted guy from the comics turned into an "attention whore" on fics? I remember reading (and even writing) character studies where Dick is suffering from stuff such as hypersexuality and anxiety issues where he needs people to see/notice/pay attention to him as a result of his sexual trauma (the assault & other stuff he went through).

And so much more. The duality of that man, when a character has such a variety of interpretations and ways to write about them it just fills that writer/storyteller/reader in me with joy. That complex potential that I seek in characters, like being able to kill someone while also being a hero loved by the hero community, a celebrity loved by the world and a few beyond it, a spoiled rich kid when he likes to indulge himself and a victim that has suffered through so much, it's natural to give them different ways (separation anxiety, exhibitionism, aversion to touch, etc) to cope and deal with the horrible hand that was given to them. It's just something that is very rare to come across in a character, especially one so well known and loved for all of those different things rather than only one or two of them taking over the entire character and its interpretation, and I really love Nightwing for being that character for both writers and readers looking for somethings and finding all they could ask for and more in just a singular tag (ofc I know the other characters have a variety as well, Dick just has such a big variety and his "spectrum" is so big, vast and versatile, he has a piece of the fandom for everything, like a bunch of different characters smacked into one, all sharing the same name, it's why I chose him specifically and why I love reading about him the most specifically).

[diremoone]

Hourglass | Sirius Black.

Summary: Fate changes when you intervene and stop Sirius from trying to kill Peter for his betrayal. Sirius doesn’t go to Azkaban, and you and your husband up raising your godson Harry.

****

You barely made it in time. Your scream of hatred distracted Sirius and Peter long enough to petrify your husband — “Petrificus Totalus!” — mere seconds before Peter blew up the entire street.

It was all you could do. You couldn’t kill Peter and you couldn’t let Sirius kill him either. All you could do was stop Sirius, and you’d done it successfully. Even at the cost of him fully directing his anger at you.

“Do you know what you’ve done?!”

“I saved you from getting sent to Azkaban!”

“I would’ve rather!” Sirius yelled. “Peter deserves to die for what he’s done!”

“And Harry deserves to have his godfather in his life!” you fired back, tears streaming down your cheeks. “And I deserve to have my husband! Don’t let Peter do more damage and take you away from me — from Harry!”

Sirius’ face contorted, several different emotions passing through him in less than a second. He looked between where Peter had been, you, and the ground, half-heartedly pacing back and forth angrily. The Aurors would be arriving soon, and he wasn’t entirely sure if they would believe him.

They’d believe you… probably. With your deeper connections into the Ministry and the fact you’ve made many friends over the years, they had to believe your word that Sirius hadn’t killed Peter.

“They’ll check our wands to see what spell we’ve used last,” you mutter as you fix his hair. “Hope yours was—“

“Expelliarmus.” He grimaced, hoping the disarming spell wouldn’t be his undoing.

True to word, when the Aurors arrived, that was the first thing they did. You clenched your teeth together a little too hard when it looked like they were going to break yours and Sirius’ wands. You kept them on one side of you and Sirius, rather than let them circle around you to intimidate you.

Mad-Eye Moody was the one that vouched for the two of you. He also played a big part of scaring off the other Aurors when they got too close and too rude.

Moody side-eyes you with his fake eye and speaks lowly, “Go back to Grimmauld and wait. Dumbledore and McGonagall will be there to advise you on what’ll happen next. Harry should be there with them, too. Be prepared for a trial from the Ministry.”

After about an hour, you and Sirius were finally allowed to go home. The Aurors were erasing the memories of any of the Muggles that had seen anything remotely close to magic.

Apparating back to and inside of Grimmauld Place per Moody’s advice, true to Mad-Eye’s word, both Dumbledore and McGonagall were there waiting for your and your husband, the latter more visibly upset.

Wait, Hagrid’s here?

But you understood why Hagrid was there, seeing what was in his arms before Sirius did.

The half-giant smiled up at you from the couch. “Ah, ‘ere ya go, [Name]. One sleepin’ tyke.”

Hagrid hands you your godson as carefully as a half-giant can. The moment you adjust Harry in your arms, your heart melts and you almost begin to cry.

You want to cry because of how much you already love this boy. You want to cry because of what you’ve lost. You want to cry for Harry and what he’s lost, because he’ll never know his wonderful parents and their devotion and unconditional love for him — the very same love that’s the only reason Harry’s alive.

“O’, don’ cry, [Name].”

“How can I not?” You sniffle, trying not to really cry and get in your feelings too much while you hold the adorable infant. “How can I not be upset after all that’s happened? Harry doesn’t have any parents; he’ll never know them.”

Warm lips press themselves to the side of your temple in a loving kiss.

“He’ll know them as best as he can through us,” Sirius says quietly, but the room is so silent everyone can hear him despite that. “He has us, and we’ll protect him from everything that tries to harm him or come after him. We will protect him, love him the same way Lily and James would have.”

You turn to look at him and reply sadly, “But we’re not his parents, Sirius.”

“No,” he agrees, “but we’re all Harry’s got now. And we’re going to give him the as close to the same life that James and Lily would have.”

At the mention of his name, the baby in your arms shifted. He yawned cutely, then opened his big green eyes that reminded you of your best friend. Your late best friend.

And you wholeheartedly agree with Sirius, “We sure will.”

[dadsbongos]

P(AV) IN V

word count - 1.5 k / warnings - unprotected sex, pinv sex, vanilla :), make up sex, fem reader who wears skirt, not beta read

summary - you and pav fight... and then make up :3 with cool kitchen counter sex ~~~

“Late,” your words slice through the warm air as soon as the front door stutters open. Your icy tone dregs that welcomed warmth, blistering it down a raw, unforgiving chill, “Hours late.”

Pavel flashes a cheesy grin, manually crinkling the corners of his eyes, “My love! You’re alive, and you’re well! We’re both still alive and well,” his rambling persists as he slides through your frigid doorway and politely stops at the shoe rack, “How amazing is that, dearest? We could perish at any given moment should All-mer will, and yet we both still stand. Breathing. And well. And still…” he sighs, hesitant to break eye contact and pull off his boots (fearful your teeth will latch onto his neck the instant it's unguarded), “Still in love.”

Your folded arms remain firm over your chest, but the stiffness of such a guarded stance at least gives Pavel the confidence you won’t pounce as he unties his shoes.

“Yes, thank All-mer, my free fool has returned home. And in a lieutenant’s uniform no less… he shames us and his beloved All-mer for that. But yes, thank All-mer he’s home,” he’s wincing at the sting of your words, knowing exactly how terribly he’s set himself up, “Three hours late.”

Pavel finishes removing his muddied boots and settling them on the bottom layer of the rack in silence. Once that job is finished, he cannot hide behind the chore any longer -- now, he is forced to confront the full wrath of a woman scorned. Not just any woman, the only woman he’s sworn himself to; and not just any kind of scorn, the kind bred from arriving three hours late for anniversary dinner.

Finally, he weaves his fingers together at the pelvis and stares with those silvery sharp eyes; golden curls that have played you like a fiddle many times before falling over his forehead. As if he’s some kind hearted businessman from the center of town pleading for his wife’s forgiveness rather than the man he actually is.

He hasn’t even presented you with a ring, yet.

“I’m very, very late,” Pavel confirms, but it’s the last you want to hear. You already know this, what you want to know is what his reasoning could possibly be -- what made him think it was appropriate to come home without so much as a bouquet of flowers? He suspires sharply, so sharp it feels like a stab right in his lung, and shoulders scrunch towards his ears defensively, “I don’t have an excuse.”

“Pav…” you’re not keen as to why you trouble yourself groaning his name. It solves nothing, the only solace you scavenge is knowing it makes guilt bloom in his chest.

Even that is shallow.

“I don’t,” Pavel removes his hat and strips the monster’s hide from his back. Another way you know Pavel is not like the businessmen in town, when he steps forward more parts bare than clothed -- only a fraction of his intent is libido, “I was working, and then it was eight.”

“‘Working’,” you scoff, turning against the kitchen counter to pore into the steel sink. Colored blobs have pooled in the bottom, shifting in time with your unsteady rocking, “You’re obsessive, this is destructive. You’re going nowhere.”

“I told you,” now his sorrow is adopting irritation, brows furrowing and jaw tensing, “I told you exactly who I was, and you said you could live with it. I told you what I wanted for my life, and you went along with me anyway. I am sorry that I’m late, but don’t you dare pretend I’m doing this regardless of you.”

Unfortunately, you cannot dissent those points. Pavel was upfront that his life’s goal was different from other men. He was willing to meet standards such as marriage or pets or owning a two-story home, but didn’t need those things. He needed to kill the Kaiser. He needed revenge. He needed Godblood on his hands.

You were an unforeseen, much appreciated, highlight on his otherwise dismal path.

And now he was muddying it all, wasn’t he?

Pavel trudges further into the kitchen, naked bar the whities on his hips and socks on his feet. He’s comfortable again, and you must be too because your shoulders slacken. He feels more human now than he had during his entire drag of work. The men he bunks with are as hideous as wild animals, their immortal stench somehow worse. Pavel had begged for this temporary leave since the turn of the new year.

Only to finally return to you hours later than he’d promised. Pavel wisens himself to feel the shame searing through every heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” he slinks up behind you at the sink, tender arms and soft cheek melting your frostbitten exterior, “I have no excuse,” he brushes loose hairs from your temple, fingertips kissing tenderly over your skin seconds before his lips do, “You’re right, dear. I should’ve paid you more mind, but I am not graced with tact. I will be better to you.”

One of the things that drew you and Pavel to each other was a mutual understanding of fire. And hatred. And hiding beneath slumped bodies until soldiers left. You understand Pavel as much as you’re irritated with him. His obsession is your obsession. If you’d been able to dedicate yourself to combat training and wearing their ranks, you’d be no better than him.

“You’re forgiven,” you heave the words as you turn, floating your arms to loop around his neck, “But I wish you’d find a way to be more sensitive to these things.”

“I will,” he soothes.

In an effort to shift the mood, you poke a finger against his bare chest, skin cool from being exposed all day even in his discarded uniform, “Showing off to your superiors again?”

He snorts, a sly smile overtaking his face, “I have to advance at every given opportunity.”

“Bremen whore,” you ‘tsk’.

“Yes, yes, I love the attention.”

“You do have a very lovely body.”

And Pavel most certainly does love your attention.

“Oh, you don’t say?” his breathing turns cursory upon the implication of your words, “Would the pretty lady be willing to demonstrate?”

“She might. If you can promise to be good for her.”

“Always,” he swears it.

You jump back onto the kitchen counter, tugging Pavel between your thighs by the ankles around his waist, “Liar. Make it up to me.”

“If I must,” he makes a show of sighing, kneading the fat of your thighs -- pulling you closer to the edge. Calloused hands burrow under your skirts, tossing the flowing material up and snagging your panties down.

Giggling deliriously, you spread your legs as easily as he maneuvers them. Pavel slicks his right hand with his own saliva, then tucking the wetted digits inside you while thumbing your clit. He’s selfish at the end of the day, removing his fingers (sans the thumb twirling your bundle of nerves) to push his trousers halfway down his thick thighs.

He slides inside you with a heady grown, hands clenching tight around the fat of your hips. His brows pinch and lips pucker, neck craning to mouth at your neck. Kissing as he bucks leisurely into your drooly cunt, always dragging you closer. Pinning your hips with his as he babbles against your skin, nuzzling as if you’re silken.

Pavel pants and whimpers into your ear, greedily soaking up the way your nails dig into his arms and moans sing his name.

“Louder, my love,” he begs, a particular thrust driving your hips back on the counter. His hands claw you back down, “The neighbors should bang down our door- be louder, my love.”

“Insatiable,” you manage to squeal out, head tossing back until your crown is smothering the cold, hard cupboard behind you. Pavel nods shamelessly, now kissing up your cheek to your lips. Drowning out your cries despite his pleas to hear every single one.

Pavel staples you in place, pausing only a moment before hurriedly stuffing you with his cock. He stretches over you, again avaricious for your mouth on his, muffling his own groans under the sloppy stirs of his speedy thrusts. His thumb matches pace, drawing the shiver of his own name, narcissistically, into the apex of your thighs. Your mixing juices soaking his skin. Were he not edging close to climax, Pavel would be tempted to sink to his knees and worship with his mouth. The thought sears through his veins, body seizing -- he hunches unflatteringly, clutching you flush as he cums.

The sensation paired with his devoted attention to your clit cinches the knot in your gut, thighs squished around Pavel’s waist and gasps ragged.

“You’re so handsome when you’re not being a terror,” you coo as Pavel lays his head on your chest.

He snorts quietly, nodding and curling both arms around you, “So tired. You should carry me to our room.”

“If we move, you’re doing the carrying,” you yawn, scooting down to rest your back flat on the counter (causing the both of you to whimper in overstimulation at the jostling).

After a brief respite, Pavel murmurs, half-asleep on your chest, “I’m content to sleep here.”

“Of course…” you yawn again, louder, and scratch your nails through his tangled hair, “I am, too.”

“Of course,” he mimics, laughing tiredly even when you sharply yank a lock of his hair.