#they are good at or even capable of is killing people and it's starting to look like killing the 'right' people isn't an actual solution

[rey-jake-therapist]

I have talked a couple of times about the huge parallels that exist between Hannigram (Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham, from the NBC show not the movie) and Haladriel (Galadriel and Sauron, The Rings of Power), and for me there are still the fictional relationships that are the closest in terms of narrative, despite the first being m/m and the second m/f. I have been told : Penny Dreadful, Vanessa and Dracula, but to be honest I found this relationship way too rushed, and totally ruined by the shitty ending of the show.

Besides, Dracula lied so much to Vanessa it was actually hard to say if his feelings for her were genuine or not. He had a nice speech though. Maybe on a second rewatch I'd have a different opinion, but it didn't really work for me. I didn't give a damn about this Dracula guy, while I do feel a lot for Hannibal and Sauron despite their undeniable evilness.

No, it's still Hannigram and Haladriel to me. The ships's names even both start with a H, isn't it a sign lol

Hannibal, Will, Galadriel, and Sauron are all very complex characters. Anyone who attempts to put these characters in a box and just see them as "entirely good" and "entirely evil" are, sorry, wrong.

Hannibal and Sauron get nowhere near to be redeemed in their story because they always commit to evil and feel unapologetic about it (Hannibal especially, while Sauron has a short "repentance phase". But since it's more motivated by the fear of the Valar's judgements than by a real, genuine desire to atone, he's easily drawn back to his old evil ways). They're both considered to be personifications of evil, for that matter.

Hannibal and Sauron are both capable of seeming extremely charming and deceive everybody who meets them into believing that they're "normal". I would say that Hannibal's an even better deceiver than Sauron is. They're also both control freaks who play 5D chess in real time. The rare times they lose control, it's almost always related to Will/Galadriel.

Hannibal and Sauron don't care about anybody and have no issues killing anyone who's in their way, except for Will/Galadriel.

Will and Galadriel are supposedly on "the good side", but in Hannibal and Sauron, respectively, they find the reflection of their own inner darkness.

Will and Galadriel are different from everybody else. They're respected in their respective field, but their differences make them loners, and seen as potentially dangerous by their peers.

Season 1 of both shows starts with exactly the same concept : Hannibal murders people and eats them, but for the world, including Will, he's just a respected psychiatrist. He befriends Will because he feels what Will would have probably always denied if he hadn't met him : that Will likes to kill, because it makes him feel powerful. Unlike Hannibal, he needs to feel that his victim "deserved" it, he won't just kill indifferently. Sauron pretends to be Halbrand, a regular mortal man, befriends Galadriel, and is drawn to her light but also to the darkness he can feel in her.

Hannibal is supposed to help Will find a murderer who's no other than himself. Halbrand is supposed to help Galadriel find Sauron, who's also no other than himself.

Both Hannigram and Haladriel have a clear push and pull dynamics through the seasons.

Will ends up realizing that Hannibal is the Chesapeake ripper, the murderer he was chasing, just like Galadriel finds out that Halbrand is Sauron at the end of season 1.

Will and Galadriel have an intense desire to kill Hannibal/Sauron, while being irresistibly drawn to him.

When he realizes that Will's close to find who he really is, Hannibal gets Will thrown in jail for the crimes he himself committed thanks to planted evidence and manipulation. Sauron somehow manages to instill the doubt in Elrond's head that Galadriel is not free of his influence, while manipulating Celebrimbor into believing that he was cast aside by her (and Gil-Galad) once they didn't need him anymore.

Hannibal acts all innocent when Will openly accuses him of being the Chesapeake ripper, just like Sauron plays innocent when referring to the fact that Galadriel cast him out once she found out who he was (the main difference is that Galadriel never accused Halbrand of being Sauron in front of Celebrimbor).

Talking of Elrond, I can see a parallel between him telling Galadriel "he (Sauron) never left" when she tells him she can't let him in again, and Bedelia du Maurier telling Will "Can't live with him, can't live without him, is that what this is?"

At the end of season 2, Hannibal stabs Will when he realizes he conspired with Jack Crawford to have him arrested (= he realizes he can't have Will even if Will is tempted). What do we get at the end of TROP S2 ? same thing, basically : Galadriel keeps on resisting him, so Sauron stabs her, literally leaving his mark (the wound) on her. In both cases, there's a clear erotic subtext.

In season 3, Hannibal tries to start a new life with a new partner, Bedelia du Maurier, but it doesn't work. He's visibly miserable and thinks about Will all the time. Sauron in season 2 does the same with Celebrimbor and a bit with Mirdania, who's basically a Galadriel stand-in. The partnership with Celebrimbor doesn't work as well as it did with Galadriel, and he's dead-eyed, most of the time.

Hannibal finally gets himself arrested so Will always knows where he is (in reaction to Will's claim that he never wants to think of him again, and doesn't want to know where he is). The parallel to that could be the bond that Sauron may have created between him and Galadriel, when he stabbed her with Morgoth's crown. Hannibal and Sauron both want to make sure that Will/Galadriel will never get rid of them.

Will finds himself a nice albeit quite bland wife, who's got a kid that Will treats as his own. I can't *not* see Molly as Will's Celeborn ;)

While being supposedly "happy" with his new quiet life, Will can't resist the temptation to leave this life to organize Hannibal's escape from jail, arguing that he can help him find another killer, the Red Dragon. It's quite obvious that at this point, Will just wants an excuse to spend time with Hannibal, as he has now fully embraced his "dark side". Season 3 ends with Will jumping off a cliff and dragging Hannibal with him in a desperate attempt to have them both killed.

I wouldn't be very surprised if we got a similar scenario in season 3 of TROP, especially if the theory that Galadriel and Sauron are now bound is revealed accurate... Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but it doesn't seem that far-fetched to me that Galadriel would still be attracted to Sauron in season 3.

[rosenfey]

things that are hard to find: writing advice that isn't condescending.

[bitegore]

ngl i think i kind of was a genius for being like 'yeah this character is a scary killyou cannibal scary killer who scary kills you' and then realizing that the way my worldbuilding works out is that there's a nonzero chance that if you leave literally any body parts over they can just come back, depending on what they believe in their heart of hearts can kill them. Of course she'd start eating her kills. She probably tried normal stuff first and then realized it didn't work and she had to try harder if she wanted to actually keep them dead.

[eastgaysian]

he's so casual about the fact that dozens of people died it actually endears him to me. well it was less than ideal that you killed a woman we just met in cold blood but hey, pobody's nerfect

[triple1st]

the second gayest thing a time lady can do for another is abdicate as lord president & name her rival as successor so that she may serve under her as coordinator of the CIA, the first is plotting to assassinate their people's god together

[tenok]

.

[morganmnemonic]

I can't stop thinking about the relationship between Jon and Helen as perhaps one of the most important ones in the entire show. They are narrative parallels for each other, and they both know it. They've both known it from the very start!

Helen walks into the Archives, paranoid, unsure of who to trust, and Jon sees himself in her. And he thinks "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." Then he can't save her. The next time they meet, she's a monster. They're both monsters. There was never any other way their stories could have gone, their fates entwined from the very start.

And Helen answers his original thought with one of her own: "Maybe if we can help each other, there's hope for us both." But Jon looks at her and sees everything that he fears becoming, and so he turns her away, and refuses to accept that their stories are still one and the same.

Helen went to the last person who was ever kind to her, the only person who both knew her as a human and had the context to understand what she'd become, and he hated her. He hated her because he liked Helen, and told her that she couldn't be Helen.

So she stopped trying to be Helen, and embraced being a monster. Reveled in it even. Then Jon wakes up from a six month coma, more monster than person, and tries so hard to cling to the things that mattered to him when he was human. Even with no support, even with the entire archives staff against him, he chooses humanity and compassion over and over again.

And this is a direct threat to Helen's world view. Their stories are entwined. If Jon can continue to be a person even after everything he's been through, then she could have clung to her humanity too, if only she'd tried a little harder. And that terrifies her! She wants to conceptualize herself as someone who was completely overwhelmed by forces beyond her control, who never had a choice but to become a monster. She want's to be an innocent victim. But Jon argues with his actions that they'd both had choices.

And, Jon, in turn, holds out hope that she might make better choices until the very end.

This is the conflict between them for all of season 4 and 5. Jon wants to prove that they can both be decent people, and Helen wants to prove that they were never going to be anything but monsters. This is why she's so devoted to trying to goad Jon into enjoying his newfound godhood. She knows that they are the same, and wants that to mean that he has a spark of evil inside of him, and not that she was always capable of doing good.

When Jon kills her, she loses her life, but wins the argument. Helen is nothing but a dangerous monster who needs to be killed for the good of everyone, and in the moment he decides that, Jon dooms himself to the same fate. Their stories are one and the same. "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." he thought. But he couldn't help her, refused to, even, in the one moment when it actually mattered. And thus, there was never hope for him.

[roturo]

⋆.˚⭒⋆.˚ WATCH IT!

Gojo Satoru didn't predicted this move... So he ended up fucking you lol ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ G!Satoru x afab!reader and sex pollen!

tags: smut, sex pollen, unprocteted sex (wrap it and pee after sex), overstimulation (like A LOT), use of nicknames (princess, baby, good boy, love...) multiple rounds, praise kink, angst if you squint your eyes till you cry like gojo, sub(ish)!gojo satoru, god complex, fluff if you take one eye out, crack, belly bulgde, creampie, breeding kink, crempie kink, A LOT of cum, dumbfication, cock warming, npr.

A/N: happy holidays! might be my last writing of the year so i wish you lots of love and happiness <3 i might write pt2 for this one and 'she's back', which one would you like first?

o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

DAY 1: HOW IT STARTED

How the fuck at his grown ass age Gojo Satoru could be this stupid. And that’s big coming from him, because this man considers himself the senior of seniors and god of gods. So, how come he falled into this?

And you know what? Maybe it is his fault! For believing he’s a superior and underestimating such a weak and useless curse he just killed. But, this weak and useless curse has him going crazy. That really was karma paying back to him because motherfucker- Why is he feeling all giddy and hot all of sudden? This has never happened to him before, so that’s why he’s losing his mind right now and almost sprinting into his room because of how bothered he was feeling to just teleport. 

Everything was like hell. Really, like hot as hell. And how does Satoru know that? Uh well, because he’s living it right now.

He couldn’t bear the sensation anymore and dialogue Shoko’s number like it was a habit.

“What do you want, Gojo? I’m in the middle of trying to know how Yuuji’s body is capable of being Sukuna’s vessel. Like- It’s quite important right now, and more than debating about some of your dumb tv shows you-”

Shoko’s voice was interrupted by a whine coming from Gojo’s line, seconds of silence continued the awkward moment between the both of them, while all Gojo could do was breathe and maintain his whines inside of his body before he started literally moaning.

“Are you okay, Gojo?...”

“Fuck, no. Some fucking curse sprayed me all over with some fucking stinky pollen. Didn’t even taste great, by the way. And now I'm just feeling really hot, sometimes dizzy… or kinda giddy? fuck. And my breathing became irregular. I’m fucking sprawled out in my bed trying to find a comfy position but my legs won’t cooperate.”

A loud laugh was heard coming from Shoko’s line. It was clear she’s been holding it all this time just trying to make sure she’s gettin it right.. and well. 

“Gojo.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you hard right now?”

Silence. 

“You know what? I’m sending Y/N over there with some medicine. You’ve been sprayed with sex pollen by the way.”

Sex- what?! 

Before he couldn’t even ask Shoko any question since she quickly hung up. Leaving a needy and confused (and hard) Gojo.

Knock. Knock. 

No answer, but a weird sounding moan? You gave yourself permission to enter Gojo’s room since no life signals were heard. But- holy fuck. Was this a reward or a punishment from the gods?

He was kneeled down on his bed, one of his hands used as a support placed in his bare calf while his other hand was as fast as possible jerking himself off. You stayed still some seconds before rewinding back to what Shoko told you before coming here.

“He might be another type… of… Gojo?... Anyways. He’ll be really needy and like a lost puppy looking for some salvation. I gave you this backpack with all you would need, yeah? Thank me later and good luck.”

So that’s why her flat ass was quickly sending you off with a backpack full of water bottles and snacks. Sex fucking pollen. Great.

It’s not like people don’t know that both of you have been crushing into each other lately, hell- even his newest student asked about this. But you never expected for it to be like this.

“G-Gojo…?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, but it’s like a hawk located his next prey because of how instant his reaction was just for your voice. A drunk smile on his face, while both of his hands fall infront of him trying to hide the act that was going on minutes ago. His sculptured white as snow body covered in a hot layer of sweat. Not being able to catch a breath thanks to this sight, somehow he’s in front of you. 

“Are you here to help me? Y/N?”

His voice sounded so different. But at the same time it was just Gojo.

A small nod was all the reaction he got. You could smell that sweaty smell, looking down you found yourself looking at a large wet spot staining his black briefs. While his cock does nothing to imagination, marking perfectly the shape of it. Moving your gaze to his v-line, a white happy trail proudly adorning it. Eyes moving up, you found yourself looking at his clearly erected nipples, But all this examination was over once he interrupted your thoughts.

“I need a verbal affirmation, princess”

Ah, the nicknames. If you weren’t wet by now, you’re pretty sure you’re leaking right now all because of him.

“Yes Satoru, I’ll help you.”

His knees felt weak. Literally. He kneeled down in front of you, it was like he hypnotized and somehow could smell through your body into emotions. His hands were cold but hot at the same time he roamed your body.

You tried warning him by calling his name while he started kissing the softness of your thighs, telling him to at least move you towards the bed. And his body was doing what you said like if you were controlling him, while his mind was somewhere else. He moved the both of you towards his bed, making you lie down. His head not wasting any second between your thighs until his nose touched where you needed him the most and you whimpered at the feeling. Clearly triggering a new kind of need inside Gojo.

Everything happened really fast. Between some kisses and moaning, Gojo ripped your shorts and pantoes a muffled noise coming out from him of what you suppose was “I’ll buy you new ones later” but right now you couldn’t care less.

Not when his tongue slowly started tracing the way from your entrance until it reached your core. Teasing it with kitten licks, while his hands remained on your hips from preventing moving them.

His tongue quickly found a rhythm between your entrance and your clit, forming infinite signs between them. And the simulation was too much you couldn’t notify Gojo about your orgasm- But he was so lost in the feeling of your thighs suffocating him and the taste of yourself in his lips, he swears he could die as a happy man right now.

And like it wasn’t enough, Gojo kept eating you out even after your intense orgasm. Overstimulation taking over your body, trying to take him off your core, ended up with annoyed groans coming out from him.

“Satoru, love, fuck. I need you to stop, please.”

The nickname had him exploding with happiness, he really looked like a puppy from this angle. His eyes looked ethereal, his mouth covered with your fluids and his face was with a cute smile while he called out your name.

“Will you please let me fuck you?”

A small giggle came out from your mouth, Gojo’s face looked a little sad and embarrassed, but was quickly erased when you pecked his lips. And that was all he needed to clumsily take off his briefs and while he climbed back to the bed, taking off your top while doing so. His eyes were full of adoration looking over your body, before he pressed his lips into yours, locking them for a long moment, clearly enjoying the moment, before the kiss turned more heated and he started kissing every part of your body again.

His tip was now wet thanks to your folds, Easily slipping through it. 

“Ffuck- Ssatoru- Be a good boy and put it in, please?”

Gojo needed no more words before thrusting his cock whole into you with one swift movement, hitting perfectly against that spongy spot that made you see stars. But something didn’t feel right. Not in a bad way. Since you re-opened your eyes to find a glassy eyed Satoru mumbling a lot of ´sorry’s´ while he kept thrusting.

Oh.

He came with just one thrust and was overstimulating himself, still rock hard with no break while he hid his face in the crook of your neck while marking it as his and tearing down from the pleasure. 

You’re pretty sure he came again, when he whimpered your name and moaned against your ear but still continued thrusting into you perfectly. And he was so lost in the pleasure of overstimulating himself he didn’t realize once he confessed to you.

“You’re so pretty- ffuck– I really want to make you mine now. So no one could look at you, not even in a friendly way. Just… have you all for me- sshit. I love you.”

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, thinking it was all because of the moment, so you just had to enjoy it for now. His thrusts were so  fast and hard, but somehow still felt romantic. Like this was a normal routine on a daily basis. And you would be disgusted by the pool of cum forming under the both of you if you weren’t so close to your third orgasm this night. No matter how many times you told Gojo to stop for a moment and take a break, he would cum again, and still be hard so he had to keep thrusting.

Your mind is lost now. All you could ever think about right now was Gojo Satoru and his immense cock. He wouldn’t stop mumbling praises to you, saying this was all for you to feel good and he would stop once you cum at least 3 times more than him. A hard dare to get over with. Or maybe it already happened?

You begged for mercy, not thinking he could get another orgasm out of you. Hell- to even get an orgasm out of him. His hands interweld into yours, and moved it down towards your tummy.

“Do you feel it, baby? I'm right here. Ahh~ I’m pretty sure my cum is there too heh. Your tummy is full of me and my cum.”

He sounded drunk. Like. Really drunk. But his words took off your last orgasm of the night, apparently your reaction making his trigger off and cum… dry?

How many fucking times did Gojo Satoru came inside you?

Will pills even prevent a pregnancy?

“Ah- shit baby.”

You couldn’t pay attention to him anymore, quickly slipping into dreamland. Gojo not once leaves your side. Literally. He was cock-warming, still hard, but no energy (and cum) to continue his misery.

You were here at 7.45 o’clock, one last look at the clock and it was 3.23 in the morning.

And it was like you just blinked, because a whimper came out of your mouth. Looking again into the clock, it was 10 AM, and Gojo was not over.

[tryingonametaphor]

Why Will Byers?

An analysis and theory on why Henry/Vecna targeted Will first in season 1 and his plans for Will in season 5

‼️Contains The First Shadow (TFS) spoilers so please proceed with caution.‼️

This is going to be a little long but I’ve tried to give as much context as I can without actually being able to show snippets from the stage play. This is my interpretation of everything that went down as a member of the audience and not as someone who has read up any theories about TFS before. To understand why Henry took Will first in 1983, we have to start with -

Henry and Joyce

From all the times I’ve watched TFS, the one thing that has stuck with me is the final conversation Henry has with Joyce. It’s just before his last confrontation with Patty Newby and before he joins Brenner for good. Joyce is the last person (who doesn’t know about Henry’s powers) that he canonically talks to.

Throughout the entire play Joyce, Hopper, and Bob are investigating the animals dying at the hands of Henry and come to the conclusion that Victor Creel has been the one doing the killing. They get so close to solving the case. In her last conversation with Henry, Joyce tries to comfort him by saying that Victor will pay for his crimes - which makes Henry laugh because she’s so close yet so far from the truth. He gets a little frustrated and says something along the lines of “You don’t get it. But someday you will.” (edit 28/9: the exact dialogue is [Henry: you’re too nice. that is how they’ll get you. you have to learn to do anything you can to protect the ones you love] [Joyce: I don’t understand.] [Henry: You will.]) The next time we see Henry make a reappearance in Joyce’s life is during -

The Vanishing of Will Byers

Will is taken into the Upside Down (UD) by Henry. It’s not even a question anymore. All of the context clues from 1x1 lead us to believe that Will’s kidnapping was not by a demogorgon. Will - a 12 year old - miraculously survives a week in the upside down with no food or water. Will is even around the demogorgon a few times in the Upside Down. (Joyce communicating with Will through the lights and then the demogorgon coming after her immediately).

Barb dies the night she is taken but Will stays alive and also somehow manages to talk to Joyce through the wall. Joyce is led exactly to where Will was held at the end of s1 and he makes it out alive. It’s almost as if Henry knew all along that Joyce was the most capable of never giving up on finding her son. Like Henry took Will Byers because he was Joyce’s son. And like he was giving her just enough to know that Will was alive. Even when Joyce and Hopper find him at the end in a state of near death, he’s not injured by a creature. He was being prepared for the next stage of Vecna’s plan -

The Possession of Will Byers

The origins of Henry’s powers happen as such - As a kid, he is transported into the UD (originally coined Dimension X by the government) for a few hours because he touched something he wasn’t meant to touch. During his time in there, he came in contact with the Mind Flayer (MF). According to TFS this is the point in his life when he started getting “corrupted”. Brenner’s dad - who was one of the first people to enter dimension X - had mutated blood after but no powers. Henry was the first person to come in contact with the MF and it’s highly likely he got his powers because of this (This would also track considering how most of the party has been in the UD now but show no signs of having powers). The MF controls Henry for the rest of TFS and Henry grows more power hungry the more he kills.

In S2, Henry presumably sends the MF after Will - who has now had a year to heal from the events of 1983. Will is the only other person in all of ST to have had direct contact with the MF and survived it. Henry didn’t hesitate to kill Billy in S3, but he always gives everyone just enough to keep Will safe. Will himself tells Owens in S2 that the MF wants to kill everyone except him. Will once again survives the entire ordeal and is given a “break” for the next 2 seasons. Except I don’t believe he’s been just given a break. I think Will is -

Henry’s Sleeper Agent.

Ready to awaken in s5. I undoubtedly think that Will is going to have powers. And I don’t think they’re going to be the same as Henry and El. El and the other lab kids get their powers directly from Henry. Will’s powers will be directly from the MF like Henry. I believe this has been Henry’s plan all along and it’s further affirmed by what he tells Will in the recent VR game. That Will will be the key to Henry being able to infiltrate his friends’ minds. Jamie Campbell-Bower also mentioned during the S4 press that to get in character, he set up a display with all of Henry’s victims and targets’ faces on his wall(?), and Will was in the center.

Henry is going to use his connection with Will sneakily and midway through S5 he’s going to awaken Will’s powers (maybe in ep4 - which is said to be titled ‘Sorcerer’ and has young Will in it). Henry is going to try and manipulate his way into making an ally out of Will, and it’s not going to work because -

Will is the Perfect Character Foil.

Will is everything Henry could have been if he had a better support system. He is the perfect character foil. Unlike Henry, Will has a mother who loves him unconditionally and more importantly, believes him. Unlike Henry, the person who Will loves the most (the Patty to Will’s Henry: Mike) is going to love him back and stay by his side all season. No one is going to force them to be apart the way Henry was told to stay away from Patty. Will is not going to be easily swayed even though Henry has spent years crafting him into the perfect soldier. Sure, Henry has seen him heartbroken and sad, but that comes nowhere near to the amount of love and support Will is going to get from his people next season. And they’re going to quite literally defeat Vecna with the power of love and friendship. After that, Will Byers is getting the happy ending that Henry could have gotten.

[threebea]

I have started to think of the Jedi being blamed for the Fall of the Republic like blaming firefighters for wildfires.

They have been fighting fires (corruption) for years, but the fire is getting bigger and hotter and spreading farther. They're doing their best but there aren't enough of them to go everywhere there are fires. The Senate points them to where really big fires are, but sometimes it turns out they just want their property saved and there weren't that many people in the building. The Jedi still save lives but they have to look at the bigger picture and hope volunteers will put out the little fires because they simply don't have the people for every little fire even though they wish they did. The Senate starts restricting their use of water. Then an arsonist, Palpatine, is made mayor and takes control of their budget.

Dooku and the CIS start lighting fires on purpose. Palpatine let's Dooku know where the most flammable places are.

And the firefighters (Jedi) keep fighting the fire. They can't not fight the fire. People will die if they don't fight the fire. Then the government is like: there are not enough firefighters to fight the fire, but here is a large population of people we will force to fight the fire with you. You shouldn't have qualms, apparently an individual that used to work for you is the one that paid for their training so really they're your responsibility. You'll be in charge of them on the field and get to watch them die, but we control their lives and have decided they're not people so we don't have to pay them. Good deal. We are good at fighting fires.

And the Jedi can't say no because they need to stop the fire and they can't do it alone at this point. Many of the Jedi are killed in their attempts to stop the gasoline fire Dooku lights and it shows how badly they need these new people.

Luckily, the people drafted to fight with them, the clones are also good at fighting fires! It's dangerous many clones will die, but despite having no choice they stand beside the Jedi bravely. The Jedi do everything in their power to protect them. They fight alongside them and try to minimize loss.

There are a few Jedi that get overwhelmed by anger or trauma. They become arsonists themselves, but the number of those that do can be counted on one hand compared to the thousands of Jedi that continue to fight fires.

Sadly, the clones have explosives inside them that Palpatine, the mayor, has the trigger for. Just when it feels like the fire is under control and the people lighting the fires have been stopped, Palpatine sets them off.

Most of the clones are never the same. They think the Jedi had to have set off the bombs inside them, even though they would have never thought them capable of it before. Most never learn the truth. They hate the Jedi for being traitors.

Most of the firefighters die. And their families too. Their children and uncles and aunts and grandparents, and cousins even if they weren't capable of fighting fires they all get burned to death.

The mayor declares it was the firefighters lighting fires and outlaws being a firefighter.

Some of the Jedi survive. Some of them can't bring themselves to fight fires anymore. Some of them keep doing it because it's what they were trained to do. A lot of them are novices who didn't know all the best techniques, but they find their own methods to put out fires and teach others how to do it as well.

And the rebellion begins because when you see fire the logical thing to do is put it out, but all the firefighters are dead or in hiding and being a firefighter is illegal. There's no one to call so the town's people start doing it themselves, inspired by the Jedi.

This becomes extremely important when the mayor makes a device that can light entire cities on fire at the push of a button.

Anyway that's my metaphor and maybe explains my point of view when it comes to the Jedi.

[toast-on-dandelioms]

🕷️Just Another Neglected Story 🕷️

[previous] - Part 4.2 - [next]

I will add here the rest of the tag list, sorry for having to divide it into two

Clark immediately grabbed the door and punched it right in the middle of it, making a hole to which he used to grab the door off its hinges and throw it away, not caring about anything but Spider's wellbeing. 

He was the first one to enter the room, looking around to see if Joker was still there so he could kill the bastard who dared to hurt his child. 

Bruce was the second to enter and immediately walked around to find the vigilante, stopping to stare in silence at the cold body of Joker stuck on the wall. 

He checked for a pulse, not too worried about the clown but needed to see if he was worth saving, letting out a small sigh when he felt no pulse. 

He sighed once again, mostly out of anger since he wanted to be the one to kill the man who dared to hurt his child (Spider), before starting to worry that if Spider knew that they killed a man, he didn't know how they would react to the news. 

He quickly looked away and went back to search for the teen, now even more worried about their wellbeing, especially when Clark told him that he could hear their heartbeat but it was incredibly slow, which meant that he couldn't find them immediately.

As he looked around the room, he kept on getting angrier as he saw drops of blood from fighting and some weapons and bullets that Joker probably used on Spider since they were all covered in blood. 

As he searched around he heard Superman call for him and quickly ran up to him, finding a gravely injured Spider with their mask ripped off and full of bruises on their face and body. 

Their body was also covered in bruises and wounds made from Joker, their ragged breath accentuating the severity of their injuries. 

He gently called them using their vigilante name since no one knew their real name, sighing in relief when Spider opened their eyes to look at him and hissed at him, not recognising him or Clark because of their injuries and how scared they were. 

They calmed down after Clark gently called out to them and got in their line of vision then started talking with a broken voice as their eyes filled with tears, the words having to be repeated because of how much Spider sobbed and gasped from the pain of their injuries. 

"h-he kept laughing and hitting me after a weird gas poured in the room, I d-didn't want to hurt him but I punched him out of desperation, h-he's been so silent and I-I don't know if he's even alive, I'm so sorry". 

He set a hand on their head after taking off the rest of their mask to help them see better and just told them, with a soft voice that even Clark was a bit taken aback, "you did good kid, I'm sorry you had to fight alone" as he knew what Joker was capable of and was glad Spider survived and was able to fight back. 

He instructed Superman to pick them up and fly back to the Manor, using his own cape to cover Spider's body to protect them from the harsh winds while Clark was flying, letting Conner follow him so he could call Tim and get Alfred to prepare the medbay. 

He then turned to Jason and Stephanie with an unnerving calm face and a smile that the two took a step back in fear of what he was planning since Batman was never calm, especially if someone he cares about gets hurt. And he was smiling, which meant it was bad news and to not try to stop him. 

He quickly walked towards the three heroes in front of him and put a hand on both Stephanie and Jason's shoulder and said in a weirdly cheerful voice "who wants to help Batman burn down the place and all the people who dared to hurt Spider?". 

Not that Bruce was asking for their help, he just wanted it to be done faster so he could go home to Spider. In a normal case he would make it slow for whoever tried to hurt his child but this time he couldn't stop to enjoy the pain of the leader that was still in the room. 

He gave both of his kids a set of bombs to put all around the bunker, telling them to not care about anyone and just place the bombs around while he took care of the leader. 

He grabbed the makeshift throne from the pedestal it was put on and dragged it in the center of the room, not even caring about the noise the chair was making. 

He then grabbed the passed out cultist and threw him on the throne, using some handcuffs to hold him there so he wouldn't escape if things got bloody. 

Not that he wouldn't mind if things got bloody, he needed to relieve some stress after what happened to Spider and fortunately for him, that cultist was there and he needed to ask some questions.

He stared at the still passed out cultist and grabbed some smelling salts from his utility belt before snapping them under the cultist nose, a smirk appearing on his face when the cultist woke up and was scared when he saw him. 

He wanted him to be scared, god just seeing how scared he was while trying to free himself from the cuffs on both arms and legs was incredibly satisfying, especially to what he wanted to do to him. 

He roughly grabbed the cultist’s face to make him look directly at him, wanting all of his attention to ask his questions and slowly leaned down to look him right in the eyes. 

“Now I am gonna ask you a few questions, if you tell me the truth I will let you walk out of this room alive but if you lie..”

He didn't finish the sentence and let the fear and the realization of what he meant wash over the cultist face, enjoying every second of it and he wanted him to be scared. 

He let go of his face after a bit, a small smirk on his face when he saw the imprints of his fingers by how hard he squeezed his face. 

“Why was Joker here? That clown never worked with cultists before” 

He stayed silent as he watched the man hang his head low, starting to get even more angry when he didn't immediately answer. 

He took a small step back in shock when he suddenly heard a laugh, very similar to the laugh Joker always had whenever he fought that clown. 

His face was in shock when the cultist raised his head and showed the same maniac smile the clown always had, making him think that the ghost of Joker possessed the man, especially since the man just kept on laughing. 

“Batman, the world's greatest detective, can't figure out something so simple! The trap wasn't for you, or even one of your many sidekicks!”

The man kept on laughing before suddenly stopping, his smile still on his face as he stared at Batman right in the eyes. 

“It was for your little metahuman that started to clean the streets, everything here was for that annoying vigilante and leaving a message for you” 

He laughed again when he saw the shock in Batman’s face, not even minding the handcuffs on both arms and legs as he moved them while laughing like a maniac. 

“Everyone noticed your obsession for them, how all of your sidekicks kept on following them and getting rejected or thrown off a roof. You're not so secretive Batman and we just used them to send you a message” 

Bruce just stared at the cultist laughing before grabbing a gun that Jason gave him and just shot the cultist in the face, using all the bullets inside the magazine. (The thing that holds bullets inside the gun if you don't know)

He stopped when the gun didn't shoot anymore and walked out the room, his eyes filled with fury at the thought that other rogues and villains in Gotham wanted to hurt Spider.

As he walked around the bunker to get to the exit, he killed anyone who tried to attack him or was in his way, not even caring about his no-kill rule or how the blood kept splattering on his suit. 

He finally got out of the bunker, noticing both Jason and Stephanie near Conner’s ship and just gave them a nod before getting in his own jet, waiting until the bunker exploded before taking off. 

He put the coordinates to the batcave and flew as fast as his jet could, wanting to get to the Batcave as fast as he could, his mind going over so many scenarios of Spider dying because of him whenever Alfred or anyone else in the cave didn't answer his calls that he was starting to get a panic attack at the thought of Spider dying because he was too late to save them. 

When he finally arrived at the cave he basically jumped out the jet as it was landing and ran to the medbay, taking off his mask in the meantime as he didn't need it and having it on was like a reminder of the hatred that Spider has for that symbol. 

As he ran, he ignored both of the Kryptonians still in the cave, not caring about their presence as he was more focused on making sure Spider was ok. 

He arrived just in time because he saw Alfred walk out the medbay while taking off the surgical gloves and robes covered in blood and was throwing them away in a nearby bin. 

He quickly walked up to the old man and started to ask a barrage of questions, ranging to what's the situation with Spider to how were they holding up and if they were alive and didn't have anything that would make them unable to move or do certain tasks. 

He stopped talking when Alfred raised a hand to signal silence and listened as he explained:

"Their condition is stable - for now. Their wounds were.. severe to put it bluntly, Master Bruce. They sustained a multitude of near-fatal injuries from Joker. Fixing 2 broken bones in both arms, a fractured rib and stitching  3 stab wounds that, luckily, didn't pierce any of their organs is no small feat, consider it a miracle they are even alive."

He paused for a brief moment, almost as if to re-evaluate in his head.

"If my assessment is correct, they should be up and running in 5 days thanks to their increased healing rate, 8, maybe 9 if they were to refuse any medication." 

Bruce nodded and turned to Dick and Duke who were near the room where Spider was resting at the moment.

He started to talk with Duke and Dick about the situation, sighing in relief when both Clark and Conner left because Tim managed to convince them that if they stayed it wouldn't really help since Spider was still unconscious and they could come visit after Spider wakes up. 

When both Jason and Stephanie arrived he started to explain, to who didn't know, the situation with Spider before getting interrupted by Dick yelling out. 

“I call dibs to share my room with them!” 

His chest heaved in a quick rhythm as he finished his sentence, the words still just teetering on the tip of his tongue from how rushed his speech was, a big smirk on his face as everyone else glared at him. 

Bruce sighed when he saw his kids were ready to fight to share a room with Spider, even though he also wanted to share his own room to make sure Spider was ok if they stayed next to him the whole time they were recovering. 

Unfortunately he needed to be the voice of reason at the moment and said.

“Spider won’t be sharing a room with anyone, they’re weak right now and waking up with one of us in a new place will overwhelm them too much. They’ll get their own room.”

He smiled when everyone grumbled but nodded, glad that no one was gonna contest him on this decision. 

But the moment of happiness didn't last long since after not even 2 minutes Damian raised his hand and yelled out. 

“I wish to call dibs to be the first one to meet Spider when they wake in a room in the mansion” 

After Damian yelled that out, everyone started to fight to be the second person to be with Spider when they wake up and to also choose which room Spider was gonna be the next to. 

Alfred stayed silent for a bit as he listened intently, forced to hear his son discuss about Spider staying in the Manor when they already live there.

He tried to stay calm as he listened, keep his composure and remain civil. But hearing both Bruce and the others call Spider by their vigilante name and not their real name, even after seeing their face, made his blood boil - he knew that he couldn't wait anymore. 

The things Spider had been subjected to and the injuries they suffered as a result, and how the Bats had reacted upon seeing their face- not understanding they were their sibling and child made him so unfathomably frustrated and enraged at the people he'd raised and cared for. Bruce was still discussing with Damian allowing Spider to sleep in the room next to his so he could show them all of his animals as Alfred silently walked over to him.

He decided to stop waiting for his kids to finally realize that Spider was, in fact, [Y/N]. 

His attempts thus far had proved unsuccessful, even after all the small things he put around the house for them to notice. He knew they were a lost cause if they didn't get the hint after all he did so he just walked up to Bruce who was busy trying to convince Damian to not let Titus or anyone else of his pets inside Spider’s room. 

He waited patiently for Bruce to stop talking, since it is impolite to interrupt someone while they're talking, and called out his name. 

"Master Bruce." 

Which got him a simple hand wave, signaling that he was busy. The dismissive action made him annoyed that he wouldn't listen, but he tried once more.

"Mast-”

But he was interrupted by Bruce's sharp hand wave and a scoff yet again, the man obviously frustrated by Damian and Jason, since the two were now arguing about who Spider was going to be placed next to in terms of rooms. 

He was fed up of being ignored and interrupted by everyone around him, raising his hands before clapping them together with an angry look on his face that garnered the attention of the entire room, the normally alive and bubbling room screeching to a halt in a wonderful blend of terror and surprise since Alfred was almost never mad. His glare danced around the room, shooting at each individual face before settling on Bruce's similarly surprised expression. 

Then he began his exasperated speech in an eerily calm voice.

"Honestly, Master Bruce, I can't believe I raised you to be like this. I gave you all enough many chances to make it right, let you take your time figuring it out, but it seems like you cannot even put enough thought into noticing the blatant hints and information I have given you, I could have written it in bold red ink on my forehead and you would still turn a blind eye. I am so far beyond disappointed in all of you that there is no word in the English dialect that could possibly encapsulate just how much you have let me down."

He raised a hand to stop Dick and Damian from talking and trying to defend themselves, or shifting the blame onto someone else in the group. 

"I have been patient and understanding with all of you and your behavior towards [Y/N], but after what happened today with Joker, I cannot sit idly by and continue to allow myself to pretend as if your disgraceful behavior is acceptable. You have run my tolerance and composure thin, so much so I cannot even fathom being quite so lenient anymore."

He stopped once again to level his glare at Bruce before shifting it briefly to Damian, knowing what the kid did to [Y/N] when they first arrived at the Manor.

"Spider's secret identity is [Y/N] Lawrence, also known as [Y/N] Wayne to me, and who is your child Master Bruce. Your child got bit by a mutated spider while working in a science lab, of which they had informed me, but your blatant ignorance is not even the worst part." 

As he walked up to Bruce and put a finger on his chest, his footsteps seemed so loud and deafening that some of the individuals in the room had to refrain from covering their ears. Alfred prodded Bruce's chest accusingly as if he was trying to physically reach his heart, despite his doubts that the man could even feel it. 

"The worst part is that you all ignored that poor child who lost their mother and came to us seeking help. They needed a family and stability after their supposed 'loved ones' shut the door in their face, and yet they couldn't even find that here. Your child could have lost their life today, they could have been taken to hospital only for us to be told they are unable to be saved, you could have been called to the morgue to confirm the body is theirs. And yet I don't think you would have been able to name their corpse."

He paused for a brief second to regain his composure ever so slightly, turning his attention to the others in the room.

"They learned gymnastics for you, Master Dick. Just so that you two could have something in common to talk about.  However, you always ditched them for Master Tim or Master Damian whenever they begged you to do something with them."

He glanced at Jason and the others who were standing there, wanting to make sure his kids knew how bad they messed up. He also ignored how destroyed Dick and Bruce looked when they realized and remembered what they said and did to [Y/N].

"They spent days in the library reading your favorite books Master Jason and even learned about guns and the maintenance for one whenever you visited to be close to you. They were the one who left candies out for you and always made a new pot of coffee for you whenever you drank it all master Tim.”

He then glared at Damian, knowing what the young boy did to the poor vigilante, now resting in the med bay. 

"After losing their mother, they were ecstatic about the idea of having a younger brother but you, Master Damian, thought they wanted to steal your place as Robin when they didn't even know your identity. But did you even stop to consider how horrifically you were treating a child that you were supposed to be protecting?"

Alfred paused his talking to lean down and look Damian in the eyes, making sure the boy's gaze wouldn't drift away. 

"No you didn't. You instead abused that child and made them so frightened and anxious about living near you that I had to move them to the other side of the Manor and serve them food in their room so they wouldn't starve to death. Despite your treatment of them, you didn't seem to care about the consequences of your actions, did you Master Damian?" 

He leaned back and stared at everyone, an exhausted yet somewhat pleased little smile appearing on his face when he saw the horrified moment-of-realization expressions on display as the weight of their treatment of [Y/N] came crashing down on their shoulders.

His gaze turned to Stephanie, Duke and Cassandra who were in the back of the group. Stephanie's voice was hoarse and trembling as her uneven sobbing filled the air, the realization as to why Spider always ignored and looked so annoyed when seeing her hitting her like a freight train. 

He stayed silent as he watched everyone realize what they’ve done before Duke, who was a bit busy trying to calm down Stephanie who was still crying, asked out loud. 

“Wait, then where is Spi- I mean, [Y/N]’s room?” 

To which Alfred sighed but led everyone, except Stephanie and Cassandra, who stayed behind to help Stephanie calm down and also make sure Spider would be ok in the medbay. 

As they all walked they noticed the way the corridor that led to [Y/N]’s room was very dark, like all the lightbulbs were taken off every chandelier to hide something. 

When they finally arrived the first thing that was noticed was the door almost completely covered in stickers and little kids drawing, along with an empty plate on a small table next to the door. 

Alfred stopped in front of the door before looking at everyone behind him, annoyed at their obvious hesitation at entering [Y/N]’s room but eventually grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, finally opening the room. 

The room is small.

As soon as they set foot inside, only two of them because not all of them fit, the feeling given by the room is almost claustrophobic. 

Being small by nature, the bed and objects make the room even more restricted, almost unbreathable. The mess does not fail to compensate for the effect; it is full of sheets of paper, fabric,  and metal constructions everywhere.

It is very admirable that [Y/N] managed to make gold out of every corner of the room, making it livable despite their spider "work". All the constructions and planning have even come to be hung from the ceiling.

Duke stayed a little to the side, but still took into account all the details of the room; like all the posters that cover the room. An almost spontaneous smile appeared on his face as soon as he realized that they are all about him as Signal, the thought of [Y/N] being a fan of his work made him happy and also proud of himself.

As everyone looked around, Dick raised his arm to grab the only sheet of paper that was hanging only on one side, being held by a web that basically crumbled when Dick tugged the paper off of it. But no matter how much he tries to decipher what is written, he really doesn't understand anything even though he knows many languages, dead and still used thanks to Bruce’s training.

Each paper everyone grabbed had a different topic written on it before being thrown around the room and attached to the wall or ceiling via webs. Some of those papers had methods to make the costume more comfortable to move, others tested various ways to make using the web shooters in a way that they could still work if they were underwater or electrocuted, while others depicted different versions of the costume, to make it easier for a child to see it and not scare them if they ever had to see it.

One of the main things that the two men that managed to be inside the room noticed is that they basically didn't know exactly what they're looking at. It's definitely one of the few times they set foot in [Y/N's] room, and the realization that they've neglected them so badly into allowing them to pull off a whole "hero" act without ever being aware of it hits them in the face like a violent slap.

As they looked around they all saw various photos in addition to the posters and papers pinned to the wall; in these photos there are various experiences where [Y/N] was depicted, but nothing is familiar to all of them, increasing their guilt. There were photos of them at a science fair, two or three at various dance recitals, but they noticed that the arrangement of the photos seemed purposely placed; every photo where [Y/N] was depicted, their smile seemed to become duller, forced as they grew older. Their eyes began to lose more and more of that spark of joy, becoming emptier, sadder.

Dick ran his eyes over all the trophies on the shelves, the badges from every competition he never attended. He doesn't remember them; hell, he never even saw them bring any  or badge home. For all the times [Y/N] has attended something, he has never been there. He should have thought twice before excluding them so much from his life. But there's no point in crying over spilled milk. 

Above all the badges and trophies there are only two photos; certainly spacing each other by 2-3 years. In the first photo, when [Y/N] was younger, they seemed genuinely happy to hold the trophy, smiling as if they wanted to dare the sun to shine like they did. But the second photo was completely different, it's almost agony for Dick to look at that fake smile imprinted on their face, like all their excitement and joy were sucked out of them but they still needed to smile. 

When Dick finally walked out the room to make way for Jason, his face was full of regret and guilt but the man ignored him to walk inside [Y/N]’s room. 

He ignored the papers all around the room and stayed a few seconds to look at the photos before looking at the small bookshelf he noticed in the corner. 

He slowly picked up one of the books sitting on the shelf and looked at the title, a bit surprised that it was Pride and Prejudice since every time he ever talks about it to someone, they never say that they liked it and just had to read it for school. 

But he saw that the book was incredibly used and full of small sticky notes all inside it. Whenever he opened a page following a sticky note sticking out the book he always found one of the passages filled with sticky notes or notes written on the page with a pencil, making him smile at the thought of [Y/N] loving the book so much that they wrote what they thought on the pages. 

As he flipped through the pages of all the books, he kept on noticing that on his favorite paragraphs there were small notes, like small instructions on how to add those paragraphs in a conversation with him, his heart breaking at the thought of [Y/N] working so hard to just incorporate something he liked so he could like them. 

He could feel the excitement in all the notes by the way they wrote them, like you couldn't wait to see him and talk to him about it. But he knew that you two never talked much, hell he can't even remember one single conversation he had with [Y/N], making him feel even worse than before. 

As Jason kept on reading all the books in the small bookshelf, Tim got to work on their laptop that he managed to find after searching all around the room. 

As he opened the case that had [Y/N]’s laptop inside, he could see some old stickers that depicted him during his time as Red Robin, along with some cute cat stickers that covered almost the entirety of the laptop's outside. The sight made him smile, endeared by the thought of [Y/N] still liking him enough that they actually had some of his stickers on their laptop. 

After opening it up, he powered it on and copied the password off of the little scribble next to the keypad. Going through the stuff inside the laptop, he noticed a folder full of photos of all of the bats, in either an embarrassing situation or funny moments when they were inside a dumpster after [Y/N] threw them inside of one. The thought made him laugh, especially whenever he found small notes written on that photo like what their crime was as to why they ended up in a dumpster. Though Duke, Cassandra and Bruce were missing from all the photos, as if they never existed to begin with.

As he kept going through [Y/N]’s laptop, he turned to place the heavy item onto the table since it was starting to get hot from being powered on. As he pushed some items out the way to make room, he accidentally pushed the laptop case off the desk, watching as a small usb  bounced out and fell onto the floor,  sparking Tim's curiosity. What could possibly be inside of that usb?

He grabbed it and plugged it in, initially waiting patiently for it to load. His irritation grew as he watched the loading animation loop over and over and over again, almost teasingly. He made a mental note to buy [Y/N] a better laptop. Perhaps even a whole pc setup so they could play together. 

When the laptop finally gave him access to the contents of the usb, he found a multitude of videos that dated back years before [Y/N] arrived at the Manor. 

He quickly went back to the newer video in the usb and clicked on it, curious as to what these videos had captured.

Tim curiously clicked the play button on the small screen, watching as it started playing. The scene displayed that of a small child, no older than five or six, who he quickly recognised as [Y/N]. They seemed to be in a living room of sorts, though he was just assuming that based on the blurry sofa and coffee table in the background. 

He stared in surprise at the screen as they put the phone on something, probably a shelf or table, to keep it still. Tim laughed a little whenever it kept sliding over, the child's tiny yet menacing voice threatening to throw the phone as they stomped closer to it to prop it back up. This happened several times before they got the right angle. When they finally managed to get the phone to cooperate, he watched as they took a few excited steps backwards, tripping once or twice, before they smiled brightly at the camera.

"So! I just got my first role in a BIG dance recital!! I'm gonna be the uh- uhm I think it's the swan in, uh.. Swan Lake? I think that was what it's called, but anyways I don't care! I'll be a pretty swan!" 

The child twirled around in sheer joy, showing off the sparkly white ballerina outfit, the pretty pearls shimmering in the little sunlight that poured in through a nearby window and the delicate lace shifting with the movement of the dress. The excited spinning halted as [Y/N] jumped a bit upon hearing a voice called their name. As he listened to the gentle lull of the voice, Tim realized it belonged to a woman, though it was unfamiliar to him. 

He laughed when the small child ran to grab the phone, noticing that they didn't stop the recording. Instead, they just ran to the kitchen where he could see a woman standing over the counter cutting some vegetables with her back to the camera, dressed in some simple pajamas that were decorated with stars. She was shorter than average, with long brown hair that lay on her shoulder.

The young dancing prodigy shakily pointed the phone towards the woman, before asking loudly, "So, Miss Mom, are you excited about [Y/N]'s first dance recital?" Their enthusiasm radiated from their voice, bleeding into their movement as the camera just barely captured the woman's face turning and laughing softly at the young child's determined expression. Now that he had a good look at her face, Tim presumed this woman was [Y/N]'s mother based on their similar facial features. 

"So serious! Though, this isn't your first dance recital my little star, you have done many before now." She exclaimed, her shoulders shaking as she smiled brightly at her child.

"Mooooom! This is my first REAL dance recital because I have a big role now!"

As the woman playfully shook her head with a stifled chuckle, smiling down at them, she turned her head to her right, encouraging [Y/N] to follow her line of sight.

"Boris! Tell her!!"

The camera panned over to a much bigger man hunched over a cooking pot, and as he turned his head to look at the woman with a knowing smile, Tim noticed a deep gash along his cheek. No, not a gash, a scar perhaps? This baffled Tim since he knew of the existence of [Y/N]'s mother, but had no recollection of a father in their life. 

"You guyssss, I'm a freaking swan! Do you know how cool swans are?!" 

Tim chuckled softly when he heard little [Y/N] say their version of a bad word, watching with a fond smile as the woman gasped dramatically with a shocked expression while the man turned his head away as if trying to hide his laughter. 

"Little star! Where did you hear such a bad word?”

To this, little [Y/N] paused for a good few seconds before their tiny hand appeared in the frame and gestured to the man, throwing him under the bus in order to avoid punishment. 

"Boris said it earlier when the TV wouldn't work."

Tim watched with a curious smile as  the woman turned her hardened glare to the man, who gave her a nervous look. "Look it was an accident Amelie, I didn't realize [Y/N] was in the room-" The man had a slight accent, possibly Russian.

Before he could finish his sentence, the video got cut off, leaving Tim in a thoughtful silence. So [Y/N]'s mother was called Amelie? How interesting. Still, who exactly was that man?

He quickly went to the web browser on the laptop and searched for [Y/N]’s mother, which wasn't hard since the first thing that popped up were articles of her death and photos of the incident. 

As he searched more articles about her, he noticed a few things: [Y/N] was never mentioned in any of the articles that talked about Amelie during her modeling career or about her having any types of relationships.

While he searched, he did find a few photos of Amelie with Boris, easily recognisable thanks to face scars, but as he could see by the many photos taken by paparazzi and fans, Boris was always by the side looking like a bodyguard. 

Another quick research, about the man this time, and he found out that Boris was with Amelie when she was driving and died on his way to the hospital. 

Tim quickly finished searching and turned off the laptop before grabbing it along the usb to watch more videos about [Y/N], especially since he saw a small folder full of other videos that mostly depicted [Y/N] as a teen, so he wanted to see them in his room and make copies of all the videos to show the others.  

When Tim finally walked out the room along with Duke, Damian finally walked inside the small room, grimacing at the sight of the mess that [Y/N] lives in.

He promptly ignored Jason, who was still reading the books and had tears in his eyes, to focus on more important things, like searching through [Y/N]’s desk drawers and in the closet. 

In the desk drawers he didn't find much, just a few folders containing useless information and school books that Damian ignored, angry that he couldn't find anything in the folders. 

But when he searched the closet, grimacing at the poor quality of the clothes [Y/N] dared to wear that he even made a mental note to buy decent clothing for them when they woke up, he saw a few boxes at the back. 

When he opened the first one he saw a small box full of vials, all labeled with ‘web fluid’, while next to the small box were a few web shooters, at least that's what the label on all of them said. 

He grabbed them all and noticed a folder at the bottom of the box, which contained informations on how to create the web shooters thanks to the grappling hook parts and what to improve in the next model, so Damian assumed those web shooters in the box were old version that [Y/N] didn't use anymore. 

He was impressed at how neat the information in the folder was, all in order and even highlighted when something was important or not, plus small notes added with pencil or post its. 

When he finished reading the information, he put everything back in the box and set it aside to grab another box that was in the back of the closet, finding almost three, maybe four, albums of photos. 

He slowly grabbed one, making sure to not damage anything in the album as he slowly looked through the pages, admiring the photos of a small [Y/N] along with their mother or an unknown man. 

The other two albums contained photos of a woman, he assumed it was [Y/N]’s mother during modeling gigs and from clippings taken on magazines, alongside photos of her with a man, again the same man he kept seeing with [Y/N]. 

He closed the album in frustration and put it back in the box before grabbing the last box in the closet, wanting to see what this had so he could either use it to bond with [Y/N] or to understand why they hate him. 

He understood that [Y/N] hated him, especially after Alfred pointed it out and made everyone see who Spider really was, but he also didn't understand why they hated him the most. 

Yes, he did hurt them pretty badly that they had to find a safe place in this small room but he didn't understand the hate. He did the same with Drake but he didn't hate him. 

As he opened the last box, which he immediately noted was full of dust which meant that [Y/N] didn't really open it much and just kept in the back of the closet to collect dust, he only saw a notebook. 

He slowly picked it up, patting it down a few times to get rid of the dust before opening it to the first page, which read ‘Diary of [Y/N]’. 

He closed it and debated if he should really open it or not before finally opening it, needing to know why they hated him and maybe the diary contained some information about it. 

He started to read the first entries before skipping pages until he came to an entry where his name was mentioned. 

20-03-XXXX 

Dear Diary

Hi, sorry for not writing to you for a few months but many things happened that you wouldn't believe! Well you don't really believe in anything, you’re an object. 

I moved out of my old house and went to live with my father, and yes I know it's weird since mom never mentioned him but I had to move in with him. 

You might be wondering why, well mom and Boris died. The policeman who took me to my father explained everything, they both died in a car crash, he even let me grab everything I needed. I managed to grab all the albums I made with mom and Boris and mom’s favorite jewelry but not much. 

I think auntie is gonna grab her clothes and other objects, I hope she won't sell them. 

Well no more sadness! My father is Bruce Wayne! The billionaire man who made so many things possible in Gotham! 

I am unsure if he knew that I existed, he looked so surprised when the policeman, I think his name was Gordon, explained what happened to mom and why I should stay with him. 

But I got a big ass room! It's even bigger than my old one! Oh I have to ask Alfred, my father's butler and yes, he really has a butler, if I can buy some night stars to put on the ceiling and some new clothes. 

I also have a younger brother! His name is Damian Wayne-Al Ghul! His surname sounds so cool compared to Lawrence! 

Plus he’s arabic! Alfred told me he was raised in a ‘traditional manner’ but I don't know what that means, maybe that means that he’s a prince? 

Oh my god, I have a prince as a brother! That would be so cool! I hope I can be friends with him and the others! I am so excited! 

I do miss mom and Boris but I can't stay sad forever, the consultant in school said so. Plus I adore everyone! They're so cool and fashionable! I want to be like Dick or Tim when I grow up! 

Oh yea I also have some many older brothers! Their names are: Richard but he prefers Dick, I don't understand why, Jason, Tim who is very cool like a Duke by how classy he is and Duke! 

I also have two older sisters, Stephanie and Cadsandra, even though they're not ‘really’ part of the family like Alfred said but I consider them my sisters! They look so cool and Cassandra is so cool, like an assassin or a ninja! 

Damian slowly closed the notebook, using a finger to not lose the page and just thought about what he just read. 

He knew [Y/N] came to the Manor when they were 12, maybe 11, so the entry was maybe a few months after their mom died in an accident with a man, possibly the man he kept seeing in the photos, named Boris. 

But what he read shocked him. They considered him cool and just wanted a friend. They didn't even know about the family's business and just thought everything was cool. 

He quickly shook his head and reopened the notebook to read more, needing to know more about what they thought of him and when it changed. 

15-04-XXXX 

Dear Diary 

You know Damian, the younger brother I told you about almost 5 months ago? About how he's so cool and everything and how I want to be friends with him? 

Well he's not so cool anymore, he keeps hurting me and calling me names, saying things like “you won't replace me, I will be the ultimate Robin”. 

I think I spent more time with Alfred stitching up cuts made by him than everyone else in this Manor. I hate Damian so much!  

Why would I even want to be Robin?! I don't even know who Robin is now since they keep changing hair colors! Why would I be a Robin?! Batman is too scary! 

I just wanted a younger brother, is that so bad to ask for? I understand that I came into their life without much notice but it's not my fault I came here! 

It's that drunk driver's fault! He’s the one who killed my mom and Boris! I don't even want to be here! I would prefer to be with my mom, watching her get ready to do a photoshoot while Boris tells me stories about his time in the secret agencies he was in. 

I hate this Manor, I hate Dick and his excuses for not hanging out with me, Bruce for telling me that I am just someone he’s forced to take care of and not his child and especially Damian! 

I miss mom, I want to hug her one more time and dance with her. 

Why did she go to the supermarket? She could've gone another day! It's all my fault, I should've never let her go with Boris, if I did she would still be here with me. 

Damian stopped reading after that because the writing was almost illegible and in a few parts the ink was smeared because of small droplets of water, most likely tears. 

He felt horrible, even more now that he read about himself in [Y/N]’s eyes and how quickly their feelings for him changed. 

Even now, as he read past passages about himself, he could see how much they adored him even after he hurt them and it felt like knives were being stabbed on his body. 

As he read, he started to feel something wet trailing down his face and when he went to touch his cheek, he didn't saw blood on his fingers like he thought 

He quickly got up and put the diary on the bed before running out of the room, too distraught to stay there as the words written by [Y/N] about him kept circling around his head, taunting him and telling him that it was all his fault. 

He’s the reason why [Y/N] hates everyone in the Manor, he’s the reason why they refused to be a part of the Batfam when they were Spider. He caused this. He made them move into a closet just because he was scared of losing the Robin mantle. 

He ruined everything because of his selfish behavior towards a stupid mantle that you didn't even know belonged to him, and he knew it. 

He collapsed in front of the medbay after finally getting back in the batcave, a bit glad when he saw that Stephanie and Cassandra weren't there to see him crying, and sobbed in front of the room, knowing that he didn't deserve to even enter the room after what he had done to [Y/N]. 

When Bruce saw Damian run out he tried to follow him but stopped, knowing the boy probably needed to be alone and would refuse his attention if he tried to help. 

He nodded when Jason walked out the room and stood in front of the door, wanting to enter but still felt like he didn't deserve to even enter one of the only safe spaces that [Y/N] had in the Manor. 

Bruce kept staring at the room, his thoughts running wild when he saw how small the room was compared to his or even Tim’s room. 

“Alfred, what was this room before [Y/N] moved in it?”

The tiny space looked more fit for a young child, with walls that seemed to curve inwards the longer you stood in there, of which you could only stand if you were under 6ft. 

Posters, pictures and multiple sheets of paper decorated any free space on the aged walls, the rest of the area covered by a wardrobe and a shelf that used to hold a few books that Jason took to his room. 

A large bed sat pressed against the corner of the room, creating a small area of safety with the various pillows and blankets piled up on top of the thin mattress. Clothing was scattered all across the room, alongside all the documents and papers that were scattered around the room, though mostly on and underneath the bed, having likely been kicked under there by [Y/N] after they tripped on it.

The whole room emanated with coziness yet was so small that anyone would feel claustrophobic even just looking in the room. 

And yet [Y/N] had called this room their home, settling in each night to the tiny bed after kicking their clothing somewhere random in the room and slowly slipping into the realm of sleep as they smiled fondly at the figures on their shelf.

"This used to be a storage room."

Alfred interrupted, capturing Bruce's attention and pulling him out of his trance-like state. "We used to put random items like cleaning products and laundry supplies in here, I remember there used to be a cabinet for the detergent over there." He said gently, smiling a little as he gestured to where the small bed now sat. "[Y/N] was delighted when they found this room, practically begging me to stay in here. They told me it seemed cozy, though I will admit I did find it a little odd they wanted such a small room." He told him, chuckling a little towards the end of his sentence. 

"The way their little face lit up in excitement once we got the bed in here, watching them run around the room playing with their figures and hanging up posters. The room was small, sure, but it was more than enough for them.”

Bruce stayed silent after Alfred said that and looked around the room before noticing a small book next to the bed. 

He slowly picked it up and sat on the bed, opening it to the first page and immediately reading ‘Diary of [Y/N]’ on it. He closed it and wondered if he should read it, mentally debating on whether or not he was allowed. 

He decided on reading it when he remembered that he didn't know anything, absolutely nothing about his kid and what happened to them and how they were before they got bit by a spider.  

Bruce knew it was wrong, it was another invasion of [Y/N]’s privacy but he didn't care. He wanted, no he needed to know about them. 

20-05-XXXX (you can change the date with your birthday) 

Dear Diary, this is my first entry in this book that is now called Diary. 

Mom says that I have to practice writing and that I also can use it to express feelings or tell stories that I don't want to tell anyone in this book, so I shall be doing that. 

As of today, my birthday, I am now 7 years old and I have celebrated another birthday with no father, just my mom and Boris. 

If you are wondering, even though you can't since you are an object, I do not know who my father is and Boris is not my dad. 

He told me that when I once called him dad, which made me sad since why do I have to hold this title for a person that has never showed up in my life when Boris is always there for me when I am either sad or feel like I can't do anything? 

This is not fair. I will mom who my dad is and pretend to know why he doesn't want me. I don't even know why he doesn't want me! And I’m 7! 

Well, I’ll tell you when I come back! 

Ok so, mom told me that my father is someone that can't be traced so he’s either a ghost or dead. Which is the same thing. 

Well I don't care, I’ll just tell Boris that he's my dad, even if he doesn't marry mom since she refuses to have other relationships and because Boris told me that he's attracted to other men and not women. 

I don't envy him, boys suck. Especially my ghost dad! He abandoned mom! 

As Bruce finished reading the first passage, he realized that their mother, Amelie, didn't try to paint him as someone evil just because he wasn't there. 

He was also amazed at how serious the first entry was, it was almost a work document but he didn't think too much about it. 

He felt horrible because he remembered all the time he talked bad about Amelie and how she couldn't just do one thing and keep [Y/N] away, not even caring if [Y/N] was in the room or around. 

He knew Amelie, she was one of the models who never tried to flirt with him and spent most of her time talking with her bodyguard, acting like he didn't exist. 

He also remembered that, after that night with her, she never called him until a week or two later to inform him that she was pregnant and how she just wanted child support if he didn't want to be in the child’s life. 

He was incredibly surprised when she called him and even more surprised when she sent him a very well made child support agreement where she just wanted a decent amount of money every month and she will never bother him, she’ll just add him to the birth certificate if something happened to her. 

He quickly shook his head to get rid of the thoughts about Amelie and skipped a few entries in the Diary before stopping at one where his name was mentioned in the first line. 

31-09-XXXX

Bruce Wayne is my father. 

I now know who my father is.. and yet I don't feel anything. 

At first I wondered- why am I not happy? My father is a billionaire and a very famous man in Gotham, shouldn't I be excited and happy to have such a new lavish lifestyle with a loving, caring father?

Then I thought about it and came to a conclusion..

I don't like Bruce Wayne.

My mother and Boris died in a car crash. They were gone and I believed I had just become an orphaned child with no parents or guardians to care for me. 

And then the police told me I had a father - Bruce Wayne. That man looked at me like I was some grotesque animal when the nice policeman told him about what happened and who I was.

I don't like Bruce. 

He looks scary and totally different from what I saw on the TV whenever he was in a program with one of his many children. 

He keeps saying things under his breath, like how my mom had one job and failed at it or how annoying I was because he didn't want me here since I was the reminder of my mom. 

I want to hit him.

It's not her fault. 

How dare he say things about mom! She wasn't perfect, I know that, but nobody is! Just because she didn't know how to cook meat and always had Boris cook anything that was fish or meat doesn't make his hatred for her okay! She was horrible at making drawings with me but she tried to, she put in effort to sit with me and draw anyway!

Why does he hate her so much?! 

Why does he hate me?! 

I don't even want to be here! 

I want my mom back! 

I want Boris back! 

I miss my house, I miss my room! 

I hate this.

I hate everything.

I hate him. 

I hate Bruce Wayne.

Bruce stopped reading after that and just stared at the opened closet, trying to wrap his head around what he read. 

He couldn't believe he did that. No he could believe that he said something like that, he was going through a rough patch with both kids, business and his vigilante job that when [Y/N] suddenly entered his life he didn't do anything to help them adjust or comfort them. 

He also remembered how Amelie was a nice woman when he woke up in her bed, that explained what happened thoroughly for him, how they were both drunk and thankfully Boris took them to her house, and even gave him her business card after she took his so she could contact him if she was ended up pregnant because she knew she wasn't on a safe day and he didn't use a condom. 

He actually admired how gentle she was and how, when she contacted him about her being pregnant and how she wondered if he wanted to be in his child’s life, accepted his refusal and the offer of child support, not even caring about how much money he was gonna give her every month. 

So he felt even more horrible and a downright scumbag when he realized that he insulted one of the many women he respected in front of her child and how he never apologized or tried to make amends. 

Not even the realization about his actions would excuse them, especially because he said those words to a child, a traumatized child who just lost everything and had to be thrown into a house where no one wanted them. 

He slowly flipped through the pages, stopping when he found one of the last entries, which were dated almost 2, maybe 3 years ago. 

08-07-XXXX

Dear Diary 

As stated before, I moved into Wayne Manor and now I am a Wayne. I refuse to take his surname though, I will never give up my mother's last name. 

This will probably be one of my last entries since I will switch to video diaries, mostly to just watch myself and actually explain while talking. 

I have been in this hell that I have to call house for almost 3 years and I hate it. I know that I say it many times but it's true. 

I hate Dick and how he acts like he's the golden child, so righteous and kind to Tim and Damian but when I ask to do anything with him, he just tells me that he's busy. 

Even though I know that those are excuses so he wouldn't have to hang out with me. 

I hate Jason and how he complains that Bruce doesn't love him, but I know that he does. That man loves Jason even if he kills people as Red Hood but doesn't do anything about it. 

I hate Tim. I don't know much about him but I hate him so much because he's so perfect, already a CEO and so good at everything that even if I manage to do something good, I will always be compared to him by Bruce. 

I hate Stephanie, Cassandra and Duke. They never hang out with me, telling me that they're busy when I see them play around together or with others. 

What did I even do to them?! 

I hate Damian and how he feels superior just because he's an Al Ghul and Robin. I hate it. He has everything, Bruce’s and everyone else's love and attention and yet, he still tormented me and scarred me just because I existed. 

I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT BRUCE WAS BATMAN WHEN I FIRST CAME TO THE MANOR.

I hate Bruce Wayne. I hate his perfect TV smile and persona, I hate how he acts like he loves all of his children and yet he has never spent any time with me ever since I came to his Manor years ago. 

I hate how he told Dick about how annoying my voice was after I visited to ask him to sign something for school. How he described my voice as nails on a chalkboard for his ears and how he wished he never had to hear it again. 

But if he wants to, then I shall never talk again. Maybe this will make him happy. 

Bruce slowly looked up when he finished reading that entry, the diary slowly slipping out of his hands and falling onto the floor with a soft thud. 

He couldn't believe that he said something so horrible about a kid, someone he should be protecting, and made them, made his own child, hate their own voice. 

He slowly put his hands on his head and just cried silently, the realization that he was the reason as to why [Y/N] hated the Manor and their own blood, because he was a horrible father to a traumatized child that just wanted a family after losing their own so early.

The manor was quiet, eerily so. Usually it was bursting with life, sound practically reverberated off the walls. But today it was almost silent. Amidst this silence, a child finally wakes up from their slumber in a room in the Manor. 

You slowly opened your eyes, hissing when the blinding lights coming from the window immediately hit your face like a rocket, making you try to move your arm to cover your face. 

You slowly looked down to your arm when you noticed the difficulty at moving it and found it in a cast that almost enveloped all your right arm. 

You looked at the other arm and sighed in relief when you saw that it was just bandaged up and not in a cast. 

You did notice that you had an IV in your hand, making you sit up despite the pain you felt all over your body and managed to pull it out with the casted arm. 

After you pulled out the IV, you noticed that you were in a far bigger room compared to the small one you had before. You looked at the shelves and noticed that your worn out books were replaced with new ones while the photos and posters were in the same places but with more space. 

As you looked around, you could see that the furniture was the same, confirmed by the scratches on the closet, which was the closest to you, that you accidentally did while trying the first prototype of the web shooter in the room which resulted in you throwing the flaming machinery at the closet before destroying it as you tried to put out the fire before Alfred noticed. 

You laughed a little at the memory of your panicking before almost doubling over in a fit of cough, your throat burning when you finally calmed down. 

You slowly moved the blankets off of you after you calmed down enough to think rationally, understanding that you weren't in your room anymore but still in the Manor thanks to the walls and the colors in the room, which were totally different from the ones you had in your own room. 

You ignored how both of your legs were bandaged up and slowly got off the bed, using the IV stand to keep yourself standing as you wobbled to the desk, noticing almost all the papers you had around your room were now in neat piles, making you extremely angry since you immediately knew that Bruce and his kids entered your room, probably because of Alfred interference. 

You pulled away from the desk, still holding onto the IV stand and coughed a little, noticing that the shirt you were wearing was starting to get blood on it. 

You slowly raised the shirt and noticed that the bandages on your chest and sides were full of blood, but you ignored it and went for the door, needing to get out of here since you knew that if you were in a different room it meant that they all knew you were Spider. 

When you finally made it to the door, your vision was already starting to get blurry from all the blood you were losing. You finally opened it but fainted before you even managed to take a step out, the last thing you saw was the silhouette of a man running up to you, his face blurry and his voice muffled. 

Tag List

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[cherie-doll]

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

― yandere!cod men x reader ― ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, makarov, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з suggestive?

꒰ ͜ ‿ ͜ ♡ ͜ ‿ ͜ ꒱

ଘ You're no plaything for Price. He doesn't just like you, he adores you. Cups your pretty face in his hands; delicately. His rugged and rough hands become gentle as soon as he comes into contact with your skin, treating it as if it were finely-grained porcelain. He treats you the exact opposite of how he treats anyone else. Whilst he leaves everyone else covered from head to toe in blood for coming near you, you're covered from head to toe in the most expensive items you wish for. But, he doesn't want you to forget that his money doesn't represent his love for you, it does not begin to cover not even half of what it should. He'll be sure to remind you not to be spoiled rotten. He's fond of you and while he's interested in you, you should listen and obey to what he advices you. He is more experienced after all.

ଘ Compare what Simon's scars and bruises are to your unscathed body. Let his hands roam over your body, taking in all he works for. Let them wander and familiarize with what he's toying with. His breath on your skin as it quickens, losing his train of thoughts as he fondles you. He's convinced you're meant only for him. No one else should touch you this way, no one could do it like he does. And please return it! Cradle his head in your lap, so the sizzling subsides and he feels alive. Let him know he's the best, the one. Let him lean in and capture those soft, plump lips in a passionate kiss. Don't pull away, don't deny him his heaven. And don't you dare let anyone else trail your body with their eyes like he does. Why, he'll feel as if they're already doing what their mind desires. He's screwed up in his mind but he'll move heaven and earth for those thighs to wrap around his waist at night spilling the warmth between them. Make him feel warm and welcome, give him the world he burns everyone else for. He sacrifices others at the feet of your altar.

ଘ Johnny's smug smile can fade rather quickly with one sensual move from you, watch him get lost as his breath is winded and his body is overtaken with an all-consuming fire of passion. Oh, he can't even fathom the idea of anyone before or after him experiencing such things. He'll be paralyzed the moment you sit on his lap and putting your hand to his chest, let it trail over his heart which at the moment beats wildly. It's a sensation he experiences when plunging a knife deep within someone else's chest, he reckons the feeling is almost the same. He thinks his victims rather lucky they die this way. How many other people can experience that fleeting, overwhelming feeling?

ଘ Kyle's hand kisses are done with such reverent trembling and respect that he'll have your skin tingling with warm sensations as if the late evening sun was seeping into your skin. Let his and your body blend together like the watercolors on an artist's canvas does. Bask in his affection like you'll sunbathe on the beach. Take in all the good he brings you, accept every touch of his that starts with a secure embrace and ends with the colliding of your bodies. The cold with which he lashes out for others has no place with the gentleness he entreats you with. Keep your eyes on his, locked in his steady gaze immerses himself in fantasies. He feels dizzy as if his world was spinning, losing himself in the sensations. And after the elation, let him shower you in praises, caresses and gifts. Let him buy you two rings for each finger, how many could you want to show off having a caring partner when you slide his card at the register? Make your hands look pretty whilst his are leaving a trail of crimson blood after him.

ଘ Roach couldn't ever hurt anyone else, he didn't know what he was capable of until the importance of you came all too clear. You're something that shouldn't belong to anyone else in the world. It's a quick descent down the spiral of violent devotion. His soft gaze usually filled with admiration and sentiment for you hardens, his pupils dilating as fear takes over. He's only acting on behalf of all his anguish, you haven't the heart to condemn him. He's shown you what your heart is worth, couldn't you give him some sort of heaven? He will do very well at whatever it is you ask of him, just wait while he shows you. There isn't anyone else like him he says over and over as if a prayer or spell he could make come true.

ଘ Makarov does not care whether he deserves you or not. Unlike the others who will commit unspeakable acts out of guilt and use their "pure" intentions to purify their actions, Makarov is selfish and relentless in what he wants. He does not flinch at your attempts of control, it's lost the moment he takes you in. He's determined to taste everything you have to offer, whether it's willingly or not. But he does like things to be served on a platter for him, he also has no problem taking it himself. Let the hand on the back of your neck guide you in the direction you are to walk, be docile and you'll surely receive tenderness. He can never deny that he loves the way your lashes flutter as you look through them up at him as he pats your head for being so good. Overtime you might notice small details showing his exterior cracking and revealing the soft, white underbelly of affection. He feels as if his chest caves in from your actions, the subtle red at the tip of his ears. Keep pulling at his neck collar, he'll like that fake sense of control you have.

ଘ You wouldn't ever catch a glimpse of Alejandro's manipulative strategies until he finds someone threatening. Is it wrong you're not seeing enough of other people? His biggest fear is you falling for someone else, the danger of you getting too close to someone is palpable for him. The intimacy you two share is from the harvest he's worked so hard for. He's been slaving away for so long to just let someone else lay a hand on you. He kneads you into what he desires, anything to feel the beating heart in your chest which pumps only for him. He'll keep polishing you until he gets down to the bare essence of you, which he can only dream to capture. The rhythm he wants to feel rushing through his veins, circling throughout his body.

ଘ Rudy's tenderness blinds you as he takes you to what you can only describe to be paradise. With the shining of luxury, all new and just for you he says. He'll press a million sweet kisses on your face before dropping that a most bothersome person will no longer be graced by your presence ever again. To him it's like a quiet act of love, to you, it's unimaginable. Don't worry your head will all the details, isn't it better to have no worries? He's all smooth indulgence telling you to keep looking at the adorned future he has ahead for you, telling you not to pay attention to the blood that stains the walls of the hallways you walk. He would lay out a new, fancy red carpet over the corpses for you to step over and continue in this fabricated dream.

ଘ Phillip knows exactly how to get the best out of you. Can you blame a man for knowing how to get what he wants from you? Let him tease and tug for he knows what every maneuver of his does. The hands that massage your skin don't get dirty, he'll always have others ready and willing to carry out whatever order he gives. It's what he's accustomed to and how he intends to keep it. But the droplets of blood that splatter do not miss his skin. The stain is still there, still under the skin of the thumb he pushes inside of you, feeling around for that bliss. Let his protectiveness clothe your body, he's already blurring the lines between obsessiveness and possessiveness.

ଘ Keegan's eyes will have you coming to a stumbling halt. Asking for something only you know how to give so good. Those erratic eyes that are unpredictable as they are deep, representing the deep dive you have to be holding your breath for. Are you ready to indulge? Because the impact will have you gasping for air, and when you try to take one you'll only swallow a mouthful of carnal desire. He ignites such a heat it's scalding to the touch, you don't know what's happening it's like you lose control. It happens so fast that when it's all over you'll let his lips, from which hot breaths slip through, kiss all over your sweat glistened body. His eyes might be softer and hold it for a while until he's back to the merciless, cold gaze which freezes everyone's else blood, feeling it lump within their veins.

ଘ Let König go on his fast rampages. They're over quick anyways. And afterwards, when he comes back, cradle his head between your thighs his tongue tangling as he stutters out promises to buy you what you wish if only you let him lap at your sweetness until his thoughts are left to reckless abandonment. Let him get what he can't get anywhere else. Call him handsome as your bury your fingers into his hair, your fingertips trailing his jaw and down his neck to where his adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. Place kisses on his cheek until he turns his head in one swift motion and captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He wants it all, wants all of you all at once it makes him messy, shaky and weak. But he just wants someone to hold him, rubbing his ears and whispering words of affirmation in his ear.

ଘ Horangi could care less what other's want from him. You're in his viewpoint and he's determined to apply as much pressure as possible to make you bend. The reason he justifies himself with is the lullaby he's lulled to sleep with. Everyone else wants something from him, why shouldn't you? Everyone else is just in the way, he says over and over again, trying to make you focus on his lips instead of the bodies on the floor. With what he's done, he expects a standing ovation from you, nothing but complete adoration and servitude. He's a man who chases after impulses, who knows how long until this candle runs out. For now, ignore the brusque hand and acknowledge the underlying intents. He'll keep this lecherous momentum going until you're feeling faint from the mere touch of his hand.

ଘ Resignation is a trait Nikto works hard to work out of you. Surely, you ought to trust him after all he's done for you. In his mind, he's dedicated such gentle caring to you, you should be grateful. Don't be afraid to take directly out of his hand, he prefers you lose that skepticism. And when you do start to gentle, oh he can never get enough of it. His fingers grazing and gliding over your body at any and every chance he can get. Let him delve deeper into you, it's only natural for him to want to know you better. Every quiver of yours, he feels through the epidermis of his skin. He just knows you that well. His jerking movements shouldn't startle you by now. Maybe if you were more open, you would be telling him what you want. Give him some sort of sign before that spark ignites an unyielding fire. Because to him, that trembling is a sign of a smoldering fierceness waiting to break through.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ꔫ

[gyuzgrl]

too sweet //lsm//

summary- when Jeonghan brings up BDSM at dinner, your boyfriend is keen on trying it out for himself. you laugh it off, telling him he doesn't have the stomach for it, and he decides to show you just how capable he is in bed.

Crystal-chandeliered ceilings, a live cello performance, a bottle of Domaine de la Romanee- 1945; you're in the lap of luxury. After a particularly long week, your boyfriend decided to organize a 'little' get-together to get your mind off work. Something small, he said. Just a little dinner with Jeonghan and Hoshi- nothing much.

That's how you find yourself here- seated in one of the best restaurants in Seoul, surrounded by friends, donned in a dress so stunning it would've killed a small Victorian child.

Earlier on in the relationship, you used to get awkward in places like this, wondering how much it cost, trying to order the cheapest thing on the menu, but now? Now you've grown accustomed to Dokyeom's treats. It's how he shows his love for you- among many other ways- so who are you to say no?

"and yeah- we fucked." Hoshi states, mouth full of food as Dokyeom's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

Jeonghan giggles, turning around to see if anyone heard, and shakes his head.

"and?"

"and-" Hoshi continues, prodding a bit of beef with his fork, "and it was like painfully vanilla,"

You watch as Jeonghan's face contorts into a disapproving frown, and sip at your wine, praying to whoever's listening that your sweet, baby boy doesn't open his mouth to ask any questions.

But of course, you've never had much luck with the universe, have you?

"like ice cream?"

Aghast, the older man turns to Dokyeom.

"dude..."

When the inquisitive, wide-eyed stare doesn't leave his face, you cut in, clearing your throat.

"c'mon don't be like that- you know how he is Han"

Your boyfriend shifts his gaze to you, now wondering how you of all people know what his hyungs are talking about.

A sheepish, watery smile paints your face as you reach for your glass, taking another sip.

The air stills for a minute, awkward pauses flooding the space while Hoshi and Jeonghan share knowing glances.

They turn to you, flashing you those up-to-no-good grins, before fixing their attention to your poor boyfriend.

"alright buddy," Jeonghan starts, reaching out to grasp Dokyeom's shoulder, "lemme teach you about sex."

Immediately, you see the tips of his ears burn red. Poor thing.

"why are we uh, why're we talking about sex?"

"cause you still think we're talkin' about ice cream" Hoshi sneers. You shoot him a glare, and his shrinks back.

Ever the explorer, Dokyeom chimes in again, turning to you this time.

"we're not talking about ice cream? what are we-"

"sex." Jeonghan whispers, voice taking on a mock-sultry tone. He turns to you,

"what's he like in bed?"

"hey!-"

"he seems vanilla now, so I'm guessing it's basic shit" he continues, eyes narrowing in on you.

Suddenly you feel conscious of your surroundings. A nice evening out has somehow turned into a free-for-all analysis of your sex life, and your most intimate moments with Dokyeom have come under the looking glass.

"y-yeah, we're vanilla"

"oh you poor thing," Hoshi fakes a sob, bringing his hand to his chest as if your house caught on fire.

"don't be like that- some people prefer vanilla y'know?"

Some people, sure.

Not you, though.

As much as you love how Dokyeom makes you feel, you have to admit, he's a little, well... basic. It's the same old scene, classic p-in-v sex, sometimes he goes down on you, sometimes you do him, nothing apart from that.

Not that it doesn't feel good- it feels amazing- but you've always wanted something more. Something you're sure he won't be able to pull off.

"uhuh, I'm sure they do," Jeonghan muses, seeing right through you.

"what are we even talking abou-"

"sex!" all three of you whisper-shout in unison, starling Dokyeom.

"but- vanilla?"

"it's classic, like your basic animal-planet kinda sex" Jeonghan's voice turns serious, brows set in a firm line. "there's more than that, though"

Hoshi watches intently, moving a bit of bread to his mouth in slow motion, as the scene unravels before him. You find yourself equally invested, eyes fixed on Dokyeom's wonderstruck expression.

"there's more?" he gasps.

"oh you bet- d'you know what BDSM is?"

Your mouth goes bone dry.

"I think so? it's the stuff with the knives and leather and like latex-"

Jeonghan shoots you a quick glance, mouthing 'you're welcome', before moving back to the man next to him.

"that's not- it's not all intense and gory... there's layers to it, kay?"

Dokyeom nods, eyes shimmering.

"BDSM as a concept is deeper than just leather and blood. B and D stands for bondage and discipline, D and S stands for dominance and submission, and S and M stands for sadism and masochism-"

"so that's what Rhianna was talking about-" he cuts in, jaw falling slack as he listens further.

"each of these can come out in different ways- bondage could include cuffs, rope, shibari, or y'know whatever material you have on hand. discipline is meant in its literal sense- you do things to teach your partner the quote-unquote rules of sex, which could include spanking, using gags for punishment or doing things they like for reward. Sadism and masochism basically play on pain. Sadists like to cause it, masochists like to feel it- again, many ways to do this."

Hoshi stares in awe as Jeonghan concludes, putting his fork down to clap.

"wait- what about dominance?"

A sly smile quirks up Jeonghan's lips.

"oh that."

You swallow at the lump settling at the back of your throat, unable to tear your gaze away from your boyfriend's face- so eager, so fascinated by what he's heard.

"it's the premise of what all this is; discipline, sadism, bondage, it's all built on power play. One of you is in control and the other follows, letting themselves be controlled, it-"

"what about consent?"

Oh sweet, sweet boy.

"that's where safe words come into play. I use the traffic light system, so if my partner says green it means they're feeling good, if they say yellow, they're still okay but I need to slow down, and if they say red, they want me to stop"

"huh."

Dokyeom sits still for a minute, eyes glued to the plate sitting in front of him, and you can practically hear his brain churning to process all that he's learnt.

As the night goes on, he seems quieter than usual, staring at you, absorbing information, listening to what's being spoken about around him. Every time you turn to the side you meet his gaze- intense, preoccupied.

Dinner comes to a close with him shoving his shiny black credit card into the waiter's hands before anyone else beat him to it, and soon, you find yourselves saying your goodbyes, heading to the car.

Dokyeom opens your door, making sure you're seated, and moves over to the driver's seat.

"you don't- do you like how things are now?" Out of nowhere, his voice sounds in your ears, catching you off guard.

You look at him, surprise etched in the rise of your brow, and shake your head furiously.

"of course I do! baby, I love how things are with us, I love you"

He sighs, turning on the ignition, and begins to drive.

"not like that, honey, I meant physically,"

The blank look on your face has his cheeks burning as he works up the courage to say it.

"sex, y/n" he says, a little louder than before, "do you like the way we do things now?"

Oh.

You hadn't expected the conversation from earlier to stick with him, but evidently, it has. A shiver runs through you when he says it- sex. He's never brought it up so unambiguously before. It feels dirty, somehow, even though you've laid with him multiple times.

"I-"

"be honest, honey, okay?"

The earnest, gentle tone of his voice has your heart softening. He really is too pure for this world.

"I mean, I love the way we are now," you mutter, eyes focused on your lap as you pick at your nails, "you make me feel good"

Technically you aren't lying to him- you're just choosing to keep some things hidden. Dokyeom doesn't need to know that you've spent your nights thinking about his fingers buried deep inside you, forcing you to cum again and again until you're sobbing and shaking. He doesn't need to know you've been fantasizing about his arms, wondering how they'd feel pushing you down, leaving you helpless, completely at his mercy.

He's a nice guy, after all. They don't usually like stuff like that. And even if they think they like stuff like that, they don't have the stomach for it.

One stray teardrop and Dokyeom will be on his knees, apologizing profusely, crying along with you as he chastises himself.

"I'm not convinced," he sighs, shoulders slouching against his leather seats. "if this is about protecting my feelings-"

"no! no- not at all baby,"

"so tell me- I know you, I know when you've got something hidden away in that pretty head of yours"

Caught between a rock and a hard place, you find yourself in a bit of a dilemma. Should you be honest with him and take your chances? Or should you pacify him and convince him that plain old vanilla lovin' is all you need?

"I-"

"baby," he soothes, voice gentle, "I just wanna make sure I'm doing the best I can for you,"

A car passes you by, blaring loud pop music, and he breaks into a sheepish smile.

"there's a lot I didn't know before today- stuff that you knew about... so I just- I'm checking. If there's something you'd like me to do, someone you'd like me to be, I wanna try"

"oh,"

You stay silent for a bit, thinking over what to say. Sure, telling him that you're actually a submissive and you hate taking charge is simple, but the execution part leaves you tongue-tied. Someone as sweet and innocent as Dokyeom wouldn't be able to handle taking control.

Nothing against him, it's just that he's so cute and naive- there's no way he'd be able to restrain you and make you cry.

"there's one thing..." you mutter, voice so meek you're barely audible.

His ears perk up.

"y'know the dom-sub thing Hannie spoke about?"

"uhuh, one of us is in control and the other one listens,"

"yeah, I kinda, uh- I tend to lean towards being controlled rather than being in control"

"oh, we can do that if you like, baby" he chirps, twisting the steering wheel as he pulls into your apartment, "we can try whatever you want,"

There's a smile on his face- that same shining, star-studded gaze, eyes crinkling, teeth on full display- and you feel your heart sink.

You'll just have to make do with vanilla for the rest of your days.

The lift ride up is tense. You chew on your lower lip, tapping your heel impatiently against the ground as you move higher and higher, finally reaching your house.

Dokyeom keys in the passcode, unlocking the door, and you stumble inside, rushing to the bathroom for a bit of space.

Locking the door behind you, you stare at yourself in the mirror, worry etched in the crease of your forehead. Your face is beet red, pupils blown wide, and your throat feels dry.

All that talk about the bedroom has you feeling a little jumpier than usual and you can't help the way your brain automatically shifts to its usual Dokyeom fantasy- tied up helplessly in bed as he eats you out over and over, saying the filthiest things known to man.

God, the things you'd let him do to you...

His nose is built just right, bumping into your clit perfectly as he eats you out, tongue lapping up your arousal from your past orgasms. Those long, slim fingers would be splayed across your thighs, forcing your legs open, even when your body spasms, begging for an intermission.

'snap out of it- Christ' you tell yourself, shooing away any wandering thoughts as you unlock the door and head into your bedroom.

"everything okay, honey?"

You curse the universe when your eyes are greeted by his broad frame, standing by your dresser as he clicks his watch open, shaking it off his wrist in a few crisp motions.

"y-yeah I'm-" you cut yourself off when he begins to fold his shirtsleeves up, dragging the white fabric up around his elbow, putting his forearms on display. The way his veins frame the shape of his arms so perfectly, peeking out just enough, has you growing restless with desire, and you feel your face grow hot.

"baby?"

When you stay silent, he eyes you through the mirror, making sure you're still listening, and continues-

"I was thinking about what you said in the car, and I think we should give it a try"

Before you can stop it from happening, your lips part, letting a taunting laugh slip past them. Dokyeom halts his actions.

"why's that funny?"

"it's not! I just uh-" you nibble at your lower lip, trying desperately to conceal the smile perking up the corners of your lips, "I appreciate you saying that, but we really don't have to do things you won't be comfortable with,"

"how d'you know I won't be comfortable?"

You sigh, walking over to him.

"Kyeommie, you're a really great guy- you're sweet, you're kind, you're funny- and I love those things about you,"

"uhuh"

"it's just that you're too sweet, y'know? You won't be able to handle the stuff I'm into, baby"

His brows furrow, and he opens his mouth to speak, but you cut in, sugarcoating your words as much as you can.

"being nice isn't a bad thing at all, okay- don't get me wrong. I love you exactly as you are, so there's no need to make yourself uncomforta-"

"you think I can't do it, don't you?"

His voice is low, dripping with a kind of venom you've never heard from him before. You reach out, moving your hand to soothe over his shoulder, but he catches your wrist, pulling you into him.

"Dok-"

"I may be slow, I may not understand the things you do as easily" he sneers, his grip tightening, "but I know my way around your body-"

"I know I can make you feel good."

He inches closer, nose bumping against yours, and you let out a shaky sigh. Your heart thuds rapidly against your chest, banging against the confines of your ribs so noisily you're sure Dokyeom can hear it.

You've never heard him speak like this before, never seen his eyes flood with such darkness. The once glittering light in his pupils has now dimmed to a darker, lust-filled ocean, void of mercy.

The expanse of his broad shoulders shield you from the front, and a hand slides down your arm, resting at the curve of your back, trapping you in his hold.

"what is it that you want from me, hm?" he mumbles, angling your chin up towards his face, "want me to take control- be a little aggressive?"

Your breath catches, and you stare up at him, eyes wide. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd hear him talk this way, with his voice all low and mean. The way he holds you too, it's different from before. There's no gentle embrace, no tentative grip- no, he's sure right now. There's a certainty with which he holds you, a forcefulness he would've once been afraid of.

"tell me," he whispers as he walks you backward, heading for the bed, "tell me what you want and I'll make you feel good,"

With each step forward he takes in your direction, you take one back, staring up at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. Is this really the same guy from two hours ago?

His gaze pierces through you, challenging you as if to say- 'try me, I dare you.' It's simultaneously intimidating, yet somehow exciting, and you feel a familiar heat spread in your lower belly.

Like some sort of predator, dead set on catching its prey, Dokyeom stalks toward you, moving further and further, until your calves make contact with the bed.

He smirks.

You've been caught.

"what's wrong, honey?" a faux pout graces his lips, "you were saying so much a minute ago-"

You gasp as he closes in, leaving no room for anything but your body and his. The hand on your face leaves your chin, and he traces a finger down your throat, stopping just below the divot of your collarbones, lingering over the hem of your dress.

There's an evil glint in his eye and you watch, waiting patiently to see what he does next.

"strip."

Certain you heard him wrong, you stay still, staring up at him dumbly.

"oh, we don't feel like listening today?" he quirks a brow at you, loosening his grip on your waist as he lets his hand travel up your back, "either you do it- or I'll do my fucking self."

On beat, he thumbs the zipper of your dress and tugs it down in one sharp motion, leaving you stunned. The fabric falls slack against your body, loosening at your neckline just enough to give Dokyeom a peek of what lies underneath.

He trails his finger down your clavicle, pushing your dress down to reveal the lacey surface of your bra- the fabric flimsy and transparent, letting your nipples poke through.

"someone's excited," he bites his lips, smirking down at your hardened nipples. "you wanna take this off for me, baby?"

His voice is raspy, taunting almost, and your body obeys, arms hastily undoing your bra as you shimmy out of your dress. You should feel embarrassed, getting naked so desperately like some sex-hungry nympho, but you don't.

The arousal pooling in between your legs is far too distracting to leave any room for humility or shame.

Dressed pooled at your ankles, bra tossed aside, you stand bare before him.

Teasingly, Dokyeom lets the pad of his extended finger trace down your chest as he leans in, lips ghosting over yours. Your eyes flutter closed and your lips part- ever so slightly- bracing for impact. You feel his breath fanning across your face as his presence nears, skin almost touching yours, before he sends a sharp tweak to your nipple, pulling away with a devilish grin.

Jolting at the sudden stimulation, you gasp, eyes opening wide. There's a current running down your body, stemming from the spot he abused seconds ago, and you feel it land in your clit.

You want to argue, to call him an idiot and tell him to kiss you proper- to quit teasing- but you know you like this. The way he's got you all figured out, the way he so effortlessly gets you to bend to his will, god this is what you've been waiting for.

"get on the bed."

The firmness of his voice tells you to bite your tongue and acquiesce, but there's something deep inside of you that wants to see how far you can push him.

"don't wanna"

He pauses for a second, looking into your eyes-

"do you actually want to stop or are you just being difficult?"

"the latter," you singsong, staring up at him with a challenge dancing behind your eyes.

There's a moment of silence as he prods his cheek with the tip of his tongue, taking in what you've just said. His blood boils at the mockery in your voice, eyes hardening to a cold brown.

"brat." he spits, clenching his jaw.

In one forceful motion, Dokyeom yanks you towards himself, lifting you up by the thighs before tossing you onto the mattress behind.

"baby-!" You can't help but squeal as he manhandles you effortlessly, showing you just how strong he really is. Your body lands with a dull thump on the bed, sinking deep into your duvet as he stares daggers into your sprawled out frame.

"sit still."

Dokyeom steps back, standing before you at the foot of the bed, and keeps his eyes on yours. A sly hand creeps up his neck, fingers weaving into the intricate knot of his tie, and he pulls it loose, tossing the silk fabric near your feet.

Undoing the top buttons of his shirt, his hand travels down to his belt, clicking the buckle open with ease. The metal comes apart in his hand, loosening with a single flick of his wrist, and you feel your mouth begin to water.

He looked sinful. With his sleeves rolled up- biceps straining through the fabric, the way his chest peeked out tauntingly through his shirt, how his eyes bore into yours, not breaking contact for an instant- it made you want to scream.

The sound of metal clanking pulls you from your thoughts, and you realise that he's shucked off his trousers, leaving himself in his CK black boxers and a partially unbuttoned shirt.

"Kyeommie," you pout, reaching an arm out towards him, "c'mere"

It takes every bit of his strength to keep himself from crumbling instantly, but he manages it with a firm shake of his head.

"thought I told you to stay still, hm?"

You frown, your pout still evident, and turn away with a huff.

"I'm taking this off, y'know," he teases, plucking open the buttons of his shirt, and you feel your attitude fade to dust as you turn back to him in an instant.

Who wouldn't? After all, he does have the body of a God.

As he undoes his last button, you're greeted by his sculpted torso, tanned to perfection.

Dokyeom smirks, ego inflating at your star-struck reaction as if you haven't seen him like before.

"every single time," he mutters, shaking his head in amusement.

Before long, the shirt is discarded to some remote corner of the room, and he stands before you, nearly bare.

"where were we..."

Grabbing your ankles, he tugs you down till your hips reach the foot of the bed. A startled gasp escapes you at his actions and he can't help but smirk.

"if tossing you around was all it took, you should've just asked, sweetheart"

Your cheeks burn red. Never once has he spoken to you like this- so direct, without scaffolding.

"makes me wonder what else you might like,"

Dokyeom brushes his fingertips up your legs, kneeling down to face your clothed cunt.

"I learned a lot today," he bites his lip, eyes fixed on the damp spot growing under your panties. "will you tell me which of all those you like or should I find out for myself?"

His gaze shifts to you, eyeing the flush on your cheeks, the scandalized widening of your eyes.

"I- I want-" you trail off, voice so small it makes him melt.

"I'm listening, honey, tell me what you want,"

That soft, silverish quality of his voice resurfaces, and you feel your body relax. He rubs slow circles into your thighs, trying his best to coax the words out of you, but you remain hesitant.

Embarrassed, rather.

You've never told anyone what you want from them so plainly, with nowhere to hide. You feel exposed in front of him for the first time in a while and the feeling excites you.

"don't stop." you murmur, unable to meet his gaze. "don't stop after just one... y'know-"

His eyes darken.

"oh I'm going to like this"

Deft fingers slide up your inner thighs, hooking under the last of your lingerie and pulling it apart, tearing the lace off of your body to reveal what Dokyeom wants most.

The most intimate part of you lies spread out all for him, glistening with arousal, and he has to suck in a breath to calm himself.

"don't- don't do that,"

"do what?" he asks, backing away slightly just in case you've changed your mind.

"try to control yourself like that- just don't hold back"

You breathe shakily before continuing- "I want to see how far you go-"

Something snaps within him, that final band of restraint finally tears apart, and he yanks you down onto his tongue, licking fervently at your cunt like this is the last time he gets to taste you.

Your lips part, letting breathy, helpless cries slip past, and Dokyeom knows he's doing well.

Despite the gusto with which he devours you, his movements are precise, practiced. It's exactly as he said earlier- he knows how to make you feel good. He knows your body.

He works his tongue against you, lapping at your clit without any care of hypersensitivity or overstimulation, pressing harder and harder into you as your legs spasm around him.

"wai- oh my god-" you moan, back arching up, hips lifting off the bed for a second, before Dokyeom pushes you back down firmly with his hand splayed across your lower belly.

Squirming helplessly under the force of his arm, your body tries to move away, to get just a little respite, but all in vain. He doesn't let you. The weight of one hand holds you secure, while the other cups the underside of your thighs- pushing your leg up as far as it can go.

With your legs spread out further, his assault on your clit feels even more direct, with each firm motion of his tongue sending shockwaves across your body, and you feel your muscles tighten, building up for release.

Dokyeom seems to have noticed too, and his lips curl up at the corners into a deeply satisfied smirk. You feel it against your skin.

"already?" he abashes, eyeing your tensed frame, "after all you said?"

"m'sorry- please, please can I-"

"can you?" he echoes.

"can I cum ple-please"

You've done this before- asked for permission before- but not with him. Never with him. Dokyeom's smirk only widens when he realises the power he now holds over you. To be able to deny one their right to pleasure is... exciting, to say the least. He certainly seems to enjoy it, considering the bulge growing in his boxers.

"mm, I didn't quite hear that honey, come again?" His voice is patronizing, mocking.

"please Kyeommie please let me cum"

Dokyeom's never thought of himself as a man who likes to abuse his power, but right now with the way you're begging? He wants to see just how much you can take before the seams begin to rip.

"no."

Your eyes fly open, jaw agape as your clit throbs under his tongue.

"w-what"

"you asked, I said no."

Now he knows he isn't being fair, he knows. But the tears welling up in your eyes have him entranced. There's this urge he has deep inside to see them all spill out and stain those pretty cheeks of yours.

"but-"

"are you gonna act up? 'cause that's not how you're getting what you want sweetheart"

Dokyeom's voice sends a chill down your spine. With the way his tongue abuses your clit, you're certain you won't be able to hold yourself back, not when your high is almost near.

You want to be good for him, you really do- but is this even fair? As he laps into you, nudging your sensitive nerves just right, your head tips back into the pillows and you moan out a string of profanities, getting completely lost in the pleasure he gives you.

He isn't happy.

"if you wanna cum that bad- I should give you more, hm? who am I to deny?"

You know very well from the tone of his voice what he's got planned.

Grabbing the tie- now dangling precariously off the bed- Dokyeom crawls over your spent frame, balancing his weight on his knees.

"gimme your hands."

Tentatively, you hold out your arms, pushing your wrists together.

"what are you do-"

"you know what I'm doing, sweetheart"

You do.

He pulls the fabric of his tie taut, looping it at your wrists before tying a firm knot to keep you from moving. The black silk, although soft to the touch, presses into your skin, and you hiss when he gives the fabric a sharp tug.

Dokyeom's eyes draw back to yours, and he grabs your wrists, pushing them up above your head.

"keep these here," he murmurs, gulping slightly when he notices how close your faces are.

Your eyes burn holes into each other's, and he sees something in your gaze that he hasn't before-

Hunger.

"Dokyeom," you breathe, chest rising shakily,

"kiss me"

Waiting no longer, he pushes his lips to yours, capturing the plush crimson in a slow, hard kiss. The way your lips mold so perfectly together, fitting into each other like pieces of a puzzle, makes this moment that much more meaningful.

When he touches you, when he kisses you, you know deep inside that this man is your forever. No one has or ever will make you feel so alive.

Dokyeom swallows your whimpers, your cries, as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's sloppy and messy and desperate- but you love the way it feels, the way he feels.

Leaving your wrist, his hand comes down to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so he can kiss you harder, deeper.

"wa-wait-" you pant, feeling your lungs burn.

As you try to pull away, a deep growl emanates from within his throat, and he tugs you closer, unwilling to let go.

A surprised 'mm!' escapes your occupied lips, muffled by his own, and your body lights up- embers of red-hot desire scattering across your skin.

Dokyeom's own lungs beg him to move away, to breathe, but he holds still, stubborn as ever. You feel far too good. If this is how he dies, he'll go gladly.

The airy whimpers and gasps from you, however, finally get him to let go.

Your chest heaves as you gulp in precious breaths to soothe your lungs, as does his own. Staring up at him in shock, you manage to stutter out-

"where has that been all this time-"

He lets out an airy laugh, pressing a tender kiss to your jaw, trailing down your torso until he reaches your gushing sex.

"the hands stay up there- got that?"

You nod eagerly, holding your wrists up to show him, but you're quickly cut off by his tongue, pressing back into your clit.

"oh-"

Tracing slow figure eights into you, Dokyeom works his tongue deftly while his fingers prod at your entrance. With ease, he slips two long digits inside, pushing deep till your arousal trickles down his knuckles.

"Dok- oh fuck oh my god"

Each knuckle of his fingers adds further stimulation as he begins to pump in and out of you. Every time he draws back, you stretch to accommodate the balls of his joints and it feels divine.

You've always loved his hands. Those slender, long fingers were perfect for you, and the fact that his knuckles jut out at each joint only makes it all better.

The kinks in his fingers have your legs quivering, and his tongue- god his tongue- nudges your clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

Feeling your orgasm build at record speed, you moan, completely defenseless as Dokyeom slurps noisily at your sex while his fingers push up against that one particularly soft spot inside you.

"Kyeo-Kyeommie m'gonna-"

"that's it, sweetheart- just let go for Kyeommie"

With a sob, you feel your orgasm burn through you, twice as intense as the previous one, and your thighs quiver.

You're spent. You're spent and he's only made you cum twice.

Watching the way your muscles twitch from the weight of your orgasm, Dokyeom grins, feeling particularly proud.

Now usually, this is where it ends. His arms would slip out from under your thighs, and he'd kiss you sweetly, telling you how amazing you are. He'd check to see if you wanted him to make love to you, and if you agreed, he'd do exactly that.

Tonight, however, he stays firm in place, his mouth still connected to your cunt. Limbs still quivering, your eyes widen when he begins to move against you, barely giving you a second to catch your breath and recover.

Your body goes limp when he pokes his tongue against your over-sensitive clit, licking gentle yet firm stripes with precision. Each oscillation elicits the most delightful sound, just as a clock chimes with the motions of its gong.

All you can do is clutch the fabric of his tie, nails digging into your palms as your skin burns under his touch. Your nerves throb, pulsing in time with your heart, in time with his tongue.

"so good for me, honey," he mumbles into you, sliding his fingers back inside you in one fluid motion. Your back arches comically off the bed, mouth hanging open in a mix of shock and pleasure.

Once more, you find your belly rudely forced back down. Dokyeom narrows his eyes at you, irritation flashing behind his deep brown pupils, and keeps his hand there- splayed over your lower belly, pushing down with just enough pressure for his fingers to prod out from under your skin.

You gasp, feeling fuller somehow with the added force, feeling his fingers drag deeper against your walls. Within moments, your cunt clenches down around his digits, and he laughs in disbelief.

"again? baby c'mon you have a point to prove, don't you?"

Under any other circumstance, you would've bitten back, calling him some name, yelling some profanity- but now? Now you need him. You're so close, right on the edge of the water, ready to fall in, and only he can give you that last push. You know better than to open that smart mouth of yours right now.

"is this all it takes? y'know if you're gonna start off by being a brat- you gotta keep up with the act at least-"

"m'so-m'sorry-" you gasp, tugging against your restraints as you feel your high mere seconds away, "m'sorry please can I cum please I've been so good for you-"

Dokyeom nods, scissoring his fingers in and out of you more rapidly than before, and you cum with a scream, straining against the cloth binding your wrists as your orgasm rips through you like a whirlwind.

"that's my girl-" he sighs, placing a kiss to your inner thigh, while his fingers continue their movement inside you.

"Kyeom- oh- t-too much,"

Your cries fall on deaf ears, and he shoots you a sly grin.

It has been over an hour now, you're certain. Dokyeom's held you still and pulled orgasm after orgasm from you with his tongue, his fingers, both.

"p-please-" you whimper, tears streaming down your face as those long fingers slide into you once more.

"just one more, honey,"

Dokyeom presses tender kisses to your inner thighs- now wet with your slick- and pushes further into you.

"just one more for me, hm? you can do that for me, can't you baby?"

You nod, small sobs wracking your body. Of course you'll do this for him. You'll do anything for him. Plus, you can't say you aren't enjoying this-

"that's my girl."

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Prey

Slasher AU. Prefacing the fic with the knowledge that there's no batman in this au. I was thinking about Scream and those kinds of horror films when I wrote this, so, all the warnings that come with that.

CW for murder, some knife play, predator/prey dynamics, and sex under manipulation. Smut written with AFAB reader in mind. 18+ MDNI ~3.7k words

Gotham is known for its crime, known for its filth and grime. So when you started dating Jason Todd, you were floored by how good he was. Attentive, sweet, kind, and always so soft with you.

He's the antithesis of everything you're used to, constantly going against your more pessimistic expectations. Your boyfriend is a rare, treasured comfort in the city that's been nothing but rotten to you.

It helps that he's nothing but a gentle giant. Sure, he can scare off anyone looking for trouble while you're walking the street, but he's harmless. If he wasn't born and raised in crime alley, you'd assume he'd have no idea what to do with his size and strength.

He assures you he's more than capable of swinging the bat you keep by your bed if anyone ever broke in. You believe him, of course, but it doesn't completely soothe the knot of anxiety in your stomach. Not when Red Hood is stalking the streets.

It's a name that's been haunting Gotham for over half a year. He's become Gotham's most prolific serial killer in nearly no time at all. He has no pattern, no specific victim type. All the GCPD seems to know is that he targets 'the rot' and wears a distinctive, blood-red mask.

He scares you. It's not that you think that you're on his intended targets list, it's just– his victims, you knew an uneasy amount of them.

The creep at your work? Found dead with a lengthy, bloodstained list of previous convictions.

The offputting guy that liked to lurk at the coffee shop you love? Murdered with the names of his victims carved into his body.

The stranger in your apartment building who stared a little too much? Killed and left with his eyes plucked out in some parking lot.

Jason said it was just a coincidence, that there was no need to worry when it was just criminals and predators being targeted. He sounded so confident, so sure of this fact that it was easy to brush off the unsettling fear that seemed to travel to your spine every time you heard Red Hood's name.

But now? You wish you had taken the gut feeling more seriously.

You weren’t even supposed to be home. You were supposed to be at work. Safe. Calmed by the people around you. But your manager had double scheduled you and your coworker, and, in the moment, you had been more than happy to take the opportunity to spend more time with your boyfriend.

Jason was nowhere in sight when you had come home. It had been quiet, almost eerie. You assumed he was napping, getting some well-deserved rest. You knew how hard he works. You were almost giddy, at the thought of surprising him, at curling up in your soft, warm bed and surrounding yourself with your boyfriend's arms and scent.

You cracked open your bedroom door slowly, carefully, not wanting to disturb him. But it’s not the sight of your handsome, sleeping boyfriend you’re greeted with. It’s something far worse.

Your brain doesn’t quite make the connection between the imposing figure tugging on a pair of leather gloves and the serial killer prowling the streets at first. But as your gaze trails up the stranger to where his face should be, you recognize the mask that's been on the edge of your nightmares for months.

Red Hood. Red Hood is in your room, and he’s picking up a knife off your bed to shove it into a sheath on his hip. You have the chilling realization that your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. Panic starts to close your throat. He could be dead. Jason– your Jason– could be dead.

You think you make a noise at the thought. Or maybe you step back in horror. You’re not completely sure. But what you do know, is that you’ve done something to get him to notice your presence. Red Hood whips his head towards you. He breathes out your name. And you turn on your heel to run.

You dart through your apartment, vision tunneled with one purpose. Get away. You have to get to the door, have to get help, have to hope that your boyfriend is still clinging to life and that you’ll be fast enough to save him.

Your heart threatens to pound out of your chest, your hands feel clammy, and all you want to do is cry, but you have to run. You have to. He’s right behind you. You can hear his heavy boots hit the ground with every step, and it only serves to make skin grow cold and your spine tingle.

You throw open your front door, opening your mouth to scream and beg someone to come help.

You don’t get the chance. The door slams shut in front of you, your only hope for escape barricaded closed by a large hand pressing into the wood above your head. You try to yell, try to shriek and make a commotion, but leather presses harshly against your lips before you're able to make a sound.

It’s muscle memory, built on self-defense training Jason always insisted you practiced, that you’re able to elbow him in the gut and bite down on his hand. He grunts, shifting his hold on you. You find enough space to spin around and shove him. You think he steps back more at your audacity than at your strength.

It doesn’t matter why, all that matters is that it gives you an opportunity to sprint past him, to try to make it to the fire escape. He must find your attempt cute, because he huffs out a laugh as he lunges for your fleeing form.

You cry out as he tackles you to the ground, maneuvering you as you both fall. The impact of the ground is somewhat softened by his chest, but it dazes you enough that you don’t put up a strong fight when he flips you to your back.

Seeing him up close knocks the air from your lungs more than the fall did. His mask gives away no emotion, only his slightly labored breathing and body heat gives away that he’s even human. Even as terror sets itself into every fiber of your being, there’s a brief clarity in your panicked thoughts.

There’s no scent of blood on him. There’s a chance, there’s a hope, that Jason is okay. There’s a chance he wasn’t home when Red Hood broke in. There’s a chance he’s safe. And maybe, maybe Red Hood won’t hurt you. You’re not exactly good, but you’re not evil, not someone he would target.

The thought calms you enough that you start to struggle, if you could just survive until Jason gets here– the thought is cut short when something shiny catches your vision. In your frenzied state, you’d failed to notice Red Hood unsheathing his knife.

You freeze, and he lowers the tip of the knife to rest it at the base of your throat. He hasn't said anything since he caught you, hasn’t given you a hint of what he wants from you.

You wish he would, wish he would give you anything to latch onto. Tears threaten to prick your eyes as he settles his weight on your hips, hunching over as if to get a better look at your petrified face.

Your heart only beats fast when he starts to trail the knife down to catch the collar of your shirt. You can feel how sharp the blade is, how he would only need to press a little harder to make you bleed. The idea makes you whimper softly, unable to hide how vulnerable you are.

He catches the noise, head tilting like he finds it interesting, and he pulls the knife down your sternum until the fabric of your shirt starts to stretch and tear.

You choke on nothing, desperately grabbing at his wrist to try and stop him from ripping your shirt in two, “Wait– please,” you start to beg, anything to save yourself from this. He can’t– you can’t let him– not when you know Jason will be the one to find your body.

He shushes you, low and soothing, and even your best efforts doesn’t stop his steady hand from tracing a line down your body with the knife, “Don’t be scared, baby. I thought you liked it when I got rough?”

His voice. His voice. You know that voice. It chills you to the core, widens your eyes, and sends you spiraling to a fact you never once considered, “Jason?”

He laughs, the sound distorted by the mask and drags the knife back up your skin to rest over your heart, “I knew you’d get there. You’ve always been too smart for your own good.”

It’s not fear that makes your body shake anymore, but anger as you snap at him, “Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of stupid prank?”

“It's not a prank baby,” he says, so plain he may as well be talking about the weather, “I’m Red Hood.”

You blink, shocked to silence as your anger fades to unease. You can only imagine what he looks like right now. Eyes dark, face set with a mockery of a smile, and nothing like the Jason you know.

You swallow thickly, trying to reconcile the man you love, and the murderer bracing most of his weight on your body, “But– Jason– you wouldn’t– killing people– that’s not right,” you finish lamely.

The air seems to grow thick with tension at your stuttered words, and he raises the knife. You scream and squeeze your eyes shut as he brings it down without hesitation.

Pain doesn’t come, but a thunk by your ear does. You open your eyes and turn your head, the shining blade is embedded into the wood by your face, so close that your eyelashes nearly brush it when you blink.

The sight is enough to make tears fill your eyes, and any semblance of safety you felt was quickly ripped away by the glimmering knife.

Jason starts to shush you again, catching your chin gently with his gloved hands to turn your face back to him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I would never. You just don’t understand yet. The people I kill- they aren’t really people, baby. They’re monsters, a cancer to the city. I’m making things better, helping.”

He sounds like he really believes that, and it makes you want to cry harder, “Baby,” he coos, “Don’t be scared. I’ve always kept you safe. How I do it? Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m not asking you to get your hands dirty.”

You flinch when he starts to wipe your tears, and he tuts, one hand leaving your face to lift his bright red mask to the top of his head in an attempt to calm you.

There’s no pretending it isn’t him. Every blemish you’ve come to memorize, every fleck in his eyes, the quirk of his eyebrow. It’s him. Jason is Red Hood, and Red Hood has you pinned to your apartment floor.

“Better,” he asks gently, leaning down to kiss away the tracks of tears on your cheeks. It only serves to scare you more. Your boyfriend, he seems nearly unrecognizable now.

“Please,” you beg again. You’re not sure what you’re asking for. For him to let you go? For him to tell you it’s all a sick joke? For him to stop killing?

He offers you none of these, only rambles idly as he presses kiss down to your jaw, to your throat, “C’mon, baby. I’ve always taken care of you, haven't I? This doesn’t change anything. I still love you. You’re still my partner, my everything. I’m just making things better for you, for everyone.”

His hands start to trace the bare skin of your sides, pushing aside your torn shirt, “Let me remind you how good we are, baby. It’ll make everything better.”

He punctuates his little speech with a roll of his hips, and it draws a gasp from your throat.

It’s so familiar, something you couldn��t help but crave from him. But it feels tainted now, almost wrong. You grab at his shoulders, half to push him away and half to find comfort in pulling him closer as raw panic lacing your features.

He grins at you, as if he can read your every thought and internal struggle. You open your mouth to protest, to remind him and yourself that this is wrong. That even if the people he kills are evil, vile, and twisted, that doesn’t make him right.

Jason doesn’t seem interested in hearing your arguments, though, and he ducks his head to capture your mouth in a passionate kiss.

He nips at your lips, traces your tongue with his, and leaves you panting for air when he finally pulls away. “There you go,” he praises, running his thumb over your spit-stained mouth, “No need to think so hard about it.”

Later, when you’re sticky with sweat and exhausted and laying on his chest, you’ll berate yourself for giving in.

But in the moment? He knows exactly what you like, knows exactly how to get your head to go foggy, and lose your inhibitions. He’s been in your bed for months, learned every little thing that makes you tick with frightening accuracy, and he uses every bit of that knowledge to convince you to give in.

He nips at your pulse, fingers tugging at the fabric of your pants. He’s heavy and warm on top of you, and his murmured praises and gentle touches are almost enough to distract you from the knife driven into the floor by your head.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and somewhere between him sucking a line of bruises to your chest and him hiking your thigh over his hip, what’s left of your clothes is thrown strewn and crumpled onto the floor.

The wood is cold against your back, but it’s the look in his eyes that makes you shiver. He’s completely dressed, even as he has you naked and exposed underneath him. And his gaze, his gaze is almost predatory as he devours the sight of you.

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way his eyes darken like he wants to eat you alive, like he wants to keep you soft and spread open for him forever.

It makes your throat tighten, nearly sends you back into a state of sick terror, but then he dips his head, and nips the shell of your, “You’re being so good for me, doll,” he praises, reverent and soft, “You just keep being sweet for me and everything will be okay."

Your breath hitches, and suddenly it's not fear that knots itself in your stomach, but a desire to be good. You want to be sweet for him, want his praise and adoration and approval, no matter what he’s done or what he's capable of.

Pride flickers over his face at the way your eyes seem to glaze over and he’s quick to undo his belt, eager to keep you compliant and dazed, “Look at you, all flustered over some pretty words,” he half taunts, “S’like you were meant for me.”

“Jason,” you start, and he shakes his head at you, pushing his fingers between your teeth.

“Bite down for me, sweetheart,” he instructs, and you can’t help but listen, nipping at the leather of his glove so he can free his hand. “Good,” he coos at you, “Now, hold onto that for me while I take care of you.”

You want to listen, want to do as he says, but his fingers start to rub slow, steady circles against your clit and your mouth drops open in a pitched whine all on its own, letting the glove fall to the floor.

He laughs at you, fond and mocking all at once, “Sweet baby, can’t handle it can you? That’s alright, doll. I’ll make you feel real good anyway.”

You nearly go cross eyed when his cock nudges your cunt. Usually he’d take his time, have you creaming on his fingers or tongue before he’d make you see stars on his cock. But there’s something on face that says he has something to prove, that even with knowledge of who he is, it doesn’t change that your body knows him, wants him.

His name leaves your throat in a needy cry as he sinks into you, slowly guiding himself deep into your fluttering cunt.

Your back arches as his fingers press harder to your clit, his smile almost primal as he feels you clench down on his dick, “Gonna make a mess, baby,” he warns, and you’re not sure if he’s telling you he’s planning on making you a mess, or if he’s pointing out that you’re already on the verge of soaking his cock.

You groan when he starts to rock his hips in shallow thrusts, and it makes you babble his name faster. He’s being careful, letting you adjust to every inch of him as he splits you apart.

But, it’s not enough, not enough to drive the thoughts of Red Hood lingering on the edge of your mind, so you hook your ankles behind his back, and squeeze your eyes shut. If you don’t see him, don’t see the mask still resting on top of his head, maybe you can still pretend he’s just Jason, just your sweet, normal boyfriend.

“Don’t hide,” he grunts and jerks his hips forward, burying himself in one smooth motion that makes you gasp and snap your eyes open.

“There you go,” he murmurs, smile sharp as he gazes down at you. He drops his forearm to the ground next to your head, caging you between his arm and his knife. His free hand leaves your clit to tug your thigh higher up his hip.

He almost seems proud when he starts to grind into you, watching every blissed expression that crosses your face when ruts against your sweet spot.

He pulls his hips back, making sure your eyes stay locked on his, before he drives back into your cunt, setting a head spinning pace that has your needy mewls and the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

He lowers his head to kiss you with a sly grin, swallowing up every whine you make. All the reservations you had quickly disappear, replaced by the tight feeling building in your gut, by the drag of his cock against your walls. He’s relentless, chasing his and your pleasure with a single minded focus.

There’s a promise in his touch, when his hand leaves your thigh to find your hip. His fingers dig into your skin, hard enough to leave an imprint. If your head was any clearer, you would recognize it for the threat that it was.

His lips leave yours, and he buries his face in your shoulder, thrusts becoming sloppy as he murmurs slurred vows into your skin. “Gonna keep you forever. Gonna make you feel this way every day. Never gonna let you go. Never gonna lose this, baby.”

Maybe it’s the way his voice goes ragged. Maybe it’s the way his hips stutter as he fights off his release. Or maybe it’s the way he presses feverish kisses to your skin. But it sends you spiraling over the edge, clenching around his cock and cumming with his name in your throat.

He follows you with a moan, movements slowing as he pumps his spend into your twitching pussy. “Good, baby. So good,” he manages to get out, pulling his face back just enough to watch you whimper and try to gather what’s left of your rationality.

He tilts his head down, grinning like a hunter that’s caught the best prize of the season. The movement causes his mask to slip off his head, sliding it back in place to cover his face. The air catches in your lungs at the sight, your body tensing as clarity strikes through the lingering haze of pleasure.

Jason only laughs, tracing the curve of your jaw, “What’s wrong, baby,” he teases, slowly rolling his hips into your sensitive cunt, “Don’t tell me you forgot who was fucking you?”

“Take it off,” You murmur, voice tight as he drags every last bit of ecstasy from your body.

He hums, “Mm, No. You gotta get used to it, sweetheart. This mask, me, ain’t going anywhere.”

A part of you is still scared, scared to test him more than you already have, but it’s not Red Hood you want, it’s not Red Hood you fell in love with. Anger guides your actions as you reach up to rip the mask off his face. He catches your wrist faster than you see him move.

Everything seems to stop.

He slowly lowers your wrist back to the ground, pinning the offending hand above your head, “Now, sweetheart,” he says slowly, voice lowered to a tone you’ve never heard before, “We’re not going to do that.”

“I’m not sleeping with Red Hood,” you hiss, sounding braver than you feel.

He snorts at you, and every word he speaks is followed by a sharp thrust of his cock, “Baby, I am Red Hood.”

Your arguments turn to keens, overwhelmed and dizzy by his institance to keep driving his dick deeper into your pussy. His words hardly seem to register, but he keeps talking to you anyway, “You’ve been sleeping with Red Hood, baby. And you liked it– loved it. Just have to remind you.”

You can’t seem to focus. He’s good, so good at hitting all the spots that turn your brain into mush and your legs into jelly. But that mask, that stupid mask is staring down at you. It’s the only thing you can see.

You’re divided between Jason, the Jason whose cock has you babbling and moaning, and Red Hood. Red Hood who has your wrist pinned to the hard floor, who’s watching your every movement like he needs to memorize every expression, every sound you make.

It’s not until later, when he has you cumming on his cock for the fifth time, that you realize they are the same. They’ve always been the same.

Jason Todd is Red Hood, and now that you know, he'll blur the lines until you're not sure why you were ever really scared of him.

[augustinewrites]

tsumiki asks the question on a rare, relaxed saturday afternoon. with both the kid’s baseball games canceled due to some heavy morning rain, the four of you were taking the time to do some much needed relaxation. 

“how did you guys end up together?” 

satoru lifts his head from your lap, where you’d been plucking his brows. “isn’t it obvious? it was due to my roguishly handsome good looks and sharp comedic wit.” 

megumi scoffs from his spot on the armchair. “i doubt that.”

you press your cheek against your boyfriend’s shoulder, laughing. “that’s cute, babe, but do you want to tell them how it really happened? or should i?”

“i’ll tell them,” he volunteers. “because i have been in love with you a lot longer than you might think.”

_____

satoru meets you when he’s seventeen years old. (it’s a stupid age. ‘cause when you’re seventeen, you’re all hormones and ego and think the world revolves around you.) 

so he doesn’t pay you much mind when yaga first introduces you to his little class, because honestly? he’d taken one look at you, fresh out of the countryside with your perfectly pressed uniform, not a hair out of place or a battle scar on your body and was extremely underwhelmed. so he’d brushed you off like lint on his sleeve, because he doubted you’d even survive the year. no point in getting to try and know you. 

that same afternoon, you’d unleashed hell on him with your shikigami and almost broken his nose. 

“i’m sorry,” you’d muttered when you’d forcibly accompanied him to the infirmary. 

“you don’t sound sorry,” he’d huffed. his nose (and his ego) were definitely bruised. 

you rolled your eyes and muttered something that was probably really mean under your breath. he’s about to tell you off when he feels blood start to drip again, cursing and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head back.

“you’re supposed to tilt your head forward,” you sigh, handing him another folded up piece of paper towel. 

he doesn’t take it, glaring down at you. “why would i do that?”

shoko and geto walk behind you both, highly amused by your bickering. “they’d be good together, don’t you think?”

“if they don’t kill each other first.” the latter chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he eyes you both. 

“if you tilt your head forward, then the blood drips out and not in–”

“why? that’s where the blood is supposed to be.”

“no, it’s not, and if you’d just let me finish what i was saying instead of interrupting me–”

it’s not the last time he interrupts you. it’s not the last time the two of you bicker or the last time he walks with you through the courtyard. days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months, and even though you’d almost broken his nose that first day, he quickly realizes that he couldn’t imagine you anywhere but with him. 

_____

it’s late when he sneaks out of your room, sunset streaming through the courtyard as he peeks around the corner, on the lookout for any faculty before he dashes back to the boy’s dorm…

…only to run into geto, who’s standing outside. he feels bad for a second, because they haven’t really talked since…well, everything.

but he just flicks his cigarette, grinning in that all too knowing way of his. “what were you doing in the girl’s wing, creeper?”

“nothing,” he lies, but his cheeks are warm, there are butterflies in his stomach, and he can’t seem to stop smiling.

his best friend looks at him. really looks at him. “oh, man. you’re so obvious.”

“i’m not obvious, you’re obvious,” he retorts.

geto takes another drag before holding it out to him. gojo shakes his head. “you’re one of the smartest, yet dumbest people i know. so i’m going to help you now, because i think without guidance, you are capable of making extremely rash romantic decisions.”

“that’s not true–”

“it’s very true. like that fact that you’re in love with…” geto nods his head towards the girl’s dorm, grinning. 

he tucks his chin under the collar of his jacket when he feels heat crawl up his neck, looking away. “that’s ridiculous. i’m not…it’s not like that. we’re just…hanging out.”

“really?” his friend checks. “because the way that you look at her, i mean…wow. we’ve all seen it. you look at her like you hear tiny forest animals singing whenever she walks into a room.” 

satoru bristles slightly, because he’s not entirely off the mark. 

(but seventeen is a stupid age, and at the time he knew he cared for you deeply, but he didn’t know he loved you yet.)

geto knows though, and just shrugs. “i know you’ll see it someday too.”

_____

“do these shoes go with my outfit?” you ask, looking over your shoulder.

gojo shrugs, hardly even glancing up from his phone. “sure.” 

“you didn’t even look!” 

he exhales a harsh breath, tossing his phone onto your bed as he looks up at you. “why are you trying so hard for some guy you don’t even like? i mean– have you even met him?”

“no,” you sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress. “but me meeting him is really important to my father.” 

he leans back against your headboard, folding his hands behind his head. “why?”

“because a proposal from the kamo clan is a really big deal.” you startle when he sits up so fast that his glasses fall from their perch atop his head. “oh my– what’s wrong?!”

“everything about that sentence. a proposal? as in to be wed?”

“yes, gojo,” you confirm, turning back to adjust your earrings in the mirror. “i was born outside of the zen’in clan, but i have their inherited technique. my dad…all these years he’s worked hard to keep me off their radar so i wouldn’t be stuck there. so i wouldn’t be unhappy like he was. if i accept this proposal and join the kamo clan…all his hard work wouldn’t be for nothing.” 

“the kamo clan,” he repeats, shaking his head. he’s not sure why he’s so annoyed. it’s hard to pinpoint the exact reason. “they’re based in kyoto. you’d– you’d have to leave.”

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but all the unsaid things that he’s been too scared to admit to himself (and especially to you) must be written all over his face, because you hesitate before you step out the door, looking back at him hopefully. 

“have fun,” is all he says instead, pretending not to notice when your expression falls. “i’ll probably be out when you get back, but just text so i know you’re alright and haven’t already been whisked off to kyoto.”

_____

“but you never joined the kamo clan,” tsumiki notes, sending you a questioning look. “why did your dad to change his mind?”

“i…actually still don’t know,” you admit, smiling softly. “he’s never told me.” 

“well, whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter now. ‘cause you’re right where you’re supposed to be,” satoru grins. he presses a soft kiss to your lips, but pulls back with a laugh when the kids groan loudly. “on that note, i’m going to start cleaning up.” 

megumi, who’d been silent the entire story, gets up to help, trailing after him into the kitchen.

“it was you,” he says once you and tsumiki are out of earshot.

satoru sets the stack of plates on the counter, glancing over his shoulder at him. “hm?”

“you made some kind of deal with her family, didn’t you? like you did for me.” 

he doesn’t answer right away, moving leftover vegetables into a container. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

besides, that was then and this was now. he’s older and wiser and he knows that he’s loved you since he was seventeen years old.

_____

your father seems taken aback, and not just because satoru gojo was standing in his study, but because of what he was proposing. “excuse me?”

blue eyes land on a photo of you on your father’s desk. you’re cherished here. loved. letting you go must be hard, even if it’s for your own good. “you want to keep her away from the zen’in’s right? if she joins the gojo clan, we’ll make the idea of even coming near her radioactive.” 

“but the only way to do that is–”

“marriage. to me, specifically,” he finishes with an easy shrug, as if he’s merely speaking about the weather. “quick, easy, simple. now you can reject the kamo clan’s proposal.”

your father is a smart man, that much is obvious. he’s kept you out of the zen’in’s grasp for years, even after news of your inherited technique had spread. there’s no way he’d turn down a deal as good as this.

“i have nothing to offer you,” he says now, expression pinched. “no dowry, or things of the like.”

“i don’t need your money,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “in fact, i only have three conditions.”

gojo’s three conditions

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

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