#trying to erase Will refused change in life

[wheelercurse]

This is going to be a hot take, and I know people will boo me (they hated Jesus, too), but I understand why people think Will was childish because he kind of was. And that was an essential part of his arc and development in season 3.

Stay with me. Let me explain it better.

Season three central themes were change and growing up. It's where their coming-of-age story started. Will was very insistent on playing d&d, more than his other friends. They were leaving their childhood behind, but Will held onto it much more than the others. And that's understandable because part of his childhood was taken away by Vecna. He spent one week in the UD, and when he returned, he wasn't the same. Then he was possessed by the mindflayer. He was that way for his trauma.

Does that mean the message was that he should stop playing games (d&d) like Mike insinuated? Absolutely not.

Mike had this mindset because his arc was the opposite. He was determined to fit in with society's expectations of a teenage boy (dating girls instead of playing games). He was on the other extreme of the spectrum.

That’s why they ended their arc in a middle ground. Will put his game in the donation box (accepting moving on from his childhood), and Mike agreed to keep playing with him (accepting more of his nerdy side)

Back to my point, it was an essential part of his arc because it was a big reason for the breakdown in Castle Byers. If you think he only destroyed it because of his love for Mike or his struggle with his sexuality, you don't fully understand the scene. Of course, it was part of it, and many didn't get it on the first watch. But it was also about growing up and confronting that his childhood was gone.

The breakdown is a culmination of many things that Will was dealing with: his lost childhood, his trauma, his alienation (he knows he's different because he doesn't like girls, and because of what happened in the Upside Down), his struggle with his sexuality, his feelings for Mike.

He wanted to play d&d more than his other friends when they were focused on girls. Of course, he wasn't immature for not liking them. But he knew he wasn't interested in them, and seeing his friends with girlfriends, made him feel more alienated. More when Mike told him, "It's not my fault you don't like girls." He wanted things to be like they used to be when they were little kids, but of course, it wasn't the same. That's why he remembered all these memories of the party and then tore up the photograph.

Also, the rain fight was about growing up. That's the first layer to understand this scene. As I said, Mike and Will's arcs were on the opposite side of the spectrum. One changed much of himself to conform, and the other refused change. These opposing views clashed and provoked the fight.

I won't deny that Mike and Lucas were assholes for making fun of Will. Of course, he was right to get mad at them. That's also why the boys apologised to him. Mike was also in the wrong for ditching his friends and being extra focused on his girlfriend.

But the fight was a pivotal scene for both of their development. And we see the fruition in their last scene together.

So, the season's message wasn't that you should leave your interests behind because you grew up, but life's changing, and you can't avoid it.

They literally spelt it out at the end:

"I don't want things to change. So maybe that's why I came in here, to try to stop that change. To turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were. But I know that's naive. It's just not how life works. It's moving. Always moving whether you like it or not."

We have to take into account also the show's themes: against conformity, embracing being different, and accepting yourself. Of course, the message would never be, "you should stop being a nerd and conform." That's why we see the heroes joining another d&d club and Will making a d&d painting for Mike. I said this because if you want to understand characters' arcs, first, you have to grasp the main themes.

[simpjaes]

DAY-SHIFT. (p. sh)

― part one here! After finding out that your boss has seen, heard, and instructed you through some pleasurable nights while parading around as a faceless cam-boy, you decide that your best course of action is to: call out sick. use vacation days. avoid Park Sunghoon at all costs. Unfortunately, ten days doesn’t appear to be nearly enough time to erase what’s happened, and Sunghoon refuses to be avoided. or the one where sunghoon pretends that he isn’t an anxious mess over accidentally exposing himself and you just so happen to have a lot of fucking empathy. 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT― 14.5k 

CONTENT― forbidden office romance kind of, smidge of angst if ur sensitive, mentions of predatory behavior from sunghoon, he is more desperate than he is dominant, just the way we like it.

NOTE ― bro im so sorry this took way too long to write, it also is way longer than it's supposed to be. but yknow. i had to do him right lmfao. NOT PROOF READ.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― perverted sunghoon, heavy petting, making out, foreplay on a chair lol, desk sex, very intimate shit ok? ok., pussy eating, jerking off, finger fucking, fingers-in-mouth antics, gagging, implications of something more than just an office fling, unprotected sex, he fills you UP!!! YIPEE!!! 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Avoidance.

That is the only way you know out of any awkward or unsavory situation. Avoid, avoid, avoid. Find a new job, change your name, dye your hair– question all of your life choices up to this point.

It’s the fact that never in your life have you had an interest in live sex cams. It was always just a porn video or a nice erotic novel for you. Sometimes curiosity gets the best of you though, like it does all people, and it’s not like you thought anyone would ever know who you are or catch you in the act of feeding into your curiosities. 

The one time you ever navigated to the live camera feed on your favorite porn site did shift your sexual appetite a little bit. A whole new world of seeing exactly what you want without needing to search for far too long for that perfect video…for a cost, of course.

You made good money already, and it’s not like you weren’t going for that promotion at the time either. You thought, why not? Why not pay a pretty, faceless man for some anonymous jerking off and move on with your life? 

The one time you found something to satiate the late night body-cravings, the point of pleasure ended up being…your boss?

Small world? Miniscule, fucking tiny little world. 

For days you wondered if Sunghoon’s text to you was just a coincidence. After all, the faceless man on screen didn’t say a word to you after you uttered the name of your boss. Even if he directly said your name. Even if Park Sunghoon uttered your false name at work. 

Consistent back and forth in your head. From, “No, how could that even be possible? No way is it him.” to “but Mr.Park started being weird after the first call, he used both names, he played off of the boss/employee dynamic.”

You’re going crazy as you send another email to your department, apologizing for taking so many days off but not truly apologetic. It’s been ten days now and Sunghoon has yet to text you again. 

That little “Can we talk?” can be heard in your head in his voice. Only now recognizing how clear and unique it truly is when he does speak. You try not to realize how similar the cam-boy sounded to him. Only connecting the dots when they force you to do it, really. You still try to convince yourself that the text was about firing you, given his actions at work that very same day. 

Maybe he was avoiding you because he felt awful about needing to fire you? 

Maybe he sent that text message to start the process of pushing you out? 

After all, it’s still very difficult to imagine Park Sunghoon having a cock that nice, or cum in that amount. Given, it’s not like you ever thought about him jerking off or anything, it’s just–

You don’t fucking know. Your brain is a mess of shaking anxiety and echoes of sexual frustrations and moans. 

You were refunded your money. He texted after the session. He said your name. It’s him, isn’t it?

You refuse to fucking find out.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

From:...[ HRatyourjob@workemail.org ]

CC:...[ parksunghoon@workemail.org ]

BCC:...

Subject: Time off Request: Rejected. Insufficient PTO.

[insert your name here],

The time you have requested from the 27th to the 3rd has been rejected due to insufficient hours. As of last Thursday, you are no longer meeting the minimum hour requirement as a full-time employee. Your PTO is at 0 hours and 00 minutes and you now have three unexcused absences. Please return tomorrow with a signed order or note that exempts you from work. If you move forward without returning to the building, this will be grounds for termination. Please review the company handbook and job abandonment guidelines. 

Additionally, COO Lee, myself, and Division manager Park will be scheduling a meeting with you in the upcoming days, failure to appear will result in immediate termination.

Thank you,

HR

Well, fuck. You knew the time to avoid this would dry up, and this ten day hideaway to fake your death didn’t quite pan out.

Devastating, truly, that you have to walk through those doors with the same legs your boss may or may not have seen spread open for him through a grainy webcam image. Horrifying, that you have to look him in the eye and explain that you really were sick for the past ten days, that you definitely were not hiding the shame of your sexual desires.

The worst part about all of this? Not just the embarrassment but the fact that…you liked it. On that night, had he admitted it was him, you may not have ended the call yourself. It felt like it added some danger to your arousal at the time. Which, naturally, makes you more embarrassed now. Mostly because, at worst if that was Mr.Park, it was predatory. At best though? You very well may have consented.

But the what ifs don’t matter now. The only thing that matters is forcing yourself through the awkwardness of being at work after avoiding it for so long already.

Fortunately for you though, work is…weirdly normal. In fact, no one acts like you’ve missed ten days at all. You are greeted by the usual co-workers, you sit down at your desk and can log in as usual, and there are no warning emails or invitations for what would be considered a meeting of termination either. 

The day goes by just fine, suspiciously so. Sunghoon, though you’re avoiding him at the moment, doesn’t appear to be too out of character either. At one point, you were forced to drop corrected paper work off in his office, and he gave you the same usual and small “Thank you” before you stepped out with your legs threatening to buckle. 

Then again, his “casual” appreciation could just be your mind playing positive little tricks on you. Maybe it wasn’t casual at all. Maybe that little uncharacteristic breath afterwards isn’t just in your head. You didn’t make eye contact with him during that brief moment, and you did rush out quite quickly so you wouldn’t really know. However, in the deepest part of your brain his voice really does match the one who said all those dirty things to you. 

Maybe you’re still overreacting.

Or maybe you dreamed all of this up. 

You choose to remain unaware of the awkwardness around you solely because everything else is normal. Deep, deep down, you know. But you’re not giving that truth a chance to thrive or run your brain anymore.

And just as the day comes to an end, you’re actually feeling better. Anxiety is draining out of you, fear and embarrassment sit dormant in some hidden part of your brain over the small possibility of virtually fucking your boss. It seems you’ve let this work day clear up all of that fear in your head.

You were wrong, right? It wasn’t him, right? He’d have tried to defend himself by now. What boss wouldn’t be absolutely terrified that you’d report him, anyway? After all of that?

You actually feel a little dumb at the possibility of Mr. Park ever wanting you sexually, or ever even wanting to speak to you in that way. Asking to see your pussy? Telling you how to touch it? No, that’s definitely not him. Couldn’t be him. 

And your eyes do stray after a little while. Just to steal glimpses into his office, feeling relieved and weightless now that it appears your fears are over and finally understood. Doesn’t change the fact that now when you look at him, you might be wildly fucking attracted to him. Because fuck, imagine if that was him. You’re kind of forced to put his image to the faceless cam-boy now, not that you want to do that or anything. It just…you can’t really blame yourself for it.

You lend yourself a little laugh. As happy as you are that you’re able to convince yourself that it’s not Sunghoon’s cock you’ve yearned for, you really wouldn’t mind sleeping with someone as handsome as him. 

Crazy how the lack of anxiety lets you think those types of things though, isn’t it? When your brain is no longer fogged by fear or embarrassment, it’s like the clarity can sometimes be scarier simply because you don’t know how true certain statements are. Even through all of that fear, maybe a part of you wished it was him. 

Even with the weight on your shoulders lifted, in hindsight, maybe you’re even a little disappointed that it wasn’t. 

And, just as you’re preparing to clock out and head home with a big secret crush and a little pep in your step, you hear the familiar notification of an email. No problem, probably just a daily report or something. 

From:...[ parksunghoon@workemail.org ]

CC:...

BCC:...

Subject: Mandatory Advising

[insert your name here],

Please come to my office before you leave for the day to discuss your conduct as of late. 

Thank you,

Park Sunghoon

Division Manager

000-000-0000 ext. 000

Well, double fuck. To think everything was fine despite you being well aware of that shit HR said to you previously? 

You barely recognize how the email is sent directly to you from Mr. Park, not including HR or COO Lee. In fact, the anxiety wells up inside of you so quickly that you nearly have to dry heave a few times before taking a deep breath. 

In your head, it’s not even about the web-cam session with a faceless man anymore. Your anxiety about that died the moment you successfully lied to yourself enough, now you’re genuinely just afraid you’ll lose your job or that beloved promotion you worked so hard to be qualified for. You just had to let your anxiety run your life for the past ten days, didn’t you? After all, skipping work to such an extent? Everyone had to have known that it was a lie eventually.  

So, you stand to your feet, brush off your thighs, and attempt to keep your heart from pounding as you make your way to Mr. Park’s office expecting to see HR, COO Lee, and a severance package on the desk waiting for your signature. 

Instead, you walk in to just find your boss. He’s looking at you as he normally would, eyes focused on his screen before glancing at you for a moment and nodding his head to one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

“Mr. Park–” You start, nearly wincing at the way you say it because, well, you haven’t said it since the night you had your pussy out on display. It’s only natural to physically react, right?

“One moment.” He says in a small voice, clicking a few times with the mouse as you watch the monitor light shine across his cheeks with each window he minimizes. 

It’s silent for a few moments as you awkwardly look around an office you’ve been in countless times. His lights are always dimmed, the temperature is always comfortable. You’re gonna miss this office, though it’s not your own. It was a nice, brief escape before all of this if you’re being honest. 

“How was work for you today?” He turns his attention to you, finally adjusting and rolling his chair to center himself in front of you behind his desk 

You pause at the question, unintentionally tilting your head at it like a puppy. “Good? Normal, I guess?” 

You watch as he nods with a tight-lipped expression, eyes falling to his desk as he takes in a deep and disappointed sounding breath. 

“Well, that’s one of us.” He huffs out, causing you to feel a bit confused with his tone. Is he being…passive aggressive? And when he snaps his eyes from his desk straight to your own confused gaze, you can almost sense a bit of something else in them compared to usual. 

Not anger. Not disappointment. 

He looks worried.

“Eleven days–” Sunghoon drones on with an exhausted tone, cutting himself off with another breath that shows you were right to assume his current displayed emotion. “You have ignored my text messages for eleven days.” 

You’re shocked by that because as far as you’re concerned, he has not texted you.

“What are you–” You furrow your brows at him, frantically pulling out your phone. “You haven’t texted me. See? The last one I got was–” You take a second as you pull up his texts and remember the exact time he texted you. So late into the night, right after…that. Naturally, you silence yourself, afraid to say it out loud.

“On the contrary,” Sunghoon denies your proof. “I texted from my personal phone.”

You hesitate again, looking down and noting the notifications under the tab of  “message requests.” To be fucking fair though, you didn’t even know that existed so you never really paid attention to it. Especially as you practically avoided your phone out of fear that he’d be texting you again. 

You were thankful he didn’t. That comforted you. Now though? Your comfort is replaced yet again with anxiety because, well, he texted you consistently after that night.

“Oh–” You say quietly, seeing a glimpse of “Please, let me call y–” in one of the messages.

“I didn’t see those.” Quickly, you turn your screen off and shove your phone back into your pocket, nervously clasping your hands in front of you and looking to the floor. 

“I will reiterate then.” 

You can hear the leather on his chair squeak against his expensive suit when he leans forward, both hands splayed out on his desk in a wide and intimidating stance in front of you. 

“Wait–” You look around the office now. “If you’re going to fire me– shouldn’t the others be here too?”

Sunghoon pulls back at that, narrowing his eyes before lending a very small and even more nervous chuckle.

“I’m not firing you. I told them I’d take care of your sudden and, quite frankly, unhelpful vacation.” 

You look to the floor again, feeling scolded for your actions but having a genuine reason. If Sunghoon truly is aware of that reason for your absence, he understands too, right?

“I have been beyond inappropriate with you.” He blurts now, that same leather squeaking as he leans back again and looks away from you the moment you snap your head up. “I have reason to believe you’ve not yet reported me, and I’d like to ask for the opportunity to explain myself before you do.” 

You feel a chill wash over your whole body, cold sweat peaking right at your temples as you stare forward. He’s being so professional about this, and that lie you’ve convinced yourself of is showing it’s face as just that, a fucking lie.

So this is it? 

So there it is? A semi-admittance that it was him? That little feeling in the back of your head that wishes it was diminishes within an instant. In fact, you narrow your eyes at him, your nose crinkles, and you feel frustration bubble up in your gut.

“So you admit that it was you?” You ask, needing a full confirmation. 

“Yes.” Sunghoon sighs, leaning back somehow further, creating as much distance from you as possible before unintentionally rolling his eyes. Mostly due to the fact that he was stupid enough to let this happen, mostly to shame himself. “What I did was inappropriate and unacceptable. I didn’t intend for this to ever happen.”

Now you feel a bit…pissed off.

Like? Oh, he didn’t intend for this to happen? What? You mean he didn’t intend to let you fucking find out! Well, as good as he is at playing the part of a slutty man on the internet, he’s not so good at acting in real life, now is he? Saying your false fucking name at work, saying your real name with his cock out?

What in the fuck are you supposed to do about this? Why is he giving you the ability to report him? He’s the one with the power here. He could fire you now and bury the information if he so pleased. After all, He’s besties with COO Lee, right? That bitch in HR has an obsession with him too. Hell, everyone here loves the guy. 

You’re just a bottom of the barrel employee trying to work your way up. If you got him fired, surely he’d make damn sure you never work for a decent company like this one again. Additionally, you don’t even want to report him.

Yeah, it was fucking weird that he just knew it was you and kept going. Super strange that he had to have known after the first call, only to ask to see you in the second one. Why does that turn you on in the midst of this anxiety induced spiral? Why the fuck is the idea of Park Sunghoon apologizing for masturbating to and for you so alluring?! 

Sure, maybe it’s kind of nice knowing that someone of his status would ever find an interest in you, but it doesn’t quite wash the frustration away. You have every right to question, and every right to be pissed off about it. 

Still, in this quiet room, Sunghoon is stoic and all you can think about when you look at him is the way he said “if I were your boss i’d–” and the way he fucked his palm while saying it, implying he wanted it to be you while simultaneously knowing it was you watching. 

Since fucking when did Mr. Park ever show a sexual interest in you? And if he did, why the fuck couldn’t he have just been normal about it?

“That was really fucked up, you know that?” You argue immediately, voice shaking at the speed of which your emotions shift. Your resolve isn’t quite as clear as it probably should be. Perhaps you should report him, or maybe you already should have. But, it’s not like you accepted the truth until he demanded it of you.

You would have let it slide. Both of you could have pretended it never happened. You could’ve gone home and continued working, never paying a cam-boy again had Sunghoon not called you into this stupid, comfortable ass office. 

“In my defense, I was just doing my job. Though it’s my own fault for not telling you, my job here was at risk if you had found out.”

“You made me talk about you.” You roll your eyes at him now, gaining the power and control over the conversation. “And you thought I wouldn’t find out?! What? Did that get you off or something?”

“I–” Sunghoon stops himself from answering that question truthfully. He quickly tries to explain away the stutter instead. Never has he been scolded by an employee, but you’re well within your rights to do so. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I never get called by name during these sessions and I apologize for having you say it.”

“And you want me to report you?” You raise a brow at him. “Want me to just storm right into HR and tell her how you’re a fucking pervert? Want me to tell her how you told me to repeat your name? To thank you for it? Is that really what you want?” 

Are you enjoying yourself a little too much? Maybe.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond though, instead, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs from the stress welling up inside of him. He can only act calm and collected for so long, and it’s been eleven days already. He hates how hearing you say those words goes straight to his cock at a time like this, he hates even more how all of this could have been avoided if he had simply declined your second call. 

But you’re not wrong. He is a pervert, and he did tell you to thank him for the pleasure you were getting from his voice and half image alone. At the time, he was so turned on he really just couldn’t help himself. You fed his sexual appetite unknowingly and now this is the consequence of his action. Being a known pervert.

Is it what he wants though? To be reported? Humiliated?

Fuck.

Arguably, just having you humiliate him like this is enough. Drives him crazy, really. Whether it be from arousal or guilt, or both. 

And for the first time since you started working here, you see him for what he truly is. A strong man to an extent, but he’s crumbling under his own mistake and it makes you wonder just how far he would’ve taken it had you not found out. 

“And what if I didn’t realize who I was fucking myself for?” You glare. “Would you have asked for more? Avoided me here even more? Would you have declined my application for the assistant position because you can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re a fucking pervert?!”

Sunghoon raises his hands in defense. 

“Please–” His voice sounds panicked. “Please, keep your voice down.”

“Answer the question, then. Just fucking own it at this point.” You throw your arms up now, letting them fall back down in a slap to your thighs. “Would you have made my work-life miserable just so you could watch me get off to you? Knowing the whole time? Would you have kept on with that boss slash employee shit just so it felt more real for you?” 

Staring forward at him, you watch him accept that everything you’re saying is likely exactly what would have happened. Maybe he really will try to own it. Which would be… a good thing if you decide to let your own resolve falter.

So fucking secretive, huh? An actual, real life degenerate? And it’s Sunghoon of all people? 

“Maybe…” Sunghoon trails off, making himself seem much smaller than he usually is on a day-to-day basis. “I mean, No–I,”

Oh, he’s actually stuttering.

“And you want me to tell on you? You want me to fuck your life up?” You raise a brow. “As if I didn’t pay you to do it?”

In all honesty, aside from the anxiety and awkwardness, and despite never once thinking of Sunghoon too sexually, things have changed. Drastically. Especially after being confronted with this situation and he’s not intimidating you or using his power to control you. No, he’s giving you the power and quite frankly, you don’t know what to do with it. 

Are you basking in it? Absolutely. Is it nice to see him cower in front of you? In that big plush chair that costs more than your monthly income? Hell yeah.

But goddamn, had he approached you before all of this and asked for a date, or showed interest, you would have gladly partaken in a secret romance with him. He’s intelligent, attractive, clean, and has money. It’s not like you ever expected the guy to go home and fuck himself on camera. 

You never thought he was the type to be so lonely either. Or so desperate, judging by how he acted during those two sessions. Arguably, you always wondered why there was never a ring on those pristine fingers. 

And while you were definitely the victim in this situation, you feel more embarrassed than you do violated. Many nights you thought of how he spoke, how he said how badly he wanted you. It’s embarrassing because you’re starting to love the idea of who those words really came from. The Park Sunghoon, so untouchable in the business world. So untouchable by women and men solely because he appears to be too expensive, too pristine.

But you…

You’ve seen him dirty. 

Part of you wishes you didn’t pay to be humiliated like this. The rest of you wishes you didn’t fucking like it as much as you do.

“It’s only fair.” Sunghoon explains with a short breath. “I feel awful for what I’ve done, and I should have told you the moment I recognized her as, well–” He pauses with a pained face, as if he hates hearing himself say it. “You.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” You raise your brow again, nearly forgetting you’re at work, solely focused on the conversation at hand and feeling relieved at the way it’s going.

Sunghoon shifts in discomfort, looking away from you.

“Do you want honesty?” He asks in a quiet voice, leaning forward on his desk but refusing eye contact. He keeps his gaze lowered the entire time, his voice small and shaky. 

There’s still people in the office, though his door is closed and it’s unlikely he can be heard.

You nod to him with an even smaller “Go on then.”

“I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t you.” He says, shifting his hands and picking at his cuticles. 

Man, he really knows how to act sorry, doesn’t he?

“I avoided you after that first call, solely because I think I wanted her to be you. Which is…incredibly inappropriate.” 

He looks up at you now, searching for a reaction and only seeing you nod at him. His eyes shift right back down as he continues. 

“My avoiding you led you to– um– more services.” He explains quieter, admitting in full the situation he’s allowed to take place, seeming more and more insecure with his words than he ever has before. “I can admit that I have fantasies and needs.” 

Silence. 

“After that first call, I couldn’t help but be entirely attracted to you. The idea of–”

You suddenly find yourself thinking back to all of those things he said to you again, parading as if he wasn’t your boss, telling you what he'd do if he were. He seems to have accidentally found a sexual interest in the dynamic…and he fucking dragged you into it with him. 

“Mr. Par– Sunghoon.” You cut him off, actually feeling a bit of pity now at his admittance. 

His words make you feel like maybe he’s not entirely just a pervert who was intending to make you get off to him from the start. If anything, he probably felt uncomfortable at first knowing who was on the other end of the call. It’s the fact that his real life job was at risk if you found out, and still he indulged despite that. He accepted that second call, he asked for more, he acted like he really does want you.

 To the extent that losing his job was in the front of his mind and he still did it. He ignored the danger of it and prioritized getting off…with you. You find yourself wondering if this would have happened to any other employee under him if they happened to stumble across his stream too. 

Part of you wants to pretend he wouldn’t, because the idea that all of this is happening solely because it was you? It hits a little too hard, a little too deep. 

“Okay, okay. Stop,” You say, keeping your eyes on him and willing him to look up at you. “You don’t have to keep explaining, I get it.”

“No.” He does meet your eye this time, stopping your brain of all thoughts at how differently you see him now versus all the times before. “I do.” 

He’s so honest. Probably too honest for his own good. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at his job, maybe that’s why everyone loves him. Maybe a bit of lying would help him in this situation if it were anyone else, but for you? 

You kind of enjoy the way he’s telling the truth. Admitting that he was desperate, apologizing for wanting you even if just for a brief moment.

“I asked you to turn on your camera for selfish reasons. I asked you to say my name, then I made the mistake of exposing myself because I–” He hesitates, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose. “I struggled to pretend it wasn’t me, and that she wasn’t you. I very well knew what I was doing, and at the time, I wished that you did too.”

More silence as you stare at him, stunned, slightly in awe. 

“But I knew you wouldn’t have reciprocated. What I’ve done is criminal, and I am encouraging you to report me for it if that’s what you deem necessary.” 

“And if I don’t?” You don’t leave any more room for silence now, feeling desired and validated. 

You can’t pretend that you’re mad, though you were previously. You simply can’t pretend that, now at least, you wouldn’t reciprocate. If anything, you’re more interested now than you think you ever would have been before. 

“We can forget any of this ever happened. I’ll stop streaming and accepting private calls, and we can hopefully move forward without any ill-feelings of one another.” He blinks at you, near pleading with his eyes. “I’ll push your application through– That is, if you still want the position.” 

Sunghoon does wince at the bribe, considering he’s never done such a thing let alone commit acts of sexual harassment, or perhaps even non consensual foreplay with someone. It really really wasn’t entirely intentional, and he’s disgusted with himself. If you report him, he’d take the hit to his reputation and career, but if you don’t…what then?

Ill-feelings, he says? If anything, you might feel more ill parading around like you wouldn’t want him to do all of those things he said previously, with free-will to say as he pleased without the fear of you knowing who the words were coming from. 

“Can you please stop with the professional talk?” You hum out with an exhausted eye roll.  “I don’t want the promotion if you’re just offering it so I don’t rat you out.” You narrow your eyes now and lean yourself forward. “You hope to forget this ever happened? Really?” 

Carefully, the two of you watch each other for a while longer. Sunghoon looking like he’s about to catch himself on fire, and you, looking annoyed and amused. Still, the thick air in the room starts to feel suffocating under the pressure of the “issue” at hand as you scold him further. 

“What you did was predatory. But– I don’t want to ruin your life over this.” 

You watch as Sunghoon listens, his posture opening up a bit more as you speak, showing that he’s being relieved of his stress through your words alone. 

“Are you trying to hold a promotion over my head over this?”

Before he gets the chance to curl in on himself again, you answer for him. 

“Maybe.” 

You continue too, not letting him speak for the time being. Or, rather, giving him a chance to breathe. 

“Should you change your username and continue doing what you want behind closed doors because it’s no one else’s business?” You really watch him this time. “Yes.” 

He blinks at you, raising a brow in slight confusion. 

“Did you take advantage of me?”

He nods before you whisper out another “yes” yourself. 

“Would I let you do it again…?”

Oh, for Sunghoon, it’s hard to breathe right now as he anticipates what you’ll say. Is it going to be a ‘no’ this time? Are you going to stand up and change your mind? Despite just stating you don’t want to ruin his life?

God, hasn’t he already let you?

“Yes.”

Pause. 

“I’m sorry?” Sunghoon responds in disbelief, shifting his eyes to his hands and then back to you. “Come again?”

“Sunghoon.” You make it a point to call him by his name now, ignoring the etiquette of a proper boss and employee dynamic. “I am humiliated by all of this but I can see that you are too. You’ve admitted your guilt and even go as far as encouraging that I report you.” You pause again, knowing that this isn’t where the conversation should be going for any, uh, normal person, you suppose. 

“If you had just told me. If you had said anything about wanting to, like, fuck me, I would have done it with or without the promotion on the line.”

Does that make you sound a little desperate? Yeah. But it’s not like he doesn’t know how badly you need to be fucked. After all, you know, the cam sessions and stuff. You were literally paying a stranger to get you off. 

Shouldn’t he, of all people, know that you were bad-off enough to get laid?

Sunghoon’s issue though, is that he never looks at his employees sexually. No matter how pretty, no matter how much they flaunt themselves at him. He never has, and probably never will again. If it hadn’t been for that single first session with you, all would be well. But now? He’s too attracted to you. 

He wants you so badly.

“If you tell me right now that you want me, in the same way you did on that call–” You stop yourself to really look at him. With the way he swallows, the way his lips slightly part, the way his hands show signs of eleven days worth of nervous habit cuticle picking. “If you do all of those things you said you’d do ‘if you were my boss’...”

“Wait, wait–” Sunghoon stands in a rush, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden sound echoing off of the walls in the office. “Do you understand the consequences of what you’re implying right now?”

“If I fuck my boss, we could both be fired?” You smile, feeling the confidence raise within you. Watching the way he reacts to your lewd words face to face rather than through a microphone. 

“That would be…correct.” He raises a brow. 

“Well, technically, you’ve already been fucking me.” You look away from him, feeling a bit shy even with the confidence, but never having spoken to a man so bluntly before like this? It’s a bit scary. “Would it really make anything worse if, you know, I do reciprocate?”

Goddamn. Sunghoon might be a bit smitten. This situation could have gone a thousand different ways, and you offer the one that includes your legs spread across this fucking desk and his face buried between them?

Oh. Never has he been so willingly turned on at work. 

“Is this what you want?” He asks in a breath, shifting his eyes to the door and walking towards it, immediately reaching for the lock but not quite turning it. 

“Is that what you want?” You counter, turning and staring at the lock. 

Sunghoon hides his nod, wanting you to be the one to answer first. After all, hasn’t he been self-indulgent enough?

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He finally breaks and says it, blatantly, not sugar coated, yet still sweet when the words hit your ears. “After all this, you still want it?” 

You nod, dipping your head a bit against your shoulder. 

Click. 

“I guess I should have known.” Sunghoon plays with his words now, hand dropping from the now locked door and eyes entirely on you. “Do you want me to fuck you, or would you prefer–”

“You.” You smile, feeling your skin prickle at the electricity that enters the room through breath and words alone. It’s the way he already shifted. Like all of that anxiety melted out of him within an instant. 

“No, no.” He stalks towards you now, the nervous Sunghoon is no longer in sight as he makes himself seem bigger, taller, far more intimidating. Just like he was on camera. “The me you saw on screen is not the same as what you’re seeing right now.” He tries to explain. 

“Oh?” You tilt your head, and he only finds that cute. 

Far too cute. 

“You’d do as I ask, right?” His voice shifts to a raspy whisper as he centers himself in front of you, both hands reaching the arms of your chair as he hovers above you. “I’m far more tame online.” 

Tame?! That’s what he calls tame?! 

You stare up at him, keeping your jaw from falling slack as you physically see him shift from being your boss into being a man with a need. Not just any need either. A need for you.

Part of you wonders if he ever truly felt bad in the first place about all of this, because the shift from just moments ago is so dramatic it’s almost scary. 

“So, tell me.” He leans down, inches from your face as his eyes start to fall to a half-lidded stare at you. “You’ll do as I say? You’d let me do it all for you, and not ask me to stop until I feel it best, yes?”

You swallow and slowly nod. Oh god, it really, really, is him. 

“And while at work, you’ll behave?” He continues, lips now ghosting over yours to the point you can almost feel them press down. He’s implying that if you don’t tell, that this won’t be the only time too? Shit. He’s entirely aware of why this shouldn’t be happening, but still making it happen.

 “No matter what I do to you, where or how I do it, you’ll behave?”

You can’t help it when you lift your chin, just a bit to rest your lips against his words, eyes falling closed and hands hesitant to reach out for his perfectly ironed shirt. 

You feel his smile against your lips, with that sharp-toothed grin he rarely offers. 

“Ah, so it’s true.” He murmurs against you, his hand reaching for yours and guiding it for you, straight to his belt. “Dirty, dirty girl.”

A small, pleased, sound leaves your throat when he does kiss you, adding his own pleased hum alongside yours as his hands still hold yours in place over his belt, not quite letting you do anything just yet.

”Gonna be quiet–” He whispers into your mouth, just against your tongue before licking out and against it. “Even when I tell you to moan my name?”

You really shouldn’t be surprised, but you still are. You like this Sunghoon better than the one who stutters and picks his cuticles. He’s owning it, and in a way, so are you. 

 After all, it wasn’t until today that you truly learned what Sunghoon is like when he’s aroused. Not that you ever should have known in the first place. The fact that you do know, the fact that he’s showing you? It just makes this all the more arousing, in your opinion.

All he needed was a green light and within seconds it seems, Sunghoon became the need you’ve been chasing for months now through porn sites and erotic novels. 

You nod to his words, trying to drop your hand just a bit to feel what you’ve already seen. Just to feel how warm he is, how—

“Is that so?” Sunghoon whispers in an amused tone, guiding your hand right back to his belt, only to drop his other hand straight between your legs. “You’re supposed to do as I say. If I tell you to moan my name, you do it.”

Oh, the sexual confusion of what to do and which Sunghoon to obey. All you can do is continue to nod for him, hanging your head with a breath at the way he cups his hand over the entirety of your core. You wore pants today in order to hide your shame, to try and feel invisible based on previous circumstances. You’re not so happy about that now, as you try to feel his touch through the thick fabric only to shamelessly thrust your hips up and against his palm.

He moves his lips to the top of your head now, hovering over you in a perfect stance of power, hand gently rubbing up and and down despite your hips asking for a harsher touch. If anything, it makes him feel better knowing how you react to this. 

In actuality, his relief is sending his arousal through the roof. Not only are you not going to rat him out but…you want more of it? More of him, in particular? Not the facade of him online? 

At this point, if he gets caught, you’re both going down in flames. So, why not enjoy the ride?

Truly, it’s laughable in the way he’s just as amused as he is turned on, relishing in the fact that he wants you and you’re letting him have you despite his past actions. You’re messy too, he’s seen it, and now he gets to feel it. 

“Mhm,” Sunghoon hums against the top of your head, now pressing his own hips forward against your hand. “Feel that?”

The electricity? How hard he is? How needy you are?

”Yeah…” You sigh absentmindedly, bumping his chin with your head when you try to look up at him. You only blink twice before he coos out with a sad little sound. 

He doesn’t say a word after as he removes his hand and instead, grabs both of your hands and places them on his shirt. 

“Go on.” He smiles, waiting to see you to start fumbling against his buttons. 

And fumble, you do. Touching him, for some reason, feels so dangerous. Knowing you’re the one removing his shirt, watching his skin be revealed as it begins to fall open by your own doing? It’s electrifying. Enough to lose your train of thought as you study how toned and smooth his skin is. Just like how you had seen on camera, so clear in front of you now. You’re aching for him by this point, being able to feel his body heat, touch him, feel his eyes on you. 

If you had really known back then who it was you were talking to, you very well may have pretended to not know as well, judging by the way your entire body catches fire for him. 

And as his shirt falls completely open, he’s satisfied with the way you do it. Complacent and docile beneath him, nervous fingers shaking much like he did for the past eleven days. With those pretty eyes looking at him, like there’s nothing in your head at all. 

He chuckles at you, grabbing your hands again and placing them right on his chest, helping your hesitant touch to massage and caress each bump and toned muscle. He intentionally flexes the further down your hands go, all the way back to his belt. 

There, he looks down at where you touch, then back at you with a quirked brow. You stare  up at him, blinking, face feeling hot, and it’s like you move your hands on instinct. The sound of his buckle being unclasped echoes in the room, and his eyes only darken with the sound.

The sound of it slipping from the loops when he takes it upon himself to remove it completely for you, the sound of his breathing, the sound of that zipper, the button, the shuffling of his pants being skewed down just enough to fit your hand inside.

He moans at the image alone, loving the way your smaller hand looks slipping down his pants, the way your breathing is somehow even as if you’re trying to keep yourself calm. So calm, so pretty, but he knows how needy you are. He shouldn’t, but he does, and he uses it to his advantage. 

You’re the one who moans this time upon feeling that little twitch of his cock urging you to grab. And he helps you too, with the way he guides your hand under the front of his pants further, forcing your fingers to grab and grope the thick of his cock, uncomfortable and pressing between his briefs and undone zipper. 

“Still, you’re just looking.” Sunghoon comments, pressing his hips forward slowly and gently. “I’m right here.” He continues to explain the situation to you, as if you’re not experiencing it. “You need me to show you how to touch me too?”

You hesitate with a groan caught in your throat. You’re still processing the size difference that you feel now versus what you saw. Bigger. Thicker. Heavier than you would have expected against your palm. Honestly, you were so focused on the fact that Sunghoon’s cock is currently fucking forward against you that you almost forgot how to jerk a man off by yourself. 

His hand had been doing all the work for you, and you’re quick to take over. 

Sunghoon lends a very small gasp at the way you try to grasp, and instantly both of his arms shoot to the chair behind your head. He grips it, dropping his chin to the top of your head before thrusting a bit harsher into the grip you try to hold on him. 

“Harder.” He exhales, his cock twitching in your weak hold. “Grab me harder.”

You do, squeezing the bulge before intentionally adjusting it for him, allowing the head of his bulbous cock to peek from the top of his briefs. 

His relieved sigh is enough, you can’t help it. With his chin sat atop your head like this, you have no choice but to watch the way he moves his hips. Just like he did on camera. His abs flex with each movement, his arms grip behind you on the chair tighter, and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his desperate body even if you wanted to. 

You thrust up too, as if your body craves what you’re already touching. And you do crave it, so much so that your clit aches against the denim you’re rubbing up against. Unfortunate that you wore these fucking jeans, honestly.

“Mr. Park–” You let out a small and frustrated cry, using your other hand to try and fail at unbuttoning your own pants. 

He hides his smile at the way you’ve reverted back to his professional title, but pays no mind to it because that’s what he wanted to hear in your voice that night. A desperate sound of his name, a plea, a cry. He can’t help but cling to it and bury that pretty voice into the darkest parts of his brain. A memory he’ll revisit time and time again after this. That sound, those pretty lips, this weak grasp you have. For the time being, it’s his. You belong to him right now. 

“Hm?” He hums out, fucking his hips forward while tilting his head back to look at you. “What is it, baby?”

Oh. You lost your train of thought. 

Thankfully, he seems to do the thinking for you as he shifts his eyes down and watches you try to both please him and remove your own pants. A cute sight to him, really. Someone who was just scolding him for wanting this, fumbling for more? 

So cute. 

He chuckles, pulling his hips back from your hand and grabbing it, unbothered by the loss of your touch. Instantly he intertwines his fingers with yours, and grasps your other hand from your pants to do the same. Both your arms raise by his guidance to the back of the chair before he releases them. 

You watch with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes as he lowers himself, right onto his knees before he unbuttons your pants for you and very politely pulls them from your legs. 

“This what you want?” He smiles, lying his cheek right against your exposed thigh and taking a deep inhale. It’s taking everything in him not to fawn over the woman who had him in his thoughts for the past however long, truly. 

Then again, he’s weak. He doesn’t even look up at you through his words and, instead, nuzzles his nose right up and against the seat of your panties before inhaling with a pleasant hum. “To have me finally touching this pretty pussy for you?” 

God damn, if you didn’t already know it was him on that camera, you do now. He speaks the same type of words, with the same confidence, the same sultry tone…

You can barely comprehend the way he slowly takes his own pants off because you’re too focused on the way he runs his lips across your skin with dirty thoughts spilling from them. Fingers tucked under either side of your panties in preparation before he eventually pulls them off of you. 

“Did you wear those pants to hide yourself from me?” He comments now with an amused tone. “Knowing you wanted me to take them off of you anyway?”

You shake your head at him, holding your breath. You did wear them to hide, but you never would have expected this situation to go in a direction involving his mouth anywhere near where you need it. Sure, you assumed he would have rejected you, you assumed that if it was him– he’d have been so disgusted with himself that he’d only gag at your presence. 

But no. You were bold in your words, and he seems to feed into that. 

“No?” He furrows his brows and lifts his head. Now lowering your panties much like he did for your pants. He’s quick with his next action, seemingly hiding his own desperation through playful comments at you. “Why not?” He adds, instantly pressing his thumb against your clit and fucking shining his eyes up at you with a semi-pouted mouth. 

You roll your eyes back at the sudden pressure, relaxing your shoulders and slouching down in the chair. Your legs spread further on instinct, granting him a full view of your sticky cunt parting open for him.

His eyes glance down, peering into the heat you offered once before ever knowing it was him looking. Clicking his tongue, he can’t help but bite his lower lip to hold himself back. He hopes you don’t notice the way his hand finds its way to his own cock, he really, really hopes you don’t see him act so pathetic over this. 

But you do. The moment your eyes roll back into place and get a look at him. One of his shoulders is moving, but the action is hidden by not only the chair, but his fucking face. He’s got his lips parted and he’s licking his lower lip. Slicking it up with his own saliva before–

“So quiet,” He hums with glistening lips, lending himself a light hold with his cock and pretending it’s you doing it for him. “You have nothing to say for yourself?” He adds now, inhaling once more the scent of your slick dripping for him as he leans in just a bit more.

“Oh–!” You yelp slightly at the feeling of his teeth digging into the flesh just to the side of your core. He bites down harder and harder, licking the flesh between his teeth before sucking hard against it. The sweat and scent of your full-day at work does nothing to calm his raging cock. He loves it and it only grows his appetite for you. Licking, sucking, nibbling at the skin until he’s sure he’ll leave a nice, painful swell to rub against your panties later. Only then does he release your skin from his still-tasting mouth. 

The relief when he releases your thigh is short lived because he offers not even a full two seconds before you feel his mouth circle your clit. Like he can’t help himself, like he can’t tease you right now even if he wanted to. 

 A flick of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine straight to your toes and you can’t stop your legs from immediately wrapping around his head. You hear his muffled “mmf” when you do that, but he keeps you from apologizing for it because his free hand goes straight under your ass and scoots you even closer to his tongue. 

And if you didn’t already think Sunghoon knew how to use that mouth for more than just being a professional business man, you do now. With the way that same tongue that used to taste the morning coffee you’d bring him now tastes you. Deeply. 

He licks, flicks, and sucks every fold. Slurping up any dripping heat that slips out of you before pressing his tongue in and nuzzling his nose against your clit. He’s not quiet about it either. He moans with each lick, hums every time your legs squeeze around his neck, slurps and loudly sucks. 

It’s pornographic, it’s sexy, it’s–

Suddenly, you feel a sharp jolt shoot through you, having not even noticed his hand moving from your ass to your front, moving straight up under your shirt. His fingers immediately find your nipple and pinches hard. So hard that your previous moan only becomes prolonged. Grows louder, breathier. 

He pinches and massages your nipple with the intent to keep you loud for him. Office setting or not, he could give less of a shit about that right now. He ignores the strain on his wrist from your bra, he uses his other hand to grip himself harder, and you can’t help but squeeze him tighter between your thighs until you’re, quite literally, shaking.

Your hips are sliding against his face with each jolt of pleasure, practically riding him, and his cock is now entirely neglected because you can’t help but want more. You need more. And he gives it, by now releasing himself and keeping both hands on you. One holding the outside of your thigh, almost pushing you to squeeze tighter, the other incessantly abusing your nipple. 

He chokes out a moan through his messy movements, never quite knowing where to put his hands solely because he wants to touch all of you. His cock is just fine being neglected, he thinks, as he realizes just how much pleasure he gets from feeling you wrap yourself around him like this. 

It feels better than jerking himself off. 

“Mr. P–” You sigh out, still not quite used to actually calling him his name, but the sound of it reminds you time and time again how wrong this situation is supposed to be. 

You’re sitting on this soft chair, pussy being spread apart by a tongue none other than the man who signs your paychecks. And just this morning you were terrified of him ever even getting a glimpse of you without pants on? God, how stupid could you be? You should’ve been chasing this man’s touch since the day you looked at him for the first time. 

“Fuck–” You moan out for him, brain spitting thoughts at you as each second passes. The danger of this, the fact that he genuinely got off to you before you knew it was him. The secrecy of his perverted thoughts and actions…it’s all so… “So, you’re so – hot.”

You feel him laugh, kissing the pulsing hole of your pussy when he pulls his tongue back to swallow. And for just a few moments, he turns his head, gripping your thigh with his teeth once again before speaking back to you, muffled by the hot skin. 

“Yeah?” He laughs, now pulling his hand from your bra and lifting to your chin, pointing your gaze down at him, forcing you to see the way your thighs nearly suffocate him against your pussy. “Then keep your eyes on me.”

And you do, especially when he uses both of his hands now, nudging them between your legs and forcing them from his shoulders. He rests your legs on the arms of the chair instead and flicks his eyes up at you. 

“You watching?” He makes this a point, blowing a small breath of air straight at your clit before receiving a dazed and slow nod from you. “Keep your legs open too.”

That’s the last thing he says before his mouth is full again, sucking your folds between his teeth before tucking his tongue right back into your hole. He tastes for just a few moments before you feel those same lips on your clit. He lets it throb in his open mouth as he listens carefully to your little sounds, especially now that he’s sliding his fingers into you. 

You gasp, holding your breath at the feeling. His fingers slide in, reaching deep before he scissors them open. And all you feel from it is pleasure. You can’t help that your eyes roll back again, but you do try to keep your gaze fixed on his. With his eyes so rounded, blinking up at you with his strong jaw moving with each swallow of his own muffled moans. 

He sucks your clit, fucks your cunt open, and relishes in the way he will soon get to splay you across his desk and really let you have it. 

And he does this for a few minutes, though in your head it goes by so fast that you nearly get whiplash from the way he pulls back with a wet sound and grins at you.

“Aw, baby–” He coos at the face you make, seemingly disappointed to lose all stimulation at once, but he’s quick to lift to his feet and lean back over you. 

Oh, his cock. It’s right there. 

Oh.

His face– 

“You’re so fucking wet right now.” He murmurs against the corner of your mouth with a raspy whisper, easily and without warning slipping two of his fingers right back into the heat that he just denied himself of licking more. “You hear that?” He continues with a sharp toothed bite to your lip. “How wet you are?”

You groan at the way he slams his fingers in, out, in, out, in…He keeps them there, pressed so far into you that you can physically feel the way your pussy tries to push him out again.

“Could slip it in right now–” He moans out at how tight you clench just his fingers. “Fuck, could be so deep in you.”

Your face feels hot as a bashful feeling overtakes you. His voice hits so much harder when you feel his breath along with it. His fingers, his cock right up against you. You want him to slip it in. To stuff his cock in you so fast, no room to adjust, not a second to even catch your breath. 

God, you need it right now. It’s been too long since you’ve felt a real person touch you, you can’t help that you feel so desperate. The clench isn’t on purpose, your body tells him all he needs to know, all while he tells you all you could only wish to hear fall from someone’s lips.

And not just anyone. His lips. 

You shoot your arms around his neck and it's not really intentional but– an actual kiss. You need it. 

He seems pleased by it though, with the way his tongue immediately asks for more. One hand moves to brace your cheek, the other still fucking into you so good that you can’t keep a single moan down. He takes full control of the initiated kiss solely because you kissed him first. Almost hungrily, he licks into your mouth with his own muffled groan, encouraging you to keep being pretty like this. Just so you can see what he’ll do to you. 

And, damn. He guides your body like a puppet, stiffening his shoulders when he licks into your mouth and threatening to pull away by raising  himself up just a bit. He knew you’d chase the kiss, and you do. You lift with him, your ass lifting from the chair just to keep his tongue against yours, and he takes the elevated position and angles his hand just a bit. There, his fingers fuck into you harder, faster, so much fucking deeper until– you feel his fingers stop at a painfully deep spot inside of you. 

He pulls back from the kiss, looking down between your bodies, and your eyes follow his gaze. Right there, he’s placed his knee up against his own wrist, forcing his fingers to remain deep and unmoving in you. 

You take in a sharp inhale, seeing the way he lets your body fall back to the seat of the chair, only forcing him to skew his fingers and– “Oh, god!”

You moan out so suddenly that it even shocks him for a moment, but he takes your weakness and uses it to his advantage. Quickly, he licks into your moaning mouth, tickling his fingers upwards, pulling even more animalistic sounds from you. 

“Yeah?” He whispers frantically, so turned on by the way your entire body stiffens. “Right there?” He continues, leaning his full body weight forward with his knee, wincing at the way he presses his cock against anything he can find in the process, just to get you off right here, right now. 

You nod just as frantically, toes curling, arms shooting to the chair in a form that should appear as discomfort, but really you’re just bracing yourself through the tensing of your muscles before all of them relax and pulse at once. 

Your ears pop, but you can still hear your desperate cries of his name somewhere distant. You can even hear him, humming and encouraging your orgasm. You wish you could hold your eyes open to see him, to grab him and force him to fuck his fingers hard into you. God, you could take it right now. You could take just about anything to heighten this feeling of stars bursting behind your eyelids. 

Somehow though, it’s like he knows. Half-way through your orgasm, you feel the weight between your legs shift and his fingers start moving again. Still, your eyes are squeezed shut, and you can't help but to lunge forward and hug against his neck, clinging to him through the prolonged orgasm that his fingers alone have brought to you. 

“Squeezing me so tight–” Sunghoon groans, unsure of if he’s referring to the way your needy cunt crowds his fingers, or the way you cling to him like a lost pet, begging for him to never leave your sight. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

You hear those words over any of his others. So clear in your head as you snap your head up and look at him. You see him lower his gaze, but your grip doesn’t quite allow him to actually look down at you. Not when he has to physically hold you up anyway. Still, he looks amused up there, knowing that single compliment must’ve hit somewhere inside of you.

You’re not sure why, through all this, Sunghoon calling you pretty makes it so much more intimate. And even as your legs continue to shake, and you release your death grip hug on him, he keeps himself crowded up to you. He’s somehow out of breath just like you are, relishing in the calm silence of your post orgasm as he…Jesus.

It’s not just your imagination. Somehow, it is intimate. It’s the way he pulls his fingers out and both hands shoot to your face. First, he kisses you as if you’re a long lost love. Deeply, slowly. Then, he’s putting one hand at the small of your back, nudging his knee right back between your legs, and pulling you right up against him. 

“Who did you cum for?” Sunghoon asks, pulling back just to lick against your lips and stare directly down at you. “Say my name.”

You don’t hesitate, echoing out with a winced expression, still so out of breath while rubbing your clit to the expanse of his thigh. 

“Su-Sunghoo-Sunghoon-” 

“Yeah?” He encourages you, hearing his name heat his ears up. He moves his pussy-slicked fingers to your mouth while you cry his name, and easily presses your tongue down with them, sliding the digits further and further down your throat. “Sunghoon.” He says his own name. “Say it again.”

You gag around his fingers, unable to obey his demand. 

“Sung–” He inspects the way your tongue struggles against the intrusion in your mouth. “Hoon.” 

You swallow around them now, sputtering, tears now running down the outer apples of your cheeks. He watches you do it too, wondering how good that would feel if it were his cock you’re swallowing around. Knowing you’d probably do it for him if he wanted to right now. 

But…he needs more than that. Despite how delicious you look while gagging, his cock has been neglected and he needs to fuck out the stress from the past however long you’ve been avoiding him. It’s like his brain breaks with the action as he watches you take his fingers in whatever way he offers. You let him do whatever he wants. You’re obeying. 

“Up.” He suddenly says, pulling all physical contact with you away as he turns, steps out of the pants restricting his ankles, and swipes every pen, file, and picture frame off his desk. “Come here, baby.”

You feel like you’re melted to this chair right now, in all honesty. You’re still trying to catch your breath just from touching his cock before he decided to make you see fucking stars, to think you can stand right now is insane.

So, when you don’t immediately hop up and throw yourself onto his desk, he turns to look at you. 

You’re splayed out, legs still spread, toes still curled. Your chest is heaving to breathe, eyes wild and lips so fucking kissable. 

“Oh, fuck.” He sighs to himself in realization, relishing in the image of you he’s only recently been craving. “Look at you.”

You lift your arm to hide your face, feeling apologetic for the way you’ve lost the ability to exist as an active participant right now. Even more apologetic when you glance down at how fucking hard his cock is. Raging hard, so pretty with the tip sputtering precum for god knows how long. 

He watches you stare, and lends you a few moments to catch your breath by gripping it himself. Leaning himself against his desk and twisting his wrist with a tight grip at the base. 

“Is this how you looked at me when I did this before?” He asks, flicking his wrist still with each drag. “So out of it, you look like such a mess, babe.”

You find yourself humming a confirmation to him as you watch, almost reverting back to who you were during that first session. Unseen, only heard, all while you got to see him pleasure himself to almost nothing. You gave him nothing. 

You’ve still only given him nothing. 

And so, very slowly, you force yourself to stand on shaking legs to take those two strides to his desk. Something inside of you tingles when he drops his cock and opens his arms for you, like a good boss would do in this situation. Supporting your unbalanced weight, letting you walk into his comforting grasp. 

“Said my name so pretty, you know.” He comments gently when he holds you close to him. Hands reaching down from the grip around your waist just to grab both of your fleshy ass checks and squeeze them. “You want more, yes?”

He’s quick to the point, only allowing the short and sweet moments to last just enough for them to stick in your head. Just enough to have questions about his actions. Just enough to give him anything, everything, he could want if it involves your body.

You nod almost shyly, dipping your head down and leaning against his chest. 

“Let's get this off of you then.” He smiles with a gentle voice, reaching to the hem of your shirt and pulling it straight up, watching how you lift your arms to help him. “Mhm–” He hums again, loving how the bra drags off of you along with the shirt. He lets both of his hands brush your nipples before he goes back to gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them. 

Spreading them so wide that, once again, you have to lift on your toes just to let him play with your body. Which, oh man. Always wearing his button down shirts, his blazers, his long-sleeve shirts. You can’t help it when you tug at the opened fabric of his shirt, asking silently that he shake it off. Wanting to see his arms, wanting to see the strength in them.

And he does it without hesitation, letting his hands fall from you just for a moment to shake his shirt off, only now hugging against you again and forcing a position change. He turns both of you so now you’re up against his desk, and he’s standing in front of you.

It’s easy for him to push you back in a kiss. Your legs open for him on instinct anyway, so he need not worry about prying those legs open again. You do just as expected when he pushes you too. Your ass hits the desk and you lift on your toes to sit on it. Your legs spread wider, making room for him to step even closer, cock right up against you when he closes any amount of distance, and still? He’s kissing you. 

All across your face, down your neck, back to your lips. And his hands just keep feeling. Massaging your tits, lending small taps to your ass, holding your chin, jaw, neck, and then…he runs them through your hair. 

The feeling is so good you almost forget how you’ve been trying to steal a glimpse of his flexing arms as he grabs at you. Goosebumps prickle and you let out a groan at the pleasure of it. He keeps one hand there now, smiling against his kiss to your ear. 

“You like being pampered?” He asks, now gripping a fist full of your hair and skewing your neck to the side. “Like being moved around like a puppet?”

Never once have you thought about your sex life that way, but when you think about it…maybe. After all, you did enjoy being told when and how to touch yourself, being allowed or forbidden from cumming. Now, with him quite literally moving you around with just a simple grip of your hair? Yeah. 

“By you–” You mutter out as you open your eyes, staring at the ceiling and feeling his tongue lap against your earlobe. 

“Just me?” He leans back, using that same grip in your hair to force you to look at him. “You’d give me that power?”

You nod against the grasp, lips falling open in a moan despite not being pleasured by anything aside from the stinging against your scalp as he pulls little hairs a bit too tightly. 

“You know–” Sunghoon starts now, pressing his hips forward, dropping his other hand to his cock and slapping it right against your weeping cunt. “If I had known you were this dirty...”He sighs out at the image in his head, thinking back to all those times he silently complimented you in his head. Back then, never would he have made comments about your legs out loud, or how your tits would look in certain shirts. Thinking back now, he’s always found you quite beautiful.

Quite fuckable, even. 

You listen to the silence waiting for him to continue, feeling the way he presses the hardened head of his length against your clit repeatedly. 

“I would have propped you up on this desk months ago,” He smiles now, leaning in real close to your ear as his grip in your hair loosens just a bit. “Could’ve had you moaning my name this whole time.”

Then, you feel it. The way he adjusts his weeping cock lower, prodding at your hole just a bit until his tip is entirely enveloped by your clenching walls. 

You swallow a moan and hold your breath, legs shooting around his waist and instinctively trying to force his hips to move forward, trying to force him to penetrate you deeper.

“Shh,” He coos out, holding his hips firm and not letting you control his movements. Then, he kisses just under your ear before peppering them all the way back to your lips. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, he chuckles at you for trying. Watching you let your tongue fall from your mouth, inspecting the way you’re entirely in tune for him right now. “You really want it, don’t you?” He whispers just above your lips. “Want me to fuck you right here, right now?”

You nod absentmindedly, legs still trying to force him to move, arms clinging under his biceps, head still forced into whatever position he keeps it in by the hair. 

“Please–Sunghoon.” You cry in a small voice, feeling as if you’re going insane by the feeling of his tip sitting comfortably in you. 

“You’re so cute.” He smiles, lending you another inch of his length before letting his hand fall from your hair. There, he grips your waist instead, letting a strained grunt fall from his own lips this time. He’s really trying to remain collected about this, and he’s unsure himself why he’s enjoying the act of teasing you like this. He feels like he’s teasing himself more than you right now, seeing as how it’s taking everything in him not to stuff his cock into you hard and fast. “So–so, fucking cute.”

You clench around the few inches in you and it appears that’s all he needed to break entirely. Is he controlling you, or are you controlling him? 

Honestly, who gives a fuck?

You feel his arms shake when he plants them at either side of you, pointing his cock straight into you and sliding in fully. There’s a groan from him that you want to hear so badly, but your own heart beat is thumping in your ears so loudly that you miss half of it. 

The stretch is delicious, and the fact that it’s Sunghoon doing this to you makes this all the more enjoyable. The man who you’ve seen day after day, now holding himself up on the desk you’ve signed papers on with and for him? All so he can angle his hips and shove his cock in? Just to let his arms frantically wrap around your waist? Just so he can scoot you forward on this desk, using your leaking slick to slide you back and forth in time with his hips? 

That groan you wanted to hear? He hasn’t stopped. He’s essentially, controlling the entire situation and when you half open your eyes to witness his face, you’re forced to roll your eyes back in a moan matching his. 

He’s fucking you so deeply right now that all you can do is moan, all you can do is forget the embarrassment, the victimization, the way he’s doing this to you despite the risk of reality crumbling. He could lose his job, you could lose yours, and yet still– he’s fucking you like he doesn’t care.

So, you choose not to care either in the form of grabbing his hair, forcing his head back, and attaching your lips right against his adams apple. You feel him swallow and breathe out a shocked sound, and then? You suck.

Intentionally, you suck, bite, and lick, harder and harder until there’s a deep purple mark there. He doesn’t even fight it, though you feel him try to move his head just to keep you from going too insane with it. You don’t care though, because still you feel his cock splitting you open, forcing you to adjust to him. 

“Ah,” Sunghoon lets out another breath with that familiar chuckle, “Marking me now?” 

You hum a confirmation as you move to a new spot on his neck, absolutely fucking marking him. Feeling devastated by the idea that he’d do this with any other employee. Or any other person in general. 

“Making me all yours, huh?” He continues with his cocky words, feeling the way your pussy clenches him tightly, dripping all over his desk. He’d let you make him yours, with or without the bruising from your mouth. 

“Mhm.” You hum pleasantly, letting out little yelps each time he slams into you. Letting out full moans each time his arms wrap around your waist tighter. 

You continue with the act, littering his pretty neck with your touch and loving how he just lets you. Knowing that he’ll show up at work tomorrow looking a bit tired, but glowing nonetheless, trying to hide all these marks with that tight-necked collar he likes to wear. 

“Whatever you want.” He breathes, letting his hips lose rhythm for just a moment as he feels his muscles tighten. “Fuck, you’re still so tight.” 

You feel like you’re on top of the world as he compliments you, to the point you’re not sure when you’ll cum because your whole body has seemingly been feeling euphoria anyway. Everything feels good, even if his cock reaches deep enough to cause little jolts of pain. The sound of the desk scooting back through the force of his hips is enough to make you take it. Enough to squeeze your legs around him tighter, enough to clench, enough to– forget what you’re doing and let yourself fall into it with him.

Your head falls back from his neck and you pant out little half-calls of his name with each thrust. Your legs loosen from around him too, but his grip on your waist only pushes you back on his desk. Until he’s leaning forward so hard with each thrust that suddenly your back meets the cold wood.

Sandwiched between him and his desk, he follows the action, his hands quickly moving from your waist to your tits, pushing them together just so he can nuzzle his face between them.

There, you look at him. You really look at him. 

What a messy, messy, man. Always so pristine during working hours, now looking so wrecked and out of it as he chases a pleasure that you hope only you can give to him. 

“Mr. Park–” You sigh out in a pleasant voice, watching the way he sucks your tit into his mouth before his eyes open wide just so he can look up at you through each thrust. “Harder.”

You can physically see the way his eyes darken when he pops off from your tit, hands now going back to the desk as he hovers over you and intentionally rolls his hips. 

You feel his cock loosen you up painfully before he intentionally fucks into you. Dragging all the way out, just to push forward in a deep and painful thrust. Over and over again, all while he’s staring straight into your eyes.

As you look up at him, you see the intent in his face. The way he wants to give you exactly what you want. Sweat shining from his cheeks, his neck littered with pretty colors. Oh, he’s actually heavenly when he fucks. 

Better than what you thought that guy on camera would have been. He’s not nonchalant like he was when he was performing. He’s entirely in tune with you and what you want. Like what you want is what he wants. 

You can tell he’s paying no mind to his own face or expression, blatantly putting all of his thoughts into how he’s pleasuring you, his eyes searching your face to tell him he’s doing well. To tell him you feel good, to tell him you’re close or–

“Fuck–” He sighs out, teeth tracing his bottom lip as he glances up, keeping pace with the way he’s been plunging into you. “I can’t keep looking at you,”

You smile, feeling dazed and far away. It feels like it’s just you and him. You’re not in his office, on a desk, or doing anything you shouldn’t be doing. 

“You hear me?” He drops his body weight on you again, letting his hips move freely as he chases and chases. “I’m so close.”

Oh. 

“Then look at me.” You huff out, now shooting a hand between his flexed abs and simply…touching your clit once.

 “Oh–shit.” 

It hits you so fast. Just a simple touch causes your pussy to clench Sunghoon so tightly that he mimics your sound. 

“Ah, fuck- fuck,” His voice sounds frantic as he tries to pull out, only to feel your legs shoot back around him. This time, he lets you force him to stay. He lets those legs of yours push him back in, so deep that he knows he can’t fight. “No, no–” He chokes out, uncaring if his hips show you that he’s lying with his words. “I’m cumming– I need to–”

“Stay!” You shake beneath him but your voice sounds pleading, pressing once more to your clit before letting it go. You clench him again, essentially letting your body finish him off. Letting those clenches squeeze him so tightly, making sure he couldn’t fathom ever wasting his cum. “Don’t pull out.”

He doesn’t. In fact, he presses impossibly deeper, trying to bury his cock into you to the point it even pains him. Arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up again, only to drop his lips to yours under his own weight. His hips are so tense between your legs, his cock is so stiff that you can feel each pumped release, and still you’re experiencing your own euphoria through it. 

To the point your toes are curling and you barely notice the way you leave welts across his back from your fingernails through the intense orgasm. To the point his slack lips against yours feel more natural than anything else. Not kissing, just close. So close that–

He kisses you. 

After it’s all said and done, he still kisses you breathlessly. Passionately almost, clinging to you as his cock twitches as it grows flaccid inside of you.

He doesn’t pull out, he just…kisses.

And as you lay against his wooden desk, body coming down from the pleasure you’ve felt more than once within the past hour, all you can do is let your brain think on its own. Without shame, without embarrassment or anxiety. 

You thought Sunghoon would have been in control the whole time. Teasing you, maybe even making this experience more painful than it needs to be. But no, he…

He’s soft. Gentle, almost. 

Only now do you recognize that as badly as he probably wants to appear harsh, like the confident man he is on camera, you think he needs something else. Not just power, not just money or control. Not even just fucking. 

You think…maybe, Sunghoon needs connection. 

Intimacy. 

And that’s proven when he does finally stand on his own buckled knees, pulling you up with him into a hug where he still kisses you. Up until he takes that shirt you unbuttoned and holds it between your legs, scratching the back of his neck with a shy glance at you. 

“Sorry for the mess.” He echoes in a meek voice, holding that shirt firm against you. “Guess I just couldn’t help myself.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Days later, you find yourself in his bed. Which should have been expected probably. Still doesn’t change the fact that every few hours, you remind yourself the reality of the situation.

It’s not just any bed you’re in. It’s Sunghoon’s bed. 

“Oh, right. The promotion.” Sunghoon suddenly calls out mid-episode. 

You’ve been here with him all day. To the point neither of you bother to put on clothes now because you know the spark will come back at any given time and you’ll be all over each other again. Still, lazing in his bed with him on a Saturday afternoon is nice. 

“I’ve been a bit occupied but– the interviews for the assistant position has been pushed back a bit due to you not coming to work.  I was supposed to notify you when you got back, but you know, we had priorities–” 

Sunghoon sighs, embarrassed. It’s nice actually, seeing him in his natural element. Allowing you to see him as more than just the guy that wears a suit and tie every day at work. 

“Unrelated to us…doing this, but, you’re up for the interview. Just need to schedule it with me. If you still want to be my assistant, I mean.”

“Oh, I can only imagine what that could entail.”

Sunghoon seems offended by this remark as he pulls back with furrowed brows.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you fuck the last one too?” You give him a playful smile, prodding at his soft-skinned chest.

“Absolutely not?!” 

“You’re still gonna fuck me too though, right? Even if I’m constantly having to nag you for signatures and meetings?” 

Sunghoon stares at you before smiling. 

“Well, let's see if you get the job anyway. Rhonda from Marketing is applying too.”

You lend a half-joke gag at him. 

“Is it too forward to ask for special attention for the position along with a sexual favor?” You tread the thin line. “I’m half joking but wouldn’t it be like…normal for us to be seen around each other at work if I’m working a job that requires it?”

Sunghoon thinks hard.

“You’re really asking to fuck your way up the ladder?”

“Aren’t you the one who offered it so I wouldn’t tell your dirty little secret?” You narrow your eyes at him. “But no, I’m asking for the job I’ve been trying to earn for ages. Besides, I’d still fuck you anyway.”

“Fair.” Sunghoon thinks harder still. “Rhonda would probably find out too, if she were to get the position anyway, considering my assistants are often intertwined in my personal business as well.”

“Oh, I’m personal business now?”

“Babe, my hand has been on your tit for an hour now.” 

Well, he’s not wrong.

“Rhonda is really close with HR too…” You trail off, feeling a bit anxious. “I think she’d hold it over both of us if she found out.” 

“In all fairness, you’ve been considered for the job more than a few times the past few months. Rhonda only applied during your two week avoidance of me. The reason she’s even up for the position is because my boss thinks you’re too flaky.” 

Oh, so you have a chance with or without putting his dick in your mouth again?

“Who else has applied?”

“Confidential.” Sunghoon shrugs. “I still have to follow company rules even if we’re breaking a few of them right now. What I can tell you is, over fifteen other candidates have already been phased out by me personally.” 

You pause.

“Why?”

“Bad matches, mostly. Two of them have been caught talking shit about me through the company emails, and the others? Many outside applicants, all freshman college students with strict schedules.”

“Being my assistant is not an easy job, and even before all of this, you’ve practically been doing the job already, better than the current assistant I have.”

You damn fucking right you have.

“How many are still in the running?”

“Two.”

Oh, this job is soooooo yours. 

“Just, one more thing.” Sunghoon sighs. “If you get this job, we cannot be fucking in my office. No sexual stuff at work. We can take lunch together, or I’ll bring you home after work, but absolutely nothing at work.”

Oh, he thinks you want him that badly? 

“Who says I need to fuck you during work hours anyway? I know how to control myself.”

“It’s not you who I’m worried about.” Sunghoon looks away, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah?” You smile. “You gonna be calling me into your office just to torture yourself?”

“Oh, absolutely.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

pls remember to leave feedback and reblog! :D love you!

[yawnderu]

CW: mentions of kidnapping and stolen body autonomy.

Find a way in, kill the enemy, retrieve the hostages, leave. A routine of sorts that gave his life some sense of purpose to avoid going insane for the past two decades. Simon liked to believe he got over what happened in his past... truly, he did; and yet Manuel Roba’s horrors seem to haunt him no matter where how many years pass.

“C’mere.” Simon’s voice held no hostility, he made sure of it, yet your stiff position never changed. Legs angled to the right, hands folded on your lap, and eyes looking forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze even if it’s been hours since your rescue. Garrick, Price and Johnny have already tried to get you to talk multiple times, all of them with different approaches. 

Garrick was friendly, trying his best to seem approachable, a bright smile on his lips that you didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at a wall no matter how much he tried to hold a conversation.

Price seemed fatherly, never once laying a hand on you even if it was itching to comfort you, and so he settled with telling you you’re safe now, how no one will ever get you again now that they're here. His words didn’t seem to do much, either. 

Johnny was… something else. His first attempt was a shitty pick up line, getting a reaction out of you for the first time— a nose scrunched up in disgust, but a reaction nonetheless.  

And Simon… Simon’s approach was different. The man was used to barking out orders and obeying them himself, not to deal with an unresponsive hostage. His behemoth frame was nestled next to you, putting a tray on the table and observing your reactions. From the way you swallowed thickly the moment the meal was presented to you, to the sound of your stomach growling. 

“Go on, then.” Your gaze follows his movements for the first time, the feeling of your stomach rumbling makes you more aware of your hunger, so many years being fed nothing but what was necessary to keep you alive by Manuel and his associates, so many years of being trained like a dog to obey to their very order. 

Simon can see the hesitation in your body language, too tense to allow yourself to dig in the way you wanted, yet no longer as stiff as before. There was a sense of relief at the fact that they didn’t seem to want to hurt you —unlike Roba—, yet years of non-stop brutal training can’t be erased within hours.

Roba’s training was engraved into your brain, and while the sense of security the SAS blokes gave you is something you’re thankful for, nothing guarantees they’re not working for him. You’ve seen other military men come and go throughout the years, always Roba’s friends, and always sharing the same disgusting, sadistic desires.

“Eat up.” The rest of the men watch the way you move, curiosity and amusement mixing at how strange your movements seem, almost robotic. Your forearms rest on the table, elbows away from the cheap wood as you attempt to hold your own cutlery— attempt, because it looks fully foreign to you, trying out different angles to make it work, and yet it's the first time in years you've been allowed to try and feed yourself.

Simon is the first one to catch on, having lived under Roba’s rules for long enough to know he enjoys taking people’s autonomy, to reduce them to nothing but a pathetic mess that depends on him. His gloved fingers are gentle as he takes the spoon from your hand, scooping up some food before holding it up to your lips. His full attention is on you, relief starting to make its way into his body as sees your rather soft lips wrap around the spoon, eating whatever he was feeding you. Lucky for you, this time it wasn’t an MRE… or beans on toast.

His gloved thumb wipes the corners of your lips every time you’re done chewing, and he’s quick to pick up more food from the plate, nothing but patience and kindness shown in his actions, so unlike the brooding soldier he's known to be.

“... two goldfish are in a tank…?” Johnny’s loud groan gets your attention for a second, yet you quickly glance back at Simon, curious eyes looking up at him, almost as if asking him to go on. 

“One turns to the other and says… ‘you know how to drive this thing?’” You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle before he even finishes his joke, clearly trying his best not to laugh at just how awful it was. A small smile hides in the corners of your lips, and Simon takes that as a victory, ignoring the questioning looks he’s getting from his team, for now.

[cuttlekiss-mlp]

thought i might attempt to start off strong with my mlp infection au

this is still a pretty big WIP, especially with all of the characters. i've been very thorough with how i want things to go, so i've been taking my time with it.

stuck with a sketchier style bc it fit the vibe of what i wanted so well

MY LITTLE CATASTROPHE : SPIKE AND TWI

!!!TW: DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE!!! "Dear Princess Celestia, I have made a grave mistake, and my judgement is no longer sound. I have ruined everything. I am in search of a cure for what I have created. It cannot be destroyed. Normal magic cannot undo what I have done. He is gone, but maybe I can save the others. I am sorry that this letter has not been sent to you in a timely fashion. He is gone. I had to send this letter via pony mail. Please forgive me for all I have done. Friendship is not strong enough to save us. My friends have abandoned me. They know what I have done. Your faithful student, your failure, Twilight Sparkle."

Between all of the commotion of Sombra's defeat and Twilight's ascension as an alicorn, no one was quick to notice a very important missing person. As soon as Twilight realized her favorite baby dragon was not there to greet her and celebrate, she felt sick to her stomach. Where was he? Spike was found by Cadence. He was delivered to Twilight wrapped in her large pink wings, wounded beyond what could be saved. He was already dead when he was found. Her baby dragon was gone.

No amount of friendship or comfort could console the new princess. She laid with her body curled around Spike, and her cries filled the courtyard for hours. It took two days for her to move from that spot and head home towards Ponyville, where Spike would be buried in front of her home. But she could not bare the thought. Spike could not be gone, not forever.

When she returned home, she holed up in her tree house. The doors locked, the curtains covered the windows, and there was nothing but silence. Twilight worked tirelessly for hours, using magic to preserve her baby dragon's body long enough to find a spell that would erase what happened. Spike would not be dead for much longer. The power of friendship and love would bring him back to life. It had to.

She explained to her friends that if they used the Elements of Harmony, theoretically, he could be revived. They had their reservations. No one thought it was a good idea...but Rainbow Dash talked them into trying. Twilight was hurting, she needed her friends to be there for her. However, their attempts were in vein. Spike was not revived.

Despite their failed attempts, Twilight remained stubborn and persistent. She could not let this happen. Spike could not be gone. Everyone was starting to worry about her, but no amount of convincing could change her mind. They refused to continue trying. They did not believe in her and that made her very angry.

Returning into hiding, Twilight's determination became concrete. She did not sleep, she barely ate. Dash visited frequently, while the others had resolved that Twilight needed time and space. She was the only reason the princess ate anything at all. Twilight soon caught reference to a spell in one of her books. This spell was in a particular book in Canterlot's library...and that is where she would go. She packed up and she made her way swiftly to Canterlot. Unfortunately, the book was locked away, for it's magic was forbidden and dangerous. But this did not matter to her. Twilight broke into the library, stole the book, and rushed off to Ponyville. She would not allow anything to stand in her way. Spike could not be gone.

The spell required an intense amount of magic. Twilight would need help to cast the spell, to bring Spike back. But, none of the other elements would help her. They insisted she lay Spike to rest. She refused. How could they ever say such a thing? How could they give up on Spike? How could they not believe in her?

Twilight took it upon herself to cast the spell. She took the Elements of Harmony and she wielded them herself. Bright beams of pink light flooded out of her curtains...

!!!TW BEGINS!!!

"Twilight. . ." A soft, exhausted voice called from the explosion that was her living room. Twilight could barely hear it's faintness, but his voice was unmistakable. She blindly stumbled towards the voice, to find Spike. When she found him, she was first overjoyed. Spike was getting up! Spike was alive!! Bright pink and sparkling ooze spilled from his chest as he rose from his bed. "Twilight?" His voice was louder and sounded panicked? "What is happening-" his voice cut off with a sickening gurgle. Pink bursted from his mouth, and he coughed and wheezed, trying desperately to regain his breath. His eyes were bleeding, or were they rotting? Twilight couldn't tell. She rushed to his side and she held him. Spike choked and convulsed, pink ooze spilling all over his bed and onto the floor and onto her. And then...he stopped. Unsure of what happened, of what to do, Twilight stared in disbelief, in heartbreak. Had she revived him only to suffer yet another painful death? Tears welled in her eyes and she cried out with unbearable pain.

Between her cries and uncontrollable sobbing, she didn't hear Dash break through one of her windows. She held Spike and cried and cried. The house was a mess and Twilight was a mess and covered in pink ooze and Spike was a mess and pink ooze was still coming out of him. Despite her best efforts, Twilight would not let go of Spike. She snapped at Dash to leave her alone, and that is what Dash did. She didn't want to, but what was there to do?

Twilight fell asleep in the midst of her crying, holding her baby dragon close and covering him with her wings.

She woke to a gurgling growl and a terrifying creature standing above her, with pink, sparkling drool dripping from it's mouth. It's eyes were dark and lifeless but little pink glowing orbs betrayed it's gaze. It stared and growled and breathed raspy, shallow breaths. Twilight pushed it away in fear, scrambling up from Spike's bed. That is when she realized what the creature was. It was Spike...but it wasn't truly. He twitched and groaned and dripped pink ooze.

Before she knew it, a knock came at her door. Spike's head snapped towards the sound.

The door opened.

Spike lunged.

Screams and Spike's growls erupted.

What had she done?

[meo-on-prairie]

Deserve Better

Prompt: After a shitty breakup, involving a douchebag of an ex, who makes you realize he never loved you to begin with. You went to your best friends for comfort, but instead of telling you “you deserve better”, they show you the best you deserve. 

Word count: 1786

Tags: FLUFF, a tablespoon of Angst, hurt and comfort, Gojo and Getou being sweetest boys, satosugu established, satorugu x reader not yet, mention of: manipulation and love bombing.

Rambling: This is an extremely self-indulgence fic, heavily inspired by my shitty ex lmao. I just wanna be sandwich between Gojo and Getou to comfort my angry heart :((. This is a mini series, I wanna able to make this series to be compose of a bunch of stand-alone fics that merge together. This is my first time writing after a long while so… 

//////

“He was a pathetic liar!” you shout as soon as Suguru opens the door. Tears are streaming down your faces and you can’t seem to make them stop. The sight of your face full of anger and sorrow quite nearly broke Suguru’s heart. Oh, how he wished he could erase your pain. Not make your pain go away, no, he wanted to erase it from your life completely.

Satoru walks toward the door after hearing the loud commotion, “what did he do this time?” he said knowing exactly who was responsible for your tears. With all honesty, Satoru is only asking for your sake, if he could have it his way, violence is always the answer.

Satoru and Suguru are used to this, it’s been 2 years of this clockwork. Ever Since you start dating your pathetic boyfriend, Anthon, it been a cycle of you venting to them about your relationship problem, them telling you to break up with the fucker, and you “work it out” with the douchebag, who can only tell lies and empty promises, the next day and all is good for about 1 month. It’s the same cycle of them clearly seeing that you are being manipulated, yet unable to do anything. But then again, what can they do? They’re only your friends, nothing more even if they want to be more, and as friends, the only thing they can do is be there for you.

Anthon was your first love, your glasses were not tinted, it was dyed rose-pink. You loved him with everything you got, always there to support him mentally, emotionally, and even sometimes financially. In return, he would love-bomb you with constant, nonstop, overly cheesy affectionate words. He also made a lot of promises to you: of marriage, of spoiling you, of being a better man for you, of being faithful to you; all of which are empty and meaningless in hindsight. They’re so meaningless in fact that it led you to break-up with him 2 weeks ago.

You were tired of his empty words, so you laid down your boundary, you told him you would never want to marry someone who refuses to find a job to support themselves. His answer? “Why can’t you be nicer about these things? Your words cut deep”. Anthon was a man of nothing, he had nothing but his words, and even then he couldn't even keep them. But you loved him, so you put it all aside, all his actions, all his shortcomings, his unwillingness to change for himself; you put it all aside and waited with baited breath, surely, surely…. Surely he’ll do as he said. He never did. 

“Come in first, the night is cold, I don’t want you to get sick” Suguru ushers you through the door and into their apartment. As Suguru guided you toward their living room, Satoru went into the kitchen to grab some tissues, water, and something for you to eat your feelings away. 

As soon as your body touched the soft velvet material of their couch, you crumbled into Suguru’s arms. He pulls you in closer to his body as yours shakes and heaves, you two sit like that for what feels like an eternity as you let the tears that carry your pain and sorrows fall from your eyes. Your hands balls up Suguru’s shirt as you cry in his embrace, you try to control your sob but it only makes your body shakes harder, almost hyperventilating.

“Shhhh, take your time, let it out. I’m here… we’re here… we’re not goin’ anywhere”

“He said he loves me! He said he wanted to marry me! And not even 2 weeks after our breakup, he’s getting his dick wet and telling another girl he loves her!” you choked out in anguish, still in denial that any of this is real.

“How did you find out about that?” Satoru asked, carrying a tray full of food; after hearing your sobs, he decided that a few snacks wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Because the fucker doesn’t even have the decency to keep it private, he been posting her all over his social media!” you swipe out your phone in frustration, pulling up Anthon’s account to show your two best friends the picture of your ex and the girl sitting on his lap, kissing. 

They both make a face when you show them the picture, “gross” they said in unison as Satoru places the tray on the table and sits down on your other side.

“I’m just so angry, I can’t believe I wasted 2 years loving someone who never was truthful to me! How can I be so stupid?” your tears are boiling hot, they feel like acid on your skin.

“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re not stupid for simply loving someone.” Satoru cups your face with his hands, nudging you to face him, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his hands. It’s comforting to be held so gently.

“That’s right, don’t shame yourself for being strong enough to love someone with all you got. That’s a strength, not a weakness.” Suguru agrees, pulling a couple of tissues from the box and handing it to you. 

You take the tissues from him to wipe away the tears and blow your nose, it was getting a little hard to breathe from crying, “Thank you… It just hurt realizing that even though I loved him, he never loved me; at least, I don’t think someone who loves me would go out of their way to hurt me like this. Him posting her and rubbing it in my face not even 2 weeks later makes me feel like… I just wasn't worth loving…”

“You’re right, someone that loves you wouldn’t hurt you like he did. But that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. To us, you’re worth all the love this world has to offer…” Suguru whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder, and he means it. God, does he mean it. Satoru can see it in his partner’s eyes, the same feelings he has.

Satoru and Suguru have loved each other deeply since they were kids, but they always feel something is missing in their relationship. When you walt into their life when they were 15 through the door call “physic group project”, they thought something was wrong with them. They still very clearly love each other, their love is still burning, but their hearts forget how to beat when you smile at them.

How can they not fall for you? You’re kind, so kind you would push aside your shyness and discomfort to help those that need it. You’re intelligent, you quite literally carried them through that physics group project. And dear god, the way you just fit perfectly into their dynamic makes them realize very quickly that they desperately want you to be a part of their life. So desperately, they couldn’t bring themselves to tell you about their feelings in fear of scaring you away from them forever.

“Tell you what? Let’s watch some true crime documentary that you like so much since you’re secretly a sociopath, maybe they’ll give you the inspiration of what to do for revenge?” Satoru said with a smirk.

“If inspiration striked you, we’ll be your executioners.” Suguru added, smiling in relief seeing that you're feeling better after letting it all out. You let out a small giggle and nod. 

Satoru turns on the TV and searches for “Unsolved” while Suguru goes to grab the three of you a blanket. When Suguru comes back with the blanket, you get comfortable cuddling between the two of them on the couch. Between Satoru’s jokes about how if he was the detective case wouldn’t have gone cold, and Suguru’s soft chuckles of ‘sure babe’ at his boyfriend’s comment,you start to feel a lot better. 

You have always felt the most at home with them. It felt natural to be with them, Satoru’s humor brings laughter into your day, Suguru’s gentleness makes you feel safe. They ground you. You’re starting to wonder why you were even with the dirtbag when you have best friends who show you how you should be treated. But before you can think more on that, drowsiness takes over you.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. With how hard you were crying and the emotional turmoil you experienced, it would be more surprising if you stayed awake. Satoru looks over to the sight of your sleeping face. He squeezed Suguru’s hand he been holding behind you on the headrest of the couch.

Suguru looks over at Satoru and notices where his gaze was directed at. “I don’t want to see her like that again. She deserves all the sunshines life has got to offer, not heartbreak” Satoru whispered softly. 

“Do… you think⸻” Suguru started

“Yeah.” 

It’s a silent agreement between them. They’re done with watching you on the sideline. They’re done with seeing you in pain. They don’t want to be afraid of losing you anymore if it means they have to leave your happiness in the hands of some other dudes that’s not them. In the hands of someone that doesn’t know how to cherish it like they do. 

Suguru gives Satoru’s hand 3 long squeezes, I love you. A soft and silent affection flows between them. You always joke that they’re each other's twin flames due to how they seem to be sharing the same soul; their ideology, way of thinking, even how they feel. They’re so similar despite different personalities it’s uncanny. But they think that if they’re each other’s twin flame, then you would be their soulmate. 

They let go of each other's hands so Satoru can carry you into their guest’s room. Well, they call it that but the color and decorations they have in it are all catered to your liking, plus no one beside you ever stays the night anyway. 

Suguru opens the door to the room for Satoru. They laid you down and tucked you in. 

Suguru went into the bathroom to get a damp face towel. He softly wipes away your streaks of tears so you can sleep comfortably without feeling the stickiness from your tears. 

They closed the door as quietly as possible so they don’t wake you, not before glancing at you one last time. 

Looking at each other, eyes full of love and determination, they silently vow to each other. They’re going to make you fall, sweep you right off your feet. They’ll treat you like you’re their most prized treasure. You’ll fall for them so hard, you’ll forget you’ve ever loved anyone but them.

[zomyoo]

⠀ ⠀ ₍ᵔ๑・ᴥ・ᵔ₎ ̥ ⌇━━ HE KISSED MY SCARS 。

you and your boyfriend have never been intimate due to your insecurities, and though he was patient enough to give you space, he actually wanted to know why you refused to do certain things with him.

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: smut included! mentions of scars, insecurities, abuse and self-harm. teasing, kissing, fingering, comfort sex. please read with caution!

⠀⟢ boyfriend!joshua x girlfriend!reader ⠀⠀—⠀⠀𝗪𝗖: 1,603

“baby, please talk to me.” the man pleaded, following you around the house like a dog asking for his treat. he had just came home from the gym and the sweat dripping down from his pretty face would be enough to arouse anyone.

you had been at home all day, occupying yourself with anything that fell in between your hands. from playing video games to creating ear raping tunes on joshua’s guitar, you did spend a good time by yourself. though, the conversation you had with him in the morning sticked to your brain like glue. each time you were done with an activity, it would ring in your mind, consuming your thoughts.

you had promised to communicate. to tell him the reason why you refused to have sex with him. it’s been a little over a year now and the poor guy deserved to know why you kept on rejecting his countless advances.

at the present moment, you were trying to run away from your boyfriend’s questions. you were still, understandably, scared. what if he were to leave you if he knew? what if everything you’ve went through and the plans you have all went to dust the moment you reveal everything to him? the ugliest thoughts crossed your mind, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as you stopped in your tracks.

the brunette spinned you around, immediately throwing you in an embrace. “y/n.. how am i meant to help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?” he questioned, the vibration of his voice against his chest comforted you in a way. you wrapped your arms around his waist, seeking as much solace as you possibly could.

you hated crying in front of him, but it was out of your control. your mouth was sealed and the words you wanted to utter remained stuck at the back of your throat. he remained quiet, slowly patting you as the sound of your sobs took over the living room.

sat on the couch, you watched as your boyfriend walked out of the bedroom with a fresh change of clothes, slowly making his way to the kitchen to brew your favorite tea. it was going to be a long night.

you unbuttoned your chemise and removed your jeans, tossing them aside as you stood in front of him, the sudden fresh air causing you to cover yourself with your arms. you weren’t fully naked, you still had your underwear on but you felt like you were underneath his gaze.

his eyes softened as you walked into the light, the scars on your body coming into view. when you told him you grew up in an abusive family, he never knew, nor thought, they were that abusive. afterall, he’s met your mother before and she seemed like the sweetest woman on earth.

“oh... my love. what the fuck have they done to you?” his voice cracked, on the verge of tears. you were going to ask him if the view was repulsive, if he found you less attractive and wanted to end things with you but he beat you to it and completely erased your negative thoughts.

“you look beautiful regardless.” he uttered, wiping the built up moisture in the corner of his eyes. joshua stood up and walked over to you, “may i?” he asked, reaching out for your scars. a nod was all you gave and he gently touched them, the sudden contact sending chills down your spine.

his touch began on your arms, caressing the build up of scars you had created yourself. it wasn’t due to abuse, it was just your escape for a long period of your life. he then trailed over to your waist, gently touching the blue coloured bruise that refused to leave your skin. as he continued, you could feel your body tense up.

every morning, you would avoid looking at your naked body in the mirror, you felt disgusted at the thought of having those scars on your skin, you felt ugly, unworthy and unwanted. you had this self-hatred that secretly grew, causing you to lock yourself up, away from everyone else.

some of your scars were not fully healed yet and caused you nothing but suffering. “why did you keep this away from me?” he questioned, not a single hint of anger displayed on his face. joshua had always been a calm guy, which was one of the many reasons you loved him dearly. it changed from the environment you grew up in and you were grateful to him for all he’s ever done for and to you.

“i was scared...i was scared you would reject me.” you mumbled, your voice shaky. he noticed you were avoiding eye contact, which caused him to lift your chin and stare into your lustrous eyes, getting lost in their beautiful shade.

“baby, i would never. i’m utterly obsessed with all of you, from the parts you love to the ones you hate. i’ll never reject nor be ashamed of you.” he confidently said, a little disappointed you would think so lowly of him after he had done so much to be considered your boyfriend, a title he held with so much honor.

“plus, you can always rely on me for anything, i’m the last person to judge you. i can’t even daydream about the day i would dare to.” he added, his words of affirmation hitting deep. he’s always comforted you with words and through his actions, something you heavily lacked. you felt understood, listened and provided for, which took you a while to get used to.

you crashed your lips against his, your sudden action taking him aback for a short moment before he gave into the kiss, devouring your lips like it was the last time he would get to do so.

his hand made its way to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. he wanted more and he definitely wasn’t going to hold back this time. he had been craving you for months, and you allowing him to go this far was an opportunity he wasn’t going to let slide.

his hands trailed down your back, settling on your ass as he gently squeezed them. the first one caused you to slightly open your mouth, his tongue immediately sliding down your throat. you let out a soft moan, wrapping your arms around his neck.

as he lifted you up, your legs immediately rested around his waist. he walked over to the couch and sat down, putting you on his thighs before he began placing kisses around your body. from your exposed neck to your bruised skin, planting kisses on each and every one of your scar, making sure they all received as much love as he could possibly give them.

as he did so, you began removing his shirt, pulling it away from his body as you stared at his bare chest, wishing you paid attention sooner. he was ripped, and you had never noticed it before. you knew he would have a certain body type, given he often goes to the gym, but seeing it with your own eyes was different.

you bit your lip as his lips slowly made their way to your breasts. he licked and squeezed them through your lace bra before he unclipped it, watching as the thin fabric rolled down your arms. his mouth once again reached towards your chest. he began sucking them with his eyes closed and all you wanted was for him to fuck you.

you softly moaned his name, grinding against his hardened cock. “fuck, y/n...” he mumbled, grabbing your hips to follow your movements, which lasted for a while before he stopped you from going further. pushing your underwear aside, he inserted two fingers in your cunt, moving them in slowly but deeply, a loud moan escaping your lips at each thrust.

you placed your hand on his jeans, rubbing his clothed dick. “plea...please...” you pleaded, biting your lips as you unzipped his pants, allowing him to completely remove it alongside his boxers, his length bouncing out of his clothes and twitching beneath you.

as you sat back down on him, he placed his dick on your entrance, rubbing your clit with it and watching as his precum rolled down his penis. after teasing you for what seemed like a very long time, he finally put it in, the thickness of his cock was something you’d have to get used to, but you definitely enjoyed it.

he began slowly, making sure you were stretched enough before he fastened his pace. your moans became louder, your grip on his shoulders became tighter and your mind was completely blank. you savoured every moment of his dick inside of you, wishing you had done it sooner.

you moaned out his name, not once, or twice, but multiple times, which only caused him to be more aroused. he loved the way your breasts jiggled as he thrusted in you, he loved looking at your scars, feeling closer to you and grateful you trusted him, he loved the view of your back arched and your eyes rolled back. he loved all of you and would absolutely never wish to change that.

the both of you came at the same time, panting as you embraced eachother. “i love you so fucking much y/n, thank you for trusting me.”

“i love you more joshua, thank you for everything.” you said, your eyes heavy and voice low. before you knew it, you had fallen asleep in the arms of your lover with a smile on your face.

dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/saradika-graphics moodboard by @/jicito

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ copyright © 2024 zomyoo, all rights reserved

[enby-axels]

i used to disagree with the interpretation that jiang cheng was using jiang yanli as a political pawn to improve his relationship with the jin clan, but then i reexamined this scene here:

like this conversation has layers to it. throughout it, wei wuxian is the only one who's actually concerned about jiang yanli, while jiang cheng barely spares her a thought. and i'll explain why i think so

starting from the beginning of this excerpt, we see that jiang cheng prioritizes his relationship with the jin clan. he berates wei wuxian for defending jiang yanli, but he does so in a way that completely negates her. instead, he characterizes it as wei wuxian picking a fight with jin zixuan and harming the jiang clan's relationship with the jins.

i found this really interesting. is jiang cheng doing this on purpose? is it subconscious? it's hard to tell. either way, it's incredibly revealing. by erasing the actual cause of the conflict, he can pursue his own ambitions while maintaining the illusion he's acting in his sister's best interests. (and at this point in the novel, jiang cheng has already established a pattern of lying to himself to avoid inconvenient truths. a self-gaslighting icon)

and then jiang cheng goes on to compliment jin zixuan's status, in response to wei wuxian complimenting jin guangyao's looks. he makes it clear that what he cares about is maintaining amicable relations with the jins' future clan leader.

with this, wei wuxian can no longer tolerate jiang cheng's self-justifications. he outright confronts jiang cheng's motivations for bringing jiang yanli to the phoenix mountain siege hunt. his phrasing is interesting: "you made a special point of bringing shijie along." i cannot know how exactly that went down, but it does imply that jiang cheng was unusually insistent about having jiang yanli be present at phoenix mountain.

there's room for interpretation here. was jiang yanli pressured to go to phoenix mountain? we can't know, although there is a consistent pattern in mdzs of her having very limited agency in her life. what we do know, at the very least, is that jiang cheng brought jiang yanli along and he was set on it; it was primarily his decision, not hers.

and jiang cheng all but confirms wei wuxian's suspicions! in response to wei wuxian accusing him of trying to arrange a match between jiang yanli and jin zixuan for political reasons, he says "it's not entirely out of the question." he doesn't even try to deny it; instead he justifies himself

wei wuxian can't tolerate this either. promises and hopes of jin zixuan changing for the better aren't enough. they live in a patriarchal, feudalistic society. if jiang yanli marries into lanling, she'll be completely at their mercy, and there would be little that he or jiang cheng can do about it. how can he sit back and let such a fate befall his shijie?

and while wei wuxian refuses to shy away from the precarity of jiang yanli's position and the possibility of jin zixuan turning out like his father, jiang cheng dismisses his concerns, merely saying, "he wouldn't dare!" but how can he possibly guarantee that? it's a flimsy defense and he knows it. we, as the readers, having the benefit of knowledge that while jin zixuan is flawed, he would never do such a thing. but jiang cheng and wei wuxian have no reason to trust the man who's already humiliated jiang yanli once before.

interestingly, jiang cheng immediately deflects from the accusation aimed at his own motivations by directing the conversation to his sister's feelings. jiang yanli likes jin zixuan, so "what more can we do?" but this is an obfuscation of jiang yanli's circumstances. while jiang yanli does like jin zixuan, at this point in time she did not want to be around him! in fact, she never once pursued a relationship with him

notably, this line shifts the responsibility from jiang cheng (whom wei wuxian is accusing of using jiang yanli as a political pawn) to jiang yanli herself. but we as readers know better. we were there for jiang yanli and jin zixuan's conversation during the siege hunt. she has little say over anything, even her own life

throughout this conversation, jiang cheng is evading inconvenient truths and mentally avoiding his sister. he loves her, but it's a selfish sort of love. he is, perhaps subconsciously, rewriting her reality to serve his own interests.

this is in sharp contrast to wei wuxian who asks uncomfortable questions and, rather than running away from reality, confronts it. it's important that after his argument with jiang cheng, he seeks out jiang yanli herself to hear her opinions on love.

i could write a whole other post analyzing the sequence of scenes following jiang cheng and wei wuxian's argument — particularly the flashback to when wei wuxian first arrived at lotus pier and how this could tie into his resolve to support jiang yanli, just as she did for him.

but i want to conclude this analysis by focusing on jiang yanli. because even her location here speaks volumes. wei wuxian asks where jiang yanli is, and jiang cheng answers that she can't go anywhere but the kitchen, her chambers, and the ancestral hall. "and sure enough," the narration notes, "there she was." by illustrating how she's trapped on a physical level, the story is outright telling us that, as a woman, jiang yanli is confined. (more specifically, she is confined as a woman with weak cultivation. while her mother, a powerful cultivator in her own right, was able to travel and night hunt as she pleased, jiang yanli lacks this privilege.)

i think this was a fitting way to punctuate and contextualize the preceding argument. nothing jiang yanli wants for her life is allowed to matter. it never has.

what can she do? jiang yanli loves jin zixuan, but that alone will never be alone to transform their relationship into a mutually loving one. she lacks the power to force him to change, and more importantly she doesn't want that power. back at phoenix mountain, she eschewed what little power she was (forcibly) granted by madam jin. even though she was pressured to accompany jin zixuan during the siege hunt, she still refused to use that opportunity to get closer to him.

because jiang yanli doesn't just love. she loves selflessly and without imposition. she could never pursue a relationship with someone she believes hates her, even if the basis of that hatred is unfair to her.

so based on her established character traits, i don't think jiang yanli is someone who would want her family to arrange a marriage to someone that (supposedly) hates her. nor can she be convinced by them into believing it will magically work out. the only one who can transform her relationship with jin zixuan is jin zixuan himself — not just because he has the power to as The Man, but also because he is the sole person on this planet that can convince jiang yanli that he truly loves and wants to be with her

[locuas642]

If there was a theme in Hades 1, I think it was Change. As in the idea that people can change, either for good or bad.

Achilles went from being a violent hot-headed in life, to becoming a more mellow, mature mentor archetype in death.

Sisyphus who was a bastard in life, after years of punishment did eventually change for the better. Becoming a nicer person overall.

Thesseus is implied to have been a better person in life. but the time in Elysium made him the lovable prima donna he is now. By Contrast Asterion has become a noble warrior who seeks to deliver justice and to fight a worthy opponent for the fun of it, rather than a monstrous creature who ate people.

Even Orpheus can be convinced that, altough he failed to properly credit Eurydice in life, he can start now.

The point is, even after Death is not too late for them to change. and that change is possible. And every character you interacts changes, even if in small ways. Even Chaos, a Primordial being who struggles to related with anything outside their realm can change and develop a desire to become closer with Nyx, they can change to wish to socialize.

And this is important because it is what is at the root of Hades and what makes HIM the villain of the story: He stubbornly believes people cannot change. that everyone is the same and that they will never get better.

He puts Sisyphus through a punishment that assumes he will ever be the cruel person he was in life. He refuses to believe that the Achilles of old would remain under his service if there wasnt a bonding contract forcing him to.

And most importantly: he believes it is impossible for Olympus and the Underworld to make peace. that his impression of the Olympians, with all their flaws and pettyness and drama, is not only entirely accurate, but that they can never be more than that. Just as he himself can never be more than the strict ruler of the underworld, forever trapped in his kingdom.

It is Zagreus, who through constant battles and trials, going from the meek weakling he is at the start, to someone who can actually push through the underworld's defense and actually reach the surface to, finally, besting Hades and managing the gargantuan task of escaping the underworld; something believed impossible; when Hades whole world is shattered. And when Zagreus manages to succeed on that again and again, a second impossible thing happens. Something believed to be equally as impossible as someone managing to overcome the Underworld: Hades Gives Up.

He let's Zagreus go. Not because out of the kindness of his heart, but because he finally understood he can't stop him and whatever happens, it is outside his control. THAT is when Zagreus trully defeats Hades, because it forces Hades to consider a different alternative, to change.

And that doesnt erase the things Hades did. The abuse or the cruelty. That happened and there is a chance that will always be there and that it might be too late for He and Zagreus to have the father/son dynamic they should have had. But he has finally made the decision of trying to change, which will be slow and painful, but never too late.

[bloatedandalone04]

➪the one where you try to move on and jack comes home.

Part 1

Warnings: angst, fluff, sad times all around

Word Count: 3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

Jack sighed as he entered his house, his eyes glued to his phone as texts flooded the screen. The door shut loudly behind him, making him cringe in hopes he didn’t just accidentally wake his mom up. Deciding not to find out, he quickly walked through the house and towards the kitchen, where the door to the basement was.

He discarded his jacket on the armrest of the couch before falling against it, this thumb scrolling through text message after text message. Some old friends of his were trying to make plans for the weekend, but every idea given was something Jack refused to do. 

Hey, buddy! Congrats on that new movie haha. I was thinking we could go out for breakfast sometime soon, just to catch up.

Hey, Jack, not sure if you remember me, but I just wanted to say I always knew you would make it big as an actor. Let’s meet up soon. 

Hi Jack ;) Saw that movie you were in and just wanted to say you look good. Take me out to dinner sometime?

Man, he regretted not changing his number early on in his career. 

He ignored each message as he opened his contacts and put in his password for his voicemail. His eyes closed when he lifted his hand and brought the phone to his ear, his heart skipping a beat when he heard your voice. 

“Hey, it’s me. Um, you failed the test I gave you. I don’t know what happened to us or what happened to you, but I’m…I’m done,” the way your voice wavered had his heart beating loudly and his eyes stinging. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you, I really wish I was. You meant everything to me and I wish you kept your promise. Good luck with everything. I wish you nothing but the best, and, yeah. I’m done. Goodbye.”

He squeezed his eyes tightly before opening them again, his vision slightly blurred as he kept the phone to his ear. “End of saved messages. To listen to this message again, press one. To delete this message, press two. To save this message, press nine,” his thumb moved and clicked on the same number he had pressed countless times now. “Message will be saved for two days.”

He seriously had no clue what he was going to do when the message deleted itself two days from now. It was, literally, the last thing he had of you as his mom had helped you clear out the clutter you had at his house. The hoodie you got from high school was no longer thrown over the chair in the corner, the pile of your favorite movies had disappeared from its place on the TV stand, the bag of chips he let you keep on the shelf was gone. You had successfully erased yourself from his life.

The only thing left was your voicemail. And the framed picture that was sitting beside the TV. It was the same picture you had beside your bed, and his heart ached as he wonders what you might have done with it. Did you keep it? Is it still on your nightstand? Did you destroy it? Pack it away in a box? Was he the only one with a copy of the picture now?

Each question made his heart burn as he tossed his phone onto the coffee table - his mind going back to when he did that the day he came home. At the time, your own phone was next to his, both powered off as you held each other. 

Now, he was alone. His phone was the only one on the table, and he reached over to grab the pillow you had fallen asleep on too many times to count. He wrapped his arms around it as he fell against the cushions, his face buried in the pillowcase as sleep slowly took over his body. 

-

Jack sighed heavily as he entered his house for the first time in three weeks. It was safe to say he was missing his own bed more than ever at this point and had long since grown sick of hotel rooms. 

He couldn’t wait to fall face first into his sheets on his own bed, in his own room. The only thing that would make it better was if you were there with him. 

The front door shut quietly behind him as he knew his mom was asleep. He pulled out his phone and clicked on your contact. He groaned when he realized what day it was and the plans with you that he had completely forgotten about. 

He moved his thumbs to type out the most heartfelt apology ever written and offer to make it up to you tomorrow, but paused when he saw the notification at the bottom of the screen.

1 New Voicemail - Urgent.

Jack clicked on the message and put in his password before bringing his phone up to his ear. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting the voicemail to be about, but it definitely wasn’t you breaking up with him. He felt his heart skip a beat at how sad and defeated you sounded as he replayed the message two more times, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

He saved the message before clicking on your contact again, his heart further deflating at the texts you had sent him earlier in the day. 

9:32 AM

My girl <3: Hey, you’re home now, right? Are you still wanting to go out today?

The vagueness of your text should’ve been enough to set off alarms in his head. The fact you asked if he was still wanting to see you made his heart ache with guilt and regret. He always wanted to see you and he thought you knew that. The feeling only got worse as he continued reading the messages he had somehow missed. 

10:01 AM

My girl <3: Sorry, you’re probably still sleeping. It’s been a long 3 weeks without you, I don’t blame you for wanting to sleep in. 

10:03 AM

My girl <3: Just get back to me when you can.

The lack of your usual sweet words and the fact you weren’t adding any heart emojis at the end of your texts showed him exactly what you said in the voicemail. 

You were done.

There were no more texts after that one and Jack felt his heart break when he realized that you probably thought he was flat out ignoring you, when it was the opposite. 

He couldn’t wait to come home and see you. The past three weeks were hard and packed full of promo, interviews and press. He was hardly in control of his phone the whole time and only had it at the end of the day. Something about not wanting him to be distracted? Whatever the reason was, it was definitely not worth you feeling like he was ignoring you.

Jack clicked on the call button and brought the phone back up to his ear. Disappointment and guilt took over his body when he was sent straight to voicemail. 

You didn’t want to talk to him.

You spent weeks trying to fight for your relationship, you had nothing left to give. 

He squeezed his eyes shut when he heard your voice ask him to leave a message. He could only hope that you would get back to him as soon as your past self promised you would. “Y/n,” he said desperately, his eyes opening quickly as he brought his free hand up to tug on his recently cut hair. “Fuck, baby, I am so sorry for not answering you, I- things have been so crazy lately and I know that’s not an excuse, but, please. Let me make it up to you, let me explain everything, please.”

He was rambling, trying to get everything out in a single message. There were no words to describe the fear that was currently looming in his body, his heart aching and terrified that you wouldn’t call him back - terrified you wouldn’t let him explain. 

“I can fix this, I can fix everything, I promise, just please,” he realized that his promises probably meant nothing to you now, but he was desperate at this point. “Please, just don’t… Don’t leave me. I love you, I-”

The sound of a beep cut him off and his pleas were sent to your voicemail.

He stood in silence for a few seconds, his phone still pressed to his ear as if your voice would come through the device and give him the comfort he hadn’t given you when you needed it most. 

Finally, he dropped his hand and loosely held his phone between his fingers. His legs moved before his mind had the chance to keep up with them as he scrapped the idea of heading upstairs to his room. 

He walked through the kitchen in complete darkness and opened the door to the place he spent hours with you in, the door closing loudly behind him.

-

GUYS I think they broke up fr.

Um…did Y/n and Jack break up? I haven’t seen any new posts with her in months.

Y/n hasn’t been active at all on social media….I think her and Jack are done.

JACK AND Y/N BROKE UP PARTY.

Hopefully they’re both okay, they seemed really happy together. 

The comments he received on a daily basis were a form of torture Jack had never felt before. It hurt to read them, especially the ones that were applauding him for breaking things off with you. 

She was holding him back, sorry.

He’s thriving now that she’s gone.

Yay, she’s gone.

God, people really were brutal. 

He couldn’t bring himself to read anymore and closed the app. He was met with your smiling face as his background and felt his heart skip a beat.

You are so beautiful.

Jack felt his throat begin to close as he recalled all the times he should’ve told you that more. His eyes burned and his face heated up, but he couldn’t cry. Not now, not in public. 

He’d be back home in a few hours and only then, when he’s in the comfort of the basement and holding the pillow that no longer smelled like you, would he allow himself to wallow in self pity.

Damn, he felt pathetic. 

He just missed you more than any word in the world could describe. 

He was right in believing you wouldn’t get back to him after he poured his heart out to you through voicemail. It still didn’t lessen the heartbreak, though. 

If this was how it felt to be completely shut out from the person you loved, Jack couldn’t hate himself more for allowing you to feel this way about him. There were only a few times where he wanted to redo something, and this was one of them. If he could, he would go back a month or so ago and redo the entire thing, but this time so differently. 

He would never let you feel the hurt and sadness that he provided you with every time one of your texts went unanswered. He would call you everyday, distractions be damned, and tell you that he missed you, that he loved you and that he was coming back to you.

Maybe he was imagining it, but he could’ve sworn he heard your laugh. It sounded distant, and maybe if he went a few more months without you he would’ve forgotten what it sounded like, but not now. Maybe not ever. 

It was a sound he had been wanting to hear for weeks now. A sound he knew so well. One that belonged to you and only you.

He looked up and that was when he felt the first bit of happiness, the first bit of relief in what felt like forever. 

You looked good, a lot prettier than he remembered and perhaps happier than he had ever seen you. It hurt to think that he was holding you back all this time. You were miserable for weeks because of him, and now you were happy without him. 

That still didn’t stop him from crossing the busy street, breaking a couple of laws that he’d apologise for later, and standing a mere few feet from you. Your eyes opened and you took a step forward when your friend grabbed your arm as she had seen Jack before you did.

Giving her a confused look and raising a brow, you turn to where she was looking and almost instantly the smile you wore faded. Your arm slipped from hers as you held eye contact with your ex, your eyes ringing as heat flushed your face.

She mumbled something to you, along the lines of, “Are you okay? Do you want me to stay?”

You’re broken out of your trance as you turn to face her, a tight lipped smile on your face. “No, it’s okay. You go on, I’ll catch up,” 

She nodded, giving Jack a suspicious look before walking away. 

You were left to stand alone, with the exception of the broken looking boy in front of you. Shifting awkwardly, you hesitantly meet his eye. “You’re home,” you state, chewing on your bottom lip as you play with your fingers. 

“Yeah,” Jack says quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You never called me back.”

It was a bad thing to say as Jack had also failed to call you back on multiple occasions, but his heart had more control over his mouth than his head did. 

You break eye contact and look down at the broken sidewalk below you. “I know,” the silence returned for a second or two as you tried to think of what to say. It had been weeks since you last saw him, since you last talked to him, yet you couldn’t think of a thing to say to keep the conversation going without turning it into an argument. Observing his appearance, you force out a smile as you say, “You cut your hair.”

“Y/n,” he pleaded and you once again looked away, feeling your face heat up for the second time as you blinked away the tears that were beginning to form. While you couldn’t look at him, Jack couldn’t take his eyes off you. “Why won’t you look at me?” 

He hated how he sounded so desperate, but he didn’t know how else to act. 

You shake your head but look up at him anyway, shrugging as you ask, “What do you want me to say, Jack?” You ask and watch as his face falls and his own eyes become glossy. “You were gone and you…..you shut me out. I tried everything to get you to talk to me, to text me, to acknowledge that while you were out there living your new life, I was still here. You forgot about me.”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head and stepping closer to you. “No, I thought about you every day I was gone. I fuck-”

He cut himself off as he ran his tongue over his teeth, his disappointment in himself growing as the conversation went on. This was not how he wanted things to go at all. 

“I fucked up, okay? I know that. There’s nothing I can say that would excuse what I did, but I’m sorry for everything. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do,” he paused, glancing back up at you with the saddest look you had ever seen on him. “I love you, and I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise.”

You give him a weak shrug, desperately trying to hold off on crying in public. “Sorry I wasn’t worth it,”

His hand grabbed your wrist without him even meaning to, stepping closer to you as if to hide your body behind his from the prying eyes of the world around you. “Don’t say that, baby, please,” he quietly begged, trying to ignore the way his heart leaped when you placed your hands on his forearm. “You’re everything to me. I’m the one who isn’t worth it.”

Your teary gaze met his and you had no control over the way your bottom lip quivered. “I can’t go through that again,” 

Your words were hardly audible, but Jack heard you clear as day. His other hand came up to caress the side of your face as his guilty eyes stared into yours. “I’m so sorry,” 

A few seconds pass with you staring up at him, and he knew you were trying to see if he was lying or being untruthful at all. It was the way you protected yourself before letting someone in. It reminded him of the early days of your relationship, back when you were cautious about allowing an actor to own your heart. 

“Please,” he mumbled and you hesitantly placed your hands on his shoulders, trying to ignore how protected you felt as his figure towered over you. Without saying a thing, you tug on him and wrap your arms around his neck. Jack let out a quiet, dry sob as he tucked his face away in the space between your neck and shoulder. “Take me back.”

Your fingers played with the ends of his short hair, hiding your face away so your tears dampened his shirt. “Please,” you begged when he placed small kisses against the skin of your neck. “It can’t be like last time.”

Jack quickly pulled away from you and kissed you, his thumbs reaching up to wipe away your tears as he did so. “I promise,” he murmured when he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Wherever I go, I’m taking you with me.”

You rolled your eyes, not believing him until you pulled away a bit to see the truthfulness in his eyes. “What?” 

“That or I’ll just stay home,” the words flowed easily out of his mouth.

“You’re not serious,” you trail off, holding eye contact with him. “You’re serious?”

“I love you,”

You don’t say anything as his words, the ones you craved to hear for weeks, sunk into you. Reaching up, you press a chaste kiss to his mouth before holding him close to you once again, melting into the way his arms wrapped tightly around your middle.

[hispg]

Safe haven

Pairings: Leon x Reader

Wc:4.0k

Summary: How Leon deals with his ptsd over the years.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, depressive thoughts, suicidal intent, Leon hating himself.

An: This one follows the cannon order, so it starts with r2 Leon, r4, r6, vendetta, ends with Death Island.

Denial

Since Leon returned from Raccoon City, nothing has been the same. You've seen the man you knew die day after day, his personality changing like water to wine. And he knew it, he knew it better than anyone.

You still remember perfectly when he arrived, covered in blood, with a bandage on his arm, a face with the most terrified expression you could imagine.

The horrors he had witnessed in that place were simply out of this world. What should have been a simple first day at work turned into a living hell. There were things he wouldn't erase from his memory, the way he had to kill all his co-workers, the way he saw everyone around him die. He felt bad, guilty, even though he had no control over it.

It was a lot for one person, a lot for him to process.

A night that would mark him for the rest of his life.

In order not to involve you too much in the subject, he never went into too much detail, just briefly saying something or other. But you could imagine, the way his fear was clear on his face, his lips trembling every time he tried to talk to you about what had happened.

You saw the way he woke up every night, covered in a layer of sweat, whimpering and almost screaming in his room. He never slept properly, always woke up in a state of sheer panic, and it only got worse as time went on. It wasn't something he could control, not even he himself could believe that he had come out of that nightmare alive.

And he often wished he hadn't.

All he forced himself to believe was that it would be something momentary, an event that he would forget or at least get better with the passage of time.

But it didn't.

He beat himself up every day, unable to forget a single second of that night. He could have helped more, he could have done more, maybe he could have saved more people.

Deep down, he knew it was impossible. A simple situation where a hundred were sacrificed to save one.

There were days when he couldn't even leave the house, and he also begged you to stay with him. A panic attack that haunted him almost daily, he needed you to be there. At least he knew you would be safe by his side, and he needed you, as if you were the air he breathed.

All this was due to the fact that he couldn't cope on his own, if you didn't sleep next to him every night, he wouldn't even try to close his eyes. Because he knew he wouldn't be able to doze off for a single moment, not that he'd ever get a good night's sleep.

He often refused, refused to believe that it was real, refused to believe that it had ever happened. But every time he closed his eyes and heard the screams of agony echoing in his head, he remembered the painful reality.

It was almost customary for him to try to recover from everything he had experienced, to lift his face, wipe away the tears and force an expression from someone who was fine.

But you and he knew it was just a lie.

Everything took a turn for the worse when he was interrogated and basically forced to work for the government. It was a 'deal', he would work for the government in exchange for the little girl safety, a little girl called Sherry, who he found and saved in the middle of the chaos that night.

Although he didn't want to, he didn't think it was fair to let a girl as young as her suffer in a laboratory, maybe it was crazy to compromise his life for someone he barely knew. But that was him, the guy who put others before himself. So he accepted the 'agreement'.

He just wanted to be someone normal, to forget about that damn trauma, to forget about the pain of that night and to put all those events behind him.

But he couldn't, and maybe he wasn't ready for that fact.

The Leon of before no longer existed, maybe a small sketch left, but he would never be able to get back on his feet and be like before.

Never.

Anger

Leon's life began to turn upside down even more, after the hell that happened in Raccoon City, he was forced to go to military training, supposedly to serve the government. Even years after what happened, the night was still incredibly vivid in his mind. Every detail was stagnant in his memory, a mark he couldn't remove.

All he felt now was anger, all hidden in that sullen face that had become his usual expression. He hid behind it, hoping you wouldn't notice how cold and indifferent he was becoming. It was the only way to protect himself that he found.

And he hated that things were this way.

What he didn't expect was that he would become an agent working for the President. Everything that had already happened to him was enough, and he still seemed to be getting worse and worse.

Like a bottomless pit, he just fell lower and lower.

At this point he no longer cared about much, he was becoming more and more stressed with work and that damn training.

You lost count of how many times he came home scratched, bruised, with some part of his body purple. One time he even arrived with a broken rib, and he didn't even try to explain to you what had happened.

He just did his bandages silently, with your help. And he didn't even say a single word about it, and you worried like crazy. You didn't even know if he would arrive in one piece the next day.

It wasn't difficult to assimilate all the abuse he was suffering in that place, you had already heard a few times the way some of his training partners spoke to him on the phone. They weren't friendly at all.

All he did was hide what he felt with that sulky face, more and more you saw him becoming closed off. It was rare that he talked about his training, or his day.

Even he had become increasingly discreet about his nightmares, or even his anxiety attacks. He always thought he could handle it on his own, it was his problem. That he had learned to cope, or at least he thought he had.

Because it was the same story as always. Just a man doing what he hated, reliving the past and charting a hateful future.

And that couldn't be avoided.

And well, nothing got better when he was called to a mission in Spain, looking for the President's daughter. He didn't feel excited about the situation at all, he didn't even want to go. However, there wasn't much of an option.

He tried to warn you, in fact he didn't warn you, he just said he was going to Spain, just like that.

It wasn't hard to imagine that this caused a small fight between you, since he could at least tell you what it was about. But he didn't say.

"Don't pressure me, don't even try to look into things that's not your business." Leon hisses at you, turning his back and leaving you behind with tears in your eyes. All you heard after was the door slamming, and he disappeared for a few days.

Surely he knew the shit he had done, and every moment that passed he felt his heart tighten. His anxiety reaching its worst peaks. As he began to understand what was happening in that old village, he felt terror wash over him once again. The fear of not being able to return terrified him, he doesn't even know how he managed to stay upright in the face of all that.

He felt trapped in a nightmare again.

Another hell, he didn't even know that he would go through a situation similar to Raccoon City again, but to his displeasure it happened. Once again he doesn't know how he came out alive, he was terrified of witnessing death several times in a row. The only thing he thought about was going home, he needed a place to call home. And he needed you, in a way he couldn't put into words. So many words he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do, especially seeing more people around him die. After having done everything he did to survive.

He needed someone.

Everything he had planned to tell you went down the drain as soon as he got home, the first thing he saw was you lying on the sofa, wearing one of his shirts.

It didn't take long for him to take off his boots, and walk towards you, he was shabby, a complete mess. It was no surprise.

He gently gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek, so as not to wake you, and sat down on the floor next to you. He intended to spend the night there, as he certainly wouldn't be able to sleep no matter how hard he tried.

With his fists clenched, his face set, a strange feeling running through his body. Once again he felt like it was a tantrum, but it wasn't.

A single tear wet his cheeks, followed by several others.

And then he realized, the reality of the facts caught up with him.

And the terrifying feeling returned.

Understanding

A few more painful years passed, and it was indeed optimistic to say that things had improved. It was as if everything was exhausting, he couldn't have fun with the things he liked.

As if his life was in a loop where he couldn't stop, he couldn't get out of it. It just kept going again and again, it shouldn't be like this.

But was.

It wasn't hard to notice how grumpy he had become. He was no longer someone of many words, and now he was even more closed off. If it was possible.

The grown beard that only showed how disinterested he was in his own appearance. He was at a point where he barely looked at himself in the mirror, his dark blond strands falling down his face. And he didn't even bother to trim his hair and leave it the way he liked it.

He didn't even look in the mirror, he hated every time he saw his own reflection. He learned to hate every one of his scars, every mark that remained from his missions, he hated with all of his heart. It was an otherworldly aversion, he shouldn't feel this way about himself, but that didn't matter. Not now.

He learned to hate himself.

He hated the way that even after all these years his traumas still haunted him, the way he still had those terrible nightmares. He hated the way he treated you, so cold and distant.

So different from what he once was.

Since it all started in Raccoon City, he always knew that the part of the soul he lost there he would never recover. But he didn't imagine things would be this bad.

It was as if no moment was good, as if everything revolved around his work and the problems that came with it. He became such a focused person that he would sometimes go days without showering, with his hair all messy and his face completely tired. From someone who hadn't had rest in days. And that person was exactly him.

He would often make minimal effort to talk to you, try to start a conversation and tell you how his day was going. But who said he could? The poor man got so used to keeping things to himself that sharing it was complicated.

The words tumbled in his mouth, he couldn't form a sentence that made any sense and didn't sound desperate. But he failed as soon as he said the first word, and just ended up changing the subject.

Therefore, he learned that nothing would be the same as before, even after all these years in which he hoped that things would change, for the better. But to his chagrin this didn't happen, and everything went downhill.

He tried his best to come to terms with all of this, since he was already someone who had seen a lot, and had already done a lot as well. But that didn't stop him from feeling bad, from feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

And it wasn't?

At that point he ignored what he felt, if he was called to a mission he would simply go, even though he was extremely upset about the matter. Because in those moments he realized that he was just an object of the government.

A powerful weapon that was capable of stopping the crap that happened here or there, and that was it. Just it.

Nothing more than a weapon.

What else could he expect? The turn things took only made the government's intentions clear, and he didn't approve at all. He was always against it, but who said he was listened to?

He had already accepted this, a cruel fate from which he had little option of escaping. He had already dealt with it.

He forced himself to believe those words.

All he could do was hate himself more and more, every time he came home tired and saw you, his heart broke.

How did he still have you by his side? How the hell was such a sweet person still willing to stay by his side. It wasn't fair.

He deserved to be alone.

Day after day he found himself looking for things to get rid of the bitterness that his life had become, what he found was drinking.

One of the few things that let him breathe, even if just for a few hours. It started slowly, but he needed to increase it.

It was an obligation, it was either that or get home and feel like the worst person in the world. This addiction started slowly, in a subtle way.

However, it then got out of control, and once again he found himself in his worst state.

"There's no turning back.." A whisper coming from him, drunk and completely out of his mind.

His life was a dead end, and he had no hope that it would get better.

Another day of remorse, another day living in his shoes.

Depression

The only consolation he found now was drinking, at least it helped the pain go away for a moment. Even though at some point he had to increase the doses more and more, he needed it to take effect.

If at any point he had tried to have some closeness with you back, that had ended in the last few months. He couldn't even take care of himself, let alone take care of you.

He was a different man, and not in a good way.

At that point he already accepted that he had lost himself, that he no longer had salvation, his mind was torturing him.

It was suffering just to be alive.

The fact that he always lost people around him, that he had to kill his own team because he wasn't able to save them. How the hell was he supposed to survive with this? How could he say everything was fine?

Everything around him was dying, like he had a curse around him or something. Not even he wanted to understand this. The weight of the years he lived in this torture was catching up to him.

And nothing could be done, once again.

The nightmares, the weight on his conscience, the memory of each of the missions. It was an unhealthy cycle he was trapped in.

Certainly an addiction wouldn't solve the situation, but what would? Pay nicely as always? Hold his head up and follow orders like a puppy?

"Piece of shit." That's what he mutters when he sees himself in the reflection of his cell phone, disappointed with the way everything is happening. How he was dealing with all of this. His appearance was different, hair more swept to the side, a longer beard. Clothes that not even he knew he would wear at some point.

But what would be the other way? How?

Disappointment, anger, depression, all mixed up in his head. He didn't know what he should do with these bottled up feelings that were haunting him day after day.

All the missions, all the people he lost, everything he experienced. How could someone go through so much like that?

How could he have gone through this and still somehow moved on?

This time he didn't even bother trying to hide from you the displeasure he had created for life, he rarely spent time at home, and when he did it was all day grumbling or drinking.

A great guilt invaded him when you cried because nothing you tried to do seemed to help, but this wasn't about you.

It was about him.

His mood only worsened when Chris called him to another mission, actually it wasn't really a call, more like a statement that he was going to another mission.

This was his life for the last few years, mission after mission, without even a moment for himself, not that he was going to do anything other than drink in the meantime.

What could have happened special this time? Another mission where he comes close to death several times, where he simply doesn't know if he'll return home in one piece. And he could swear he didn't care about it or not.

At least he thought so.

But perhaps the fact of working with people close to him this time made him see that things could be worth it again. Although it wasn't the friendliest place to think this, he couldn't deny that it gave him some comfort since he worked with people he knew, especially Chris, who was one of the few people he liked at work. Despite grumbling a lot.

He appreciated the fact that things ended well this time, for the first time in a long time.

There was still a little light in the good things, in the little daily things. Sometimes things didn't always have a bad ending.

The people around him wouldn't always fade away or betray him, that wouldn't always be the course of things.

Maybe now he was ready to start improving a little, maybe yes, maybe no. He would only know if he tried.

Once the madness of the mission was over, all he could think about was you, he could only think about seeing you one more time after everything that had happened. It was a desire so big that it couldn't fit in his chest.

You can bet he was counting the minutes until he got home, he needed to feel your presence again. He needed to know that he had people who were there for him.

He needed your comfort, your reassurance.

Once he got home the first thing he did was look for you, it was more than a desire, it was a need.

Without you even realizing it, you see him leaning against the kitchen counter, with an almost unremarkable smile. You even surprise yourself, since it had been a good few months since you had seen even a trace of a happy expression on his face.

"I'm back.." He says in a whisper, looking at you gently for the first time in a while.

You look at him a little hesitantly, wanting to give him a hug, not knowing if he wanted that or not.

A simple gesture but one that made your day, he opened his arms to you, waiting for you to do what you wanted.

Without a shadow of a doubt he needed this as much as you did.

Maybe there's still a way out. Maybe there is still a way.

Acceptance

Leon was trying, he was trying his best to be a better man. You could tell that, the way he was cutting back on alcohol, the way he was trying to be more attentive to you.

These little things indicated an effort on his part, he didn't want to hate himself anymore, he didn't want to feel so indifferent anymore. Maybe it was time for a change, he didn't need to be like this anymore.

He had people he could count on, and after all, he had you. That even after his coldness in recent years, you never left him, it was time to reciprocate.

And of course there were things he couldn't let go of so easily, especially his problems with trauma, and he already knew that it was a weight he would carry for the rest of his life.

He would never forget.

But he was also trying to learn not to be like that anymore, things could still have a good side. He could still have hope, even if it was a mere drop. Life had been hard on him from the beginning, but he needed to find some motivation. He couldn't live regretting forever, putting himself down every time.

It was time to rise again, time to pick up the pieces and rebuild. Little by little, and of course he would never be the same as before. But he could be a better person, and he would do everything he could to make that happen. You could notice this drastic change even more, since he came back from the last mission, he was different. So proof is that, as soon as he got home he hugged you, and spent a good ten minutes like that.

Probably feeling overwhelmed with yet another mission, duties that seemed to never end. But he wouldn't think about that now.

He wanted to try to be happy. At least one attempt.

Small efforts, for example trying to open up to you, saying few things, but it was a great start. He knew that if he continued like this he would be able to share his problems with you, it certainly wouldn't weigh so much on him if he could share them with you.

His mind was still a mess, but he was trying to organize himself, put his thoughts in order. It was a long and difficult road, but he wanted to bet that he would make it.

It was the glimmer of hope he had.

Leon now went out with you, took you for rides on his motorbike. He begins to realize that life could go beyond work, that not everything needs to be so bad.

You could see him smiling more, he had even gone back to making those corny jokes that never failed to make you laugh. Most importantly, he seemed content, sometimes even at peace with himself.

The desire he had to disappear, little by little was fading, and he began to gain a little more zest for life. Things wouldn't always go wrong, and he could relax a little, even try to let his guard down whenever possible.

Even once you caught him laughing like a fool on his cell phone, only to see him having fun watching a video of a dog, which in his eyes was incredibly funny.

Seeing this, you decide to give him a pet on his birthday. And you almost cried once you saw the joy in his eyes, that sparkle in his eyes that you missed so much.

"I love you." A shy and low voice, accompanied by the most beautiful smile you've ever seen. How long has it been since you last heard this? The sweet way the phrase slid across his lips. A moment so subtle but so sweet, and one that you hoped would be repeated more and more.

Life was worth it, he would make it worth it again.

[writerbri]

marked me like a bloodstain bucktommy // mob/mafia au // teen // 1913

Prompt for @badthingshappenbingo: Rope Burns

❁❁❁❁❁❁

Being kidnapped is nothing like the movies.

There is no smug, taunting villain revealing all of their masterful plans or menacing henchmen looming over him threateningly.

There’s just Buck, alone and bound with tight rope around his wrists and ankles. He woke up to darkness in a too small space, a pulsing ache in his head and his fear rapidly building. He can’t remember anything past lunch with Maddie, and there’s no telling how long ago that must have been. He had plans for the rest of the day. He was supposed to stop by his favorite farmer’s market to visit all of his favorite stalls and maybe a few new ones. He planned to find all the ingredients he needed for dinner, and maybe pick up some of Tommy’s favorite fudge along the way.

Tommy.

Tears sting at his eyes, slipped down his cheeks and soaking into the gag tied tight around his head.

There’s no doubt that he must be losing his mind. He’d never admit to it, but Buck knows well enough that this exact scenario is among his greatest fears. He feels so foolish now, refusing Tommy’s many offers of protection. Insisting that he could protect himself just fine. It’s a horrible way to learn how wrong he was, and it’s all he can do not to lose himself to the panic clawing at every inch of him. Tugging uselessly at the rope, Buck ignores the pain as it digs into the delicate skin of his wrists, kicking out with his bound feet.

No one comes.

Whoever took him clearly doesn’t care how much noise he makes, and that’s all the more terrifying. If they aren’t worried, it must mean there’s no one else around to hear him. The realization drains the fight right out of him, and he’s left breathing hard and falling apart in the dark, silent aftermath. A dozen possibilities fill his mind for what may happen to him next, each worse than the one before.

He isn’t supposed to be here.

This isn’t even his life. Not really.

His captors have to know that. They must believe that he doesn’t have any useful information, if they aren’t trying to drag anything out of him. He’s heard it all before, from the people who look at him and see nothing but a pretty piece of ass. It never bothers him, simply because he knows better. Tommy erases all doubts before they can take root, murmuring assurances in public and worshipping him in private.

There’s no doubt in his mind that Tommy will try to find him. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t.

Maybe he just won’t make it in time.

It’s a different brand of torture, being trapped in the darkness as time ticks by. Every time he thinks he hears voices or movement, it’s impossible to know whether it’s real or a trick of his desperate minds. Nothing changes, no matter what he does. He screams into the gag until his throat burns and his head feels like it may split open completely.

It does nothing but tire him out.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, only that he wakes to the sound of heavy footsteps. Buck is helpless to listen, and he flinches away when the door is wrenched open. A broad-shouldered man steps into view in a shadowed hallway, hiding anything beyond the tiny space of the closet as he squats down in front of him. There’s a ski mask covering his face, leaving only a pair of cool grey eyes and thin lips visible. He even wears gloves on his hands, leather and black and cold as one hand grips his chin tightly, forcing his head up.

“Smile pretty for your boyfriend,” the man says, his voice deep and mocking as he holds up a phone in his other hand.

Buck tries to pull away, but the hand only grips him tighter as his abductor snaps a series of pictures. He can only imagine how terrible he must look, and the reality of the situation becomes all the more clear. They’re undoubtedly sending signs of life to Tommy, dangling the fact that he’s still alive, because they want something in return. Whether it’s money or something more, it doesn’t really matter. Buck silently hopes that Tommy gives them nothing, even if it means he dies. He has a reputation, and Buck would never forgive himself if Tommy sacrifices that just to save him.

“Good boy.”

The man looks up at him with a smirk, releasing his chin only to ruffle his hair. Buck curses in return, his words muffled by the gag but easy enough to decipher. He’s far from surprised by the blow that knocks him back against the wall. Darkness swallows him up again with a slam of the closet door, and he’s left reeling and blinking through the tears that spring to his eyes with the new pain where the man punched him in the cheek. He’ll be lucky if it’s not broken, not that it’ll matter if this ends the way he suspects it will. The way it has to end.

Don’t do it, he pleads with Tommy, even though he can’t hear him. Don’t you dare give them what they want.

It’s a thought that lingers, and a prayer that goes unheard.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

Time passes, and passes, and passes. Every inch of him hurts from sitting in one position for too long, and his stomach aches with hunger. There’s no sign of anyone else, and he wonders if he’ll die right here, forgotten and starving.

He thinks of Maddie, who doesn’t deserve to lose another of her brothers. He thinks of Jee-Yun, who won’t have any concrete memories of him. He thinks of Bobby, who already buried too many members of his family, and who won’t even have a body to bury this time. He thinks of Athena and May and Harry, who accepted him as Bobby’s shadow all those years ago, and who claim him as family without hesitation.

He thinks of Tommy, who somehow managed to hold onto that big heart of his despite the business he was born into. He wonders if this might just change that, and he tries desperately to believe that it won’t.

Buck is so busy thinking that he misses it at first. The distant chaos. The shouting and the gunshots and door after door crashing open. He lifts his head wearily, almost certain that it must be a trick of a mind that is slipping away. He thinks that he hears his name, but it’s impossible to tell. He’s too tired, and too weak, and too hopeless. He’s all but resigned himself to dying in this endless darkness, and it’s nothing less than a miracle when the door flies open and light washes over him once more. He squeezes his eyes shut as his head throbs viciously after hours on end trapped in the closet.

“Jesus,” a familiar voice rings out, and he can’t possibly convince himself that’s it’s real.

Except there are hands on his face, gentle and callus and oh-so-familiar. He smells cologne that he himself bought, and he silently begs whoever might be listening that this isn’t a trick. The gag is the first thing to go, and he works his jaw against the tight ache as fingers carefully tip his head to the side. Buck can only imagine what he must look like, and he can practically feel the fury that builds with every passing second.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“T’mmy?”

Reality seeps in slowly, and he tips forward to bury his face in a shoulder he recognizes all too easily.

“I’m here, Evan,” he says, his voice tight and restrained. “I got you.”

As if it’s all he needed to hear, to know that he is safe now, his body seems to give up on keeping him conscious and he sinks into a much different, more welcoming kind of darkness.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

The mirror never fails to reveal an unforgiving truth. Buck can only stare at himself as he stands in the harsh light of the bathroom, with nothing but a towel slung around his waist. He takes in the dark bruise on his thankfully unbroken cheek and the shadows that linger in his eyes. He’s back home now, surrounded by all that’s familiar, and there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s lucky to be alive. He’s lucky that Ravi was able to track the pictures they sent, even through the encrypted email. He’s lucky that he was close enough for Tommy and the others to get to him in time.

He’s lucky that the damage isn’t worse.

His eyes drop to the bandages on his wrists, where the ropes left deep burns and cuts, and he wonders if they’ll leave scars. He hopes that won’t happen. This day will haunt them long enough without a physical reminder. Lifting his eyes again, he grows still at the sight of Tommy over his shoulder, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. Buck knows he’s been in there too long, when he was just meant to be washing up. It’s no surprise to him that Tommy sought him out. His face is stone-like, giving away nothing of his thoughts.

That’s not much of a surprise either.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice a hoarse wreck.

 “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Tommy responds.

Buck drops his eyes to the counter, where a pile of soft clothes waits for him. He reaches out and brushes his thumb over the collar of the shirt, realizing that he pulled it from Tommy’s side of the closet without really thinking.

“You warned me that this could happen,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “I didn’t listen.”

“It never would have happened if it wasn’t for me. If you weren’t with me.”

Buck’s eyes snap up to the mirror again, his heart skipping a beat in his chest as his blood runs cold.

“I’m not leaving,” he says quickly, his eyes wide. “You-you can’t–you can’t.”

Panic claws at his chest, soothed only when Tommy closes the distance between them in several long strides. His touch is gentle as he turns Buck away from the mirror, pressing him back against the counter once they’re face to face. The lines on his face seem deeper somehow, as if he grieved a hundred years in a day.

“I should. If I were a stronger man, I would. But you’re right, I can’t. I can’t even think about it because I can’t breathe if I do,” Tommy says, his voice cracked and hurting as his eyes shine with unshed tears. “I couldn’t breathe, Evan. Every fucking second that passed and you weren’t here. And then I got those pictures, and I wanted to tear apart the entire goddamn world. Do you hear me? I would have destroyed everything to find you.”

Buck reaches up, cupping his face in his hands and nodding his head. He feels it too. That cord that’s wrapped around his heart, irrevocably tying him to this man.

“I know, baby. I know.”

Tommy clings to him, drawing him into a fierce kiss. It’s almost bruising in its intensity, and Buck responds every bit as desperately. It doesn’t matter that he aches, or that he’s tired, or that it’s been a long fucking day.

He’s alive, and he’s back with the man he loves.

That’s all that matters.

[nanaminsmoon]

Could we maybe get a p2 to ‘no good’? Where we lowkey regret what happened at the party & have a stronger resolve and Connie has to grovel for forgiveness and change his ways,, after they make up, while Connie’s in it he’s upset cus how could we keep the pussy away from him for so long 🤭

so...i was never gonna go a pt.2 to this but i'm so glad you asked for this because i kinda like it more than pt.1. but~~~i hope you like it👀

pt1<33

cw: connie is real romantic in this one so there's not much to say, public fingering+dry humping, implied oral (f receiving), n word usage, connie calls reader; 'ma', and 'hermosa'(gorgeous), 'rapido' (faster/hurry up), it's weirdly kinda sad at the end lol.

wc: 3894

small jolts of pain sprung through your body, as pupils pushed at the salacious marks on your thighs, making the walk away from the bathroom a shameful one. well, that and the nut slipping out of you. both those things did nothing for the vomit inducing guilt twisting around in your stomach, permeating your stomach lining to laden your every step. you wished you had stood your ground a little more, but you gave in to connie because it was what your heart wanted. fucking him wasn’t where your regrets lay, it was with the fact that you had been a recovering addict, once again encountering the thing you were trying so hard to heal from. now, all you could was leave, and hope you’d never see connie ever again. even if it meant really cutting everyone off this time. mikasa included.

”hey girl, imma go now. but thanks for having me—”, you pulled her outside to announce your departure. and mikasa just cut you off, a dramatic frown on her face.

”y/n, you can’t go now. the party hasn’t even started yet”, her hand delicately gripped onto your wrist, trying to pull you back into the house, but your feet remained firmly placed underneath you. and she turned to see why you weren’t moving.

”i know, but i just…”, you sighed out, ”i really can’t be here if connie is here too. i just can’t.”, you shook your head, and mikasa nodded in understanding. despite not inviting him, she wasn’t surprised connie was here, but she hated that it meant you had go so soon.

”but…just five more minutes”, her hands clasped together in desperation, but your decision had long been made and there would be no changing it.

”i’d love to, but if he’s here for those five minutes then i can’t be”, was all you said to mikasa, before you turned to go find your uber home.

the few weeks after the connie-bathroom incident were, fortunately, very quiet. you didn’t see him, or any of his friends, once. and your life started to feel the same way it did before you had met him. even if any man who tried to approached you was compared to him; from dress sense, to height, to build, down to the way he spoke to you. connie was like a viral rash that refused to go away; one that implored for attention, but you knew that scratching it again would only make you break out in hives. so ignored were the thoughts that randomly popped into your mind, telling you to unblock him and ask him if he really meant those words; ’how could i not love you?’, or if they were just some ploy to lure you back into his life again. only for him to go back to his old ways, and hurt you all over again. because you were sure that’s how things would play out.

however, unbeknownst to you, connie had changed. every girl that wasn’t you, a relative, or close friend, had been deleted from his phone; instagram dms, numbers, dating apps. all of it had been erased, and a picture of you asleep in his bed had been made his lockscreen. ymir told him to manifest you back in his life, telling him: ”if you act like she’s your girlfriend, then she will be”. and, as dumb as that sounded at first, he was really clutching at straws. he just needed you, and only you, back in his life. this transformation hadn’t been a voluntary one, more so the product of a torturous snowball effect, caused by an avalanche of everything he had ever known about himself, burying him in everything that he now knew. it was the product of late nights of heavy balls placing him balls deep in some girl he had met on tinder; no matter what she did, no matter how deep in her throat his tip travelled, his balls would only empty at the thought of you underneath him. it was the product of seeing couples at his university campus, and being envious. envy quickly turned to fury at the realisation that he had once had a warm hand to hold, and he let it go because of self-sabotage and oblivion.

lockscreen changes and introspection could only get him so far, and they could only keep him sane for so long. connie just wanted you—a feat he knew was next to impossible because you had washed your hands of him completely. he was still blocked on everything, and he had no real way of contacting you…aside from showing up at your front door. but he wouldn’t do that because he deemed it creepy. unlike, showing up at your university, and waiting for you in his car. which he did for, like, 3 hours before he finally saw you.

”y/n!”, luckily for him, you hadn’t put your headphones on yet, so you heard him. the bad news was that, as soon as you saw who was calling for you, you automatically switched directions and speed walked the other way. that wouldn’t deter connie though, knowing something like this would happen, he just started driving towards you, and just drove besides where you were walking.

”y/n. y/n, listen to me. just give me a chance to explain myself”, his words fell on deaf ears as you just kept walking. taking your headphones out of your bag would mean stopping, and stopping meant that connie could just keep talking at you. so you just kept walking, and hoped that the road he was driving on would have a turn.

”hello~? i know you hear me”, connie’s head was constantly switching between facing you, and the road.

”then you should realise that i’m ignoring you.”, you finally chided. a win is a win in connie’s mind so, even if you were basically telling him to leave you alone, at least you were talking to him.

”you still haven’t unblocked me”, he said, watching you instead of the road.

”why would i?”, you refused to face him, so you just kept looking at the path ahead of you.

”i miss you”, he confessed, ”like a lot. it’s killing me actually.”, if he had said this to you a few months ago, you might forgiven him and taken him back, but things had changed.

”why’s that my problem?”,

”it’s not. but, just get in the car for a second, and let’s talk”,

”we have nothing to talk about, connie”, your pace picked up, and the path you were approaching had no road beside it, so connie just parked his car, and got out. walking behind you, he spoke,

”y/n, i just need one more chance. i meant every single word i said at mikasa’s”, your ears perked up, and so did those of the other students walking around you, ”i do love you. i do want to be better this time round, and i want to give you everything you deserve plus loads of other shit on top of that—”, connie’s spiel was cut short by you **turning around. causing him to stop dead in his tracks as you slowly walked over to him,

”you can’t park there, they’ll give you a ticket.”, you pointed behind him, and as he turned to see, you began to walk away. connie reached out to grab your arm, pulling you back to him.

”fuck the ticket. go out with me. tomorrow. i’ll plan everything, just wear something cute and show up. that’s all i ask of you. if you hate it, then we’ll never speak again”, you dropped your gaze to your hand, firmly clasped in both of his, before looking back up at connie’s face.

”we’re not meant to be speaking right now”,

”but we are.”, he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles, ”that’s gotta mean something, right?”, your face was blank. but your true feelings were exposed when you yanked your hand from him.

”no.”, connie’s shock was written in his eyes, and it stayed there as you continued, ”i meant what i said too; we’re done. as in, finished. don’t come back here, connie”, were your last words to connie before you walked away from him. and he just stood there, watching you leave; the heaviness of his heart causing it to drop to his shoes, so he couldn’t even run after you.

it would take a while for that weight to lift, so connie just sat in that rejection for a few months. but, sick of seeing his friend constantly moping around over a girl he fucked over, ony was the one who suggested connie to try getting back with you again. he assumed that showing up somewhere like your uni, or house, was a terrible idea so he just told connie to send some flowers to your place.

”the fuck’s that gonna do?”, connie remarked in confusion.

”nigga, you put a note in the flowers.”, ony nudged him, “and be nice because you’ll probably only get one chance before she catches on it’s you and starts throwing them out without even reading the note on it”, ony had advised. so that’s what connie did, he bought you your favourite flowers, sent them to your place, and just waited.

you got them two days after he sent them, and you could already guess who they were from. but the note confirmed it, reading:

”i’m so sorry for everything. y/n, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and you deserved better than what i gave you. you don’t have to love me again, you don’t have to trust me again, you don’t even have to commit to me again. let’s just go on a date. or whatever you’d like. let’s spend some time together. if you’re down, meet me outside your apartment building at 4 tomorrow. wear something fancy<3 - c”

you mulled it over for a few seconds before walking over to your wardrobe to find something to wear. you didn’t know how the night would end, but you wanted him to spend it realising what he had lost. so you wore a dress that represented that.

connie knew he was taking a risk that could potentially make him more depressed than he was before, but that didn’t stop him from getting dressed and driving to your place. fingers moving anxiously on his steering wheel were calmed into stillness when connie saw you stood outside your apartment complex, dress blowing in the wind, as you swayed slightly looking around. it was your turn to be nervous, when you looked up to see his car. he pulled up right in front of you before getting out of the car to walk to the side you were stood at, to open your door,

”you’re beautiful, you know that?”, he gestured for you to get in the car, and his hand itched to just smack your ass. but, he was here for forgiveness, and he wouldn’t be granted it if he acted like that. so he just closed the door behind you, and walked back to the driver’s side.

”what, no compliment back? i haven’t dressed up like this in years”, connie teased, and you rolled your eyes. as much as you didn’t want to, you had to admit that connie looked really good; dressed in a black dress shirt, black dress trousers, and black dress shoes. as always, he smelled divine. but you couldn’t give in to him from the very beginning.

”you don’t look bad”, you shrugged, looking out the window. connie just laughed at you, reaching his arm across to you to flick your chin with his index finger.

“it’s been so long you can’t even compliment me right?”, he teased again, and when you moved his hand from your face, he poked your side.

”connie, stop before i make you turn this damn car around”, you threatened, but connie just let out another laugh.

”and if i don’t? then what? you’ll walk back home?”,

”if i have to, yeah”,

”okay, i’ll stop. but…it’s just ‘cause i missed you so much. i’ll chill though”, he moved his hand away from you, but he’d still be looking at you every chance he could.

”you ain’t miss me?”, he teased again, and you turned to look at him blankly before shaking your head.

the evening was nice, and the food was amazing. being in connie’s company, nothing ever felt forced, so things just progressed very smoothly. and an evening of flirtatious glances and comments, led to connie’s lips crashing into yours. with your back against his car because he couldn’t wait until you got back to your apartment. regard for your location had been left in the restaurant as your dress shifted higher on your body at the hands of the man kissing and sucking on your neck. and, honestly, connie would’ve taken you right then and there if it wasn’t for a restaurant staff member asking you guys to refrain because of other patrons.

”sorry”, connie chuckled, hands pulling your dress down before opening your door. he apologised one more time to the guy that worked there, before rushing over to his side of the car. as soon as he got in, his lips were attached to yours again, tongue entering your mouth, as his hand rested on the side of your face.

”backseat?”, he whispered into your mouth, and you had to pull back and look at him like ’really?’.

”what?”, he chuckled.

”i thought you changed, and now you want to fuck in your backseat?”, he chuckled again, before shrugging at you, ”when i look like this?”, you motioned at your dress, and he backed off you. holding his hands up in defeat, before he just started the car,

”you’re right. what was i thinking?”, he said, and you just kissed your teeth and put your seatbelt on, ”when you look this good, i need to fuck you into a mattress, not a car seat”,

you didn’t even make it to your front door before the pink fabric covering you was moving upwards again, the newfound draft hitting the cold wet patch at the front of your underwear. connie’s hands were grabbing and kneading at whatever they could, as you fumbled to unlock your door. not only were his hands busying themselves with distracting you, but his lips were fully occupied; leaving wet kisses all over your neck and jaw. these, in tandem, made your concentration levels drop dramatically, but connie wasn’t letting up,

”connie, wait”, you breathed out, and a hum of rejection rumbled on your neck.

”rapido, hermosa, i need you”, heavy breaths rolled out of connie’s mouth, to transfigure into light whimpers as connie pushed the growing tent in his dress trousers against you. because your lower half was basically fully exposed, connie had no issue wrapping his arm around you to put his hand in your thong, and rub your clit.

”connie, let me just open the door first”, your pleas were unheard, and connie’s hands kept moving. as did his hips—desparate for more of you. he could’ve gotten more of you if he just let you unlock the door, but his mind had short-circuited the first time your lips met at the restaurant car park, and he was working off pure instinct now. hopes and prayers that your neighbours wouldn’t see this plagued the small bit of your mind that wasn’t losing it. your forehead had fallen to rest on the door in front of you, as connie’s chest was pushing you into it. one of his fingers had found your entrance, as his thumb continued its task on your clit. the same could not be said for his other arm that he had placed around your center to keep you from falling over. its task had been neglected as his hand had rose to take your tit out of your dress—squeezing at it, and pinching at your nipple. you knew better than to let this man finger you in your apartment hallway, but the sounds of him sucking on your earlobe, and kissing the space behind your ears, made it very difficult for you to care anymore. so you spread your legs further apart, and just let him do whatever he wanted with you. that built courage inside connie. the hand that was on your tit moved to undo his belt, the button to his dress trousers, before finally pulling them down to his midthigh. his dick was hard enough now for him to just fuck himself against your clothed pussy—the pool of precum collecting at the front of his boxers growing quickly. the concern that one of your neighbours might hear the low moans and groans leaving your mouths grew fainter, until it was fully replaced by connie’s words in your ears,

”i need to fuck you so bad, ma. i’m about to nut in my boxers at the thought of it”, you had no response. even if you could think one up, it would’ve been stolen from you by the intense orgasm that washed over you. connie’s followed yours, and once he removed his hands from you, his tongue was swirling around his fingers.

the taste of you on his tongue drove connie wild. so, as soon as you made it into your bedroom, he was stripping you of your dress, and laying you on you back, as he ate you out like doing so would save him from eternal hellfire. obviously, you came not too long after he started, and when he came up from in between your legs, he had the biggest grin on his face. he quickly stripped himself of all his clothes, and within seconds he was knelt between your legs, stroking himself. his eyes were transfixed—like, if this man had a tail, he would’ve flown away with how hard it would’ve been wagging.

”how’re you more beautiful than i remember?”, his quiet words of admiration fell onto you, and you shrugged up at him, obviously shy.

”why so quiet? you’ve never been one to be shy with me, talk to me”, he had one hand on either side of your head as he placed light pecks on your lips, waiting for them to part so something could come out of them.

”’s just been a while”, you kept pecking his lips, and he pulled back.

”too long, ma. it’s been too long.”, he placed one final kiss on your lips, before positioning himself at your leaking hole. unlike that night at mikasa’s, connie was gentle with you because, as corny as it sounded to his own ears, he didn’t want to fuck you—he wanted to make love to you. meaning he couldn’t rush it; he would push himself into you very slowly, allowing you to adjust to him, and the way that one vein sent tingles down your spine.

he was slow with you, but he still managed to hit every spot needed to make your eyes roll into the back of their sockets. perhaps due to your history together (or the fact that this man is a slut™), connie knew what your body would react to too well. and, as a result, all it took was both of your legs over his shoulders, and a few wet kisses on your neck, for your swollen lips to produce a sweet cacophony. wherein, in between elongated mewls of his name, connie could hear a word very similar to ’love’, and that alone was enough for him to never want to look at anyone that wasn’t you ever again. regardless of gender. and, coming down from your high, you could feel that connie hadn’t cum yet—probably because he always put your pleasure first. but, you could also feel him holding back. which was very unlike him. you knew you would need to push him a little, so that’s exactly what you did,

”if-f this your pussy n-now, show m-me why”, connie froze for a second, then his body moved on its own. for the first time that night, you were presented with the connie springer you had always known. romanticism was thrown out of the window for a moment as he pushed your legs against your chest, moaning loudly at how good you felt,

”don’t know how i went so long without this, hermosa, i’m losing it right now”, even if you wanted to reply, you couldn’t because he was fucking the wind out of your lungs.

”why’d you keep doing this to me, ma?”, he said, referring to you keeping heaven on earth away from him.

”y-you d-do it to yourself-f”, your hands reached to dig into connie’s forearms; your hands were the only things that could help you, because you had been fucked void of coherent speech, and your eyes were barely focusing with how much they were rolling. you could feel yourself about to cum again, and so could connie.

”and it ain’t gonna happen ever again. trust.”, the way you twitched around him made it hard for him to keep himself together but luckily for him, all he had to do was drop one of your legs, and wrap a hand around your throat, for you to come undone underneath him. connie had been fighting holding his nut back since the second he was fully inside you, so once your walls clamped around him, he unravelled immediately. but, as soon as he could steady himself again, connie would be moving inside of you.

your hands and eyes tangled in each other, did to connie the very things that he had been running away from for years. it tickled that one spot in his chest that he had forgotten held the ability to produce sensation. it made the ducts he had tried to close up, melt open, and connie didn’t even know they could work the way they once did until his vision grew blurry and when he blinked, a saltine droplet landed on your cheek.

”fuck”, he paused to swipe his thumb against your cheek, ”sorry ‘bout that”, he muttered, and you shook your head at him. up until this point, his sincerity had been a point of contention but, unless he was a master manipulator and award winning actor, you could finally see how losing you had affected him. you hoped it would cement his change in behaviour, but the only way to confirm that would be to walk that walk with him; hand in hand, just like you were right now.

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[pancakehauses]

Saw N2N UK tonight and it was so good and I can't stop thinking about it so here's some random thoughts.

Everyone who says the production has only gotten better from the Donmar is right. The transfer has done so much for this show. Some random changes I loved (not a complete list):

Having Gabe on the stage more in act 1 and hovering over Diana during her appointments

The start of I Miss the Mountains where Diana is watching Natalie and is so close to reaching for her but just can't do it

Diana being more overtly sexual with Dan at the start of the show as a way to show her attempting to force an emotional connection that she can feel becoming more frayed because of everything else going on. (At least that's how I interpreted it)

The new choreo in My Psychpharmacologist

The hug for the last few lines of There's a World

The delivery of Henry's last joke in light. (This is a really small change). It's just such an impactful moment for the audience cause it's like a sigh of relief to be able to laugh so heartily again after the last 30 minutes. And I just really like the way Jack and Eleanor do it now

Having Diana and Natalie both deliver their dialogue and the next few lines of the song in Wish I Were Here out to the audience from their separate levels. Good little piece of direction. Allows you to really see the parallels and how much Natalie looks and feels like a young Diana.

Not a change but I also loved being able to see the blue scrunchie's journey, which I could never see in the Donmar boots. It's so small but really adds to Natalie and Henry's act two arc.

Also, Jack's Gabe is so complex that I'm still turning over his actions and motivations in my mind and will be for some time. It's like, he loves his mother so much and only wants to help her but he also desperately wants to stay alive and near her and that can really only be achieved by hurting her. And then of course his frustration and bitterness for his father because he's refusing to acknowledge him and trying to erase him from Diana's life. His pain and anger and youth and love and desperation. There's just so much going on. I can't wait to see it again and sit closer to take it in more. I need another viewing to fully process.

And none of this even mentioned the vocals or the amazing sound, lighting, or set design. Just such an amazing production and so so worth the trip. I love this show.

[bengiyo]

Love for Love's Sake Ep 8 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

Last time, the game world began falling apart around Myungha as he refused to choose between his grandmother or Yeowoon dying. With only 15 days left, Myungha began to pull back from Yeowoon, even as he tried to bulk up his relationships with his friends. Myungha received an item to change any part of the story, but could not change himself to admit to Yeowoon directly that he loved him. Despite Yeowoon asking all the right questions directly, Myungha couldn’t say what needed to be said, and chose to break up. We left with Myungha falling into the abyss as the world unwound before him.

Did Myungha erase himself from Yeowoon’s memory? I’m glad his friendships are intact, but it seems like he’s experiencing echoes of Myungha.

Episode 8: Answers

Wait, why does the brand lady remember Tae Myungha?

Oh, this is upsetting. Only the brand lady and Yeowoon remember Myungha. Even his grandmother doesn’t remember.

He wrote “Please make Cha Yeowoon happy” and then he vanished. I get his panic now.

Wait, is Cha Yeowoon a PC now?

Wait, was the brand owner Myungha’s ex in the main world?

Oh no…. Tae Myungha went to see his mom before and she had started a new family and refused to see him.

I approve of the letterboxing to let us know we’re seeing the history from the physical world.

This is putting me in my Sea, Swallow Me and Other Stories by Craig Laurance Gidney feelings.

Wow. I have a lot of thoughts about this writer creating a story because he loved his friend he missed so much that he wanted to give him a second life in a game where you help him see that he is loved and that he can choose to live. “Write me a poem to make me happy.”

ARE THEY IN DIFFERENT REALITIES? WHAT THE HELL??

He’s going to find his favorite person!!! 😭

Oh, romance, never stop hitting me with lens flares to show that the love is bursting.

Yes, let’s continue those kissing lessons.

Whoa, he’s wearing pink now.

Okay, seeing them make out by the sea and then play in it with their friends after that reveal about Myungha just sent me over the edge.

Final Verdict: 9, Highly Recommended. This final episode went to some really dark places, but this is the kind of queer media that I secretly love the most. I’ve written about how grief is a big part of my experience before, and how much Eternal Yesterday helped me cope with feelings that had been in me for 15 years. I think there’s something beautiful in the melancholy of the writer who is grieving their friend in their work. The thing about the fact that everyone dies, is that those who loved us will remember us and they will miss us. A version of us continues to live on in them. When we lose someone tragically, there is a need to process those feelings, and I appreciate the desire of a writer to immortalize their friend in a story where they recognize and receive the love they wished for in life.

I love that there’s a component of death of the author here, where Myungha wants to know who he is and why he wrote things like this, because I wonder if the writer infused some of the writings Myungha gave in life since we recognized Myungha’s handwriting in the missions. He’s trying to give Myungha what he wrote that he wanted and what he wrote about love. I love that we don’t exactly what the creator’s relationship is with Myungha, but the gay in me calls to the gay in him and says that he loved his junior in Myungha the way Myungha maybe connected to in Yeowoon. I like to think that he wrote Cha Yeowoon based on how he saw Myungha, and a part of him wanted to see Myungha happy. Perhaps he felt he couldn’t give that to Myungha in life for various reasons.

I loved the game mechanics so much. I loved the side quests. I loved it because it didn’t work all the time. I know I link Shane Koyczan a lot when I’m being especially emo around here, but it’s like his poem Stop Signs where he’s desperate to connect with his crush and he’s trying everything he can think of to reach them. What it does force to recognize is what’s important. All the running around and trying to get all of these things is about taking care of the person he likes. Earning the money forced him to work at something without just receiving it from someone else. Getting Yeowoon friends made both of their lives better, and they found the other gays! I loved the debuff mechanic because it makes you pay attention to the world around them and approach situations with caution.

This show was beautiful. I haven’t seen an It Gets Better project that hit the right way for me in so long. I like that this show kinda snuck up on us with the darkness. There have been so many high profile celebrity deaths in Korea in the last few years, and there’s gotta be so many more of regular people that we don’t even know. I really love that this story is about loving lonely boys and asks the audience not to give up. I love the notion that loving someone else is a pathway to learning to love yourself. You can love for the sake of love itself. This show surprised the hell out of me, but this is going to be one of the shows I think sticks with me from this year.

[taemcains]

your love is sunlight — cainlane

lane helps cain wash the blood off his wings and gets a thank you in return. ao3

cw: blood mentions

🎧 julia shortreed - broken wings

Pale golden light streams into Lane's shared room, falling on the soft carpet in a mosaic mirroring the elegant swirls on the balcony door. The picture of coziness it creates, along with the spread of reference books spilled like a domino of cards around her, brings her back to high school and days spent cramming for exams with the spring sunshine in North Carolina watching over her like a guardian.

The tremors of a door slamming shut on the ground floor dispel the mirage. Lane blinks hard, bringing herself back to Rotkov's eternal winter and her task, which is considerably more crucial and much more demanding than memorizing chemistry equations.

The Book and her notebook are each balanced precariously on her knees. Reference books lay further down from her, tossed away in rising frustration. Her wrist aches and her back has been steadily cramping from her abysmal posture, but she remains hunched over, picking up her trail of thought and leaving behind unnecessary memories to continue scrawling in her notebook.

Shadows pool on the floor, chasing away the imitation of home and warmth. Lane's head whips up to face the balcony, hair lashing against her back.

White obscures gold. It flashes once, painting the room cold before swerving to the back of the estate.

Real warmth bubbles up in her chest. Cain is back from his night patrol.

Lane spent all of ten minutes in the morning trying to inconspicuously grill the squad about his whereabouts before her mind grew disgusted by her pathetic state. Cain is an immortal. Whatever stalks the forest and whoever hides in the town should be, are, terrified of him. Worrying about someone who can handle himself, when she has a plethora of problems is fatuous. She resolved to put it out of her mind and surrender to the Book instead.

An hour later, huddled under every blanket and comforter looted from her room, the upholstered chair doing little to battle the cold, she muses. Why do you become so irrational when you… have someone? Her hand is unsteady, fingers trembling from the cold, but she makes a valiant effort to jot something down.

Anna shoots her the most judgmental glance she's received in her life. ‘Why are you freezing to death near the balcony when the bed is right there?’

Lane tries to shrug but she doubts the slight movement would be visible under ten layers of wool. ‘The cold will keep my mind awake. I could get a new perspective on the Book.’

Anna almost looks offended at how little thought Lane put into lying to her. She scoffs. ‘Is that what they're calling it now?’ She scowls at a distant spot in the sky, willing the extent of her disdainful glare to reach that angel wherever he is, before turning on her heel and leaving, muttering about ‘beautiful women falling for idiot men’ and ‘why do you never learn, Anna?’

Her mind doesn't linger too long on Anna, but circles him, as always, a whirlpool of memories and longings. She tried to choke down her worry along with mouthfuls of tea earlier, but it spews up with a redoubled vengeance. No matter how many times her exasperated mind reassures her of the angel's strength and safety, her heart refuses to quiet, pacing anxiously with a thump-thump-thump echoing through her very bones.

Are you satisfied? Everyone wants to know whether I even have a heart anymore but you keep it, toss it, and catch it with the dizzying speed of your changing whims. I don't miss that. But I miss you.

Admitting that she missed him was apparently the last straw for her mind, who was jeering at this display of yearning. Lane leapt to her feet, yanked around by the strings of her rational mind that was hard at work to erase this maudlin moment from her day. She climbed into bed, pulled the required materials to herself like a shield and lost herself in the arcane, her mind alight and awake, ready to beat her heart into submission.

Now she allows herself to exhale a shameful ‘I missed you’ to the knowing shadows of her room and let relief unfurl through her bloodstream like a ribbon.

All the romance novels and movies she'd gorged herself on in her teenage years with the relished humiliation of crawling back to an unfaithful lover, had painted love in pink, soft and bloodless. But for Lane, love is a violent intrusion, spinning her mind and heart out of control. If she'd known she would feel so foolish, she would've accumulated more experience, to chart cumulative data and predict the best response in any situation. But Cain's not like anyone she's ever met. He's not like anyone at all.

Plotting Cain would be an impossible task as he shifts a little every time she sees him, a kaleidoscope that never shows the same pattern twice. But won't he let her try? To map his impossibilities across a lifetime like counting stars in the night sky, the only futile task she wants to squander away her time on with the languidness of summer days slipping away.

Contrary to his own impossibility, he seems to have her entirely mapped out, tracing the rivers of her veins with his fingertips and the ridges of her spine with his eyes. She didn't have to ask. Cain understood her, like he once promised, and her working style which he condensed aptly as ‘You wouldn't look up from the Book unless there's a second apocalypse.’ So his wings blinked at her, sending her a sign.

Was he counting on her being able to glimpse the maelstrom of riddles behind every guileless movement of his? Delivered with a susurration of his wings, an order, a request, or the gentle luring of a lover: Come find me.

His wishes are clear, but Lane hesitates, out of her own warring desires. Her heart is almost halfway out the door, straining to settle sleepily against his voice, but her feet remain planted to the floor, roots extending through wood, bypassing time and space, sprouting out of her father's office.

Wood polish. Expensive leather. An angular man leaning over her seven-year-old self. ‘Please do not bother me when I'm working, Lane. Go see to your mother.’ Which was perhaps the greatest condemnation of all, her own father who could not see her mother's umbilical cord strangling her lovingly around her neck, a tie she could never rid of even two decades later.

The memory fractures. Warmth beckons her from the fissure and she follows as if ensorcelled. The press of a thigh to her own. The specter of fingers through her hair. The fracture widens. The tickling of feathers against the small of her back. Her father's office and her younger self preserved in contrition are swallowed into the dark.

The last fragments of the memory are brushed away by an ambrette voice that lifts her and carries her back to the body of her present self, gently setting her down in reality. Tendrils of him and his essence are already curled around her, sweetpea flowers budding around her neck, watching over her when he can't.

Glimpses of him in her memories don't appease her. Lately, even his fleeting touches, light enough to absolve him of intention, do nothing to sate the hunger roiling in her. Come find me.

Guided, or rather, misguided, by the reckless abandon that entangles with desire, Lane crosses the room and doesn't let herself hesitate to wrench the door open. Her eyes hone in on the ornate door at the far end of the hallway, quiet and anodyne.

The estate is still, the history of those hallowed halls, almost a physical presence draped heavy over her shoulders, watching as Lane's hushed footsteps ghost over the floor. She knows her efforts are in vain; he must've heard the click of her door opening, but it felt sacrilegious to stomp over in an estate teeming with revenants.

She comes to a standstill outside his door, heart awake and thrashing. He could probably hear it through the wood, no barrier fortified to the aching of her heart to be a plaything in his hands again. But he waits, lets her settle on going to him or turning away.

She knocks lightly.

‘Come in.’ His voice, smooth and even, with the barest drops of an emotion she couldn't identify, sends a trickle of reassurance down her chest.

Ominous that the creaking of the door is, when Lane peers inside, gingerly stepping past the threshold like an inexperienced thief, Cain is whole and unhurt, lips curving up as salve to her twinging unease. Her heart finally rests.

As relief streams through her blood, her eyes cascade down his figure intently. Silvery fabric molds to his skin, translucent where pearls of water trickle from the damp ends of his hair. Black slacks cling enticingly to his thighs, every slight shift flaunting the statuesque lines of his body. His wings flare, serrated edges silhouetted by daylight, a personal sunset.

Her eyes widen. Cain, who was watching her riveted gaze with a touch of satisfaction pulling up the corner of his mouth, interjected smoothly. ‘It's not mine. A spawn was found close to city lines.’

‘Is that what you were busy with all morning?’ She asks, alarm fading into distraction. Blood lashed against white wings, macabre and ethereal. Offsetting, Lane thinks, no, enhancing temptation, disoriented by her own strange desires.

‘Yes.’ His voice dips, softness melting it. ‘Were you alone for long?’

‘No,’ she answers absentmindedly, eyes transfixed to the startlingly intimate sight of his bare feet. Unarmoured like this, without the chainmail of his condescending sneer and paradoxical words, he seems closer than ever. Like she would only need to reach out for her fingertips to graze soft skin and sculpted muscle, obscured to the rest by shadows and secrets.

Appeased, he turns to the side, pushing back his drenched sleeves around his elbow. Only then does the room start to come together in snatches. Clothes strewn across the carpeted floor, his jacket a bloodied heap by the balcony, transponder thrown on the bedside table. A basin with murky water seated on the dresser, a rag dangling haphazardly from it. Precise to him, messy to others. Not unlike the owner himself, she thinks.

Satisfied with her appraisal, she peeks over at him. Leaning over the basin, rag coiled loosely around his hand, he looks half sunken in a dream. Only the rustling of his wings betray his restlessness.

Her spine is yanked straight by a part of her, a phantom cerebrum spawned to gauge and dissect every shift in his body and every quirk of his mouth. Cain would never allow himself to be so absent. Her heart screeches with alarm, and her mind reluctantly allows the theatrics, admitting the oddness of his behavior.

‘Cain?’ she calls quietly.

Regret follows almost immediately. At the most inopportune moment, she realizes she has no idea how to proceed when he responds. Cain has always taken care of her in his own absurd way, the experience irksome even as the memory fills her empty soul with sunlight. But Lane could hardly care for herself, much less an immortal.

His lashes flutter, moth wings skimming his skin as he blinks out of his daze. ‘Sorry, I was lost in thought.’ His eyes clear, latches clicking shut inside him. ‘I should clean my wings.’ They flick, avouching his words. ‘Not exactly the amorous activity you were envisioning, I'm sure.’

Her eyes narrow but they cannot lance metal. He meets her scouring gaze with calculated repose. His shoulders sink, memories imploding within, then return to their usual assured set, dust settling in the span of a blink.

Only a second, but it's enough for Lane to pry at the chips in his marmoreal mask. She sighs softly as slivers of his bare face come into view. He's… tired. So, so tired. Abandoned by heaven, shunned by earth, untouchable on his altar of divinity. Angel, priest, soldier. Beautiful as a statue, but who dares to touch him? Who can he hold?

Sensing the weight of her thoughts, he straightens imperceptibly, shuttering off any weakness.

Even now, after hurting and helping and licking their wounds, they still hesitate, circling each other like sharks scenting blood, the instinct to hurt before getting hurt honed and layered like second skin, excruciating to rip off. But they can't keep holding onto an infected limb that devours the rest of the body. Years of violent instinct wars with a fragile, blossoming ache.

The words spill out of her lips, noxious blood evanescing, her first breath without her own violence pressing down on her sweet and fresh. ‘Let me help.’

His eyes snap back to hers and lock their gazes. Narrowed, assessing, wary, they're as entrancing as ever. He sighs, the same side emerging victorious in him. ‘I'll give you a chance to back out. I'm warning you now that your arms will ache for the next week.’

‘I won't come complaining to you,’ she says dryly, the secret curve of his mouth sending a flurry of warmth through her.

He follows her lead, effortlessly carrying the basin to an empty spot in the center of the room, sunlight casting the illusion of warmth on the rug. He sets it down and folds himself into a cross-legged posture, somehow elegant even while sitting on the floor.

Lane follows suit, kneeling behind him on the plush carpet. She ties her hair back into a loose knot and pulls back her sleeves, goosebumps arising on her exposed skin immediately. She shivers, body noting the frigidity of his room while she herself is enraptured by the angel.

This close to him, the diaphanous material of his shirt coyly divulges flashes of his body. The slope of his shoulder blade. A channel down his lower back. The sylphlike curve of his waist. Lane exhales slowly, expelling the need to touch him and trace his skin. The intoxicating heat radiating off him doesn't abate the desire to drape herself over his back and see what he'd do.

‘Having second thoughts? Maybe your delicate arms hurt already?’

She rolls her eyes, abruptly breaking through for air. The same person who tenderly drowns her in the thick, languid ocean of desire also hauls her out of it with his infuriating quips.

He slides the basin over to her in reparation.

Experimentally dipping her fingers into the basin, she sighs with relief at the lukewarm water. She dunks the rag in, drenches it, and pauses, water dripping rhythmically onto the floor, lapped up by the carpet. How sensitive are his wings? She remembers the library incident with a quivering in her stomach, the idea of her touch making him still heady more than any wine or pomegranate juice. How hard can she use the rag on them?

His voice is glazed with amusement. ‘This feels familiar. Now is the time to ask me if I'm gloating.’

That settles it. ‘Why should I when I know the answer?’ she replies as she presses the rag to the base of his wing agonizingly gently. He jerks, the beginnings of a low gasp escaping past his teeth before he quiets, wings flaring.

Lane bites her lip to rein in a smirk, throat going dry at the noise and where else she'd like to hear it, again and again.

‘Have it your way, then. Is this payback for that time in the library?’ he retorts, shoulders unnaturally tense.

‘What do you mean?’ she says lightly, carefully moving the rag from the base to the top. His wings rustle and flick, but settle quietly.

A light laugh floats through the air, melding seamlessly with this impossible afternoon.

Cain stays quiet as she works her way through the large expanse, occasionally trembling as she grazes certain spots. She makes mental notes of them, for future reference. Or for leverage.

Her nose wrinkles as she nears the tip of his wing. Spawn gore clumps to the feathers, a sickly sweet smell emanating from the blood.

Cain almost whirls around at her first cough. ‘I'll deal with the rest. You've done enough.’

She waves him off. Before she could think it over again, her hand cups his shoulder, turning him away. A tremor goes through her at her boldness, the heat of his muscle and bone against her fingers warming her entire arm.

‘You reek,’ she says airily, only to douse the incalescence of his gaze, burning her more than his skin as she touched him like she had the right to.

‘Who came to whose room?’

A gradual undoing, Lane watches as her own hands cast magic, turning back time, water swilling blood from his wings, leaching them pure and white.

She retraces her path, returning to the base of his wings where stubborn flecks of blood linger on the feathers. Faltering for just a second, she discards the rag. Her fingers, a gentler heir, glide over the plumage, outsing sanguine settlers.

Cain arches like a cat, allowing himself a muffled moan before rebounding, curving into her. A shuddering breath is the only movement she shows. His back barely brushes her front, the faint contact sparking a riot in her head, one side chanting lean in close, closer, the other pull away I can't breathe anymore.

As the sun drops lower into the sky, in tandem he sinks lower onto her, the silky strands of his hair chilling her chin, the weight of his body warm and comforting. His initial wariness washed away with the blood, he's as cozy and relaxed as a housecat dozing in a patch of sunlight.

Disappointment unfurls petals inside her chest as the last of the blood is wiped away, wings gleaming in the sunlight. Enveloped by him, his body, his scent; sweet and faintly musky, entirely him with the effect it had of wanting to fall headlong into his lies, time has no meaning. The world waiting with ravenous jaws holds no importance when he's quiet and boneless in her arms.

‘Cain?’ she whispers, unsure if he's awake.

‘Hmm?’

Her toes curl into the carpet. His usual liquid smooth voice has been rendered low and thick, drowsiness dipping his tone.

She hesitates. Is it worth jolting him from his place against her—as it should be, her heart croons— for her selfish desire of wanting to look at him?

Ironically, it's her indecision that awakens him, alertness seeping back in. He slips out of her hold, a gentle thief escaping into the night, and turns to face her. ‘What is it?’ he asks, traces of worry playing in his voice.

I wish I could look at you when I want to without searching for an excuse. I wish you would keep being near to me. I want you to keep seeing me.

‘Nothing,’ she bites out, frustrated with herself, eyes catching on an anomaly in the blinding purity of snow. ‘There's dried blood crusted in your hair.’

He sighs, mindlessly patting his hair, completely missing the spot.

‘Let me,’ she interrupts quietly, pieces falling into place, desire breathing her wishes to life.

He eyes her curiously. Whatever he finds makes his mouth twitch and obediently lower his head, submitting to the ministrations of her fingers. A thrill fires through her like an arrow. She quite likes the idea of him bowed and hazy-eyed in front of her.

Her fingers ease into silken strands, white and gold playing on her skin. They trail unwillingly, longing to linger and straighten the wisps hanging over his eyes for him. She flicks the rusty flakes off, careful to not tug at the strands.

Hyperaware of every steady inhale and exhale of his, her own breathing wavers, growing shallow. She attempts to veer her attention back to his hair, instead of the proximity of her chest to his face, when his arm curves around her waist, long fingers splaying out, burning her from rib to hip.

Before she could steady herself to this, him, his thumb traces the jut of her rib. All coherent thought dissipates. Heat whirls up her insides. His fingers trail teasingly over the curve of her waist before stilling on her hip, and she wishes with sudden, fervent clarity that he would play on her skin. Be so familiar to him that he would reach for her to ease his restlessness, her hipbone echoing his music, instead of an undeserving slab of wood.

‘Your knees must hurt. Sit.’ He sounds from below her, words almost breathed into her throat. His voice lowers, a surrender just between them. ‘I can bow down for you.’

She lowers her eyes to his. A misstep. Hazy from sleep, sharp in the corners, sunlight sands down his usual jagged gaze and wicked smirk, turning him into a visage of heaven. Angelic, she thinks for the first time since she awoke to him, both at the rift and at the estate.

Cain has always been inhumanely beautiful from the moment she saw him glowing like an impossible mirage amidst blood and snow, but his beauty is almost unbearable now that she's seen the planes of that same untouchable face contort in anger, slacken in tiredness, soften in fondness. Every feature has been slashed into her mind since their first meeting, but he's a mystery she'll never tire of. She studies each detail with the same fascination as the first time.

Gold clings to every lash with the devotion of the sea returning to sand. Dawn rises in his eyes, the only place where she looks forward to sunrise. Cheekbones like cliffs, sweetpea pink lips. Twin moles wink at her from below his eye and cheek, a taunt mirrored in his eyes: What will you do now?

He tilts his head up, her hand that lay forgotten in his hair sliding down like rain. Brow bone, cheekbone, till the base of her palm curves against his jaw.

She's holding his face in her hand. What will you do now?

Her eyes hesitatingly find his again. The same eyes that speared into her being, trying to unravel her before she could undo him, that held and kept all his secrets, now betray him and look at her with undisguised tenderness. His gaze is the only mirror she can stand to look at herself anymore, her callousness and apathy smoothed over by his affection.

She loops her free arm around his neck, feeling his shoulders tense in surprise. In no reality will she come out of this unscathed. But would it be worth being hurt by these same hands that hold so gently?

Her eyes flit to his lips. Oh, but it would be worth being condemned to hell by this mouth. His lips part, luring her in before the din of doors slamming and a chorus of intermingling voices shatters their retreat.

Lane is off the floor and three feet away from him before he could even blink. His tenderness ripples into a scowl. His eyes glint a lurid red as he rises to his feet.

‘I should go,’ she says hastily, impatient to curse every member of the squad and then pore over every second of this afternoon before it dissipates like a dream.

‘And where are you rushing off to?’ he asks, notes of ire lurking in his voice.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘My room. I don't think the General will be pleased about me spending quality time with you instead of working.’

His mouth curls in derision. ‘If Dmitry's concern is incompetence, you're the least of his problems.’

His tone gives her pause. The second she tilts her head, his cool nonchalance snaps back into place, clicking shut with the finality of a lock.

‘I'll get going,’ she echoes before her heart could rope her into some foolish scheme. ‘Will you go to sleep now?’

‘Yes.’ He pauses, eyes sliding to her, lingering on her exposed collarbone. His voice lowers, softens, a snake coiling around flesh and she feels his words like he whispered them onto her skin. ‘Will you miss this opening?’

Her heart jolts. He can't possibly be…?

‘To watch me sleep again.’ He tilts his head innocuously, the effect offset by his growing smirk. ‘What were you thinking?’

Entirely unhelpfully, her mind bestows her with a visual. She thinks of him asleep, cheek pillowed by his arm, lashes casting needle-thin shadows, his ever-furrowed brows relaxed and a physical burn flares to life under her ribs.

She knits her brow in irritation, saving face too late, hastening to leave. The Cain who curved into her like the moon, who she'd christened angelic had fallen asleep, dreaming in some crevice of his mind. The one who stands in front of her, challenge highlighted in every plane of his face, is familiar, familiar and dangerous, familiar in a sense that she could hardly guess his next thought.

Just as her hand wraps around the door handle, she senses his searing presence behind her. Her body reacts instinctively, gearing up. Cain sends all of her emergency responses into overdrive, fight, flight, and fight speeding and crashing at the junction of her mind. All thoughts come to a screeching halt, leaving only expectant silence, air thrumming with possibilities. A discordant note or a lilting melody?

His fingers curl around her wrist, a gossamer touch. He lowers his head while raising her wrist, night falling as the moon rises to meet as a sunset, as a kiss. His cool breath snakes across her skin, travelling the course set by her veins, the faint brushes of his lips blissful torture.

A marionette in his hands, he angles her wrist to his mouth, setting the stage. The first act: the bite of his teeth against her pulse.

Her shoulders seize and she bites her lip, the blooming pain-pleasure shoving a gasp back inside her mouth. He presses, so gently, an invisible divot to savor and linger over at night, an ephemeral mark of him on her skin.

Can he feel her hand trembling? Her knees will give out if he continues.

In answer, in tender defiance, he scrapes his teeth across her pulse point, shrapnel and velvet, mouth feverishly hot, teeth deliciously sharp. Her spine jerks, pulled by his strings, aching to lean against his body. A low noise escapes her before she could haul it inside.

He halts, knowing when to coax with hardly a look, pulling her along to freefall into desire, another line they can never uncross, and when to let her be. He presses a full kiss to soothe her skin, before the curtain falls with a delicate graze of his lips over the faded cut on her palm.

He pulls back and she blinks as the world rushes in, both the celebrated principal actress and the dazed, breathless audience. He lowers her wrist gently, fingers falling away like the night. ‘Thank you,’ he says quietly with no trace of the smugness she was expecting.

She could hardly remember what she replied or how she stole away into the hallway. Half her mind still trembling in that room with him, the other half lazily waking up from a pleasant dream, she muses as she stumbles to her room.

The weight of the emptiness in her soul is always lurking, always ready to drag her into nothingness. Being around others only seems to chip away the remnants of her soul clinging to her insides; their strained laughter, easy anger and human hope shattered mirror shards reflecting the humanity long gouged out of her. You are not like us. Each irregular mosaic amplified till the message was deafening. You are not like us!

But as she stood in the hallway, vision golden with dust motes swirling around in a lazy waltz in the ballroom of sunlight, her soul is… silent. Not clamoring in its depleted state, begging to find its stolen half and fill it up. Cain's mere presence lifts this particular veil of half death, making her heart pumping in lazy disinterest startle awake, having to work overtime to make up for her lungs slacking.

Though she was the one who wished to lighten his burden today, it seemed he was imbuing her with his own life force with every touch. A thirst for life, and just not survival, gasped for air within her, only to see him again, to touch him again and make him tremble.

The corner of her mouth twitches as she turns the handle.

She has to find a way to get him back for that kiss.

[murderofravens]

it doesn't matter now | y.i.

yuuji itadori x reader (any gender)

warnings: dubcon/noncon, blood, emotional and physical abuse, emotional manipulation and mention of death.

post shibuya yandere yuuji whose psyche is so fucked up that he begins using sukuna as an excuse to abuse you. maybe the two of you were in a healthy, loving relationship. you've been his rock through and through, but the aftermath of shibuya came with these slight differences in yuuji's personality and treatment towards you. he gets angry more frequently, he's colder, a little distant. sex with him is different too— he's rougher, degrades you more often, seeks his own pleasure and often leaves you hanging. his strength only ever increases, and sex with him is more hurtful than it is pleasurable.

his lack of control over his life results in him wanting to gain more control over you— which he expresses through a myriad of purple bruises in the shapes of his fingers and bleeding bites all over your body. and even though you only ever want to help— it is clear his treatment has a negative impact on you both physically and mentally. if you try to reject his advances, try to make an excuse; he only manages to emotionally manipulate you into believing that this is what he needs. one time, he choked you so hard you almost passed out. he slaps you into silence if you cry or tell him to slow down. he doesn't recognise his own strength, of maybe he does, he just doesn't care— so it often results with a dark, blossoming bruise the size of his hand on your cheek. those bruises on your neck are too dark to hide with concealer, and you try to be patient, to communicate about how hurtful this is to you, that he's changed, but it's always the same excuse. you want to be understanding— you've loved this boy with everything in you. he used to be a ray of sunshine, your light in the darkness, untainted by the horrors of the world. a smile so bright, it erased all problems in your life.

you want to be there for him, but he's changed. him not taking a no for an answer and his emotional unavailability eventually leads to you seeking an out from the relationship.

it doesn't sit well with him, of course. he lost everyone in his life— he can't lose you either. he tries to force you back into his life, and no matter how much you fight back, he's always stronger. he only tells you that he needs you— through a flurry of forceful kisses that feel more like bites and sharp thrusts that leave you breathless and wanting to throw up. he's made you bleed one too many times. when it gets too much— you scream at him to stop, claw at his arms, kick and thrash, but he doesn't. it only fuels the fire in his veins. it reminds him of mahito, a little, how he was thrashing and crying when he was below yuuji. it fills him with a burning sensation to take out the anger of his losses on you.

and when he's done, and you're a mess of bloody bruises and tears, refusing to meet his eyes— he showers you with kisses that only make your heart race with fear. your old yuuji would never do this. and he tells you that wasn't him. that it was sukuna's influence. that he loves you and he'd never do anything bad unless he was truly provoked. he tells you sukuna has been prompting him to do this, but you know all too well the difference between your once loving boyfriend and the demon that resides inside him. but there's no one you can go to help now— nanami is dead. he would have saved you. he was like a father to you, afterall. nobara is dead too. she would have helped you— she was strong. she would beat the common sense back into yuuji. and gojo is sealed. you're afraid megumi wouldn't believe you if you told him— he's too blinded by his belief in his best friend. yuuji wasn't always like this, afterall, and at the end of the day, it's not like yuuji will let you out of his sight long enough for you to ask for help.

it doesn't matter now. yuuji will do all he can so he doesn't lose you too, and if he has to take extreme measures to keep your life under his control, he'll do it. all you can do is sit back and take it, and hope your yuuji will return to you someday.