#all while completely neglecting to tell me that now it's normal and it's not a burdensome tolerance that is generously granted to me

[anaalnathrakhs]

wait, 8 years old kid, you can be alone all day but we'll drive all the mandatory stuff ourselves! wait, 12 years old kid, you're too independant! wait, 14 years old kid, come sit with us instead! wait, 17 years old kid, i'll take the car and pick you up 800 meters away from home! wait, 18 years old kid, don't you know how difficult and hard and painful it was for us when you didn't do activities you don't like with us, back then!

wait, 18 years old kid, i don't understand why you're not more independant if you want it so badly, after all it's normal at your age!

[kurooh]

PROFESSIONAL ( AT LOVIN’ ) !

⊹₊˚. HAWKS’ BDAY 2024 — after six months of being his press agent’s friend with all kinds of benefits, keigo struggles to find a way to tell you that he can’t keep up his side of the agreement any longer. / or, his heart’s been in it since the very beginning.

word count: 14.3K (um….please read🧎‍♀️)

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, friends with benefits -> lovers, angst, unprotected sex, creampies, cunnilingus, drinking (everyone is mid twenties), dirty talk, squirting once, office sex.

xoxo, juno: happy LATE birthday to keigo <33 WOOO first fic of 2025 and it’s the longest one i’ve ever written.. inspired by the weeknd’s kissland! hope you enjoy, love you guys :,) 🩷

“this pussy of yours is pretty fuckin’ greedy, huh?”

“how could i not be when you always fuck me so g-good?” the filthy words rush out of your mouth in a surge of euphoria that has taken over your cognitive functions and renders you clinically cock drunk. in this state, things you’d normally never agree to are suddenly more alluring than a shiny trinket to a nesting bird. sex on the roof of the heroes’ safety commission is outlandish and obscene (you’d used those words when keigo had first brought it up in jest) — but here you are getting plowed by none other than the no. 2 hero of japan.

“aw, dovey,” keigo coos, gloved hand closing around the slope of your neck and tugging you back into his chest, “you’ve always got the best compliments, don’t ya?”

“ah, r-right there!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull as your third orgasm of the half hour boils in your tummy like magma in an explosive volcano. “shit, kei, ‘m gonna cum again..”

“heh, go ahead ‘n let it out for me,” the heel of his other hand digs hard into the plush skin above your pubic bone and the crude slapping of skin against skin grows louder. “c’mon, baby, cum all over this cock. show me how good you feel, yeah?”

“yeah,” you whimper, desperately throwing your ass back onto his cock to get him even deeper, “oh my god, keigo, fuuuck—‘m cumming!”

it nearly sweeps you off your feet, the strength of your blissful orgasm leaving you shaking violently and clenching uncontrollably on keigo’s cock. his teeth sharply sink into his lower lip when he quickly pulls out of you, lamely stroking himself to completion above your ass and spraying strings of ivory onto your skin. your body is slick with sweat and now cum, but the messiness of the situation doesn’t hit you quite yet — you’re busy trying to catch your breath while he hangs his head lowly behind you.

keigo still holds you upright on legs of jelly, lightly beating his wings to help stabilize himself. watchful gold eyes sweep over your body, doing a once over and admiring every inch of you. he’s always considered you as the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and has always felt lucky to touch you — so why does he feel so damn unfulfilled? it’s probably a form of karma; keigo hasn’t ever had a consistent relationship, all due to his own actions. so many of his old girlfriends had clashed with him over his neglectful habits — his inability to give them time, attention, and effort. all of his relationships began positively, then quickly deteriorated into toxicity he’d grown tired of dealing with.

he’d been single for a year, and went without sex for longer. if he didn’t always have the press looming over his shoulder and scrutinizing each of his damn movements, he would’ve been able to get his dick wet sooner! keigo would certainly never admit it, but the total deprivation has been a good thing, allowing him to reset and understand why those relationships had completely gone downhill. at the time, he’d pettily blamed his girlfriend or the new guy she’d moved on with.

you let out a tired puff of breath and break away from his hold too soon just to look at your phone, which is sitting on top of keigo’s jacket. “so, my lunch break isn’t over just yet. we can hit the sandwich place around the block if you’re up for it?”

god, you’ve got that lazy smile playing on your lips like it always does after he’s made you cum. how is it possible for someone to look so elegant even as she buttons her blouse and wipes cum off her ass with a spare napkin? his brain literally short circuits when you hand him his jacket, plush lips shaping around a word. words. didn’t you just say something? maybe his post nut clarity has faded into obscurity, or he’s lost his hearing from how hard he just came.

“keigo,” you sigh, snapping your fingers in front of his face and briefly contemplating slapping him out of his stupor, “is the light on upstairs?”

a shiver jolts through him despite the fact that the weather’s warm, and his disassociated eyes finally hone in on you, standing right in front of him. “yeah, sorry. what’d you say earlier?”

you shrug on your suit jacket and slip into your heels. “i’m still free. we can grab sandwiches around the block if you’d like.”

so thoughtful. his heart swells happily at the prospect of eating lunch with you. it always does, usually accompanied with a flip in his stomach, whenever he tags along on something you’re doing, whether it’s eating lunch or sorting through lengthy documents after the office closes.

“sounds good. are we walking or flying, dovey?” your favorite sex petname rolls off his tongue naturally, and after months of this arrangement, you’ve stopped correcting him.

“let’s just walk,” you say decisively, wrapping the used napkin in another, “it attracts less press, showbird.”

☆ ☆

still thrumming with the sensations of sex, keigo walks into the restaurant behind you, piping up to place his order and then to swipe his card for the lunch. he dutifully waits at the table while you stand at the counter, glancing at your phone every now and then to alleviate the impatient boredom that accompanies most edible purchases. keigo allows himself a moment of respite, and instead of looking at his phone, he looks at you — particularly the way your clothes hug the slopes and curves of your body, much like he does when he’s coming down from an orgasm.

it was exactly eight months ago when keigo had first laid eyes on you. he knew right then and there that under no circumstances would he allow his old persona to shine through or mess things up between the two of you. for the first two months out of those eight, keigo had befriended you (with much encouragement from his friend mirko, bless her) and spent time getting to know you as a person over friendly lunches and the occasional drink. he’d committed each of your stories to memory and marked your birthday down on the calendar, something he’d never done for anyone else before. the beginning of everything was after one of those rare drinks that had landed you in keigo’s apartment and sitting criss-crossed on his bed, discussing your unlucky love life.

he’d listened with rapture as you pored over the freaks you’d met and gone out with in detail, mistakenly trusting your friends to set you up with someone nice on a blind date. in their defense, you’d drunkenly mumbled, it’s not their fault that there’s so many people catfishing. one inebriated conversation led to another, and you’d happened upon the fact that neither of you hadn’t had any good sex in a very long time. in the morning, you came into work late and sore all over, but also newly enlightened. for the past six months, you’ve successfully maintained a friends with benefits relationship with keigo takami, the no. 2 hero of japan.

“this one’s yours. here’s the receipt,” you push him a tightly wrapped sub sandwich and his tab.

he catches the sandwich after letting it spin on the table like an arrow on a game spinner, then crumples the receipt. “why don’t you believe me when i say i enjoy paying for you, hm?”

you sigh after a bite. “it makes me feel like a sugar baby . . but also, i can pay for myself.”

“so you’re either saying i’m old or rich,” keigo chuckles when you roll your eyes dramatically, “i know you can, but just let me spoil you, dovey.”

you knew it was a losing game the moment you brought it up, cheeks heating a little at the implication of his words. maybe being his baby isn’t that bad. conversation comes to a comfortable standstill as you both dig into your sandwiches, crumbs falling to the table and making a small mess. when you look up to pause and wipe your mouth, a laugh tumbles out before you can stop it.

“what?” keigo asks confusedly, holding his sandwich tightly and going so far as to swivel around backwards in hopes of pinpointing whatever made you laugh. 

you wrap a napkin over your fingers and lean across the table. instinctually, keigo leans in for a kiss, only to be a little more than heartbroken when you swerve to the side and dodge it to instead dab at a streak of mustard across his chin. the sudden intimacy and close proximity cause the apples of his cheeks to turn rosy in embarrassment. “did you just lead me on?” he asks when he notices you giggling at him again, voice taking on a playful and petty tone. “because it totally feels like you did that on purpose.”

“no, keigo,” a wide smile spreads across your face at his usual antics, “you were the one eating so quickly you got mustard all over your face! someone had to clean you up.”

in an instant, his voice drops an octave, becoming low and sultry. “you keep talking like that and i’ll clean you up.”

“i— we’re in public!” you exclaim, a dull ache pulsing between your legs at the thought of him using his tongue on you. 

he shrugs noncommittally, feeling triumphant now that he’s briefly flustered you. “public or not, you know you love it. now eat your sandwich.”

“way ahead of you,” heat floods your cheeks as you pick up the sandwich, feeling dirty because of the slick pooling into your underwear. keigo doesn’t understand how easy it is to get you worked up, whether it’s with his words or the mischievous footsie he keeps playing under the table with you. “if i come across a headline about this conversation, i’m gonna kill you.”

☆ ☆

“late night?” keigo hums, shattering your concentration on the current task. startled and disheveled, you glance up just in time to catch his typical smirk. his gold eyes shamelessly rake up and down your body as if he’s spotted something he wants—no, needs—to claim. however, his raunchy ogling comes to a screeching halt when he hones in on the shadowy dark circles beneath your eyes.

“the latest,” you blow out a peeved breath through pursed lips, doing your utmost to avoid looking out the window. it’s completely dark outside, the sky an inky blanket of night and stars over the city. “i’m fucking swamped.”

it comes out bitterly, and keigo cautiously steps forward, wings twitching nervously behind him. that well-groomed mess of vermilion feathers at his back seems to have a mind of its own, constantly betraying their owner by displaying his emotions so openly. 

“what, you coming to rescue me?” absentmindedly, you swish around your empty coffee mug. not a single drop flies over the edge, the porcelain totally dry as if it was never used.

“c’monnnn, you know i’m always up to rescue you,” he teases playfully, gently tugging the mug out of your grip and setting a reassuring palm down on your hunched shoulders. “i’ll get us some coffee and help you out when i get back.”

“i highly doubt that you’re qualified to deal with PR work, keigo.” a small though rascally smile plays on your lips, corners flicking up as your sour demeanor starts to mellow out. 

he sticks out his tongue and steps out of your office, heading to the kitchen. as his feet quietly pad along the hard carpet, he considers your recent behavior — last week you were fucking around on the roof and then getting sandwiches like it was nobody’s business. keigo was seeing you around the office and outside of it, but the time he’d been spending with you had decreased dramatically over the past few days. the coordinated lunch breaks and escapades were no more, and keigo’s been caught up wondering why. now, the reason for this couldn’t be linked to anything he did or said — still, it’s impossible for him not to overthink.

“god, you’re a lifesaver!” you groan joyously as keigo sets down a full mug of coffee in front of you and away from your laptop and notepad. “thank you for this.”

“slow down, you haven’t even seen the things i can do outside of making coffee.”

you rotate your laptop once he finally takes a seat in front of you, insistently pointing a finger at the various tasks on your metaphorical plate. “if i give you some work, you’ll have to do a lot of proofreading.”

keigo nods, and his eyebrows suddenly pull downwards in a mix of playful confusion and surprise. “wait, is that a virtual shrine dedicated to me?”

“what?” you mutter, squinting your eyes as you frantically look over the computer screen to no avail. “oh, shut up. just start reading while i finish up the rest.”

there’s a pause and a beat of silence as you both settle into your respective assignments.

then, “i actually came to the office because i missed you a little.”

“you what?” you laugh increduously, licking a finger to aid you in flipping through paperclipped pages. his eyes follow you, from the moment your tongue darts out to wet your skin and then flicks through pages you skim to find what you’re looking for.

“well, i haven’t seen you outside of work in a while,” keigo sniffs, tearing his eyes away from you and refocusing on the words on the screen. at the risk of sounding too vulnerable, he throws in something disgustingly horny to save himself. “was just wondering about my fuck buddy.”

fuck. he’s really cringing now, throat instinctually closing up once he feels waves of nausea crashing over him. but you don’t even bat an eye, too busy setting papers aside in different stacks and barely paying attention to him. “oh, yeah. i’m sorry, it’s just that a ton of people have been dumping so much work on me.”

“so that’s why i’m reading a drafted article enshrining endeavor as number one?” he grins, briefly catching your eyes. you’re not quite sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up or something else, but your stomach flutters when you automatically meet his gaze. loose papers drift to the floor, falling right past you. 

“yep, that’s why,” you laugh nervously, snatching up the papers so forcefully that they crumple in your grasp. keigo’s always so damn charming, and it affects you more now that you’re so tired. right?

“you want some dinner, dovey?” the affectionate pet name lingers in your mind, echoing loudly until it finally fades into a memory from a while ago. the transition of his affectionate voice into one choked with unadulterated pleasure is seamless, leaving you breathless in an instant. a glance at his wings has you sloppily picturing them fanned out above you and frantically beating the air as keigo ruts his hips into yours . . god, what’s gotten into you? he certainly could.

“i want you,” it slips out before you can stop it or even control it, words laced with a silent desperation only he can detect. “uh, i mean—”

“bold words,” a wolf whistle trills out into the air, reminding you that you’ve now started something you won’t be getting out of easily. “sure you can handle what you’re askin’ for, baby?”

“don’t act like i haven’t countless times before,” you retort, voice a little weaker than you’d like. it’s frustrating, the influence he has over your body — he hasn’t even said anything meaningful and yet heat’s surging to your cheeks while a shiver of excitement ripples through you.

“riiiight. aren’t you the one always saying you can’t handle it? ‘oh, keigo, please! i can’t, i—’”

the endless teasing is just too much — it makes your blood boil, gets your pulse racing, and absolutely does what it was intended to do. your full mug of coffee tips off the edge of the table and spills when you slam the laptop shut, leaping forward to rapidly close the distance between you two. your lips, slightly sticky with coffee, crash onto keigo’s hard, causing your foreheads to knock together too.

it’s a palpable invitation, one that he eagerly accepts without hesitation. his strong hands settle firmly on your hips in an attempt to stop their slight tremble, fingertips pressing into the curve of your waist. he pulls you into his lap and you fall into sync with one another just like always: keigo slips his tongue into your mouth while you tug at his blonde curls. impatience curated by time apart and characterized by frustration has the air in the room sparking with white hot electricity that’s strong enough to cause a power outage — you’re so close to finally scratching that unbearable itch, at least until it comes back tomorrow with much more ferocity.

keigo draws back with a knowing smile, lips curling up. “we should stop, dovey.”

a thin, glossy string of saliva connects your lips to his. you’ve got this desperate, needy look written all over your face, which crumples petulantly as you consider the possibility of being left unsatisfied. something purely horny twists in his chest, alongside his still yearning heart — keigo fucking loves being in control, being the only one who can give you the satisfaction that you so desperately need, but the thought of being something more resurfaces in his mind again.

it always comes to him at the worst times: right now, during a sexual moment, or before he falls asleep and when he opens his eyes to daylight in the morning. it’s eating him up inside, and he’s already too far in to stop — or is he? no, he isn’t! not if he finds a way to extricate himself from the suffocating casualness of this mess and advance whatever’s left into a real relationship, one that’s abundant in love and adoration. the evolution of the relationship hinges on the timing of his love confession, so he’ll definitely plan to wait until you’re not holed up in the office and on his lap looking like you’re about to shed tears.

“i c-can’t,” you gasp breathlessly, heart pounding in your ears, “kei, please— i need you so badly, i’ve been waiting so damn long.” 

and who is he to deny you, when you’re begging so beautifully?

“so you missed me?” keigo murmurs, pressing kisses to the column of your throat and savoring the way you softly gasp. this is his moment. he’s going to slyly frame a question for you, and when you answer it correctly, he’ll spring his confession onto you and then give you what you’ve been dying for.

“god, yes,” a moan rushes out from between your lips, head tipping back to give him easier access. with his nose pressed into your skin, keigo blissfully inhales the faint wisps of your favorite perfume. eight months later and you’re still wearing that scent daily, ever since he complimented you the day he met you. “you know i did, keigo.”

“what’d you miss the most?” he smirks between open mouthed kisses, guiding you straight to the answer with his warm hands that slip under your shirt and languidly caress the small of your back. 

“your cock, t-the way you fuck me,” you groan, unintentionally shattering his plan into pieces; but he doesn’t let it show, chuckling into your neck as he rapidly snatches them up and off the floor. it’s okay, he’s okay. all he has to do is ask a few more questions and offer up some multiple choice answers — in doing so, he’ll have a chance to tell you how he really feels.

“mmmm, is that all?” 

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you tug him back by the hair, scrutinizing him with eyes clouded by lust and nothing else. a carnation colored flush sits high on his cheekbones, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a pesky i love you. not now, not here — this isn’t the right moment.

“keigo, why are you questioning me like my boss does?” he blinks, averting his eyes to your glossy neck, shining with his saliva in the dim light. it smells like coffee now, and he’s wondering if it’ll ever get cleaned up, dark liquid overflowing and soaking through the carpet, straight into the floor. he doesn’t want to be like the coffee, forgotten about and lingering in the air since it had fallen off the desk without you having caught it.

keigo knows you — he always has, and it’s too easy to pick up on the unmistakable tension twisted in your question, along with undertones of discomfort and deflection. automatically, he slips back into his typical persona, lips curling into an impish smile while he waggles his eyebrows to emphasize his words. “heh, you’re so impatient. can you blame me for wanting to build things up?”

you visibly relax, plush mouth forming into a pout he wants to kiss away. “i think there’s been plenty of build up. don’t tease me again.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies coolly, lifting his hands into the air in a show of submission. you release his hair and he pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he stands up from the chair. it rolls away into a corner, plastic backing hitting the wall with a soft thud just as keigo slams you down on the desk, papers flying every which way. 

“keigo, hah, you haven’t even gotten me naked yet,” you sigh, heat rushing to your face as he sinks to his knees on the hard carpet, his eyes never leaving yours. dexterous, impatient fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he drags them down your legs, along with your sticky panties. 

“i know,” keigo breathes, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and pulling your hips close to his face, “and yet, you’re already fucking soaked for me. aren’t you, baby?”

“yeah, i am,” you whimper, feeling your cunt clench around nothing when he rewards you by spitting onto your clit. “all for you, kei.”

“you’re so cute.” 

you really are, all spread out on the desk, pretty and pliant just for him. there’s not a shred of resistance when he manuvers you closer or teases his fingertips around your quivering hole, ignoring your strained cries for more. dark pupils enlarge against gold irises, and keigo’s wings flutter eagerly as his arousal crashes over him in continuous, steady waves of heat. now that he’s between your legs and focused on his favorite late night snack, the scent of the coffee dissipates along with his thoughts. 

“keigo,” you keen, fingers threading through his tousled curls, “please, just—oh god, stop fuckin’ teasing me.”

a sportive smack! lands on the side of your bare ass, kicking up a few papers when you jolt forward in surprise. “easy, baby. easy,” there’s a low, warning pitch in his voice, and you settle down frustratedly, gnawing on your lower lip. keigo’s never been one to rush when it comes to eating your pussy, even during quickies—you’d be more aggravated if he didn’t always make you cum so damn hard. his face is flushed pink and shining with eagerness as he pushes two fingers inside you, fixated on the way they slide in so easily. 

he experimentally curls them, and a lick of heat washes over his whole body when he watches your face crumple, head tipping back weakly while you tug at his hair. the blond curls are soft between your fingers, giving you something to grab onto when you need to steady yourself. 

“fuckkk,” keigo groans, attaching his rosy lips to your clit and lightly sucking at the swollen, sensitive bud. clumsily, you grind your hips against his mouth, body sweltering as the small office fills with the impolite smacks of his lips and wet squelches of your sloppy cunt. “loosen up for me, baby, you’re too tight.”

a trembly breath leaves your lips as you obediently readjust for him, spreading your legs and trying to relax so he can tug his fingers back. for a moment, he pauses to appreciatively look over his glossy, creamy fingers—he sticks them into his mouth, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he puts on a show of swirling his tongue around them like some kind of slut. once he opens his eyes, those piercing gold hues meet your own and he plunges them back inside, making you whimper.

“listen to me, dovey,” keigo murmurs, breath fanning over your wet clit, “i want you cumming hard on my fingers in the next thirty seconds.”

“but—oh,” your voice cracks when he deeply curls his fingers, purposefully interrupting you, “what if it’s not enough? i don’t think i can—”

sharp, pearly teeth lightly graze your clit and make you mewl noisily, the action both a warning and a reward. “yes, you can, dovey,” he utters in a hushed voice, “c’mon, show me you’re a big girl. i’ll be counting for ya.”

with that, keigo dives back in, furiously licking your clit while he roughly curls his fingers into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. it’s probably not serious, but something in your stomach flutters at the thought of disobeying him—if he wants you to cum, you’ll do just that. your hips rock into his tongue, developing a messy rhythm that could possibly rival his own when he’s inside you—he smirks against you, clearly pleased with himself. papers lift into the air, swirling around in a flurry of white as if they’re caught up in a tornado. the source of the miniature storm is his wings, uncontrollably flapping about as he determinedly licks at your clit like a lollipop. 

twenty five. a thin sheen of sweat shines on your forehead, making the skin tacky. absentmindedly, you wonder if it could be possible for him to cum in his pants just from eating you out. he certainly enjoys it enough — whenever he says he’s feeling thirsty or hungry, he’ll end up eating you out for so long you pass out by your seventh orgasm.

twenty. keigo’s absorbed in the smell, sight, and taste of you. nothing’s better than watching you fall apart on him, dewy tears in your eyes as you fight back overstimulation or impatience. but this is new: he’s never demanded you to cum after setting a time limit in place. it occurs to him now that he didn’t think far enough ahead to answer the question you’ll probably end up asking afterwards, something along the lines of ‘what would’ve happened if i didn’t cum?’ . . 

fifteen. with your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips lurch off the desk, a bit of drool pours down your chin. covered in a mixture of sweat, spit, and slick, you’re at a loss for words as keigo’s damn tongue rolls over your clit again and again. perhaps you’re too dazed, but you swear you feel him etch the letters of his name into you with the tip of his tongue.

ten. keigo’s pussydrunk, soaking his boxers with precum as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. his eyes are dark with lust, and the rosy skin of his cheeks and chin is smeared with that sticky wetness he just can’t get enough of. all of your muscles pull taut like a bowstring, and you sob out his name, pushing his face into you as euphoria hits you from every direction and all at once.

“kei, oh my god, ‘m gonna fucking cum,” within seconds of your frantic gasps, you abruptly gush on his fingers, hard enough to push them out of you — cum squirts from your cunt, getting onto his face when he curiously leans in to lick it away.

you don’t get a second to come down from your high because keigo roughly licks you through it as if he’s severely dehydrated. “mmmph!” you squeal, hips immediately pulling away from him like he’s given you an electric shock. “wai—wait, keigo, it’s way too much!”

he relents, rolling his eyes as if he doesn’t believe you. “fine, fiiiiine. you win this one, dovey.”

“pants off.”

he quirks an eyebrow but starts to undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft bang. “you’re so fucking greedy, i swear.”

you throw him a glare, wiping sweat off of your forehead as you sit up, slowly hopping off of the desk. 

papers fall all around you, quietly crinkling as they hit the floor and surround the desk in a sloppy circle. your lips press into a thin line as you take the sight in, mildly exasperated by the mess you’ll force him to clean up. “on the desk, keigo. tuck your wings in too.”

he laughs in disbelief, used to calling the shots when it comes to sex, “so demanding, baby.”

you fix him with a serious look, crossing your arms over your chest while papers ride the dying currents of air made by his wings. keigo clears his throat and folds his wings close to his back, “yes ma’am.”

his flushed cock is rock hard, bobbing as he settles onto the desk; it’s fraught with veins and beautifully curved to one side, something you’re endlessly thankful for when he’s inside you. above him, you’re dripping wet and ready to take him deep — keigo shudders when you grip the base of his cock, carefully balancing yourself on the desk so that you can easily sit down on it.

“holy—oh, shit,” he curses, abs clenching beneath his clothing as he forces himself to keep his hips down. if you want to take control, he’ll give it to you — anything you could ever want is immediately yours. bleary gold eyes clear up and hone in on where you’re connected; your pussy swallows his cock whole like it’s nothing, leaving him breathless.

you swallow, gnawing at your lower lip, “i’ve fucking missed this, kei. been s-so long.”

memories from your most favorite escapades rush back to you so quickly your head spins, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. there’s a beat of silence before keigo grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he borderline begs you, “baby, c’mon, fuck me already.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you breathe, placing your hands in the center of his chest to hold yourself up, “you don’t get to do that right now, keigo.”

“god, you’re gonna kill me.”

maybe you won’t, but your hips will — they start to move until you’re bouncing roughly on his cock, letting his tip bully itself against your cervix. it’s the kind of kiss that only the two of you can understand, filled with affection and an hungry obsession for more.

for what seems to be the hundredth time, this mahogany desk is christened with more sex. skin claps against skin, filling the room with the same applause that echoes in a theater after a successful show; the whole building is empty, and it’s only your window that’s flooded with fluorescent light in the otherwise dark night.

“dovey,” keigo moans, voice cracking on the familiar pet name, “if you keep going like this, i’m—i’m not gonna last much longer.”

you don’t answer, eyes squeezing shut against the burn of exhaustion setting into your muscles. handsy as always, he grabs at your tits, pulling you further on top of him and taking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

the sharp edges of his pearly teeth drag against your skin as he sucks, golden eyes shutting once he hears your whiny moans grow louder. you’re fluid and all too smooth, riding his cock into oblivion while working in these little humps against his pelvis that don’t disturb the rhythm you’ve built up. your clit drags across his skin deliciously—shit, it’s possible that you could cum together.

“haah, baby,” keigo trembles beneath you, wings spreading out and quivering against his will. “i’m so damn close, i want—” it nearly sounds too intimate, but he ignores the voice in the back of his mind and focuses on his impending orgasm that’s fighting its way out of him. “shit, i just want you to cum with me.”

sensitivity creeps up your spine and makes your body ripple with a shudder, “r-rub my clit ‘n i will, kei.”

everything happens so damn fast; it doesn’t take long for your body to respond to his frenetic touch, and you completely fall apart on his cock, triggering his own high. while your cunt desperately grips him like a vice, he’s shooting endless ropes of cum deep against your cervix. ultimately, it was pointless for him to fold up his wings — they’ve fought against him like usual, strewing more papers around the room and knocking objects off of your desk.

“d-don’t move just yet,” he wheezes, holding your hips in place the moment you try to retreat, “just stay here for a second, dovey.”

a mixture of slick and cum is smeared in the wispy beige hair that adorns his pelvis, and he looks at you pleadingly, cheeks a blotchy pink. it’s cute, but not nearly convincing enough for you to stay much longer than half a minute. “c’mon, i’ve got some stuff to finish up.”

begrudgingly, keigo lets you go and winces as you pull off of his cock. it flops lamely against his stomach, cum dribbling down the sides and adding to the creamy ring around the base. he sighs, unsurprised by your eagerness to depart — his thighs are cooling now that you’re no longer sitting on top of them.

“that was good,” you say, voice layered with praise as you stand on the tips of your toes and peck an appreciative kiss to his cheek, “let’s get started on sorting papers, shall we?”

you’re already across the room before he can grab your waist and show you what a real kiss feels like, slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand each and every time. 

☆ ☆

rules are the stitches in the seams of anything, always there to hold things tightly in place. it’s natural to break a few every now and then, but what if there are some that should be broken? perhaps they tend to hold things back rather than securely in place.

“okinawa’s just beautiful,” keigo says wistfully, reminiscing about white sand beaches and the bird’s eye view of colorful tourist umbrellas dotting the shoreline from above. there’s a small glitch in his memories that adds you to the scene in a bikini, sunbathing on a towel while he convinces you to come swim in the water with him. he hears himself say something impulsive, but he doesn’t regret it. “maybe we can go on a trip there together. i’ll fly us.”

you stir your drink with a straw, watching the alcohol whirl around ice. “ah, i think we should build up to that, keigo. you’re forgetting that i’ve never flown around that far with you before.”

“we could always change that,” he replies, voice suave. “nighttime is the best time to fly.”

“someday i might just take you up on it,” a laugh spills out of your mouth after a gulp of sweetened tequila, and keigo’s face softens. one of the things he loves most about you is the fact that you’re not afraid to be yourself around him, never once hiding a smile or laugh. “anyway, is there anywhere you haven’t traveled?”

“hmm, let me think,” he raises his fingers to his chin and ponders momentarily, although the answer had come to him the moment you’d started to ask the question. “well, there’s your house.”

you shake your head, nudging his wrist with your own. “noooo, i’m talking about other countries and cities. haven’t you flown out of japan?” 

“only to okinawa,” he supplies, wings twitching anxiously. whenever he brings up your home in the city or worse, him going to it, you always clam up or push him away. granted, it was a boundary line you’d marked in the sand when you’d gotten into this reciprocal relationship all those months ago. escapades have taken place everywhere but your home—he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d mentioned doing it at your place, only to end up on a random rooftop or in an empty alleyway. ever the quick learner, keigo learned not to bring it up. but now, when he’s considering all the variables involved when it comes to confessing to you, he can’t help but feel that it’s necessary to see your house at least once.

sweat rolls down his spine and he unconsciously tugs at his fitted shirt, feeling the heatwaves brought on from both the liquor and the crowded atmosphere of the bar. there’s so many people walking behind the two of you, so much noise, so many bodies all in one space — he feels a little trapped.

“i’ve never been,” you say, derailing his train of thought as you drain your third drink of the night and then flag down the bartender for another. “it’s supposed to be a great vacation spot, though.”

he wipes away the sweat from his forehead with his arm and finishes his drink before nodding your way, wings fidgeting behind him. “it really is, dovey. you wanna take off after another drink or two?”

two glasses slide on the counter, the sides dripping with condensation and cold to the touch. it’s nice to feel in his hands, and he feels his nerves calming after a few long sips. “sounds good,” you answer, feeling hot yourself. the edges of everything in the room seem to blur, thanks to the halos circling the dim bar lights. “you might have to carry me out of here, though.”

“oh, i don’t mind,” keigo answers with a smirk that you can hear in his voice before looking up at him, “but only if you promise you’ll hold on tightly.”

“yes, keigo,” you drawl, scooting your barstool a few inches closer to him. he follows your shameless eyes, tracing your weighted stare to the small gold chain around his neck. it makes a tinkling sound when keigo loops a finger beneath it, hazy eyes meeting your own.

“can’t stop staring, can you?”

you automatically roll your eyes and look away, although your heart starts to race with anticipation. it should be an innocent question, but keigo’s words roll off his tongue in a way that is loaded with his unique charm and flirtatiousness. in a matter of seconds, you’re overthinking the question and the certain innuendo behind it; your breaths come in shallow pants that are just barely audible, and a finger slips beneath your chin to tip your head up. 

keigo leans in, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “gettin’ all worked up and i haven’t even touched you? that’s a first for you, baby.”

just stop it, you think, yet you’re unable to turn away. damn, he’s got you right where he wants you, and he knows it — keigo shoots you a knowing smile when he notices your thighs unconsciously squeeze together. it’s so hot in this bar, and it only grows hotter in his presence; an uncontrollable shiver races up your spine and you shakily reach for your drink. “stop it, kei.”

your words are shaky, and his wings twitch triumphantly behind him, feathers slightly puffing up. the dewy glass slips right out of your hand and splashes all over your blouse, sticky tequila soaking all the way through to your bra and dampening your chest. keigo stifles a snicker and plucks the glass out of your lap, a little bit of liquid still sloshing around inside it.

“that—that was your fault,” you drop a loose ice cube into the remains of your drink and glare at him angrily as he dabs a handful of napkins against your chest, unabashedly looking over the shrinking fabric. now that it’s all wet, it clings to every inch of your chest and emphasizes the outline of your tits.

“oh, but i wasn’t holding the drink,” keigo clicks his tongue and sends you a wink, sweat shining on his forehead. 

“someone has to foot the bill,” you grouse, sourly blaming him for your now stained blouse and sticky chest. then, it hits you—neither of you are drunk enough to leave the bar. after flagging down the bartender and requesting six shots, you look at keigo competitively. “listen up. whoever finishes the shots first wins and doesn’t have to pay.”

“really, a drinking challenge?” keigo grumbles, knowing you have a better chance of winning. normally, he wouldn’t mind paying for you, but you’ve challenged him and might risk covering the bill you’ve both racked up. his head is fuzzy, but one thought is clear: he won’t let you.

“yes, really,” you shoot back, nose crinkling at the smell of the liquor all on its own in the shot glasses. it’s not sweet and there’s no chaser, but you’re determined to fight your gag reflex as it goes down. “ready?”

“i’m ready,” keigo sighs, lifting a shot glass. 

it ends faster than the alcohol was poured. you’re proud to have won, and keigo doesn’t let on the fact that he assisted you. despite the liquid fire burning your throat, you’re happy—too happy; this is the most drunk that keigo has ever seen you, and he’s in the same boat as you, looking for the oars.

he nearly forgets his card when he struggles to his feet and walks out of the bar with you, right into the not-so-dark nighttime of the city. all of the streetlights are fuzzy and the sounds of racing cars are muffled; this is a different area of the city and it takes a moment for you to register where you are in relation to keigo’s apartment.

“dovey,” he says, cheeks flushed a bright red, “do you wanna go to my place?”

strong, possessive hands find your waist and pull you close, pressing your damp chest against his. those gold eyes of his search your face carefully, as if he’s taking in your features and committing them to memory or looking for something he’s intent on finding. 

your hand settles on his cheek and you pull him forward for a kiss on the busy street, not caring about who sees or writes about it. you’re in your own world, thinking of nothing but keigo and his plush, yearning mouth—he’s got the sense to pull away before it goes further, vaguely gesturing for you to turn around. when you oblige, he wraps his arms around you and under your own, holding you securely against his chest.

“i’ll treat you to a little night flight.”

vermilion wings beat the air powerfully, kicking up dust and litter along the sidewalk as keigo lifts you off the ground and into the sky. you’re shocked and speechless as you look over the city from above, thousands of buildings endlessly illuminated with light and color from the entertainment district. “it’s beautiful up here,” you breathe, feeling a little less drunk now that chill air washes over your face and cools you down. “why didn’t you invite me up here sooner?”

keigo laughs, riding on the wind and becoming one with it. “i did, you just never took me up on it. as to why, i don’t know.”

everything’s so much clearer from up here. the view is impeccable, and the air is fresh, free of the different scents of the city — exhaust fumes, restaurants, cigarettes, the occasional incense store. you’re shivering, a little too cold from the breeze blowing through your damp blouse, but being pressed against keigo’s warm chest makes it more bearable. something prods at the back of your drunken mind, a thought you’ve pushed away each time it arrives.

keigo thinks he’s slick. he thinks you don’t notice his lingering gazes, the odd way he tries to snuggle up to you every time you finish having sex, or the acute tenderness written all over his face every now and then when he’s talking to you.

but you do. you notice it, each and every time—in fact, you know exactly what all of this behavior stems from, but you choose to ignore it. clearly, keigo is in love with you. it’s evident in his actions and body language, yet he hasn’t actually said anything. it’s so damn easy to notice and understand because you feel the same, you’re just better at hiding it. something about the idea of a relationship with the no. 2 pro hero of japan is daunting — not only because you’re his agent or you’ll constantly have to face the public, but because there’s a possibility that transitioning into something more from being friends with benefits may be too dramatic of a change. 

“oh, fuck,” keigo groans, getting lost in the myriad of lights and buildings below. he doesn’t know where the hell his apartment is and isn’t sure if he has the time to fly around for a half hour looking for it.

“what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, suddenly aware of the fact that your legs are dangling in the air. in order to preserve his pride and sensitive ego, you don’t bring up anything about him dropping you, but your body tenses.

“it’s the shots,” he grouses, speaking quickly, “they’re gonna come back up.”

“where’s your apartment?”

“i don’t know,” keigo answers, and now you can hear him starting to gag as he forces the contents of his stomach back down. “i can’t keep flying around much longer . . sorry to cut this little flight short, baby.”

“it’s okay, just don’t get sick,” you reassure him slowly, trying to pinpoint your own apartment. surprisingly, the building is a minute or two away from you, if he flies fast enough. “keigo, we’ll head to my place. see that dark building right there, near the red billboard?”

he nods, and the waves of nausea evaporate instantly. after months, he’s finally going to see your apartment—he’s now leagues closer to successfully confessing his feelings to you. keigo’s heavy wings slice through the sky as he hurdles toward your apartment; while the speed is steady, the course is not. from below, people watch as something wobbles through the sky, shifting awkwardly from side to side in a way that isn’t at all graceful . . or intimidating.

you assume he really has to throw up, when it’s quite the opposite. “k-keigo, see that balcony with the potted plants? there’s only one pot of flowers.”

“is that yours?” he asks, struggling to control how giddy he is. “i see it.”

☆ ☆

with the solid, familiar ground of the balcony beneath your feet, things around you are a little steadier. still, the alcohol buzzes persistently in your head and makes you giggle over nothing. it’s warmer now that you’re out of the sky, standing close to keigo and surrounded by all of your potted plants. a pleasant tingling sensation courses through your limbs as your body wobbles, adjusting to being out of the air and the new thoughts that rush into your head.

everything’s still a little fuzzy at the edges, a reminder of your tipsiness and disorientation. keigo wraps a supportive arm around your waist when you nearly stumble to the ground, quietly giggling at your own actions and sighing contentedly in his grip. there’s a beat of silence as your body meshes into his, the kind that settles between two people who’ve just shared a long day, and it feels so natural that your mind absently drifts to two pairs of shoes beside one another and two cups of coffee in the mornings—perhaps you didn’t notice the routine you’ve slipped into, one so innate that it makes everything else feel a little less important.

“hey, did i mention how sexy you are when you’re drunk, dovey?” keigo hiccups, wings quivering as he leans on you for some support, struggling to balance just like you are. his knuckles nudge into your side gently, grin widening as if he’s waiting for a reaction from you. the playful edge to his voice falters momentarily, and you exhale through your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“ugh, you must’ve had much more than i thought,” you laugh, kicking the doormat up and retrieving the brass key from beneath it to unlock the door. it’s dark out here on the porch and the same inside, leading you to awkwardly jam the key into the lock.

“you always blow me off,” he sighs ruefully, smile dropping as he notices you using the key upside down. “what, do i embarrass you or something?”

“i-it’s not that,” you breathe, tensing the moment his chest presses against your back and his hand envelops yours to help you with the key. goosebumps rise on the tender flesh of your arms first, then all over your chest, beneath your damp blouse. you recover once the lock gives, sliding the heavy glass door open and catching your breath. “kei, you’ve always got something to say to me.”

“you, of all people, have the power to shut me up whenever you want,” keigo teases, following you into your quaint apartment. instead of appreciating the moment, his mind races to find an answer to the million-dollar question: why were you so intent on keeping him out of here? even in total darkness, the place is cozy, shelves adorned with knickknacks and décor that suits you. totally lost in concentration, keigo’s wings bristle and he accidentally knocks something off a shelf, but manages to catch it in his hand. you’re in the middle of saying something, but he doesn’t even notice, his eyes completely lighting up at the sight of the object.

“is this that glass bird i gave you all those months ago?” 

a nervous laugh rushes past your lips and you nod, hand falling away from the light switch. “yeah, i thought it looked nice up there. it’s pretty.”

“wow, baby,” he gingerly puts the figurine back in its place, elated by the possible significance that this little glass bird holds. “if i’d known you liked it that much, i would’ve showered you in gifts.”

in the middle of unbuttoning your blouse, you trip over your own foot, and keigo, ever the hero, catches you as gently as he did the figurine. his fingers splay across your bare side and you blink up at him, faced with another small gap that’s dying to be closed. “i know what i want as a gift,” you utter, voice low and sultry. the words seem to hang in the air like more of a promise than a request.

keigo can smell the liquor on your breath and the temptation that accompanies it—without a second thought, his lips are on yours and he’s pushing forward with alcohol buzzing in his veins. he’s so full of hope, believing the best over what he’s considered a sign of something more; it feels so right to kiss you like this, with his hands spanning your bare waist and tugging gently at your waistband. it doesn’t quite occur to him that he is inebriated and therefore may not be thinking as sharply as he would if he were sober in this situation. 

you shove forward, pushing him hard into a wall and nipping at his lips hungrily. despite being a little bothered by him being in your apartment, you can’t say you’re not interested in fucking on your own bed for once. a shaky gasp leaves you when you pull away for breath, stomach fluttering delightedly at the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh.

his breath hitches in his throat, hazy mind racing a thousand miles an hour. the question leaves his lips with more urgency than intended. “i—shit, you really want me to take you right here?”

“in the hallway?” you laugh, astonished. “i’d much prefer my bed, it’s easier for you to fuck me as hard as you want.”

desire and lust conducts your actions, has you dropping your blouse to the floor and unclasping your bra next. each article of clothing falls to the floor in a heap, forming a trail leading to the bedroom door. keigo follows your lead, wings jittering with anticipation as he crosses the threshold. billowy curtains blow up and around the window, lifted by the night breeze, and your room is dark, the details barely visible: keigo notices the many pillows on your bed (so that’s why you were on his ass about buying more than just one) and the full length mirror off to the side.

keigo stops to glance at his reflection in the mirror, fraught with the sculpted curves of muscle—each line a testament to years of hard work and dedication. dark hickeys litter his tanned skin, all left behind from the heat of many moments. momentarily, his eyes shift from the glass to you, perched on the bed and waiting for him. his fingers subconsciously graze over one of the marks, just as he recalls one of your rules, a line that had been drawn in the sand early on—no marks, nowhere near your neck or anywhere at all, even if people couldn’t see them. 

it’s a curious little thing, isn’t it? you clearly have no qualms about marking up his body, but you never let him give you some in return—he hasn’t voiced it, not yet. he exhales softly, feeling the ache between his legs flare once you call his name expectantly. it’s like a switch flips, causing his mind to sharpen and his pulse to quicken when he steps toward you.

bathed in opalescent moonlight, you sit back against your makeshift throne of pillows, eyes raking over him shamelessly, as if you’re looking for something else to sink your teeth into. vermilion feathers puff up and shake themselves out as the bed dips beneath his weight. “come here,” he beckons you lowly, with every intention of making you his. “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

now mussed with abundant wrinkles, the bedspread shifts beneath your bodies as keigo slots himself on top of you and hastily kisses down your neck, lightly nipping at the tender skin, just enough to elicit soft moans from you. doubt melts into desire, lacing his ministrations with something more urgent. for six months, keigo has never seen or left a single mark on you, and tonight, that’s about to change—you’ve already broken the biggest rule you had by bringing him to your apartment, so how much further could this go? 

“yeah, ‘m all yours,” you whine, back arching off the bed when he bites at the soft skin of your tits, tongue lapping away the sticky tequila you spilled earlier. it’s so different—he can’t believe he went this long without making any objections. 

things are heating up fast, and that haziness from the liquor creeps up on both of you, blurring your thoughts just enough. his hips chase yours into the bed, and he eagerly grinds his hardened cock against your thighs, all over them. your voice cracks slightly when you try to moan his name, impatient as always. but keigo decides to take his time with you, kissing and biting longer than usual—he’s in no rush, not yet.

it’s intoxicating in every way possible, causing your body to swelter and thrash beneath his own. keigo’s moving fast, delighting in your pleasure and drinking in every reaction unapologetically. fuck, to think you’d denied him and yourself for so long—he should make it up to you somehow, shouldn’t he?

“dovey,” he pants, fingers slipping under the fabric of the panties appreciatively, “you wore my favorites?”

crimson fabric adorns your waistline, threaded with soft lace. for lingerie, it’s pretty comfortable: it doesn’t floss your asshole like a thong or g-string does, something you’d told keigo when you tried it on in the dressing room. he knew he’d be buying it the moment you stepped out with a bright smile on your face. seeing it on you now is surreal, and he nearly creams his boxers at the sight of it, wings conveying his thoughts for him through a tremble.

your hips rise up and off the bed so he can pull away the last bit of fabric that covers your body. “yeah, but it doesn’t matter now,” you titter cheekily, shockwaves of arousal shooting straight between your thighs.

unceremoniously, your legs are thrown open and keigo’s wings flutter in amusement, always the first thing to react to whatever you have to say. “it matters to them,” keigo comments, jerking a thumb back to point at his pesky wings, “fair warning, this place might be a mess by the end of this.”

“so long as you help me deal with it tomorrow, i don’t mind,” your fingers swipe his cooling spit off your chest, and you’re a little startled as you press at a fresh hickey. it’s sticky, skin now sensitive and tingling in a way that’s just right.

fierce as always, keigo doesn’t waste any time diving between your legs, eager to fuck but even more so to eat your pussy. glistening strings of slick stick to the tender skin of your inner thighs, connecting them to each other thinly until he licks it away. “mmm, dovey,” he moans adoringly, and your pulse quickens, “taste so goddamn sweet.”

keigo’s a proud pussy eater, the filthiest and best you’ve ever met. he could be gasping for air with his face covered in your cum and yet, he’d still have something utterly nasty to say. unapologetically nose deep, he slurps loudly at your soaking cunt and pins your antsy legs down over his shoulders. 

“ngh, keigo,” you thrash forward, thighs squeezing his head like a vice while your hips uncontrollably buck into his face. “please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

“keep squirming around like that and i will,” he grunts, one hand pressing you down into the bed while the other pushes between your thighs. those tenacious gold eyes of his are hooded now, gleaming rapturously as he devours everything you have to give him like he’s been starving. loud, sloppy slurps soon fill the room, falling into cadence with your whiny moans; scarlet feathers ruffle in response to his most favorite sounds, and his hips rut carelessly into the mattress, desperately seeking friction.

your head falls back into the downy pillows, jaw dropping slackly as you unsteadily sneak a hand down to your clit, fingers seeking to rub a lustful itch away. keigo’s fingers wrap around your wrist and snatch it away from your pussy, instead guiding your hand to his head in a show of acquiescence. 

“don’t go doing that,” he groans, pulling up for air and pressing a thumb to your swollen clit hard enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, “use your words instead, dovey.”

you weakly nod his way, and a sudden, swift slap is delivered right to your clit, the force behind it causing you to see stars. a twisted yelp tears from your throat, and you’re doe eyed when you tearfully glance down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“gotta work on using your words, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing away a stray tear from your cheek. “jus’ trying to make you understand that i need you to tell me what you want.”

there’s a dark edge to his voice that makes the apologetic tone he’s taken on seem ingenuine, almost a little mocking. and yet, you let out a sweet moan, leaning into his touch with a hushed, “yeah, kei. i understand.”

still reeling from the tingling impact of the pussy slap, you guide his head back down between your legs and unsteadily grind into his mouth. he greedily drinks you in, smacking his lips like he can’t get enough of your honeyed taste, and unconsciously pulling you closer. his fingers rub tight circles into your throbbing clit, occasionally pinching the bud to elicit a scream or two before letting go.

keigo had always been taught not to play with his food—but when she’s quaking against his face and sobbing out his name over and over, he just can’t help himself. he’s had a perpetual  mean streak that he’s only ever unleashed during sex with you, taking an overwhelming satisfaction in fucking you dumb and then teasing you about it. he notices the way your thighs tense at either side of his head, the way your head falls back whenever he tenses his tongue.

your clammy fingers claw through blonde curls, saccharine moans spilling from your lips with each ravenous push of his tongue through your folds. it’s a push and pull rhythm that is nothing less than addictive, dragging out the air from your lungs and leaving you utterly breathless. 

“g-god, keigo,” you keen loudly, shoving him down without any regard for his ability to breathe, “need you to—i need you to fuck me with your tongue.”

he groans in response, shamelessly humping the bed now that the ache between his legs has become too prominent to ignore. it flares dangerously every time you say his name or look at him with that blissed out expression written all over your face . . fuck, now you’re telling him exactly what you want and pushing him around, something he’s always enjoyed. his tongue slips into your awaiting cunt and pushes deep, tasting even more of you once he finds that puffy, spongy spot inside of you that makes you clench up every damn time. 

your breaths come in rushed, frantic gasps that soften each word. “fuuuck, right there—yeah, t-that’s it,” your voice shakes involuntarily, tight with inevitable euphoria. “kei, you’re gonna make me cum, hah—‘m real close, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

you chant those last words religiously, and keigo’s offended that you’re thinking he’d ever want to. “on my fuckin’ tongue,” he half groans, half begs, not sure if you even hear him at all.

keigo doesn’t dare to stop until you finally come undone on his tongue, shuddering uncontrollably as he licks you through your high, nearly passing out from a severe lack of oxygen. you’ve got him in a beautiful leglock that he regrets breaking out of, but seeing the dazed, drunken look on your face when he comes up erases the thought from his mind. the entire half of his lower face is covered in your cum, and heat floods your face when his pink tongue darts out to clean up his lips, all while holding your lidded gaze.

a few sanguine feathers float around your face, falling from the air like snowflakes and lightly settling on the bed like rose petals. it seems to make the moment warmer, more romantic as if this is your first time with him—in hindsight, it would’ve been nicer to christen the relationship with a bed of rose petals and scented candles scattered around the room. instead, it was something that happened fast and right after conversations about ex partners.

you pout at him as he positions himself on top of you once again, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth. instinctively, you lick away the mixture of spit and slick he leaves on your lips, tasting yourself on your tongue momentarily. it’s bittersweet and a little syrupy . . maybe he really isn’t lying about you tasting like candy. your thoughts fade away when you catch a glimpse of his vibrant wings — you’ve always seen them, but not like this. this time, you’re up close to them, so close you can see the downy barbs and delicate vanes of each individual feather.

“are your wings . . sensitive?” you ask curiously, voice carrying the barest note of reverence as your hand tentatively inches over his shoulder. after each and every covert tryst of yours, you’ve seen keigo smooth out the feathers or greet you in the morning with stimulating news of his freshly scrubbed wings. but this—touching them—feels like crossing an unspoken threshold.

keigo doesn’t answer, his breath catching in his throat. he’d been in the middle of dazedly tugging his boxers down his body when you’d just dropped a miniature bomb on him. this is the first time that he’s been this astonished, features mellowing profoundly. soon, he finds his voice and uses it, words intertwined with an unexpected tenderness: “ . . it’s alright. they’re just a little sensitive, heh. nobody’s ever touched them before.”

as if they understand you’re talking about them, his wings shift toward your fingers, obviously inviting you to touch them. this is certainly new — for the first time, his defiant wings are actually yearning to be touched, even though they get a little choosy when it’s him who’s brushing his hands through the feathers. gingerly, you reach forward and your hand disappears into the mussed feathers, fingertips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin beneath. the apex of his wings is abundant with small, downy feathers that quiver at your touch.

his eyelids flutter shut and he emits a shy moan, swallowing a sudden heart-shaped lump in his throat. courage swells in your chest and you push further, awed by the all-encompassing softness that meets your fingers. you’d expected them to be coarse, rough from years of flying and smelling earthy or musky. the faint scent of mango wafts through the air, stirring up a sense of familiarity and comfort in your chest, reminding you of all the times he’d protectively wrap his wings around your body as if to steady you. 

“they feel so nice,” you murmur, feeling his cock throb against your thigh. it draws you back into the moment, where you’re naked beneath him with anticipatory legs sprawled open. “so . . soft.”

keigo’s buzzing when you experimentally stroke your fingers through the thin feathers, an intimate form of worship that is only understood between the two of you. “you, ah, didn’t expect them to be?”

a wind created by his flapping wings kick up your curtains and make the metal rings clatter on the bar they’re hanging on. “i thought they’d be a little rougher,” you purr, voice smooth and sultry as your legs lift, locking tightly around his waist. his v-line is visibly sharp and hard to the touch like cut marble against the pillowy skin of your thighs, muscles flexing as he guides his cock to your soaked pussy. 

“i’ll show you rough, dovey,” keigo huffs, smearing his cock with your slick and pulling your legs away from his sides. he’s going to fuck you up, and he can’t do it properly in this position—your feet are thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, thighs folded tightly against your chest. he’s painfully hard, leaking sticky precum all over and trembling by the time he pushes the tip of his cock between your folds. your response is immediate; an eager moan slips out of your mouth, hips bucking impatiently onto his cock.

“damn, baby,” his chest heaves tirelessly, skin flushed pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, “you’re ready f’me, aren’t you?”

you look up at him with dewy eyes, electricity shooting through your every nerve. “i-if i was made for—ah—anything, it was taking your cock.”

god, you can’t just say shit like that and cluelessly think he won’t actually fall in love with you—he was only asking for a simple ‘yes’, but now he’s got hearts in his eyes as he finally pushes inside you, swallowing down the sudden urge to blow his load this fast. pulsating, gummy walls wrap around him and seem to suck him deeper without him even moving; he weakly presses his head into your shoulder, gasping frantically as he tries to adjust to the grip you’ve got on him.

“f-fuckkk,” he stutters out, regaining his cool composure after a moment despite the room feeling like a sauna, “i’m gonna hold you to that, you better not forget it.”

he’s relentless, going from zero to sixty in a second with no thoughts of slowing down — he’s jackhammering his hips, curved cock ramming right into your sweet spot and french kissing your cervix. you’re dripping wet, slick pouring down your ass and making each thrust slip ‘n slide all the more smoothly; the bed creaks ceaselessly beneath the weight of your bodies, groaning so loudly it occurs to you that it might just break. but that isn’t even a problem, not with keigo, who’d drop a ton of money on something you could just express the slightest bit of interest in.

“h-holy fuck, keigo,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed, “i could—oh my god, i could cum just from this.”

“yeah, dovey?” he grins, voice tight as he quite literally plunges deeper into heaven. “jus’ from my cock?”

sweat beads on your forehead, making your body swelter with endless steam that seems to vaporize any inhibitions you still had after all the drinks. “nghh, w-wait, ‘m gonna cum—”

“wait?” keigo practically barks out a laugh, shaking his head ruefully at you, “there’s no waiting. i want you to cum right on my cock ‘n i’ll fuck you through it, dovey.” 

you nod with mascara infused tears streaming down your face, legs quaking uncontrollably. everything seems to happen at once — a twinge of pain takes root in the backs of your thighs just as the built-up tension inside you snaps into thousands of sparks, finally igniting your long awaited orgasm.

keigo forces himself to keep his eyes open despite the fact that he’s risking an early orgasm, balls clenching at the sight of you: your lips form an o shape as euphoria washes over you, making your body quiver frenetically. he swallows dryly, closely rocking his hips against yours so you don’t push him out. 

“kei,” is the first thing you sob out when you recover, struggling to catch your breath with every thrust fucking the air out of your lungs. you’re sensitive all over, skin prickling with heat that doesn’t cool even with his wings creating a draft. 

he’s straining tight at the seams, heart pounding in his ears as he thinks of nothing but you.

you, you, you.

with your sweet, glossy-lipped smile in the mornings and the voice of a vixen when you innocently call his name. you’re nothing less than beautiful beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and staring up at him with those glazed over, blissed out eyes while your body molds against his. it’s a shape he knows well, one he’s pictured in his head when he’s all alone, one he’s been dreaming about whenever his eyes close.

his breath catches in his throat. “haah, fuck—dovey, i can’t hold it anymore.”

“right fuckin’ there,” your voice cracks into a squeal, “mhm, jus’ cum inside me.”

“you mean it?” keigo asks dumbly, nearly melting at the wild look you throw him in response.

“yeah, kei—shit, ‘m gonna cum again,” the words rush past your lips, urgent as ever and spurring him on to keep going, “i want you to—i need you to fill me up.”

something sweet flashes behind his gold eyes and he tucks his face into your shoulder, breath coming in frantic pants while he gasps your name. you’re practically in your own world, moaning loudly and dragging his slim hips closer to your own. when his cock starts to twitch deep inside you, the heel of your palm digs into his lower back, forcing his tip right against your cervix. he’s burning hot, utterly lost in you with no way of finding his way out — cum spurts from his cock and the spasms wrack his body, each stripping away a layer of him until he’s left with only his heart in his hands. 

“i fucking love you,” it rushes out and he doesn’t regret it for a second, “god, baby. i love you so much.”

your eyes roll back as your body surrenders to the toe-curling sensation of your third orgasm of the night, euphoria hitting you from all directions and rendering you clinically cock drunk. you muster just enough strength to wipe the salty tears away from your eyes, teeth chattering just the slightest bit as you drag in a gasping breath. 

after a moment, you yawn, stretching out your folded body and nudging at his chest to get him to lay down beside you. “ooh, that was great, kei. there’s no fucking way i’m walking tomorrow.”

coming down is the hardest part.

keigo’s shaken to his core by your flippant response to his confession, but most of all, he’s deeply embarrassed to have said something—no, to have thought something this stupid. finally, he’s getting a taste of karma from all of his failed relationships; he wishes that he could allow himself enough pity to ask the abyss of the universe what he did to deserve this. the heat that had once been sexy dissipates immediately, leaving him as cold as a corpse. he rolls over to the side, letting go of you and staring up at the ceiling, laying on top of wings that don’t even have enough life to twitch. pathetic tears prick at the corners of his marked eyes, and for the first time, he’s happy that the lights are off.

“keigo? did you hear me?”

“sorry, i didn’t. what was it you were saying?” he drags a forearm across his sweaty forehead, overlooking the tender inflection in your voice.

“i just . . i don’t know. that was really good,” he may not hear it, but you do. quickly, you clear your throat and tug up the blankets, inviting him to crawl underneath with you. “goodnight, kei.”

he should bite his tongue, but he doesn’t; this is the last time. “goodnight, dovey.”

☆ ☆

after tossing and turning the whole night, keigo finally decides to end the torture at 5:20 am the next morning. it’s still dark out, and he figures that he can easily slip away under the cover of night. he’s got a mild hangover, but it won’t impair him, not when he’s determined to keep it together until he gets back home.

soberly, he absorbs his surroundings and recalls the memories that have been plaguing him for hours. his body tenses, thick cords of muscle pulling taut as if he’s bracing against the impact of a punch, and like it has countless times before, the scene replays in his head again. his emotional, devoted admission of love was something you’d completely ignored—again and again, you’ve only ever shown an interest in his body.

in his chest, he feels his heart clench horribly as he looks over your sleeping form. you’re curled up in yourself under the warm blankets, turned toward him with a serene look on your face that makes it all the more difficult to slip out from under the sheets and into the cold. like a cat, he silently pads into the hallway and collects his clothes as if he was never there. he’s inches away from the back door he’d been so excited to step through last night when he stops in his tracks, head hanging lowly as pangs of guilt hit him like fists. it’s not right to just leave you like this, not without making an effort to say some kind of goodbye.

keigo hesitates in the hallway, feet seemingly glued to the floor. all he can hear are loud alarm bells—every instinct is begging him to leave, to spare himself the imminent heartbreak of going back in that room to see you. against his better judgment, he eventually tiptoes into your room with every intention of giving you one final kiss. at your bedside, he bends forward and presses his lips to your forehead; the kiss is entirely chaste, the brief touch carrying a blend of quiet grief and the tenderness of a love that was bound to fall through.

like most things in his life, this kiss doesn’t go as planned. there’s a momentary flash of blue and white—he’s managed to give you a strong, accidental static shock with an innocent kiss at 5:22 in the morning. you blearily wake up, squinting up at him in confusion and making out the high collar of his hero jacket.

“good morning, keigo,” you stretch under the blankets and reach for his hand, “what—what time is it?”

“it’s early,” he answers unsurely, sitting down on the foot of the bed. his wings droop, vermilion plumes seemingly inanimate. “y’know what, don’t worry about it. go back to sleep, baby.”

“but where’re you going?” you sit up abruptly, eyes narrowing at his fully clothed body. a glance over the edge of the bed reveals that he’s even got his boots on! 

“i’ve got patrol, silly,” keigo picks the easiest excuse out of an array of choices, and you sniff it out immediately. “i’m a hero, remember?” silence hangs in the air for a moment before you slowly speak up, sounding more confused than anything else. “but saturdays and sundays are your off days.”

keigo pauses, tongue sliding over his teeth as he contemplates what to say now that he’s been caught in his lie. like an idiot, he’s managed to trap himself. you scoff, cognitive functions coming to back to life as the final vestiges of sleep fade away into the ruined morning. did he actually expect you to wake up naked and hungover, all by yourself?

“okay, you caught me. i’ve got some stuff to deal with.”

“this early? c’mon, why’re you in such a rush?”

ultimately, it’s best for the both of you if he pulls away.

keigo’s usual smile drops and he sighs, “i’ve got shit to do, okay?”

it’s this early in the morning, and your blood pressure is already spiking in a way that is most undesirable. “are you fucking kidding me, keigo?”

the way you say his name so angrily, so accusingly—it fucking irks him, causing the corners of his lips to pull downwards into a scowl. he’s not really angry at you, he’s angry at himself for causing this dilemma to begin with, but you don’t know that. how could you really know anything about him aside from the way he likes to fuck?

“why are you getting so damn pissy? i’m going to leave whether you want me to or not, okay?”

stark naked, you exit the safety of the bed and make a beeline to your dresser, where you yank open drawers in search of clothes. keigo stands, watching longingly as you pull on some panties and a bra.

“i’m getting pissy because you wanted to take off so i could wake up naked and alone! you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“i was trying to,” keigo argues back, jumping to his feet, “but you were the one who ruined that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“a kiss isn’t enough!” you snap, now covered in a loose t shirt and pajama shorts. “couldn’t you have just waited a few hours? maybe then you could’ve told me why you were leaving.”

“what the hell? so you’re saying i need a reason to go back to my own house?”

“i don’t see why you think you can lie to me!” your voice raises furiously, words sharp as daggers, “i’m not just your agent, keigo. i know you, i care about you! don’t you get that?”

it’s quickly evolved into a dangerous game of catch, the pressure to be the one to drop the ball growing heavier atop his shoulders with each passing moment. painfully, a vein in his forehead pulses from the headache brought on by the hangover and the memories that follow it. it’s been hours and he can’t seem to shake away the pain that gnaws away at him. he’s so stupid.

“yeah, i know you are,” keigo grits out bitterly, “all i wanted to do was leave.”

“so abruptly?” you press him for answers, flicking on a small lamp so you can see him clearly. deep wrinkles span the entirety of each article of clothing that hangs on his body, but it’s the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes that makes him look unusually sloppy, getting you to pause as you take the sight of him in. concerned for his wellbeing, you soften, body relaxing. “what—keigo, what’s wrong?”

“it’s just the hangover,” he squints defensively, backing away and into a corner, “anyway, you got your goodbye, didn’t you?”

your gentle, worried face falls away. it hurts more than any injury he’s ever gotten, but he has to keep the walls up to protect himself from the pain even though guilt slips in through the cracks like mustard gas. with a pinched sigh, keigo backs away from the wall, wings limply hanging behind him as he prepares to exit your bedroom with no intention of ever coming back.

he’s blindsiding you, lying to you out of nowhere and slipping through your fingers like steam, too elusive for his own good. without a second thought, you close the distance and grab firmly at his wrist, a gesture that would’ve worked once. “i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters without looking over his shoulder, snatching away from you as if he’s been burned. “i just . . i can’t.”

“what’re you—what do you mean, keigo?” he looks out into the distance of the hallway, focusing on a specific floor tile and tracing its grooves so he doesn’t have to see your face. just from your voice, he knows you must be absolutely crushed. for courage, he allows himself a steady inhale before stepping past the threshold and leaving you in the lurch.

“this,” keigo turns, gesturing wildly and spitting out the words as if everything that’s happened in this room is horribly filthy, “it’s bullshit, all of it. i’m done, got that?”

there’s a beat of silence, and keigo stays a second too long.

“keigo, you’re breaking my heart here.”

you’re probably referring to the sex, aren’t you? surely you’re disappointed by the fact that you’ll no longer be fucking the no. 2 hero, petting his wings and calling him by a name few are able to.

“oh, come on,” he looks over you sourly, shaking his head as his eyes span the entirety of your body, “you’re pretty. you’ll find yourself a new fuck buddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

immediately, he regrets saying it, feeling a rush of nausea in his stomach—he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

you blink back tears, his stare suddenly invasive and hurtful. “i don’t want a new fuck buddy, i want you.”

“tough shit,” keigo grunts, wings drooping further down. the longest feathers now drag along the floor, picking up whatever there is to offer. “i’m done being friends with benefits.”

“i just—all this fucking time, i’ve been wasting my time wanting to be with you,” the words tumble out of you bitterly, filling up the space between you with everything you’ve ever wanted to say, and his ears prick, grasping at a possible implication beneath all of it, “god, to think i was afraid we wouldn’t be able to become something more—all of this was a mistake.”

keigo pauses, heart pounding in his ears and possibly affecting his ability to hear. “you’re . . in love with me?”

“i was,” the correction is swift and choked, reverberating straight to his core and making his body stiffen. it hurts more than anything to hear, carrying a horrible weight, the kind that makes him realize you’ve given up on him.

“then why didn’t you—that doesn’t make any sense,” he gasps, the newfound information hitting him like a freight train, “if you were in love with me, why didn’t you—how couldn’t you have said something?”

“what’re you talking about?” you hiss, harshly rubbing away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. keigo’s bewildered now, face devoid of anything but shock and some kind of adoration as he seems to process something inside his head.

he stares at you desperately, struggling for the right words, “fuck, dovey, why didn’t you say anything last night?”

“don’t call me that,” you snap, the petname far too fond for a moment like this one, “why would i possibly have said something last night?”

keigo falters, and his voice cracks as the words rush out like a torrent. “i told you that i—god, i fucking told you i loved you. didn’t you hear me?” 

oh.

oh.

his heart squeezes painfully in his chest when the realization washes over your face, making him realize the gravity of this misunderstanding—you didn’t hear him.

wearily, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. he sees the way your spine curves forward, and bites down hard on his lower lip once the first sob slips out of you. in an instant, keigo’s beside you and pulling you into his arms, shaking all over. he doesn’t know what to say, but his voice breaks with endless regret when he finally comes up with something. “i’m sorry, god, i’m so sorry,” tears race down his cheeks and into your hair as he murmurs despairingly, “i thought you didn’t care, i didn’t know—”

there’s nothing more to say. 

keigo tries anyway, brokenly whispering apologies that fade into the air like smoke. his arms are tight around your body, holding you closely — it’s an unspoken promise to never let you go again. for the very first time, he truly melts into you without the walls in the way or the burden of hidden feelings. when you slowly relax against him and your sobs become quieter, something shifts in the air. vermilion wings, once held down by the weight of everything they’ve been carrying, finally come back to life. wings that have had no other purpose but to protect keigo now extend outwards to protect you too, soft feathers cradling you tenderly in the quiet of the morning. just over the horizon, the sun begins to rise, bathing the city in the light of dawn and new beginnings.

[andivmg]

My experience with Luke (Punz)

CW: toxic relationship, racism, dubious consent

I know in the past i said that i would no longer speak about him publicly, and when talking about my experiences with abuse and emotional mistreatment i begged to keep it anonymous but after reflecting on this for a week and seeing so many incredibly smart and strong women tell their stories. they have given me the strength to say his name.

this is really scary to talk about because of the copious levels of harassment i have received from his fans in the past so if this spreads or gets out of hand i will simply log off.

If you read my last post, i nicknamed him 1.

So aside from everything i said there, there were a lot of things i didn’t include because they would’ve made it obvious that it was him and it could potentially backfire on me so, i’m very afraid to post this. but i’m going to do it scared anyway, because it’s not fair that he gets to just go and live his life worry-free as if he didn’t practically ruin mine.

Because I already made a very lengthy post about him, i won’t include everything i said last time to avoid being redundant but if i repeat myself, please bear with me.

In our year long relationship i had to endure emotional neglect, gaslighting, verbal abuse, one instance where there was dubious consent, and much more.

Starting off at the beginning of our relationship, that’s when i was getting copious amounts of hate and harassment from his fan base (warranted or not), he decided that our relationship must be kept private. he said it was to “protect” me from his fanbase when in reality it was to protect himself. it was so he wouldn’t get all the backlash i was getting. this is funny because one of the things i got called out for was saying the B slur (derogatory term used against mexicans/latinos). I won’t get into the nuances of if i could say it or not as a puertorican because that’s discourse that does not pertain to this specific situation. But you know who definitely can’t say it? A white boy from Massachusetts. When i was getting cancelled for this and getting thousands of tweets calling me names, he decided that was the perfect time to say “I mean you are a b***** aren’t you? my little b*****.” Now, he said this completely unprompted. I was in the process of writing my apology and he just said that. I tell you this because i immediately shut him down and told him that there was no universe in which it was okay for him to say that word and especially not one where he could just call me that. While i was reprimanding him, he was smiling and laughing. he apparently found it amusing to call me a slur. regardless, he gave me a half-assed apology and said he wouldn’t do it again. and he didn’t. but this wasn’t the only time he was weirdly racist to me. this was my first time being in an interracial relationship so i was led to believe that this was normal by all the white people around me at the time. But, sometimes my spanish accent would come out and he would make fun of me and the way i pronounced some words. He also refused to visit me in Puerto Rico when i lived there or come meet my family when i really wanted him to because he “didn’t like the heat” or “it’s dangerous there isn’t it?”. Once, while we were watching season 2 of Bridgerton, he implied that the Sharma sisters were “too dark” for him to be attracted to them. This hurt me because they are brown skinned girls. I am a brown skinned girl. Then this, combined with the fact that he told me once he wasn’t attracted to me made me feel like my skin color was unattractive. These are only a few examples i can think of at the moment, but i’m sure there were more. Our relationship ended in 2022 so some of my memory is a bit hazy. But, I do remember feeling inferior to him throughout the relationship because he was white and I was not. I chalk that up to all the micro aggressions i had to deal with because i had never felt that way around white people before.

Another thing i had to endure was him constantly making me feel like he was embarrassed to be with me. Because i was cancelled, he didn’t want to associate with me too much. He did defend me on multiple occasions, I’ll give him that. But, he only did it because his name was getting dragged in the mud along with mine. Excusing my actions made him look better for being around me. In reality he didn’t really care. Because he was such a big content creator and someone i looked up to professionally, I took his advice as law. He told me to tone down my personality, to keep a low profile, to change things about myself to be more palatable to his audience. The same audience that spoke about me like “The pussy can’t be that good punz please stop defending her”. So i changed a lot of things about myself and my content to better suit what his audience liked. He made me feel like if his audience liked me, he would be public about our relationship and stop hiding it. He told me the reason why he wanted to keep our relationship a secret was because he didn’t want to get hate for it. But this wasn’t true. On my 20th birthday he went to Las Vegas for a twitch rivals event. That night i asked to facetime him to say goodnight and he refused because he was at a hotel room with his friends and he didn’t want them to know that we were together. It was as if my mere presence or the utterance of my name was a source of embarrassment for him. And he didn’t let me forget it. It wasn’t just a public thing at that point. He didn’t want people to know we were together, period. This was devastating to me because I would talk to all my friends about him. I was so proud to be with him and I was just one more problem to him. He made me feel so small and insignificant just because his fans didn’t like me.

He would berate me a lot. Not just due to getting heat online, although he did do that a lot. But in general whenever we would get into an argument or a disagreement he would always call me names like annoying or weird or stupid. He would raise his voice at me if i did something he didn’t like and call me an idiot. And that really hurt, i felt like i couldn’t bring up anything or do anything without getting insulted. If I hadn’t seen him in a few days because he was too busy streaming and i asked to hang out he would call me needy, clingy, and annoying. Granted, he might not have been wrong, but that is not something you say to someone you claim to love. He also insulted me when i was in depressive episodes. I have BPD and at the time i was not being treated properly for it. So, I was all over the place emotionally and he was what i clung to for validation, reassurance, and love. I talked to him when we first started dating about my disorder and told him that if it seemed like something he couldn’t handle that he could opt out of the relationship. I guess he didn’t think it was that bad or something idk because whenever i had really bad depressive episodes, he would tell me I was too sad to hang out with. He said that my sadness was a burden to him. Which would be fair. But, once my mother had a conversation with him about me. She told him that i am someone who needs a lot of love and caring. She said that if he wasn’t willing to put in that kind of effort into a relationship to just leave me alone. He reassured her that he would be there for me no matter what. He told my mother that he would protect me and my heart. He did not. He took all the warnings I gave him and ignored them and then made me feel like I was the problem. And even worse, he would say that i was pretending to be sad to get his attention when he would neglect for days at a time.

There were also some smaller things like the fact that he made me feel really guilty whenever he would spend money on me. Also, he would be really mean about my eating habits. For context, i used to suffer from an eating disorder. I was anorexic and had a really unhealthy relationship with food during high school and my first year of uni. This relationship began when i was recovering from my ED. For me, eating was really hard. So i had certain comfort foods that, while sometimes unhealthy, at least it was something to eat when i didn’t feel like eating anything. He knew this. Yet, whenever i would crave some of these foods he would call me fat. Constantly told me I’d gain weight from eating all that junk food. Saying that to someone with an eating disorder is crazy. Other smaller things were that whenever I would post tiktoks where i was lip syncing or just looking good he would yell at me and say i was looking for attention. Same with Instagram or Twitter whenever i would post photos where I looked hot. He never planned out a single date for us. I would beg him to get me flowers and he did maybe once but i’ll get into that in a bit. He would make fun of me in front of his friends to make himself look better. He let his friends say really degrading things about me in his presence. For example, once when i was showering, i overheard him on a discord call with George and Sapnap and i heard George say “if you don’t go in the shower and have sex with Andi, i will”. Once, when i was really struggling with my legs (for those of you who don’t know, i have arthritis and it’s very painful. at the time i wasn’t diagnosed but i was in a lot of pain) I literally could not walk. I had to beg him to take me to the ER because i didn’t know what was wrong with me. He didn’t want to take me but eventually i convinced him, and while we were there all he did was complain about how long it was taking and that he would have rather been at home streaming. Whenever I would talk about my interests that i was excited about like shows or books he would be incredibly uninterested and say that those things were stupid and he didn’t want to hear about them. I know all of these seem very silly or superficial but cumulatively it was awful.

Now for arguably the most serious thing i’m going to talk about. I want to preface this by saying i am just telling my side of what happened. You can come to your own conclusions about this.

On April 25, 2022 it was our one year anniversary, and i had made a dinner reservation for us. I expected him to plan something throughout the day for us to do. He told me he was going to spend the whole day playing Valorant so I got upset and cancelled the reservation. After a very heated argument, we calmed down and i asked him to come over. He came over about an hour later with flowers and drinks (I was 20 at the time so I couldn’t buy the drinks myself). He brought Smirnoffs and Trulys. For context, I am a lightweight. I always have been. I literally get tipsy on half a cocktail. And that day, I hadn’t eaten anything because i was in distress over our argument. So we get to talking and drinking. I blacked out after my second Smirnoff. Apparently I drank 3 but I genuinely cannot remember anything after finishing the second one. The next morning i woke up naked in my bed. I woke him up and asked him “Luke, why am I naked?” and he said “Because you didn’t want to put your clothes back on.” When I clarified to him that that was not what I meant, he got defensive and said that he didn’t realize how drunk I was. He proceeded to tell me that I initiated sex with him and that i was very enthusiastic about it. He said he didn’t know i could black out on three smirnoffs. He made fun of me for being a lightweight and continued to make light of the situation. Then he mentioned that i fell off the bed at some point in the night and that it was funny how drunk I was. I then questioned him. Because if he thought that me tripping and falling off the bed because i was so drunk was funny, how did he not know that i was too drunk? He responded by saying that i fell off the bed only after we were done. That day I broke up with him. I’m still really confused about what happened that night. I don’t remember anything and all I have to go on is what he said to me. We were in a relationship at the time and he says he didn’t know how drunk I was so I’m not sure what to call what happened. A while after that day, his friend that hmu while we were broken up and I started talking again and i confided in him about that night. He told me to be careful saying things like that because they could get me into trouble. I spoke to some of our other friends about it and they told me it was no big deal and that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how drunk I really was. Because I don’t remember, I have been led to believe that this is not a serious matter. You can think what you want, come to whatever conclusions you want. That is just my side of the story.

I want to add that I’m not proud of how I acted after the relationship ended. I felt really angry at all the shit he put me through and I guess a part of me wanted him to hurt even a quarter of how I did. So I started talking to his friend and got involved with him. This backfired on me because his friend ended up really hurting me too so ig i got my karma. But the thing that hurt the most is that because of what I did, some of our friends took his side in the break up. I was told that I did something terrible by getting involved with his friend that he was already insecure about and that he didn’t deserve that. These are the same friends who were witness to the dumpster fire of a relationship we had and all the things he did to me. They turned their backs on me because of this one thing I did. But stood by and watched as he treated me like garbage for over a year.

I will conclude this by saying that while this relationship has been “over and done with” for almost two years now, I carry a lot of trauma from it still. I still talk about him in therapy and have had to put in a lot of work to heal from what he did and i still cannot say that i am okay. I am very blessed to now have a patient and understanding partner who has helped me heal from that trauma and i just want to quickly thank him for that. Nobody deserves to go through what I did. While yes, it was a toxic relationship, and I had a part in that, it does not excuse all the awful things he said and did to me. This is my truth, thank you for taking the time to read it.

[diekleinesuesse]

Them being Jealous

Hongjoong – The Subtle but Intense Jealousy

Hongjoong isn’t the type to be openly possessive, but when he feels like he’s not getting the attention he deserves, he starts acting out in subtle ways. Maybe you’ve been on your phone for too long, replying to messages and laughing at your screen, completely ignoring him while he’s sitting right next to you. At first, he just watches, silently tapping his fingers against his knee, waiting for you to realize he’s there. But when minutes pass, and you’re still absorbed in whatever is on your screen, he clears his throat dramatically.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m just your boyfriend, but who cares about me, right?”

You finally glance up at him, and his pout is unmistakable. His usual confident, charismatic demeanor is replaced with this sulky, needy energy that is both endearing and amusing. If you tease him about it, he’ll scoff and pretend it doesn’t bother him only to pull you into his arms and steal your phone away, forcing you to focus on him instead.

“I guess I’ll just have to steal your attention back,” he says, smirking as he leans in close.

Seonghwa – The Passive-Aggressive Sulking

Seonghwa is usually very mature and patient, but when he gets jealous, it’s a different story. He’s the type to go completely silent, his usual warmth replaced with a cold, distant demeanor. Maybe you’ve been caught up in a conversation with someone else for too long, laughing and engaging with them while Seonghwa watches from the side, arms crossed. He won’t say anything at first, but the moment you turn to him, his expression is unreadable.

“Are you done?” he asks, voice calm but laced with clear irritation.

If you ask what’s wrong, he’ll shake his head and say, “Nothing.” But the way he stiffly stands beside you, barely making eye contact, tells you everything you need to know. He’ll only break when you finally grab his hand and give him your undivided attention, at which point he lets out a small huff.

“I was starting to think you forgot about me,” he mumbles, looking away with a pout.

Once you shower him with affection, he’ll act like he wasn’t sulking at all but you know better.

Yunho – The Overdramatic Baby

Yunho is normally the easygoing, playful one in the relationship, but when he feels neglected, he turns into the biggest, most dramatic baby imaginable. Maybe you’ve been on a call with a friend for too long, or you’ve been too distracted by a show to pay attention to him. He tries to be patient, but eventually, he sighs loudly, flopping down next to you with the weight of someone carrying the world’s burdens.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m suffering like this,” he says dramatically. “My own partner, ignoring me like I’m invisible… is this what heartbreak feels like?”

If you ignore him further, he ups the theatrics placing a hand on his forehead like he’s about to faint or even lying down across your lap with a pitiful sigh.

“Guess I’ll just die of loneliness,” he mumbles.

The only way to get him to stop is to finally give him attention, at which point he immediately perks up with a grin, acting like he wasn’t just being the most dramatic person alive.

Yeosang – The Silent but Deadly Type

Yeosang doesn’t show his jealousy in loud or obvious ways, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it. If you’re too distracted with something else and not paying him attention, he won’t say anything but he will start giving you short, clipped responses and sending you piercing, unreadable glances.

If you’re talking to someone else and ignoring him, he’ll suddenly get very interested in his phone, scrolling mindlessly but not really reading anything. The air around him will be heavy with unspoken irritation, and if you don’t notice soon enough, he might just get up and leave without a word.

The moment you finally approach him, he’ll pretend like nothing is wrong, though his cold attitude remains.

“Oh, now you notice me?” he’ll say with a raised eyebrow.

It takes a lot of coaxing (and maybe some extra kisses) to get him to let go of his sulky mood, but once he does, he’s back to his usual quiet but affectionate self.

San – The Clingy, Affection-Starved Puppy

San is naturally affectionate, so when he’s feeling jealous or ignored, he doesn’t hold back on making it very obvious. If you’re too distracted, he’ll start by sitting closer, then even closer, until he’s practically glued to your side. If you still don’t give him attention, he’ll wrap his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder and sighing dramatically.

“Are you ever going to notice me?” he whines.

If you keep ignoring him, he escalates nudging his nose against your cheek, playing with your fingers, maybe even tickling you just to get a reaction. If you’re talking to someone else for too long, he straight-up inserts himself into the conversation, draping an arm around you and giving the other person a charming but territorial smile.

Once he has your attention back, he immediately goes back to being his usual playful and affectionate self, acting like he wasn’t just desperate for your love a moment ago.

Mingi – The Grumpy but Lovable Jealousy

Mingi’s jealousy is a mix of frustration and sulky adorableness. He tries to play it cool, but he’s terrible at hiding his emotions. If you’re too focused on something else and not paying attention to him, he’ll start shifting around, sighing loudly, and muttering under his breath.

At some point, he just straight-up whines.

“Babe, why aren’t you paying attention to me?”

If you keep ignoring him, he’ll cross his arms and pout, refusing to look at you until you finally give in.

The funniest part is, if you tease him about it, he immediately denies it.

“I’m not jealous,” he grumbles, only to immediately demand a hug a second later.

Wooyoung – The Shamelessly Possessive One

Wooyoung doesn’t do subtle jealousy. The moment he feels ignored, he makes it his mission to steal your attention back, no matter what. If you’re on your phone, he straight-up snatches it out of your hands. If you’re talking to someone else, he inserts himself into the conversation like he’s been there the whole time.

“Wow, that’s so interesting,” he says sarcastically, pulling you closer to him. “But you know what’s even more interesting? Me.”

He’s all over youwrapping his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck, being a complete menace until you finally give in.

Jongho – The Stubborn “I’m Not Jealous” Act

Jongho’s jealousy is quiet but intense. He won’t say anything outright, but his whole energy shifts. If you’re not paying attention to him, he just sits there with his arms crossed, expression blank but clearly annoyed. If you ask him what’s wrong, he’ll just shake his head.

“You’re busy. It’s fine,” he says, but the tightness in his voice says otherwise.

It takes a lot of reassurance and coaxing before he finally admits, “Okay, maybe I was a little jealous.”

Once he gets your attention, he acts like he wasn’t sulking at all but he secretly loves when you pamper him.

[pruneunfair]

Tropes in manhwa are awful yet people still defend them

I'm in a bad mood right now so what better way to release all that pent up anger by ranting on what can ruin a good story.

1: Slavery being inserted only for cheap plot and slaves being demonized as obsessive/greedy monsters for "not knowing their place"

Theres nothing wrong with wanting to insert slavery in your story AS LONG as it's not just cheap plot to make your MC look "better" by buying from a single to all of the slaves because let me tell you this: there is no such thing as a good slave owner, you cannot morally own another human being. A lot of manhwa like to have slavery be a part of their plot completely ignoring that just because the MC goes "wow this is terrible" doesn't make them a good person after they buy a slave.

Remarried empress does this with its villian Rashta by pushing the notion that she's being greedy for not wanting to stay in poverty so Navier won't suffer because apparently a slave wanting what the silver spoon mouthed nobles were born into is so terrible not to mention they justify slave owners and slavery in general as a punishment for criminals (neglecting the fact that children can be sold by their parents)

The villainess has fun again justifies a child slave being bought by the lead and he becomes an obsessive shouta love interest, fans continously justify by using the ancient lolicon excuse "he may look young but he's actually 99182823 years old!"

In divorcing my tyrant husband, Robelia buys 30 slaves and the only 2 that consistently show up have no other personality other then "we love you FL we will worship you till the end of time!"

There's a damn manhwa out there literally called the order of slave breeding and even when a story tries to do this correctly such as VADTD with Penelope being portrayed as a bad person for what she did to Eckles, fans have been so deluded by the idea that FL's buying slaves is "girlboss" that they think Eckles should be grateful to be Penelopes "pet"

2: ML's murdering innocent people after one guy hurts the FL

I already made a specific post about it before and I'll say it again: all this does is make your male lead/father figure look like a horrific monster. While you could say it's because its a medieval kingdom (objectively that is true that they would do this) manhwa and OI is the same place where despite in those times taking a mistress was considered normal they still view it as cheating and "how could you pick that slut when you have such a perfect wife!? 🤬" in most stories. So yes, modern morality is still inserted within these tropes. While I can get it's a way to show that the man in questions loves the FL so much he's willing to go to such lengths to protect her I think just mutilating the guy that actually did the sin would be enough because try imagining yourself as a faithful servant who was amazing at your job getting brutally slaughtered by the Emperor because your boss attacked his daughter or lover.

Into the light once again does this with Aishas dad murdering all the relatives and close friends of a count that tried to kill Ysis and Aisha, Aisha doesn't seem to care despite being in a situation where she was wrongfully executed in her past life.

Remarried empress does this too. After Navier is nearly killed by Krista's brother, Heinrey tortures and kills the dad and slaughters the servants of the zemensias. I can't remember if he also murdered the remaining family members but I wouldn't put it past him.

3: protagonist centered morality

Protagonist centered morality is the biggest indicator that a piece of media is dealing with a mary sue FL. Whatever the protagonist says is right is immediately morally correct. This is actually used to justify the last 2 examples with "it was for the FL!" Things like slavery, murder, workplace abuse, union busting, pedophilia, and being a POS to your loved ones are all justified if the protagonist finds a cheap way to justify it and you HAVE to agree with her because her backstory is very tragic 🥺. Protagonist centered morality also ruins the chance for good characters since the FL herself never has to grow as a person so she stays the same exact thing as she was just with more enablers and random characters will be treated as villains even if they aren't actually wrong about being suspicious of the Protagonist or calling out her behavior. It twists the narrative in such incomprehensible ways that you don't even know what your reading anymore. I can't even list all of the manhwas that do this given how many there actually are so I'll just list some that are at least self aware there Protagonist is awful/morally grey or isn't even a bad person but they still have flaws that can be pointed out

Villains are destined to die

My in laws are obsessed with me

Not sew wicked step mom

Depths of malice

The villainess turns the hourglass

Beware of the villainess.

4: villains being dumbed down to make the lead look smarter

This is unfortunately another common staple often used as a quick way to make the FL look smart and witty but is that really hard to look smarter when everyone else around you is an idiot? Not only does the FL not have to put in actual effort to best her enemies but you just start to pity the villain for basically being a punching bag. Dimwitted villains aren't always bad in fact they can be some of those most entertaining characters no matter much they lose but that only works when they are meant to be seen as a goofy character that your not supposed to take seriously. Villains that are written as extremely childish and stupid but your still supposed to treat them as serious antagonists on the other hand are just annoying since you wonder how the protagonist even got killed by them in the first life if they're so stupid.

Isabella de Mare while admitly having a good reason for being dumbed down (she's a teenager in the 2nd life so it's reasonable she wouldnt be as smart as her adult counterpart) is still a joke of a villainess who keeps flipping back and fourth from a snot nosed whiny brat to a mastermind only at convenient opportunities when the plot needs conflict.

Mielle from the villainess turns the hourglass was first portrayed as extremely conniving as she arranged for Arias downfall in the shadows but in the second life she fails at every scheme she has even though she has Emma and Isis to help her out.

Ragibach is a literal demon possessing the body of another woman with the goal of setting demons loose on the word to start another human vs demon war and she succeeded in that the first time, the devastation was all there so clearly she has to be a formidable antagonist right? Well no, she's another case of being dumbed down further and further so Keira can succeed and while they do understand some plot holes such as Ludwig not trusting her as much in the second life it doesn't change the drastic character change from evil genius to bumbling idiot.

In short: dumbing down your villains so your lead can look smarter is essentially going to give the equivalent of a hydrogen bomb vs a coughing baby.

5: feminine women being demonized as basic "other girls" sluts

Okay this one isn't nearly as terrible as the others on this list because we all love the good old "a demon makes itself look beautiful to deceive humans" kind of villain, in fact as you probably know by me by now, white lotuses are my favorite kinds of character and even in media outside of manhwa I always find myself drawn to angelic villains but it seems like this is less of that and more of "Oh those are all the other girls who just want a man to save them, look at how much better my badass rich boss babe is for working for herself while taking all of their men at the time 😎" in manhwa. As soon as a traditionally feminine girl shows up, comments are already calling her a two faced bitch and half the time protagonist is already skeptical of her. This is the opposite of what being a feminist really is, a real feminist wouldn't be putting down other women just because they dress with more pink with bows and skirts and while I do think for most manhwa this is unintentional I do wish that we could have more characters like Psyche, Helena, Athy, and Jennette that prove that being overly feminine doesn't make you a backpedal on feminism. This doesn't make the badass or sexy fl's bad either, it just means they can co-exist.

An angelic villain should be treated as evil for being a well calculated schemer, not because they have a light colored color scheme

6: toxic relationships being romanticized as good

You know for a large community that claims to be about girl code a good chunk sure likes to look the other way when it comes to toxic relationships as long as the abuser is "hot" and theres always the terrible excuse such as "he has trauma!" Or "he doesn't know how to show his love normally!" No just no we aren't doing that here. Cry or better yet beg has this problem with not only the narrative claiming that Matthias graping Layla is okay because she actually loves him and doesn't know it but a large part of the fanbase also defends it, the same goes with try begging, a manhwa written by Solche who also wrote cry or better yet beg and once again despite Leon being an abuser everyone's ready to justify his actions because he's just a soft little boy who ends up falling in love with Grace awww 😍 (what the hell?) Everyones all about not justifying abusers because they had a sad past until it's the "sexy" male leads with daddy issues.

7: maid slapping

This shit isn't asserting your dominance as a boss bitch it's just work place abuse. This trope has gotten so out of hand of being justified by narratives and readers that there is an entire webtoon called this isekai maid is forming a union that's all about criticizing twisted manhwa tropes that get brushed off with maid absuer being at the biggest one. It's funny because a lot of people complain that Isekai maid union villainizes the nobles too much but they never ask the same questions when a OI is demonizing maids as greedy and lazy in order to deserve a beating. This doesn't just stop at hands either it can escalate to threats of mutilation just to assert dominice which is absolutely sick. Most of the time these leads used to be office workers or terminally ill patients, they know how terrible it is to be treated like garbage by their superiors yet they continue to absue every maid who isn't getting on their knees for them. Most maids in real history would not mistreat a noble even if they were the most hated in the house and even if they did they'd be fired without a letter of recommendation so why can't the FL's just fire the rude maid if they care about dignity so much because I'm pretty sure getting violent with a maid isn't very dignified either.

8: disgusting age gaps

Very similar to #6 but in this case while the ML/FL isn't a cruel monster to their partner it doesn't change the fact that grooming and pedophilia is still a crime worthy of life in prison. You'd think "oh no way, this can't be justified can it?" You'd be wrong. Now I belong to house of Castillo thankfully has a larger fanbase of people who think that a relationship between a girl who got groomed by her knight is bad but in cases like into the light once again a lot of people like to say "Well Aisha is technically 28 so it's fine!" When it really isn't since Aisha is still mentally 14. Taming my ex husbands mad dog is another one that does this with Reinhardt grooming a 16 year old boy and its apparently meant to be "cute".

9: claiming a character as unattractive yet giving them a perfect body and appreance

I just think this is a major cop-out since there's time where they want to make a realistic story yet also wanting a fantasy fufilment. I don't think its a coincidence that the only woman in tears of a withered flower that yout supposed to support is a Victoria's secret model body type. Even though she's meant to be an overworked exhausted 33 year old woman being mocked for losing her beauty she sure as hell isn't drawn that way, the only other women around hae soo are all women with smaller boob's and in general more common body types that are either classed as stupid or jealous that Hae soo is so beautiful that all the attractive men want her

how about we don't pit all the women against each other for once? And let's especially not villainize other women because their jealous they could never be have large boob's and tiny arms+waist at the same time?

10: the commoner protagonist actually being a noble rich person all along

Look I know most of us had loved those "the hated child is the lost princess" GLMM but we need to drop it because it's kinda disappointing that the nobody who had to work their way to the top is actually a secret magical princess who had royal blood in them all along. While I did think the villainess turns the hourglass was a pretty decent read I was super disappointed finding out that Aria was of noble descent all along. I liked seeing a commoner protagonist for once and it really felt like it was critiquing the idea that all commoners and poor people who want nice things like the nobility are greedy animals. Something similar can also happen with certain saintess manhwas that decide to twist itself into "the villainess was the true saintess all along!" And I'm just sitting here thinking "well there goes the hope that you didn't need the super duper rare power to be a strong character"

I feel way better now after writing all this.

[wendichester]

can I request reader x soulless!sam, like they were dating before he lost his soul (and in looooovvvve<3) and she was so happy he was back but missed how he used to be, like he now openly flirts with literally everyone and he doesn’t care about her at all and it hurts her, maybe he snaps at her or he sleeps with some random girl (the hippie chick, some waitress) and she finds out or something else?

love you 💋

-💌

⋆˚꩜｡ half a heart doesn't beat right,

summary. sam lost his soul and with it, you lost him.

pairing. soulless!sam winchester x reader genre. angst

wordcount. 579

notes / warnings. complaints are not accepted. i am just completing the request 🛑 // heartbreak & emotional neglect, depiction of toxic relationship dynamics, implied infidelity, reader being dismissed/invalidated

You waited for him. Through the nights when he didn't call, through the rumors and whispers, through Dean's eyes when he couldn't look at you. Through the clawing hope that he’d still walk back into your arms like nothing ever changed.

And then he did.

Sort of.

Sam's taller, colder. The weight of him feels different, even when he’s standing right next to you. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes—hell, half the time it's not even his smile. It's a stranger's. Plastic. Crooked in a way that makes your stomach turn, but you still chase it like you’re chasing something holy.

You tell yourself he’s just adjusting.

That it’s normal. That he just needs time. That the soul, or lack of one, doesn't erase what you had.

But it does.

It has.

It starts small. A hand on a waitress’s waist. A wink at the blonde in a crop top who asks about local motel recommendations.

“I’m right here,” you whisper once, fingers brushing his arm.

He doesn’t even look at you.

“You’re not blind, are you?” he says without blinking, eyes still locked on the girl behind the counter. “She’s hot.”

The first time he snaps, it’s because you ask him if he’s okay. (You shouldn't have. You knew better. You keep doing that—looking for Sam inside him.)

“I’m fine,” he says flatly.

You press, too soft. Too loving.

“Sam—”

“I said I’m fine,” he growls. “Jesus. You always do this. You cling.”

The word hits like a slap. You flinch before you can help it, and his eyes flick over you like you're a fly on the wall. Nothing more.

You catch him in the parking lot of some dive bar in Nebraska. She's got long legs and a hemp necklace and her laugh sounds like wind chimes. The kind of girl you would’ve called sweet, once.

He’s leaning against the hood of the Impala, her hand under his shirt, mouth on his neck.

He sees you.

And doesn’t move.

Doesn’t even blink.

Later, in the motel room—your motel room—he shows up like nothing happened. Like he didn't spend the last thirty minutes letting someone else kiss parts of him that you haven’t touched in weeks.

You sit on the edge of the bed. Still dressed. Still shaking.

“I saw you,” you whisper.

“So?” he says, kicking off his boots. “She wanted to. I didn’t stop her.”

“Are you serious?”

“Don’t start,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making it a big deal.”

“I love you, Sam.”

“You loved a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore,” he says, voice flat. “That guy? He died in that cage. You don’t get to hold me to his promises.”

You cry in the bathroom later, silently, while the shower runs to drown out the sound. He’s already asleep on the bed. Or pretending to be. Either way, he doesn’t come looking.

You wonder if he ever will again.

And the worst part?

You still wait.

Every goddamn day, you wake up hoping he’ll feel something. Anything. That he’ll remember the way he used to look at you. The way he said your name like it was something to believe in. The way he held you after hunts with trembling hands like he was scared to lose you.

But he’s not scared anymore.

He’s nothing.

And you’re still here.

Waiting for a man who doesn’t even flinch when he breaks your heart.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[sharktttu]

yandere batfam x neglected doctor reader

(A/N: ok so this is my first time publishing any of my writings so I hope that everything is somewhat cohesive and understandable. and um yeah open to any feedback.)

Prologue

Sometimes I really miss my mom, shes not dead or anything but I was taken out of her care by officer Gordon because our home got one to many CPS visits at the wrong time.

Now I wont lie and say that life with my mother was amazing but at least she had the decency not to give me false hope. Everyday it was the same thing she would come home after work and start drinking, now she wasn't that mean of a drunk if you learnt to stay out of her way, which I did and not the easy way

My mother would always tell the truth and not sugar coat anything, she had hit me a few time as a kid yeah it was never full on beatings, maybe a slap or two here and there if I pissed her off but I loved her because she never left me hoping to spend time with her, she would never give promises that she couldn't keep, and she would never give me a sip of a normal life just to leave me in that dark again. My mother was my constant and I was taken from her.

My new "family" of geniuses though could never get that wrapped around their heads. they would give me false hope. Hope to get invited to family movie night, hope to have a normal family dinner without any conversation becoming super awkward just because I sat down to eat with my "family".

everyday I strive to be better, to prove myself, but with each new addition to the family I became smaller and smaller.

I came a few months after dick, I was about 6 about years 5 younger than him. I had no idea of what I did to him but he just didn't like me. He didn't hate me or love me I think I was lower than he last resort. I think it was all the stress and trauma he had from experiencing his parents death and trying to cope with it while Bruce trained him to become Robin. I never blamed him he had It harder than me.

Next came Jason he was okay. I could obviously tell that he liked dick more than me but that was okay, you cant come between a good old fashion brotherly bond right? he was nice and all but wasn't a constant for me to rely on. When he died yes I was sad, death was always sad to me it never mattered the person. But I wasn't as heart broken as everyone else because he was just another person that lived in the manor for me. I still cried I mean I was only 9. When he came back he acted like a completely new person, that's when I learnt about the family business. He then became a bad constant.

then Tim came in he never noticed me and I was always way to busy to even talk to him because I was desperately trying to gain the attention of Bruce even a look. after a few failed attempts and a retry with dick I moved on to try and get times attention, but all he did was call me annoying and push me away.

Cassandra in my eye was the best she was like the older sibling that I had always wanted. to bad she didn't see me in the same light. Cassandra saw me as a nobody just a kid that was taken in out of obligation and to look good to the press. I knew she was right and was just pointing out the obvious but It still hurt.

Barbra was neutral she was never there, not in a avoiding me way but in a I'm always working kinda way. I liked her she was a constant.

Stephanie was also a neutral but a little worse, she was the one that was never there in the I'm avoiding you kinda way. she just saw me as some annoying little kid so she just busied herself with work to try and not talk to me.

Damian was the one who treated me the worse. first he saw me as competition but as soon as he learnt I was made from a "whore one night stand" I soon became a beating block for him. always throwing insults at me. saying that I was lucky to even have Wayne blood with my "dirty blood". his words hurt the most but he was a great constant I think that he was my favorite sibling for reliability, of a reality check.

Bruce my "father" I don't really have much to say about him he was the least constant. in front of the press he'd treat me like I was actually one of his kids, like I was actually apart of the family. but I knew better than to get my hopes up. I learnt pretty quickly that he has a reputation and I was expected to help him keep it up. I knew that if he wasn't expected to attend an event with his kids then he wouldn't bother to spare a glance at me.

Alfred was like a mentor to me. He taught me so many things and he really did try to keep me from finding out the truth of what my family thinks about me but one against seven is not fair. he was my best constant, a constant that could give me a break from my harsh reality. A constant that would allow me to be a kid again. Alfred was my favorite constant.

(okay so what are y'all thinking I already have chapters 1 and 2 planned, any feed back is appreciated 😼)

[cxlrayne]

Disguised as Danger

Platonic ! Fluff - neglected child GN! reader x fatherly kidnapper

Synopsis: Despite being born into a rich family, your simple needs weren't fulfilled, and you weren't treated and loved like a child properly. And, against all odds, your kidnapper was the one who was able to satisfy your basic necessities and became your guardian.

Note: English is my second language

enjoy!

Doing all the wealthy guys' dirty work? Cassius is already used to it. For him, it's just another normal day in his world, completing another "under the table" job assigned by his shitty boss.  It's already clear that he thinks about the life he could have had if he hadn't been born into this world.

So just imagine it when he kidnapped you, a rich family's child. He thought you'd be loudly crying like some spoiled nepo baby—

—and indeed you did cry, however it was different from what he imagined.

Of all things, you cried because he gave you a bed to sleep, food to eat, water to drink—in short, all the basic necessities. Aren't you supposed to have all that, but in a luxurious version? You know, with silk sheets and caviar?

Instead of you crying like some sort of unruly child, you clung onto him, your small fingers digging into his worn leather jacket, your breath hitching as you fought back the tears while thanking him endlessly.

He was baffled. He couldn't believe you weren't begging to be returned to your luxurious life. Weren't you supposed to beg him to go back home? Or is his mind playing tricks on him...?

Surely you were just clinging onto him like a koala and acting to get favors right...?

And when he tried to contact your rich, good-for-nothing parents you did the opposite—you clung onto him, your small hands gripping his arm, begging him not to.

Now, he was really confused. Don't blame him for not getting any clues, he's just a man who's too busy fulfilling his jobs, not realizing his living under a rock.

He was horrified and dumbfounded when he dug some information about your well-being, discovering that you weren't properly taken care of—and let me tell you that he took it to heart. And instead of returning you, he kept you, protected you, and treated you like a human being.

He didn't care if his boss complained about him not doing his job properly and threatened him. After all, Cassius was a guy who did a lot of killings and shady businesses, so his boss should be the one to fear him and be threatened whenever he felt his presence.

Cassius abandoned his task and threatened his boss to give him the paycheck, which was really successful because he had scary privileges, and acted as your guardian.

He took you to different places, buying you everything your heart desired, plushies, desserts, toys, clothes, anything no matter the cost.

Whenever Cassius had missions, he'd bring you along, his presence comforting you. He'd be protecting you like some sort of bodyguard, his hand always close at hand, ready to shield you from anything.

One time, when you accidentally saw him beat up a guy, he feared that you'd get scared of him. However, you were giggling, considering that you were just an innocent and clueless child.

Making you laugh, he'd do everything to make you laugh, smile or giggle. Despite him being a big scary guy, it was an easy job for him to make you laugh.

At times when you were crying, you'd clung onto him and he'd soothe you, until you'd fall asleep in his arms. After that, he'd find who made his baby cry like that, and maybe, beat them to death? It's not Cassius' fault, it's the only choice he had...

He would sacrifice himself for you at any time, given that you weren't properly loved and cared for, because you were his child despite the circumstances.

He would do things that your parents didn't fulfill in your life, even simple things. Like tucking you to sleep, reading you a book, singing you a lullaby, combing your hair, anything that you could imagine.

You were his child after all, a child to be loved and taken care of.

[betty-fran]

A couple of thoughts on Spock and McCoy's relationship (and, probably, about K/S too).

It becomes more apparent in season three, though it's actually an ongoing trend, that McCoy often worries about Spock more than about Kirk when they're both in danger. Not because he worries about Kirk any less, but because he worries about Spock differently. In S3EP10 "Plato's Stepchildren," the most psychologically difficult episode that N and I watched the other day, this is well-read in the moment of bullying that Parmen arranges when he tries to convince McCoy to stay. Kirk, of course, orders McCoy not to accept Parmen's offer under any circumstances:

KIRK: McCoy. No matter what he makes me say or do, the answer's no. MCCOY: No, Parmen! Stop it!

And as hard as it is, McCoy holds himself back because he respects him as a captain first and foremost. He worries about Kirk, of course he does, it's natural for him, it's a habit developed over the years and close friendship, but he trusts his decisions:

(Kirk rolls in agony.) PARMEN: Well, Doctor? MCCOY: I have my orders.

But when it comes to Spock, it's more complicated. He has an awareness of the limits of Kirk's endurance (and again, he has to see him as a captain first and trust him in that), and the way he worries about Kirk is objectively logical. But his worry about Spock is more of an emotional response. He noticeably distrusts Spock's ability to recognize his own limits, especially emotionally, often referring to his emotional repression. He worries about Spock in a way that Spock himself is incapable of worrying about (or at least incapable of doing so fully), about what Spock constantly neglects - his psychological state:

(Spock is forced to dance close to Kirk's head. Flamenco-style, I think, ending with a boot directly over Kirk's face. Then Spock is allowed to rest, and he starts to laugh heartily. He crawls over to Alexander, who cannot help but join in.) MCCOY: He's a Vulcan. You can't force emotion out of him. PHILANA: You must be joking, Doctor. MCCOY: You'll destroy him. PARMEN: We can't let him die laughing, can we? (Now Spock cries.) MCCOY: I beg you.

McCoy definitely cares about him. All those scenes where he suddenly and seemingly for no reason starts lecturing Spock about his inability to feel feelings and accept his own emotions are usually the very moments when Spock actually feel feelings but trying to repress it, which makes me think that McCoy is telling him all these things at those moments not because he's an insensitive bastard, but because he's just very aware of what's going on with Spock emotionally.

Unlike Kirk, who is actually very similar to Spock in his perception of the world and his way of thinking, McCoy and Spock are really radically different people. He doesn't understand Spock as fully or as deeply as Kirk does, but he can understand Spock's emotional state (and he can be straightforward with him about it). Where Kirk accepts Spock unconditionally and completely for who he is (with Spock's inability to feel in a normal human way, this complexity of his world, this internal struggle), preserving that right for Spock to be exactly that, because again, Kirk doesn't want him to be anything other than who he is, even if it means he can't be with him the way he wants to (which brings us back to the similarity between Kirk and the Companion from Metamorphosis), McCoy doesn't need to do this. He doesn't buy into all that Spock "too complicated to feel simple feelings" nonsense, and he doesn't hold back on his choice of words when it comes to talking about it. McCoy perceives Spock through the lens of his own human perception, seeking in him what he can understand and explain through emotion. And while this is not real acceptance, it's also not an attempt to change him. In fact, it's this emotional vision of McCoy, his pressure on Spock's emotions, that quite often turns out to be true, because Spock obviously still has a human side.

When we observe the dynamic between the three of them, we realize that Kirk's feelings about Spock are obviously different from his feelings about McCoy, who is apparently his closest friend in TOS (which makes me as a viewer wonder if this was done consciously, considering that K and S relationship was really positioned as special and unique, even without any romantic reading). And McCoy undoubtedly understands how indispensable, unique, viscerally important Spock is to Kirk. He, more than once, when faced with a choice between danger for himself and Spock, tries to take the hit, realizing that losing Spock would be harder for Kirk. The whole dynamic of McCoy and Spock's relationship reminds me of a situation where your best friend falls in love (so completely and irrevocably), and trying to understand why he did it and what he found in this other person, you start to look at them, and in the process of this exploration, you unexpectedly get used to them, find your comfort in their company, and (just a little, of course) you start to understand why your friend fell in love so much. This person becomes dear to you, and you start to worry about them no less than you do about your friend, and maybe even more, because you understand that this person is vital to your friend's happiness, the most important in the whole world to him. So, in the end, McCoy now has to take care of two idiots instead of one, which hardly makes his life easy.

Therefore, the well-being of these two is personally important to him. He often reacts angrily to the actions of either of them when it could hurt the other, and more than once acts as a "voice of reason", reminding (not always gently) of this super-importance between the two of them. To a certain extent, it is Kirk, their shared concern and responsibility for him, that really holds McCoy and Spock together, and I think that if Kirk had died, this delicate attachment that exists between them would have collapsed under the weight of grief, although in the opposite situation McCoy and Kirk's friendship and Kirk and Spock's closeness would have survived. But in all this, McCoy really, genuinely worries about Spock. Unable to fully understand and accept his complexity, he simultaneously sympathizes with him and tries to help in any way he can. And he's also important to Spock, not just as Kirk's closest friend, someone who's emotionally important to him, but, actually, as his own friend too. Their relationship is more fragile and complex than a simple friendship, and often exists despite contradictions, but what unites them outweighs the rest, bringing some balance.

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

stay still - roy kent

request - LOVED the roy kent work- more for him?? perhaps with a gf in a more artistic field

summary; you spend an afternoon painting with roy kent

warnings; sexual implications but no smut, uh kissing? mostly fluff

"C'mon," Roy whines, "lemme see it."

"Love, please you have to stay as you are, you're really inspiring me," you coo, so sweetly that Roy basically had no choice but to keep still, ears tinted red as he thinks of himself as your muse.

Roy had avoided this scenario since you'd started dating. Him sitting, you staring at him, scrutinizing every detail, and painting him. He felt insecure, like you were too good, and you were going to suddenly realize mis brush stroke that you were dating a football coach, a washed up football legend, when you should be out at the Eiffel Tower with some prick who knew the difference between oil and acrylic paints.

That would never happen, of course, because you loved your washed up football legend.

But, last week he'd gotten caught up at work, and couldn't make it to a date night that you had planned, and normally, that would be fine. Things happen, life comes up, you wouldn't hold that against him. However, he neglected to call you and tell you that he wouldn't be coming, so you were left waiting at a restaurant for hours before you gave up and left.

Roy had felt awful about it. So when you asked to paint him, he couldn't possibly say no.

"All right, relax," you said, standing from your seat and stretching your arms over your head.

Roy grinned from his seat, warm smile on his face as he held his arms up towards you, fingers stretched open encouraging you to climb on his lap.

You giggled, straddling him, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing you tightly. You held both his cheeks gently, beard tickling your palms, as you guided his mouth up to meet yours.

A slow, languid kiss shared between the two of you relaxed all the muscles in his body, always did. Always grounded him and brought him down to earth.

"Thanks for sitting so lovely," you whispered, pulling back to look at him. His eyes stayed shut, and he chased your lips as you pulled away, groaning when you laughed instead of kissing him again.

"Hungry?"

"Starved," he grumbled, "Let's go to bed."

You laughed, "not the kind of hungry I was asking about, babe."

He just grunted in response, bringing his lips to your neck and rolling his tongue over a spot he knew would make you gasp.

"C'mon," you whispered, climbing off his lap and grabbing on of his hands in yours, dragging him to stand up with you. "I want supper, then we can go roll around in bed."

"Can I at least see it now or-" Roy grunts, shocked when he passes the painting on the canvas. "this is a painting of a fucking tree!"

"Inspired by you!"

"You painted a tree while I sat there for three fucking hours!?"

"Any requests for dinner, love?" you asked, laughing and walking out of the room, completely ignoring his question.

"I could've read my fucking book!"

"I'm thinking chicken wings, haven't had them in a while, and I've got some in the freezer..." you mumble, Roy hot on your trail.

"What was this? The most boring prank ever?"

"No," you say, turning to face him quickly, forcing him to stop mid step to avoid crashing into you. "This was payback for making me wait two hours in the restaurant the other night and forgetting to text me that you couldn't make it."

"Oh, I knew you were still mad about that."

"Do you want supper and a roll around or would you like to argue instead?"

Roy thinks for a minute, then just shrugs and says, "I like chicken wings."

[teastyun]

༘⋆ pierced heart (tits)

(SFW) part 1/3

Abby might be your roommate, but she's for whatever reason so distant and cold towards you... until one day, you decide to pierce your nipples and manage to break a barrier inside of Abby.

pairing: roommate!abby x reader

╰┈➤ part 2 ; masterlist

late in the evening of a hard working day, you and Nora were chatting in the infirmary, when you noticed several cabinets containing her medical instruments left open, so you took a peek… and found several types of needles in sterilised bags, that would usually be used for medical procedures.

when you started searching for a specific needle, Nora stopped mid-sentence, "-y/n!! why the hell are you looking through my cabinets?" the confused tone to her voice made you instantly laugh, so you told her about your idea of piercing your nipples, "remember when I told you I found that vintage piercing studio back in the outbacks?" she continued looking at you with a suspicious look, so you continued "I found this brochure with several different types of piercings, and I bagged a few random essentials just in case, you know?" when she didn't respond, you took that as a cue to continue, "and well, lately this idea of piercing my nipples wouldn't get out of my mind-"

"y/n, are you serious right now?" she interrupted, but started laughing at your crazy idea. at first, she would completely deny it and tell you all the possible consequences of it. although, after a bit of convincing, she slowly started giving up and by the end she would even offer her help, so she knew you were on the safer side when it came to the procedure itself. few days after, you and Nora managed to pierce your nipples with all the equipment you two had gathered and you visited her for your daily check-ups and sanitising in the first two weeks.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

after several months of your piercings adjusting and slowly healing, you decided to stay in your dorm to get back into your neglected hobby, when you finally had a few days off after hard working weeks.

since you and abby had similar positions in the military system, you also had a similar schedule, which resulted her few days off overlapping with yours, without the two of you knowing.

usually, you would always wear compression attire for work,, so today you decided to wear a normal, but still tight and light t-shirt, without your usual sport bra and your favourite comfy trousers. your piercings look beautiful, when only a thin layer of cotton was layering them. today, abby's roaming around y’all’s dorm getting her chores done, although a heavy tension sits between the two of you.

when she sees you on the couch in your cozy clothes, she only takes a quick glance while getting her books from the couch table, but stops mid-track and looks at you with an almost shocked expression on her face, still holding her few books in her hands. you notice her sudden change of action and look up, meeting her grey eyes. for the first time in ages, she finally speaks to you, “are those… pierced?” with a shocked undertone to it.

you look at her just as shocked as she is, but your eyes wander from her eyes down to her popular black cut-off tank and her usual khaki cargos, and back to her cold eyes. after a few silent seconds, you slightly confused respond “what else does it look like…?” abby is agitated by your response, but asks “how the fuck did you manage to get that done?” at first, you just ignored her.

when you got up to put your things back to your side of the room, you say with heavy annoyance in your tone “Nora got them done for me, why would you even care?? it’s not like you ever would,” when she obviously waited for a response.

with your back to her, you put your stuff back into your box under the bunkbed, but you didn’t notice how abby would follow you to your side. “also, it’s none of your business! don’t-“ you started, but Abby’s agitation rose with each sentence you said, she huffed and cut you off, “you know that you could have gotten a very bad infection or even fucking worse, a damn blood infection-“

“Abby, just stop talking!” your voice rose as you stood up to face her, and just now you’ve noticed how she was only mere centimetres away from your face. she was looking at you with a worried expression, but when you two realise how closely you stood, she takes a step back. you had no idea why the only time she would speak privately to you was such a cruel topic, and tears started forming in your eyes. embarrassed, you blink them away and look at everything else but her.

after a few moments, she finally speaks again, "I... What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't do such reckless things," her hand goes through her loosely braided hair, "I didn't mean it like that." you still wouldn't look at her, and she went back to her chore.

"Then tell me, why are you always ignoring me?" you finally ask, when you observed her actions, still leaning on your cold metal bunkbed. your question clearly catches her off guard, but she wouldn't dare to look, nor answer you.

she simply continues grabbing her books from the tv stand. her actions agitate you, so you slowly walk up to where she's standing. Abby hears your steps, but this time she wouldn't back away. instead, she just stays there. she still wouldn't make eye contact with you though.

"Abby, please look at me," you say, but she closed her eyes with an almost pained expression. you softly hooked two fingers on her chin and turned her face to you, forcing her to look into your eyes. In them, you saw anger and frustration, but also... lust? your eyes observe every little detail on her face.

her slightly crooked, but Caucasian nose. her trail of freckles all over her face, nicely accentuating her sharp facial features. her pointy, but plump and rosy lips. your hand follows your eyes, tracing every feature you are able to find. when you traced her lips, you felt her taking a sharp breath, so you look back up into her eyes. you two didn't realise how close you two were now standing, until you felt each other's breath on your skin. before you could think any further, her hand draws you in by the back of your neck, her lips slightly hovering over yours with your hand on her cheek, "can I kiss you?" she asks in a whisper. you almost whimpered, but said "no," which made her instantly retreat in regret, but you hook your other arm around her neck, again looking into her eyes. "tell me why you ignored me all this time,"

she opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. her eyes switch between your eyes and your lips, and she finally whispers "let me show why," before connecting your lips in a passionate, but clumsy kiss. after a few moments, the books in her hands fell to the floor and her hands were roaming all over your body, like a starving woman finally meeting all her desires. you wrap your arms so tightly around her neck that she feels every inch of your body pressed against hers. every inch. she pushes her leg between yours and a quiet moan escapes your lips, when you feel her firm thigh pressing against your core;

a/n: I'll post part two (definitely nsfw) in the next few days ♥ thanks for reading!!

[bespeckledstars]

I was thinking about how Scratch leaves the party to go live with a little girl in Baldur’s Gate, and I can understand why. He’s been adventuring with the team that stopped the end of the world, and though you and the Tadfools obviously shielded him from The Horrors, he obviously deserves a nice comfy place without any stress, lots of fetch, and all the treats and snuggles he can handle.

But if you go with Astarion on more adventures, I don’t think you’d give him up. But he can be a distraction, according to the elf.

One day you’re resting at an inn, or in your home in the Underdark. It’s mid-day, and light is pouring in through a window in the room you, Astarion, and Scratch are resting in. He’s been moody all week, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your torso and burying his face in your hair, as well as asking to feed from you more than usual. He’s in some clingy state of mind, and you’re perfectly content with it. While you have been busier than normal, it’s not been anything the two of you aren’t used to dealing with. And yet, he won’t let you out of his sight for more than a minute. He’s too busy staring at you with his signature brooding face.

Sitting on a sofa facing a kitchenette, you rest comfortably in his lap while Scratch gives you the biggest, saddest, wettest eyes you’ve ever seen. So used to taking “Speak with Animals” you ask, “Oh, is someone feeling a little hungry? Does someone want a wittle snack?” in your best baby voice. You pet and pat his face as you always have, watching his face squish around in the cutest way possible. You pepper little kisses on his silky white fur, and as you do you hear the most annoyed of scoffs hit the side of your head.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask him.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all,” he says, with all the weight of the world bearing down on him, clearly.

The two of you have been working on taking each other at your words, so you decide to wait for him to share his feelings without pushing him or accusing him of lying.

Slipping off your elf is a bit hard with a dog in between your legs, but you manage without falling over. At the kitchenette, you prepare a quick meal for the Bestest Boy, but you can feel a prickly sensation at the back of your neck as you do so. Almost like two little eyes boring through your neck. Or perhaps two sharp fangs. Either way, when you set out Scratch’s bowl in the room over and return to your vampiric lover, he’s sitting with his arms crossed and sporting a scowl sour enough to make a lemon scrunch up. His foot is tapping a mile a minute and you know he’s getting ready to talk, just that he’s letting out his anger before he speaks.

“Are you ready to talk now?” You say, parking yourself in front of him.

His face scrunches up farther than you’ve seen it do in quite some time. He lets out a breath before slipping on a version of his old mask.

“You’ve been forgetting something, darling,” he says like dry ice.

“Oh.” You reply. Now that he’s actually saying something, especially something you’ve forgotten, it worries you.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say for yourself? All week I’ve been doing everything in my power to give you hints. Affection, intimacy. And yet, nothing! You’ve neglected me at every turn! What do you have to say for yourself?” he cries.

You take a moment to think of all the things you and he still need to do, and all that you’ve completed this week. Your to-do list is near its end, he’s always fed and you haven’t missed any scheduled times to spend time together. It has been busier lately, but you can’t think of anything. Until it hits you: you haven’t given him a single kiss in days.

Ever since you modified your mornings at the beginning of the week to accommodate a large-scale event at the end of it, your entire routine has been totally messed up. Each morning you start by kissing your partner’s face, and he bemoans it, and you know he loves, and then he tells you as much in hushed and someone stinky whispers. You never mind his morning breath as you lazily let your lips collide, and he doesn’t seem to mind yours either. You can’t say for certain, but you think your strict routines and schedules are just as helpful for him as they are for you. He knows what to expect, and can plan for it. It demystifies his life and calms his anxiety. But now that things have been different, he’s clearly more elevated.

When you zone back in (when did you zone out?) you can tell he’s been talking for a while. His hands are more animated, his voice is just like when you first met with all those silly theatrics, and there’s just a hint of a glimmer in his waterline. Your eyes lock and then you step to him, bending down and capturing behind his neck all in one graceful arc of your body and hands.

When your lips press against his, his eyes go wide and the most precious little yelp sounds off from his throat. You don’t need to see anything else, so you close your eyes to lose yourself in the feeling of his tongue and yours reintroducing themselves for the first time this week. And when you settle yourself over him to get better access to his shoulders, he whimpers at the feeling of you resting over his most vulnerable parts. And when you wrap your arms around him, his hands fly to your back and hold you like you’re the last thing on Faerun.

Each press of your lips to his is carefully calculated to make sure all of your mouth is available to him. So cautious have you both been to never nick your lips on his fangs, but now, you throw that caution to the wind. Each connect and disconnect of you and he is languid, wet, and sensual. You know now the neglect he speaks of, and hopefully, the smooth glide of your tongue across his lips can make up for it.

Running your hands through his hair, caressing his neck as you lap and suck at his ears, and most importantly, laying thousands of kissing on every part of him you can reach, all contributes to the blushing, heaving elf in front of you presently. His chest rises and falls in time to his quickened heart, and you make no indication you recognize the effect you’ve now had on him. You brush your nose across his like a kiss all its own, and settle one last brush of your lips against his, like an invitation. When you rise from his lap, you will never confirm nor deny the brushing of yourself against him is purposeful. But when you glance over your shoulder, he jumps at the chance to follow you, and you know you’re more than happy to make up for as many neglected days as he asks.

★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★

Haha who said that? Anyways…

[dmitriene]

𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗦𝗜𝗠𝗢𝗡 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗬 𝗚𝗙.

❝𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧❞ 𝘣𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ❝𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦❞ 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘛, 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘚𝘔𝘜𝘛 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘭𝘪𝘭 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘺, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘦, 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦

❝𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘❞ 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

simon is used to the arrogant behavior around him, one way or another, serving as a lieutenant in the army gives not only its advantages, but also its disadvantages, such as meeting or trying to re educate those who were too sharp tongued.

therefore, he really didn’t like it when his brains were fucked, draining his patience with insulting or infuriating behavior — as if everyone owed this person, and simon doesn’t like being owed to someone, doesn’t like being pissed off, and doesn’t really like engage in re education, but it seems with you it takes on new colors.

of course, you know how tired he constantly returns home from missions, if he gived days off, he returns to the comfort of your warm home absolutely exhausted and sleeps almost all the time, no matter how bad it is for him at the military base — at home, on your common comfortable bed, he sleeps like a bear, allowing his muscles to rest and relax.

and you never speak out against this, you know how hard it is for him and you are glad to give him such a necessary break, for which he really values you as his girlfriend, but something lately has made you behave differently, completely change your mindset, and behave, to put it mildly, selfishly?

you’re a really good girl, you let him rest, you take care of him, you cherish him — but he seems to pay less and less attention to you every time, constantly tired, constantly sleeping, and you so badly want him to calm the pulsation between your legs, give you a little more attention and, preferably, action, you miss long kisses which very often led to completely animal sex, but he wants to rest!

you can't think only about your own pleasure, but that still doesn't stop the insolent side from slowly taking control of your thoughts, words and actions — prompting you to whine resentfully about that «sii, you barely pay attention to me!!», constantly cling to him while he sleeps and forcing him over and over again tiredly mutter and growl into the pillow that «jus' couple of more minutes, love, and i'll take care of u — hhhrh..» before falling back to sleep with a tired and deep snore, so you huff and go with the last option in your head.

silent treatment, or, if it’s simpler, attracting maximum attention to yourself simply because you won’t say a word to him, because he didn’t deserve it, he neglected you, didn’t listen at all, so it’s not surprising that you’ll be offended, right?

only he was not at all ready for this, remembering your dialogues during his sleep vaguely, and persistently trying to find out why you are silent to any of his questions, and sometimes even snort and scowl like a puppy, and in a normal situation this would not cause him more than amusement, but not now, now he was worried about why the hell you were behaving so impudently, from his point of view.

he doesn’t suspect anything and you don’t tell him until the realization hits him at the moment when he went to buy groceries according to the list on the fridge and returned with a couple of large bags, asking for your help in sorting them out and putting them on the shelves, as usual you are busy arranging the products as conveniently as possible for yourself, but his only request for a long time received only one simple answer that he considers as to fuck off — «yeah, five more minutes and i'll help»

then he remembered that he had answered you in the same way, and like a loving boyfriend who really felt guilty, he hurried to apologize, oh, he really apologized sweetly, he said that he was sorry, that this wouldn’t happen again and he was sorry, he was just tired, he also a human!! but did it cause any reaction in you?

the answer is — no, you played your role to the end, so to all his «i'm so sorry, lovie, i fucked up, never gonna do this again, you know i love ya» you huffed and rolled your eyes, saying with slight hostility in the tone of your rather rude voice — «mhm, yea, k'»

and it drove him crazy.

naturally, he tried to smooth things over by talking to you softly, cooing and apologizing by buying your favorite snacks, things you've wanted for a long time, but never in the way you really wanted, although he kissed your cheek, smoothing the curve of your waist, but you were turning your nose up at him, and in the end, he got tired of it, so why not finally show you that you've gone too far?

in its own way, a heavy, wide palm presses on the bottom of your back to press you into the mattress even harder and force your back to arch in an even more perfect arc, lifting your rounded butt as much as your aching knees would allow, allowing simon to see perfectly how his meaty cock enters and exits yours absolutely wet cunt, the bulbous head slams and scratches with sweeping thrusts against all your spongy spots, aiming at your cervix to hit it deeper and deeper.

your body doesn’t particularly fidget forward, rather slams into the mattress due to the fact that one of his palms is enough to keep you in place, allowing him to hold you as it’s convenient for him to push one at a time into your tight warmth, your folds clinging to the thick length of his cock in absolute desperateness, enjoying every minute of your, roughly speaking, punishment, especially considering your hands tied with a belt, dangling on the curve of your back.

simon tied them when he came into the room at the very beginning, you accepted him when he crawled onto your bed for the first time in a long time with a smile, thinking that it was enough to torment him, and glad that he came to you, gently covering your face and lips with honeyed kisses, stroking your body and forcing your pussy within the confines of your clothes to throb, especially when his wide fingers reached to pull the belt off his pants, exactly until it was on your wrists.

— «gonna teach you a lesson, brat» the only words that you received, and which made you frown until about the moment you were completely naked in front of him, unlike him, still in a t-shirt and with only his pants and boxers pulled down slightly to free his cock, it really was looks like a punishment, from his actions to his appearance.

usually warm brown eyes now reflected only lust and coldness, it’s amazing how quickly he can change emotions, but you can’t focus on absolutely anything when his cock rubs between your folds and touches your slit with its thick head, making you arch and straighten without being able to twitch somehow, falling victim under his ministrations when he teases either you, or more himself, twisting his arousal to the maximum, to low chest growls.

his very endless sliding of his dick between your wet folds, already sticky from his precum, makes you dizzy, and your tongue is heavy within your mouth, not having the strength to squeeze out a word because of which the only thing you do is moan and whine protractedly, almost suffocating when he finally directs his shaft into your sopping, clenching cunt, and you accept him more than willingly, inch by inch.

so you find yourself in this moment when he over and over again, pump after pump, abuses your leaking cunt with his huge dick and merciless thrusts, he moves as if it’s more about his pleasure, not paying attention to your throbbing clit which he usually rubs with his thumb, now it’s all about your punishment — from the moment when he turned you over on your chest, allowing you to satisfy yourself when your hard nipples and no less hard from arousal clit rubbed against the sheets.

his hips and balls slaps against the swell of your ass and the puffy lips of your pussy, the movements are brutal and precise, you feel every vein on his cock and the way he rubs against all your right places, enjoying your tightness and the way he stretches you, forcing your walls to pulsate, and folds grip his shaft without intending to let him out of you until he fills you with his potent release.

you suddenly feel a weight lift off your back, but you don't have time to register anything further when one of his hands squeezes and tugs at the belt around your wrists, beginning to pull it towards him and directing your movements towards him, causing your ass to slap loudly against his thighs as he pushes all the way in with each thrust, the calloused fingers on his other free hand squeeze your left hip, allowing him to take control of your movements as you tighten even tighter with even rougher and faster thrusts, becoming even wetter and pulsating with the impending release.

an orgasm creeping up with tension in your lower abdomen and heat all over your body causes you only inaudible whines and mewls, you want to cum, really, he slams into your cervix with his slightly curled tip and makes your legs twitch under you from the buckling of your knees, but you don’t know that he will not give you a drop of pleasure, working only for his own satisfaction, when you babble through a heavy tongue and practically sobs — «cum, wanna cum, si, si — hhmnngh! pleaseee!»

he only grumbles in response, indicating your words with a fleeting sound, but still does nothing except squeeze your hip tighter, pressing his fingers into the plush skin, and pull the belt further, with a slight tug lifting your torso from the sheet and thus making you hang in the air, moaning and screaming into the air as he makes a few more thrusts, suddenly changing the pace, and you feel the sparks slowly dissapear completely with the heaviness from the coil in your stomach atlogether.

simon just slightly rocks his hips to bring himself to orgasm, not you, bumping into you with measured pumps before his cock throbs in the confisness of your pulsing and slobbering cunt, he growls, moaning with a sigh, staining your walls with his milky cum and making you to shudder, groaning displeasedly and openly whimpering, but he only drives deeper, thrusting slowly and feeling how wet and sloppy you are, slick flows down the inside of your thighs, your legs are shaking from frustration and denied orgasm, when he gradually easing out, looking at the mess in your hole and on his dick.

he's drenched down to his trimmed pubic hair, there's a white ring at the base of his cock and he's all sticky from your slick and his cum, when you didn't get any release, and even rubbing on the sheets didn't help, he lets go of your body, lets it go completely limp on the sheets as globes of cum flow out of your clenching hole, and simon himself reaches out to free your wrists from the belt, it was not very tight, but it left marks after the fristion that his fingers smoothed in circles, while you were shaking.

there's nothing left of your old attitude, you're fully fucked and nothing more than a limp mass of limbs, his potent seed leaking out of you onto the sheets and staining your swollen pussy lips while you feel the urge to cry as you feel the mattress straighten, indicating that simon has stood up, before a stomp is heard and after a while a towel wipes you, causing your body to break out in goosebumps and shiver, and you realize that this is really all, squeezing out a hurried, dissatisfied whine — «si.. simon, no, please, need.. need t'cum»

he tilts his head to the side, looks you over before shaking his head, a movement that you catch in your peripheral vision as he continues to wipe you clean, running over your sticky, wet folds that kept clenching in response to his touch, you still want, you still need to feel this sweet pleasure spreading through your body, but there is only one answer, and it is firm, full of contentment and a small warning, perhaps a command, and this is simon’s answer — «only when you'll gonna start to behave, love»

seems like you should have behaved better, didn't you? ‹𝟹

[aromacaque]

Quick S5 Analysis and Theory

I AM GOING TO RAMBLE ANALYSIS BECAUSE THEY ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY

I cannot stop thinking about the way Wukong reacts to Macaque when he goes "oh no 'gee thanks for saving me macaque!...'" cause if this were before the S5E2, he would have snapped back at him, like he always does.

We know Macaque does this solely to rile Wukong up. It's how we're introduced to his character in S1E9 and he does it throughout the series. This is why he did it here too (or at least partially), BUT WUKONG DOESN'T TAKE THE BAIT THIS TIME.

While he's obviously still reeling from seeing the memory of their fight he was forced to watch,

you can still see that, for a split second, Wukong almost does snap back, but he instantly rethinks that and decides to be passive

Macaque, again, pokes at him trying to get a reaction, but this time Wukong doesn't even think about snapping back. He simply responds casually/lightly (before then realizing that MK is in danger)

This tells us possibly two really important things

Macaque sacrificing himself in S5E2 was a turning point for Wukong's perception of him. An increase in personal trust/faith/etc.

2. Seeing the memory of their fight made him rethink his behavior toward Macaque

For the rest of the season, they don't get a lot of moments because of, well, Everything, but we see Wukong is not only more willing to show concern for his wellbeing, but also seems to be more open/emotionally vulnerable in front of him than before (in little moments, anyway).

Granted that has been building up since S4E11, arguably before that but I'm not going to deep dive analyze season 3. He's being more communicative with Macaque in S5E1 about MK too. In other words, not completely shutting him out or pushing him away, which seems like their natural progression from S4E11 as well.

All of that being said, this brings me to The Scene. Which I am completely normal about because there's so much to unpack about it and I am so normal about that. Evidently.

First of all, they wanted to hold hands during their final moments. MK and Macaque are the two most important people in Wukong's life, I feel like that speaks for itself.

BUT it's Wukong who reaches out here.

This is Wukong's first major attempt to bridge the gap between them, at least in such a direct way. In my opinion, it's almost a wordless forgiveness on top of acknowledging how Macaque has changed and improved himself, as well as his reciprocation of that behavior. He wants to fix their relationship too, just as he has seen Macaque willing to do the same.

This moment being interrupted was actually a good thing. It's a good visual reminder that, despite them both wanting to reconcile, they aren't Quite there yet. There's still a lot left unsaid between these two, most importantly Macaque's death. (I'LL GET TO THAT. HOLD THAT IN YOUR BRAIN)

For macaque, this moment has another important meaning.

AND NOW I GET TO TALK ABOUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE WRITING TOOLS HELLO PARALLELS!!!!

In S2E7 we are introduced to this shot of Wukong on a pedestal over Macaque, turning his back on him and abandoning him. This is firmly established in that episode as one of the main reasons Macaque resents Wukong.

He is also portrayed as above him, subsequently nodding at Macaque feeling inferior to him.

In S4E11, we actually watch how this dynamic destroys their friendship. It is a MAJOR reason for their falling out. Macaque feels neglected, overlooked, ignored. Promises are broken and trust is lost. To him, Wukong is selfish, self-righteous, egotistical, uncaring, etc.

Obviously we as the audience are aware Macaque has a rather skewed perception of Wukong that seems to be influenced by his projection of his own insecurities, but that is a whole other analysis for a different time.

In S5E10, this shot is paralleled. Visually demonstrating that Wukong isn't forgetting about him this time. He looks for him. Macaque is being considered in a way he had previously believed was lacking in their friendship.

Not only that, but they are on level ground. Balanced and equal.

Macaque is reluctant to reach back out. His trust in Wukong is practically non-existent, has been for a while (understandably), so it's a little hard for him, but he reciprocates because, like Wukong, he's acknowledging that he has changed. He wants to try to fix this too.

TO RECAP!

They know they both want to fix things

They can see and have acknowledged changes in their behavior on both sides

Wukong seems to be less prone to arguing back, which will most likely make Macaque less likely to try and provoke him. All in all, they will be more civil with each other and most likely argue much less.

They are being held back by things left unsaid.

WHICH LEADS ME TOO...

WHERE DOES THIS LEAD THEM IN S6?

The obvious is they need to address Macaque's death. If they don't do it in this season it's bad writing and they are dragging it out for too long. It's the obvious natural progression here.

This is where they will have an actual, long overdue constructive conversation. It is literally singlehandedly the only thing preventing them from reconciling at this point.

Now, the problem, is how this would happen. Because we all know neither of them are going to randomly apologize out of nowhere. It's gonna take something to push them into that direction. And that should be how it happens otherwise it'd most likely feel forced in the script.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO A THEORY. A GAME THEO-

I'm not going to get into the nitty-gritty details of this particular theory, but just know that I am a firm believer in the "Macaque was consumed by his own powers and that's what killed him" theory. I do think Wukong played a substantial role in his death, enough for Macaque to reasonably believe Wukong killed him, but ultimately it was less Wukong directly killing him and more indirectly causing it and not saving him.

That being said, Wukong and Macaque's relationship is a major subplot in this show with a considerable amount of focus. They have been slowly building to their inevitable mending relationship since Macaque's first episode, which means that they're going to want to reach that climax in a pivotal emotional moment. Not a random conversation smacked into an episode.

And what is going to be plot-relevant next season??

MACAQUE'S CHAOS POWERS.

S5 built up to Macaque being an established member of the group

(Also the VO here being "change can be terrifying" is absolutely foreshadowing to some degree)

Now, there's also something else I need to address. Macaque has gone out of his way 3 separate times, 4 if you count the LBD fight, to save Wukong. On the other hand, Wukong obviously cares about Macaque, but ultimately hasn't had many opportunities or reasons to try to save him specifically.

With all of those details in mind, I think Wukong will need to take direct action by either saving him/protecting him/etc. because I think it would be a high-stakes moment that inevitably kickstarts an apology/conversation between them. Maybe it's something that reminds Wukong of their fight or that macaque can die (hence the chaos powers potentially harming Macaque in some manner or maybe a potential difficulty controlling them reminds Wukong of their fight, something along these lines).

Why this route?

Macaque has regained Wukong's trust. He basically says as much in S5E2. And while it's fairly obvious with Macaque's behavior and choices that he has learned from his past mistakes and is working on his faults, he definitely needs to acknowledge his wrongdoings. However, I think that would naturally happen during any conversation they may have (or the aftermath) regarding his death and their feelings.

That leaves Wukong because he made a promise to Macaque that they’d spend eternity together and that he would protect him and their home. A promise he broke multiple times and has not made up for yet. He needs to mend that and make it right to solidly regain Macaque's trust in order to reconcile.

[kelin-is-writing]

Some of you… Guys… who lack empathy and overall emotional intelligence, kinda love to run your mouth waaaaaay too much and end up saying things that make 0 sense. This fandom is also waaaaay too comfortable with victim blaming Rei and Touya for everything that has happened to the Todorokis while Endeavor gets away with it, for no reason at all at that.

“OhHh BuT hE fElLs SoRrY fOr EvErYtHiNg He DiD”

I’m going to be completely honest with you all: I don’t give a flying fuck that he’s now swimming in his sorrows. He better be drowning in them actually. Because there’s a consequence to everything we do. ALWAYS. Besides, if he was going to feel ohh so sorry about what he did to his family, then he simply shouldn’t have done none of it to begin with.

He can’t go on fill his child like a balloon the way he did and then expect said balloon to not explode after he had blew way too much air into it. That’s egotistical.

You also can’t buy your wife (who was still a minor at the time), have her pop out kids like she’s some kind of kids machine for your greedy needs and even force two of them on her before you go ahead and start physically and mentally abusing her, then expect for there to not be any repercussions on your family’s relationships.

Blaming a kid who got his whole life and being manipulated and then gaslighted by his own father, who remembered he indeed had an eldest son only when it was too late, and a woman who was sold to a greedy, egotistical, egocentric, narcissistic and selfish man when she was a kid who had one option worse than the other (We all know that the Himuras ain’t any more sane than Endeavor) is so weird guys, please.

Touya was treated like a human weapon by his own father, who as soon as he saw no more use in him and his quirk just casted the kid aside (which was before Natsuo was even conceived btw). So where’s the favoritism in this? Where? Because I can’t see it anywhere, no matter how hard I look for it. And why is that? Because there’s none. So you lot can stop being delusional about this topic, ‘cause it doesn’t stand up not even if you force it. You can’t erase the manipulation (into making him think he could become the #1 Hero, surpass All Might for his father and be the strongest) and then the gaslighting (telling him he can’t do any of that anymore since his quirk won’t permit it, telling Touya he should give up on his dream because it will never happen after Endeavor ingrained all that into his mind) just like that, then call all of this favoritism. Do you all even know what favoritism is? Or you just find out words on the Internet, ignore completely their meaning, and run with them blindly? Because I am bewildered by how some of you guys be coming on here to just say anything… Touya got failed by his parents and his siblings, because he was ignored and neglected by his siblings as much as he was by his parents (Shoto excluded because Endeavor was busy grooming him this time around) but none of you guys even call them out on Touya going through all of that alone, for some reason, while being okay with what Natsuo and Fuyumi told him as soon as they got into the battlefield. Like they ain’t bad siblings too and Endeavor wasn’t the reason they all lost each others as a family, literally do not piss me off I beg. I’m firmly convinced some of you guys pick and choose who you defend in the Todofam, but like… Everything you guys say makes no sense? It just shows me that some of you lack, as I said at the very beginning of the post, empathy and emotional intelligence. Which is sad.

You all can say “We’ve all gone through hard times alone” as much as you want, but that is not normal at all, towards any time of relationship but especially towards family. It’s not healthy and it can hurt a person a lot, making them close in themselves and when it starts to hurt from the inside the moment you stop getting all of the pent up stress inside it’s no good at all. And for the record, Touya (or just anyone) venting or opening himself to Natsuo about what he’s going through it’s not trauma dumping. It’s never trauma dumping if you genuinely care for someone (clarifying this before any of you emotional ignorant peoples come at me about this 🫠). So Natsuo and Fuyumi being in all of this too shouldn’t be used as an excuse for pushing their brother’s concerns and feelings under the rug, families are supposed to go through these type of situations as a family if they want to keep living happily as such, but they remembered this after one of them died and their youngest sibling was being still raised as a fighting machine by their abusive father. So, mind you, but they all (except Shoto) owe Touya some big ass apologies written down on a letter with tears if I gotta be honest.

As for Rei; she became a mother young, went through a lot all alone because mind you Mr. Husband was waaaaay too busy trying to groom their son into a Hero machine that could beat someone he is incapable of beating (Because a nullity will always be a nullity after all, even when becoming a #1 after the former #1 retirement, if they insist on projecting ofc) to help and guide his young and inexperienced wife through a wedding like theirs. How was she supposed to not lose her mind after being sold, neglected, beaten up, verbally abused, forced to pop out kids like a gachapon, seeing her fourteen years old son lose himself into the void because of his father and then he dies too, without never getting love nor affection from his father (the one he looked up to) the way a kid wants, needs and is supposed to get which is something I’m 100% sure led her to depression. You all diminish too much the grief a mother feels when she loses her kids. There’s much a mother, a human, can handle; and for Rei it got to a point where every trace of Endeavor disgusted her so much her whole body rejected his entire existence leading her to a mental breakdown. One that was due to come earlier if we think about it, but she was strong enough for her remaining kids until she couldn’t do it anymore. What she did to Shoto is wrong, I know and I acknowledge, but she’s a traumatized person who sees her abuser everywhere she goes because, unfortunately, it’s the person she was forced to marry. She apologized to Shoto right away, because she was still mature and sane enough to recognize her mistake right when it happened.

But Endeavor’s ego is so big that it took him his eldest son nearly blowing everyone up and becoming a walking torch before he finally apologized to the whole family for his wrong doings of 10 years prior. Which is crazy to me.

So I’m gonna need you all to stop erase Endeavor’s wrongdoings and try to gaslight the whole fandom into blaming Rei and Touya for the mistakes of someone else, because they’re the biggest victims in all of this shit.

That being said, hope y’all get well soon 🫶🏻💜

[coupleoffanfics]

teehee I have a small thought (batfam related, yk that one where y/n gets killed)

imagine if y/n was brought back by the pit, but instead of being a "shell" in that hc u made, she becomes completely stoic, like just blurts out what she was feeling back when she was neglected with the most blank expression ever, I imagine it being more focused on bruce and Damian since yk..bruce was the shittiest parent ever, and Damian with his sparky ass insults.

You…God, damnit Anon. You summoned me and I suddenly have the motivation to write after reading your two requests.

I don't know if you wanted a one-shot or HC. So I just went with a HC because it's much easier to push out. Though if you want me to make a one-shot feel free to ask. I'll take 7 years to write it. Though at the end I did sort of a one-shot.

Damian should have known something was wrong when y/n didn't start thrashing around and attacking anything that moved after crawling out of the pit. She just stared at her hands, clenching them into firsts and then unclenching them slowly.

Maybe Damian was too relieved to see y/n breathing and moving to really care. Maybe he thought that she was just in shock. Coming back to life isn't always expected and it can take a real toll on someone.

Not to mention that y/n was, compared to her brothers, far weaker. Not just physically, but mentally as well. So it's not surprising that she was so docile, right? It's only a matter of time before that effect wears off and she'll be normal. Or something close to normal.

Okay, maybe deep down Damian knew that there was a chance that he wasn't getting y/n back. Everyone knew that there was no getting her back, but he was willing to take the risk. He came this far and it didn't take long for Bruce to pick up on what his youngest was doing.

Damian has his big sister back and he's not going to let her go again. It's only a matter of hours before Bruce comes breaking down the door to drag them back to Gotham. So Damian took the time to clean up y/n.

She was still in her funeral clothes for goodness sake. She reeked of death, but that didn't stop the boy from hugging her tightly.

While getting cleaned up, she doesn't say a thing. Or even make a lot of noise. It was almost like she was still dead.

By the time Bruce gets there, he's not surprised by Damian's actions. He thought of doing the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. He couldn't disrespect her life by bringing her back. How could he dare think of that when she looked so at peace when she died.

He remembers how her body was tense before it became horrifyingly relaxed. There was a fear of death in those [eye color] eyes, he knows because he saw it. But it was so quick and fleeting that he could have missed it if he wasn't so close.

In a twisted way he wished y/n had clung on to him just like she did when she was a wide eyed little girl and cried. Cry that she didn't want to die. Cry that it was too early to leave now. Cry that she didn't want to leave them.

But all she did was give a crooked smile and mumble to herself as blood dribbled down her chin. She spoke incoherent things to herself. A name or two slipped from her cold lips, but they weren't ones of her family. From what he gathered it was just a close friend and her significant other's name. She died thinking of those who cared and loved her back. Not of the family that she couldn't stand to be around.

Even when her own adopted father held her dying from close, they were far from her line of thought.

So seeing y/n alive was gut reaching for Bruce. There was no pain, anger, sadness, or joy on her face. She was just there. Staring at him with an uncomfortable indifference.

Damian was ready to start a fight with Bruce. Not a physical one, but he would cross that line if he needed to. He was ready to defend himself in what he thought was best for y/n. Yet Bruce lets out a quiet sigh and tells that it's time to come home. How anticlimactic.

The plane ride back to Gotham is long and quiet. It also felt cramped by how close Damian was to y/n and unwilling to give her too much space.

By the time they made it back to the manor, everyone was caught up to date. The development is surprising to some while others not so much.

Everyone is in the bat cave. Gathered around to see y/n back from the dead. The silence is deafening as they wait for something. Just something from her, but she walked past them all. Out of the cave and to where her room was. Nothing was out of place in her room, though it was mostly empty after she had moved out a few years ago. She laid on her bed and slept as if nothing was amiss.

That's where the family infighting starts. Question of was this the right thing. What are going to do now? Why the hell did you think this was a good idea? There's going to be a lot of hash words being shared, but at the end of the day what was done was done and they had y/n back. They weren't going to mess up the second time.

Did they really get a second chance because it didn't feel like it. A week would pass and y/n has yet to come out of her room. She's alive and breathing because the trays of food left outside her door are always empty.

The camera's installed while she slept showed that she was doing nothing. All she did was lay in bed. She'd get up to use her private bathroom, but other than that there wasn't much. She was rotting away alone in her room.

This rang familiar bells in Alfred, Bruce, and Tim's head. y/n wasn't prone to long depressive episodes, so this could be something similar. The lack of socializing and excessive oversleeping was typically a big red sign for them to do something. In the past they would not force, but push her into doing social things or at least being out of her room.

They could approach this situation the same way, but they'd have to be extra careful. This was a unique and tricky situation to be in. It was also odd if not worrying that she hasn't succumbed to lazarus fever.

They could try to bribe y/n out of her room with activities that have to do with her old hobbies.

"Alfred is baking today, he said might need some help."

"I just stole the keys to the batmobile, you wanna take it for a ride?"

"Hey, do you want to…um, play a video game with me. I remember we used to play Hellflight Deadcraze a lot. They came out with the 3rd game. I just bought it today, so...Yeah."

Though the likelihood of that working is low. If they're really desperate to interact with her, they might as well just bust down her door.

At some point all the poking and prodding is going to irritate y/n. Whoever popped her bubble is going to be on the receiving end of pent up emotions.

I don't believe y/n would ever intentionally say how much the family's treatment harmed her. Again it would bubble up and fester for a while before she explodes. The thing about y/n is that she has an inferiority complex. In her life she aimed to please and help.

She understands that Gotham is dangerous. A lot of people need help and she couldn't bring herself to pull them away from their job. To her it would be like pulling a fireman away from a fire to chat as people burned alive. Even if the fire was out the fireman would be tired and need to rest, so she couldn't just pull them wherever she wanted to go. She shouldn't pester them.

In y/n's eyes, she was never worthy of being a hero because she wasn't good enough. She was never worthy of being with the family because she wasn't helping enough. She should do this to prove her worth. She's not worthless because she can do this for you and this as well!

She embodies inferiority and self-loathing. Someone that feels insignificant and has the strong urge to do more. She has- or had in this situation, hope. Hope that she'll be worthy of love. Love, affection, praise is what drives her and will seek it out if she's desperate. If she does ask or seek it out she'll be feeling guilty since she didn't really do anything to get it. In her mind she was being greedy and she couldn't help herself.

Bonus

"Just stop. Leave me alone." Her voice was almost pleading as she gripped the wrapped gift box. The gift was a symbol of peace, almost a treaty. That's all it was supposed to be, but she acts as if she had been spat in the eye.

Seeing that Bruce wasn't listening to her, she dug her nails into the gift. Almost tearing into the [favorite color] wrapped paper. He stood before her like an unmoving entity. The longer he stood by the more she wanted to snap into herself. She didn't want to slowly curl into a ball. She wanted to snap herself together with a violent and almost sickening crack. This just wasn't fair.

Clenching her jaw, her voice became much colder. It wasn't as cold as the middle of winter, yet it still had a chill to it.

"I thought you'd get it that I didn't want this. I shut you out, but you- all of you just keep buzzing. None of you are getting the hint. You just keep coming back louder than before. Why can't you let me be alone? Why can't you act overworked and tired? Why can't you just leave things the way they were?"

Bruce was conflicted upon hearing her say that and would try to claim that everything is going to come around. Everything always comes around in the end and this wouldn't be any different. They are going to get through this as a family.

y/n's frown would deepen and her eyes would furrow at his attempt at comfort. She looks as if she just ate something that was expired, leaving her mouth with nothing but a nasty sour taste.

"Because we're family." She whispered to herself before almost grimacing at the words. Her voice became sharp and cold as a blade, "I don't understand why you'd suggest that I was still a part of the family. I don't think I've been family for a good while now."

She clicked her tongue as she dropped the gift box while looking Bruce in the eyes. "Come on, you can't say you cared about me after I stopped being useful. When did you realize that I wasn't anything special? Was it when I kept crying about punching villains or when I was too slow to teach."

Seeing the conflicted look in his blue eyes confused her. Why would the truth conflict someone unless it was pity. Even after all this she's just a pitiful little crybaby to him. One good hit and she's out wailing on the floor for someone to kiss her boo-boo away.

Somehow this hurt her. Her pounding heart felt like it was twisting on itself. She wanted to cry and laugh at how she thought things couldn't get any worse. Then somehow it did. The universe, the world, the Wayne had proved her wrong yet again. It was as funny as it was sad.

She could have broken down there, but she needed to hear it. She had to hear the truth, so she kept twisting her heart with her own hands. It didn't matter how much it hurt.

"Or maybe you were in denial? You had wasted a lot of time and resources on a dud. Then Damian threw cold water on you and left you shivering, right? I'm just leeching off of you and the others. Then…Then you choose them over me. I was an afterthought, or is that being too generous? Did I ever circulate in your mind before this?"

Her voice was becoming shrill and gruff like she was on the verge of tears. "When did you realize that I was dead weight, Batman? Did I make Bruce Wayne look more caring to the people when I talk about how much I love my family? Did my life serve any use or was I always just a speck of dirt on your shoes?"

Those words were far from the truth, yet with how she spoke Bruce knew that she believed in all that she was saying. Each and every word was true to her. Honestly he didn't know what to say. This was all too much. Having to hear your own child degrade themselves with such honesty was heartbreaking.

Taking his silence as a sort of confirmation, y/n ordered him to leave and of course he did. He'd fix this somehow. He just needed time. They needed time.

I cut off the ending because I didn't want to write too much. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. I haven't proofread this, Google Doc says there aren't any errors (probably a lie), and it's 3 in the morning. Goodnight.