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tbzhub · 1 year

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Just Go Fuck Him

Pairing: photographer!Lee Hyunjae x afab!reader

Summary: Hyunjae moves back into his childhood home and old feelings and memories come up.

Warnings: MDNI, reader has scars, brief mention of childhood trauma, brief mention of surgeries, flashbacks, a smidge negative self-talk, hyunjae is the rizzler, smut... creampie, pet names, yada yada

Rating / Genre: M, neighbor au, childhood crush au, fluff?, slight angst (it’s really not THAT bad), lots of pining

WC: 8K (2K+ words for the smut scenes)

Artist Note: @everynewiee Enjoy! Special thank you to @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this and giving me the best fucking commentary. You're a gem and I probably would not have posted this if you hadn't stroked my ego. Love youuuuuu. If there's a typo I'll get to it eventually

m.list tag list

The living room was quiet in its typical offputting fashion as you sat around with your parents; no one saying anything as there were no conversations to be had and nothing playing on the television since no one would pay attention anyway, a phone captivating its user as everyone sat in their respective places. Any interaction at this point would feel almost disrespectful and annoying, disrupting the usual routine of your and your parent’s day.

Your favorite place to cocoon was on the right side of the sofa, wrapped in a plush blanket while you doom-scrolled until you eventually needed to walk the dogs. This is how your days were spent since your college graduation, making your parents the only ones on the block who weren’t empty nesters. Maybe that explained why you never went out— there was no one to go out with. Everyone else seemed to blossom rapidly, moving away and starting lives too hectic to return to their childhood homes on a regular basis while you sat at home, wrapped in blankets, feeling left behind.

Feeling left behind wasn’t inherently a negative thing, though— and it wasn’t really a feeling either. Acknowledgment: that’s what you’d describe this part of your life as— the acknowledgment of being a late bloomer, the acceptance of being the last flower waiting to bloom. The last person to leave the nest, as some would say, and that fact was totally okay with you because, in truth, it was okay for you to spend your days the way you pleased. There was no reason to run out and chase after what everyone else was doing just to keep up, to avoid loneliness at the risk of getting hurt.

Maybe it wasn’t just an acknowledgment; perhaps being a flower that’s yet to bloom guaranteed safety from a world so wide with new people who didn’t know you and old people who’d changed so much that you didn’t know them at all. You certainly weren’t close with anyone that you’d grown up with, and when you’d run into them at the odd holiday party that you were forced to attend, that fact was always highlighted awkwardly and sometimes painfully. There’s something to be said about standing silently in a circle full of adults that you used to run around outside with as a child, as wild stories are passed around, and accomplishments are one upped by additional accomplishments. You’ve watched enough cliques coalesce in real time, cliques that you were a part of as a child but somehow couldn’t squeeze into as an adult… and to say the least, it gets old. Thus, you cocooned, you doom-scrolled, and you became content with the silent life you’d curated with your parents.

So the living room is as quiet as it always was, and the day would drone on as it always did, and you’d be just fine not rocking the boat until it was time to go to bed and do it all over again tomorrow.

But sometimes the boat needs to be rocked, and the loud knock that’s heard does the trick in making your mom flinch in her seat, and your father crane his neck to the rather unexpected sound.

You, on the other hand, do not react because a knock at the door— regardless of how foreign, is never for you. The shifting of your parents getting out of their seats and the creaking of the floorboards underneath their feet does nothing to pull you away from your phone because, again, no one is knocking on the door for you, and you’d never entirely inherited your nan's natural curiosity.

It’s not until your mom comes back into the living room with her head peeking out from behind the foyer wall as she calls out your name that you finally get up from your favorite spot on the couch. The action is done begrudgingly, but your mom swears someone is here to visit you, and her smile is vast, so at the very least, you would appease your mom and be polite.

The thing about people-pleasing was that you never knew where you’d end up. You could set out to be polite to some unexpected guest to appease your mother and end up staring face-to-face with your childhood fucking crush. This wasn’t hypothetical; this was actually happening, and you were currently wearing drab black sweatpants.

He says hi first, hugging you at the front door as your parents invite him in for tea, and you stand there looking like a fucking idiot troll whose soul has just left their body. Specifically, you were internally screaming as you said hello and tried not to look like you were combing through your hair with your fingers.

“It’s been so long, Hyunjae. How’s your mom?” Your mom asks as she heads into the kitchen to start the kettle, and you look down at your hands as he responds to her.

He’s still just as polite as he used to be when you were kids, and that pisses you off.

“It’s so lovely of you to visit,” you hear your dad chime in, and you want to scowl because you felt quite the opposite. Who visits someone they haven’t spoken to in well over half a decade out of the blue without even a single warning? How were you the only person put off by this rogue visitation?

“I thought you were a travel photographer. What are you doing back here?” You ask, and really, you wish you could tell him to leave because this was too much, and you could feel the memories starting to stew inside your brain. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you looked up at his ever-charming smile, and all you wanted to do was flee to your room.

“I moved back. I missed home.”

Hyunjae’s return meant your parents weren’t the only non-empty nesters anymore, which should make you feel better about yourself, but it doesn’t. It makes you feel like a child again and not in a way that should feel safe or warm and fuzzy. It makes you remember your childhood with him as your next-door neighbor. It makes you remember your childhood in general, and it makes you remember all the shenanigans that the two of you got up to together. All the silly poems and doodles you’d write about him in your journal growing up start to whisper around in your mind. All the conversations you’d have in your backyards pull to the forefront of your brain. Core memories flash like you’re watching a synopsis of your life thus far when you close your eyes after turning in for the night.

You slowly began to remember just how easy it was for you to grow attached to the boy that lived next door…

Hyunjae was a few years older than you, but he was always sweet, unlike the boys his age who lived in the neighborhood. Even in your younger years, it was his kindness that really set him apart in your mind. He was one of the few older kids who played nicely with the younger kids instead of ditching or excluding them or stealing their toys.

When you fell and scraped your knee trying to ride a bike for the very first time without any training wheels, he was quick to run inside his house to get a bandaid and a small bag of ice. He had kissed your bandaid-covered knee in hopes that it would get you to stop crying, and at the time, you thought the gesture was ludicrous; he wasn’t a mom, so there was no way that he could have the ability to wipe away someone’s pain with the simple press of his lips.

That was the day that you learned it wasn’t just mothers who held such a magical power

So you were putting effort into your looks to walk the dogs now... Nothing crazy— just making sure your hair wasn’t frizzy and that your clothes weren’t wrinkled before you left the house. You hadn’t run into Hyunjae yet, but it was bound to happen, and you wouldn’t be caught off guard when it did.

The dogs were slower than usual to round the block this afternoon, but you didn’t mind, enjoying the album you were listening to as you admired the cotton candy-like clouds dashed across the beautiful pale blue sky. For someone who spent such a massive chunk of their time indoors, you really did appreciate being outside.

Apparently Hyunjae felt the same way. You saw him outside for the first time since he came back, sitting on his front porch with a camera in his hands as he presumably took shots of the sky above. This was perfect actually. You could skitter by unnoticed. With your headphones over your ears and a fancy digital camera concealing most of his face, there should be this shared agreement that deterred one from interrupting the other for the sake of exchanging pleasantries.

As you move closer, your house getting more prominent in your field of view, you’re reminded that dogs don’t give a fuck about made-up social contracts. Yours pull on their leashes to get to Hyunjae, one barking, and that’s enough to steal the man’s attention away from snapping the shutter.

Damn. Your streak of avoidance shattered.

He smiles when he sees it’s you and waves with the most earnest expression on his face, and for a brief moment, you forget how to walk like an able-bodied person, legs feeling like mush and mind going blank as his inviting eyes settle on you and your dogs.

“One foot in front of the other. Smile like a sane person. Don’t let him sense his sheer power over you.”

You repeat the mantra in your mind as you let your dogs pull you closer to him, nearing his front porch with bated breath and a weak smile. It's those wooden steps at the entrance of his house that get you, the ones that harbored far too many sweet core memories. As you sit beside him on the landing, you can’t help but think of every single time that you’ve sat here in the past.

“Hey,” He says, wrapping his arm around you briefly in a friendly, one-armed hug before he sets his fancy digital camera far away from the dogs’ reach.

Your hello is soft and shy, but you didn’t stutter at the physical touch, so you’d consider that a small win.

“So you came home just to take pictures of the sky?”

He snorts at your question, “I already told you why…

“I got tired of the world at large. Plus, there’s more than enough beauty around here. The familiar things deserve to be photographed, too.” He admits simply– as if the sentiment is genuine common knowledge. He’s smiling down at you, and for a second, maybe it was a delusion, but you honestly felt like he was talking about you specifically.

“Watch. I’ll show you what I mean.”

He reaches out for his camera and begins to snap pictures of your dogs, petting them and scratching behind their ears. One of your dogs must secretly be a Hyunjae simp because he can capture her dopey smile perfectly.

You silently watch as he goes through the pictures, his smile widening, and he leans close to show you the one that must have tugged at his heartstrings. It’s a picture of your dog, face cradled in Hyunjae’s large hand, her eyes practically shining with glee, and she has the cutest doggy smile to match.

You giggle, face breaking into perhaps its first genuine smile in such a long time. “This is perfect. I have to show Mom. I’d love a copy if you don’t mind?”

When you look up from the camera, you notice just how close you are, invading his personal space unwittingly, and a blush rises in your cheeks as you quickly lean away to create some tangible distance.

He only hums in agreement before shutting his camera off again and making eye contact with you. “I’ll send you a copy later tonight. Has your number changed?”

When you finally get home, your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, and the spring in your step is undeniable. You let the dogs off their leashes and put away your headphones before practically skipping to your bedroom.

You flop on your bed, feeling weightless and energized from the crumb of interaction... This could become a problem, an addiction— could a person become addicted to another person? Regardless of the answer, you squealed in bed, covering your face in your hands as you let every single positive emotion flood through your body. Your legs kick in the air, and you feel giddy, high on the love and infatuation of a crush a decade in the making.

Oh, you were so fucking doomed. Hyunjae needed to either move away or express his intent to marry you as soon as possible because every feeling you’d shoved down had come back in full force, plus interest.

A knock on your bedroom door makes you freeze mid-tizzy, and as the door creaks open, it's your mom’s head that peeks into your room, and the smile that graces her lips looks nearly childlike. She wanted to gossip, you could tell.

“I saw you sitting over at the Lee’s. It’s been so long since I've seen you two sit outside on his porch steps like that.” She says, and immediately, your face goes blank. Any traces of giddiness is sucked right out of you in exchange for bashfulness.

Vibe ruined. You felt so exposed.

“What? I’m happy. You two used to be so close growing up, and he was such a sweet kid. It’s just nice to see…” she trails off before finally taking the hint and leaving you alone to writhe in your newfound angst and embarrassment.

Your mom was right, though. You spent ample time on the Lee’s front porch growing up.

When everyone had gotten old enough to where the playing field was level, and the neighborhood kids could all get off the school bus together, it was common to hang out in a large group after school. Sometimes, this entailed sitting around and talking. Still, most of the time, this led to adventuring around the block and getting into what could only be labeled as dumb, child-appropriate shenanigans.

It didn’t take long for you to bow out of these afternoon activities in exchange for seclusion, sat at your front door doing your homework, reading a book, or maybe drawing. You didn’t want to partake in what everyone else was doing.

Hyunjae had been the one to start the unspoken tradition by randomly sitting on his porch one day instead of running out to play with everyone else. You noticed him outside, but your head is inside a book about horses, and frankly, what someone else did on their porch was none of your adolescent business.

But that day, he called you over, asking if you wanted to sit with him, and when you explained that you were reading a book, he was quick to respond, saying the same thing.

“We don’t have to talk. Just sit next to me.” That was his persuasive pitch, and it worked.

That day, you sat side by side on his front porch steps, one reading a picture book about horses and the other reading a Spiderman comic book. When he noticed you struggling to sound out an unfamiliar word, he broke the comfortable silence to help you.

That's how it started, the many sessions of keeping each other company on his wooden steps. That’s probably the true catalyst of your friendship, him calling you over and you obliging his request, sitting side by side on wooden steps instead of running around with the other neighborhood kids.

Gradually, this evolved from a mini reading club to you bringing art supplies over to paint together, him helping you with your math homework when it got tough, or even him simply reading a chapter of his library books to you with your head laid against his shoulder, eyes closed as you pictured the fictitious world that Hyunjae was describing to you.

The Lee’s front porch steps slowly became a second home to you, and as you both grew up, experiencing life in new and complicated ways, sometimes the only thing that helped you get by was sitting on those steps with Hyunjae by your side.

The coming days felt slow; your typical routine of couch cocooning left you unsatisfied, and you found yourself counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until you could walk your dogs outside. Which was silly because you were a grown adult; you didn't need to find an excuse to go out… but you did want an excuse to run into Hyunjae again.

Which again— you were a grown adult, and you could take life by the balls and knock on his front door, say hi, and invite yourself in. You weren't going to do that, but at the very least, you acknowledged that plan as a viable option: baby steps and all that.

In your defense, though, you didn't want to make a fool of yourself, and you were scared. So much has changed over the years since you’d last appropriately spoken. You had so many unanswered questions, and you felt like the elephant in the room, the elephant that you’d birthed, still hadn't been addressed… You didn’t think that you’d earned the right to rogue, unannounced visitations in the same way that Hyunjae did.

As of right now, you are settling on the waiting game. Hyunjae sent you the picture of your dog, just as he’d promised, but you haven't seen him outside since. At this point, the ball was in the universe’s court, and you hoped to be favored kindly.

Today, you decided to bring your pinning to a different location, settling on cleaning your bedroom instead of wistfully thinking about Hyunjae as you stared out your living room windows. You would give your room a real deal deep clean; organize and clean out your closet, vacuum, feather dust, wipe down your bedroom windows, and toss out anything that hadn’t been used in three years— the works.

You were moving through these tasks with music on blast, shimmying and singing along while you harbored a spray bottle in one hand and a cloth in the other. No area was safe for dirt or dust in your room. You were intent on cleaning until your room was interior design magazine-level spotless, and the next inanimate victim was your window. You pushed back the curtains and drew the blinds to reveal the dusty glass pane.

Wow, this should get done more often.

You attacked the window pane with cleaning spray and started wiping, swaying to the beat of the bass-heavy song that played through your speakers, and soon you're doing more dancing than wiping. You get lost in the song, singing into the window as if you were in a music video as you run the cleaning cloth over the glass like it was a prop.

Then you notice Hyunjae standing in his bedroom window, and you halt. How long had he stood there? How much of your theatrics had he witnessed? You remove your hand from the glass, and your face twists up in humiliation.

He crosses his arms, eyebrows arching upwards, but the rest of his expression seems impassive before he finally bursts into a fit of laughter, causing you to do the same. Your embarrassment dissipates as he claps his hands to applaud you for such a lovely showcase, and you playfully bow.

This moment wasn’t the first time that one of you has gotten caught being weird in the recesses of your bedrooms by the other, but it’s been so long that you can’t help but giggle. Some things really don’t change, and you’re glad that, at this point, getting caught by Hyujnae feels the same way as it did when you were younger. No judgment, just a short shock of embarrassment followed by playfulness and laughter shared between good friends.

Hyunjae’s been back home for over a month now, and you were still… dragging your feet when it came to acknowledging the obvious. You were being stubborn, and you were starting to annoy your mother. She, so badly, wanted to play matchmaker. Yet, you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction, insisting for the nth time that you did not like Hyunjae and that he did not like you. She’d roll her eyes and drop the matter, but she always muttered something under her breath. Then you’d act like you didn't hear, just like she’d act like you hadn’t spewed such a bald-faced lie.

You did like him, though. You more than liked him, and that’s what startled you most. To want someone in so many ways... The concept was so new to you, and Hyunjae made pining over him refreshing.

There were parts of it that were innocent and parts that felt like carnal desire. You wanted to talk to Hyunjae every day like you used to— to spend time with him every day, just like when you were kids. There was this familiarity in his presence that was soothing, and yet most days, he left you feeling drunk off the feelings and needs that you’d developed for him.

He was sweet, and he made you laugh, but at his baseline? Hyunjae was a flirt that left you flustered all the time.

It’s the looks he gives you, the curve at the corner of his lips when he’d notice you short-circuit from one of his sly compliments, or the intense eye contact he’d give you while you spoke. It was the way he’d playfully nudge you as you sat beside him on his porch steps, and it was most definitely the cheeky smile he'd flash at you when he was jogging around the block with his shirt off. With all of that, you were starting to look at him differently, and you found yourself appreciating him in ways that you’d never paid attention to before.

When had he gotten so irresistibly attractive? Has he always been this undeniably sexy?

He’d gotten stronger, bulkier. It only took a few shameless glances in his direction while he was outside, gearing up for a run, to notice just how toned he was. His back muscles were lean. His arms looked so firm… like he could protect you with them or wrap them around you as he drilled nothing but raw pleasure into your body. The thought alone made you shiver, and it was becoming damn near impossible to look at him in a friendly way. Exceptionally not with his lips so perfectly crafted. He had lips that could easily hypnotize you— and they did often. You’d try your hardest to focus on his words just to fantasize about how sweet and kissable his lips were.

Right now, you were stuck between reality and a daydream as you stood outside listening to Hyunjae speak. You’d crossed paths as he was coming in from a late evening jog, and you were heading out to walk the dogs. You watched the way his tongue ran along his bottom lip slowly, and then your eyes began to trail down past his bare chest. Before you could fall deeper into your thoughts, heat spread across your chin, and your face got tilted upward for you to meet Hyunjae’s gaze.

“Like what you see?” He guesses, calling you out playfully, and your reaction time is slow to it all.

You barely register getting caught as you focus on the sudden physical contact, the way his hand cups your chin firmly, and the warmth that his fingers provide to your skin. His touch lingers as you stare up at him with a facial expression displaying nothing but need. How could such a simple gesture cause you to buckle so intensely? If you tried to speak right away, you might let out a moan.

You have to take a step back to regain your composure, and your hand tightens around the leash that you're holding.

Fuck.

For a moment, you’d even forgotten all about your dogs. They needed a walk, and here you were eye fucking Hyunjae outside his childhood home. Your words are mumbled and short as you try to slink away, stepping to the side to get around him on the sidewalk.

“My bad.”

That’s all you could say. It was the lamest thing to come out of your mouth in a while, but your dogs could be your escape from such an awkward situation.

His hand grabs your wrist, though, stopping you from completing one of your little vanishing acts. You can barely hear him over your rapidly beating heart. All you can make out is that he’ll text you when to come over, and there's something else about going for a drive.

Hyunjae kept taking casual side glances your way while you sat together in his car. No one was talking, and you could tell he was gearing up to say something ridiculous. The smirk that graced his mouth was your leading indicator, and the suspense killed you. The lull in your conversation only heightened your anticipation as you tried to relax into the passenger seat, sitting silently and with thick tension.

“You never answered my question, you know.” His words come out so nonchalant that you nearly misunderstand him.

But you could play coy, too, so you take a long sip from your drink to keep him waiting.

“Hm?”

The eye roll he gives you is comical and dramatic, and he feigns offense as his hand covers his heart.

“You forgot that fast? Wow, dude. Check me out, and then forget all about it. I feel used.” Even as the words pass his lips, he’s smiling, his eyes creasing, and the rise of his cheekbones are very telling. Hyunjae just loved to see you squirm in the hot seat.

“I don’t know what— did you just call me dude?” His phrasing finally registers, and you scoff. Was this a date, or did you just get painfully friendzoned?

His eyebrows quirk upward, and the smirk along his lips turns devilish momentarily as he hums, eyes intently on your own.

“I’m sorry. Would you prefer something more forward? I could call you baby… there's also babe, angel, sunshine. Buttercup if we’re feeling frisky. Darling is a favorite of mine, but anything’s on the table, really.”

Your nose scrunches up at his blatant teasing. The man was straight up toying with your emotions. “Just f-forget about it.”

“Whatever you say, Sweetheart.”

His words bounce around the car before striking straight through you. The cup in your hand clatters clumsily into its holder as you drop it.

So much for keeping it cool.

“Ooooh, so that’s the one. I’ll remember that.” He says through a chuckle and a smug grin as he reclines further in his seat.

“You know you didn’t have to bring me all the way out here to tease me. You were doing a pretty good job from the comfort of your own home.”

You tried to sound dry and aloof, but you started to buzz with anticipation. The feelings that you’d kept hidden, albeit poorly, would be pushed and prodded to the surface, thanks to Hyunjae and his charming smile.

“That’s not why I brought you out here. I actually wanted to talk. I’ve missed you.” He admits, reaching out to touch your shoulder tenderly.

“Hyunjae. We’re neighbors. You see me every day.” You assert, facial expression going deadpan as you stare back at his unwavering flirtatious gaze.

He sighs at that, mind seeming to go to a faraway place before he speaks up again.

“It’s more than that. I miss how close we used to be. We haven’t hung out alone like this since the summer before my senior year of high school. It feels like decades have passed and…

“It felt like it happened out of nowhere. It was like one day, we were close. I’d say we were best friends, and then the next day, you woke up and decided that wasn’t the case anymore. Why? What did I do?”

There was a gleam of hurt in his eyes that caused your bottom lip to jut out as guilt struck you. Hyunjae was right. You were close. He was your favorite person, and you were his. He was ever-present throughout much of your life, and then you ghosted him. You could pinpoint the exact moment when things changed, and you’d decided to stop being his friend.

You were a teenager riddled with insecurities, and instead of talking to him about it— or talking to anyone for that matter, you’d made the conscious decision to become reclusive. You thought that you needed to detach from someone that you, for the longest time, considered was your one and only gift from the universe growing up.

You purse your lips together before opening your mouth to speak, but doubt settles and seeps into your bones. “I don’t know how to explain this without sounding dumb.”

Hyunjae shrugs, “Just say it. Dumb or not. We’ll piece everything together as a team.”

His eyes were soft, and his hand went to rest on your knee, giving you all the comfort and safety that you needed to explain yourself.

“Um… obviously, I have a crush on you, right? Like, let’s move past that fact fast.” You pause to read Hyunjae’s reaction, but he only gives you a small smile while his hand reaches for yours, lacing his fingers through your own.

“A-and… I guess I knew that even back then. I mean, yeah. I had a huge fucking crush on you back then. Oh god, it was bad. It's just as bad as it is now, honestly. But when we were in high school, I started developing all these insecurities. I started noticing that other girls looked different from me. They didn’t grow up getting used to the hospital like I did. They didn’t have these long surgical scars on their legs like mine. You remember that part of my life, right? Your mom let you visit me after my first surgery when I was super young.”

Somewhere along the way, you shifted in your seat to stare out the window as you spoke, unable to hold eye contact and show vulnerability simultaneously.

“I didn’t realize it then because I was so young… I just wanted to feel better, but my body was branded with all this trauma. The scars on my thighs documented it all. It was hard going to gym class. The locker room was awful; I’d feel so insecure, and then I’d have to think about you constantly. All the girls knew you, and they’d talk about how hot you were. All. The. Time. And because I was your best friend, they’d ask me about you all the time. I was ‘popular’ but only because they wanted something from me. I couldn’t deal with it. All these beautiful girls with perfect, flawless skin constantly asked me about the guy that I’d liked for so long.

“I could not deal with another school year being seen only as the gateway to Hyunjae. I spent that summer in my room crying and wishing that things were different. That I was different, that I'd wake up and these scars would be gone. That I could finally get the guy that I’d wanted for so long… Obviously, that never happened. So I thought that if I put you and our friendship behind me, maybe I could, at the very least, move on because why would a guy like you want someone so far from perfect.”

You did it. Hyunjae is finally caught up and no longer left in the dark. All that was left to do now was listen to his response. You feel firm hands grab at your waist, and you're awkwardly pulled out of your seat until you're straddling Hyunjae’s lap.

“Thank you for sharing all of this with me, but… is that what you really think? That I wouldn’t want you because of something like that?” He’s looking up at you with tears threatening to spill from his eyes, and all you can do is nod meekly.

“I hate that, you know. I hate knowing that you spent an entire summer crying, and I was right next door, and I didn’t know.” His hands fall to your thighs, squishing them in his hold gently as he processes all of this information.

“I can’t even joke about how down bad we’ve been for each other because right now I’m shocked.” He goes on, sighing heavily before chewing on his bottom lip.

“My mom raised me right. I can reassure you that I would never care about something like that. I know, all too well, how to appreciate and treat a good woman. You’ve always been beautiful to me, and you’ll continue to be. Always. No matter what. Those parts of you are gorgeous, too, because they’re a part of the bigger, breathtaking picture.

“I don’t want to miss out on any more time, okay?”

Before you can grace him with a response, his lips are on yours, and his hand is pressed against your back as he pushes your body closer to his.

It was the kind of kiss that made you realize just how lonely you’d been. Urgency and desire ran straight through your veins to pool at your center, and you felt like you were melting into the man below you. You could stay like this forever, straddling Hyunjae’s hips while your tongue collided beautifully with his. He kissed you like a thirsty man dying for a drink. Faint gasps leave your chest whenever he pulls away to breathe to dive back in and fuse his mouth with yours again.

So this is how Hyunjae’s lips feel. This is how it feels to be kissed by him.

You both become lost in the kiss, and his hands begin to roam. Warmth spreads across your lower back as one of Hyunjae’s hands snakes its way underneath your shirt to caress your skin, and a shiver flows up your spine. Your fingers tangle into his hair, anchoring yourself to this moment as your hips roll. That’s when you feel it.

“Oh.” You breathe out.

The tent in his pants nudges against you perfectly as you're coaxed into a steady grind by the firm hand pressed along your back.

“Feel good?” He asks, pulling away to look up at you with glossy lips and messy hair. Your nod is an eager one as you try to lean down, eyes closing as you search for his lips again while Hyunjae leans into you, pressing kisses to your neck instead.

You feel his free hand creep up to your thighs as you continue to chase after the friction his crotch provides. Your skirt slowly becomes bunched up, cool air hitting your thighs, and you freeze, shyness and insecurity washing over you.

“J-jae…” You stutter out in a whisper, grabbing his face in your hand to stop him from looking down.

There’s a look of understanding on his face, but you also see a glint of something else in his eyes. “Wanna come back to my place, Sweetheart? I can think of some ways to help you get comfortable.”

As promised, Hyunjae made you feel safe and comfortable. He asked for permission before peeling a new article of clothing away from your body each time. He litters soothing touches and gentle kisses to any freshly exposed skin as he gets you undressed fully. When you’re completely bare, he’s keen to comfort you, making a point of looking you in the eyes before sneaking a glance down to your chest briefly.

“Just focus on me, okay?” He says, voice as soft as cotton while his hand comes up to stroke the side of your face sweetly.

He leans back to take off his shirt, and even though you’ve seen him shirtless more than a handful of times, you can’t help the whine that leaves you. Your eyes trail down his toned torso and settle expectantly on his hands that fiddle with his jeans. You were about to learn something new about Hyunjae, and you were paying very close attention.

He was big, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip to stop the moan that tries to punch out of you. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest as you stare blatantly at every part of him before your wide eyes finally lift to meet his gaze.

“It’ll fit.” He reassures smugly, and you roll your eyes at that.

“When did you get so cocky?” You sass through a tease as you're pushed backward onto his bedsheets.

“Don’t be jealous, Sweetheart. You’ll be full of cock soon.” He tosses back, causing you to shudder.

He hovers above you for a moment, caging your body in between his strong arms as he looks down at you with fondness in his gaze while he admires your beauty. He leans down to kiss you on the lips before moving down your body.

His lips press against every part of your body on his trek down your chest and past your stomach. When he gets to your thighs, he takes his time, closing his eyes as he kisses every spot, running his tongue along the blemishes that make you doubt yourself. He alternates his love and affection as he slots himself between your legs, nipping at one thigh before pressing a wet kiss to the other.

You feel weightless already. There's not an ounce of nervousness in your body as Hyunjae worships the parts of you that you thought you disliked the most. You felt cared for, cherished, and like you were the most enticing person in the world. The tingling sensations travel closer and closer to the apex between your thighs until you let out a gasp that quickly morphs into a whimper.

“Jae—

You're cut off by a moan as Hyunjae’s tongue swipes up your wetness in one languid motion, causing a jolt of pleasure to dash through your body. He hums into your pussy as he runs his tongue from side to side, parting your folds and tasting you hungrily before he slots your clit between his lips. You lurch forward, and he reaches one arm up to press you back into the bed, resting his hand on your stomach. He pushes your thighs farther apart with his free hand; his grip is tight around your thigh while he buries his face further into your pussy, tongue unrelenting as he sucks on your clit in tandem with the flicks of the wet muscle.

You didn’t know how to move through life after experiencing something life-altering like this. Hyunjae’s mouth made you feel unreal. His tongue could easily be labeled the 8th wonder of the world. All you could do was softly moan his name like you were reciting a prayer as he worked you over.

The bed dips as he shifts his positioning, stopping his ministrations for a minute, and when you look down, you notice just how drenched his chin is because of you, and you shyly close your legs.

“Y-you don’t have to contin—

He cuts you off by forcing your legs apart and looking up at you purposely while he settles between your thighs again.

“Why would you deny yourself something we both know you want?” He challenges, tongue sticking out to ghost over your glistening pussy, and the delicate warmth that the barely-there touch provides is enough to have you whining in need. You push his head back down, hoping he’ll just shut up and go back to town. He does, but not without having the last word.

“Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teases, words slurred as he tries to talk between sloppy licks. His tongue remains flat as he laps at your pussy to make you fall apart.

When you seem close, with moans flowing out of you ceaselessly, he sinks into you, tongue massaging your spasming walls as he fucks you with his mouth, and that’s all you need. Your face grows hot, and you start to quiver; your thighs begin to falter, and Hyunjae has to hold them steady with his large hands as your orgasm swallows you whole.

“Oh FUCK.”

You will never be the same. Your body throbs with pleasure, and you shake through the most powerful feeling that you’ve ever encountered in your life. You’re speaking only in incoherent babbles as Hyunjae continues to tongue fuck you until the sensation is far too much for your pussy, and you have to push him away. You look up at him breathlessly, eyes unable to stay open for more than a few seconds at a time as you come down from such an intense finish.

“God bless you, Hyunjae.” You finally say, still twitching from your nerves getting lit on fire.

“I take it I did pretty good, hm?” He points out with the cockiest grin while he wipes his chin, coating the back of his hand in your essence. His eyes drift away from your face to check you out, and his face melts into a genuine smile.

“Your body is perfect to me, by the way. Every single part of it. Every minor detail.” He reassures, voice coated in sincerity as he trails his hand along your thigh, thumb running across a faded scar.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you turn your face away from him, with a blush peppering your cheeks. “It’s your turn…” You add, letting your legs fall open for him.

“Our turn,” He corrects as he turns your face to look up at him.

“You ready, Sweetheart?” He asks while he hovers above you, and you can feel how warm and heavy he is against you, prompting you to nod your head yes.

Hyunjae sheathes himself inside you slowly, causing you to groan blissfully as your eyes fall closed. He feels so good. The stretch is just right, and as he buries himself deep inside you, it’s like you’re being split open, but in the best way. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you adjust to his girth and length. When you finally open your eyes, you're met with the sight of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen trying his hardest to hold himself together.

“You okay, Darling?” You ask in a teasing whisper while you take in Hyunjae’s state. He looks tense, his teeth are abusing his bottom lip, and for shits and giggles, you clench around him and he hisses.

“You’re incredibly tight.” He says through gritted teeth before he exhales. He rears back, his eyes flutter closed for a moment, and you hear him curse under his breath.

“I-it’s like your pussy is choking my cock…” He mumbles before he leans down to kiss your neck and tries to press forward again. You hear him whimper softly, and it’s the most alluring sound you’ve ever heard, and it's all because of you.

“I feel good?”

“You feel so. Fucking. Good.” He praises through a pant.

His hips start to roll against yours as he finds a steady pace to fuck you with, and soon his bedroom is filled with a mixture of moans and skin slapping against skin. His body weight presses you further into the bedsheets, and you feel like you’re being surrounded by love and warmth as every fantasy that you’ve ever had comes true.

Hyunjae’s strong body lays flush on top of yours, and his fingers lace through yours while he rocks into you harder with precise movements. His other arm goes under your body to tilt your pelvis upward as he begins hitting you at a new angle that pulls a cry out of you. Your legs tighten around his waist, needing him closer and deeper as you’re fucked into oblivion. Each powerful thrust has you sliding up the sheets, and your pussy clamps down on him whenever his cock drags out of you. You felt stuffed, filled to the brim, and you missed him when he reared back, leaving you nearly empty for half a second at a time.

Praises were mumbled against your skin while he plunged into you. You had the best pussy. You were doing a good job; you’re taking him so well. You felt incredible. Hyunjae’s words sent you to the edge, and all you could do was gasp and moan as you came undone. Your walls flutter and spasm as you arch your back, screaming his name out for the neighborhood to hear.

“J-Jae,” you whimper, lip trembling as Hyunjae molds your body to his fat cock.

“I know, Sweetheart… Relax and enjoy it.” He coos softly, coaching you through your second orgasm.

His hips don’t slacken; they do the opposite, speeding up as he hammers the sweet spot deep inside you repeatedly until something inside you snaps. You writhe underneath him, and your fingers tighten around his own as you fall into bliss. Hyunjae’s eyes are glued to your face as your mouth drops open, and a long, drawn-out groan leaves your body.

“That’s right, baby. Keep going.” He says through a grunt as he starts to chase his high.

He shifts, lifting you into his arms while his cock stays buried inside you. You're positioned upright, body going limp against his muscular thighs as he continues to drill into you, massaging your walls at a merciless pace. One large bicep stays wrapped around your waist, and his free hand snakes between you both to rub against your clit as if he could get you to cum a third time. You’re just a brainless lump of whimpers at this point as your head rests against his sweaty chest.

“I’m close, Sweetheart. I know you can do it again, come on, baby.” He pleaded, voice ragged as his thrusts turned desperate.

His moans get more prominent, and when you look up to meet his gaze, Hyunjae looks fucked out beyond belief, lips parted, and hair a disaster on top of his head. You muster up enough energy to kiss him on the lips, swallowing all his pretty noises and whimpering against his plush lips. You feel his hips stutter. Then heat spreads inside you, and you shake as he fills you with cum while you experience another earth-shattering orgasm.

You're both tired and sticky. The bed sheets are hardly halfway on the bed, twisted onto one side, but neither of you seems to care. You collapse onto the bare mattress with Hyunjae’s cock still hidden inside you. When he finally pulls out, your dripping pussy adds to the mess on his bed. He lays down beside you, immediately pulling you in for a cuddle.

“You’re going to stay here, right?” He asks, looking down at you with a hopeful gleam.

“Of course. Even if I wanted to go home, I couldn’t deal with a walk of shame right now. My legs don’t work. I’ll leave tomorrow afternoon when I have to walk the dogs.” You answer through a giggle.

NOTE: There is a part two that can be found: here.

#kvanity #lee hyunjae imagines #lee hyunjae #lee hyunjae x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz smut #lee hyunjae fic #lee hyunjae smut #the boyz imagines #tbz smut #tbz x reader #tbz drabbles #tbz imagines #tbz hyunjae #hyunjae smut

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my-unorthodox-life · 11 days

Text

okay can i vent for a minute? get real personal with all y'all?

i've been a tumblr user since i got my first tablet at age 12, over a decade of having at least one active blog (usually more) so it's safe to say i've both gotten my fair share of hate and found ways of using this app to benefit me and keep me detached from this hate

currently i have 4 active blogs, my main where i do the typical reblogging and updates on my fanfics, this one where i post like a proper blog and reblog jewish things that matter to me, my mental health recovery blog where i talk about my eating disorder and ptsd, and my adult one where i reblog fun sexy stuff and chat about the struggles of dating as sex positive people with trauma.

all very important to me and all have various levels of anonymity when it comes to knowing about me as a person. some have my name, some a nickname, one just my age. plus various tidbits so people know what to expect from my posts and what we can chat about, basic blog rules essentially

in the past few months as antisemitism has gotten more and more common place i of course get more anon hate, i don't turn of inboxes since i do get nice stuff from time to time, and that's kind of the territory of running a blog (i had a trans rights one in the age of kalvin garrah, i think i'll live)

out of those four blogs the one that gets the most antisemitic messages, i mean full paragraphs of truly vile ramblings that read like a nazi fever dream, is the one for my mental health recovery. a blog that i block all but mutuals on, meaning either a stranger or someone i've interacted with is sending these messages

i've started replying to them, cause i feel if they want to be mean and make a fool of themselves i might as well let everyone see (poor guy keeps sending me weird reviews of "my" wattpad fics. i've never had a wattpad account but this doesn't seem to stop him), but what gets me is that blog has the least personal information on it. no name or nickname, no hobbies or interests listed, nothing about what i do for work beyond "pet care", and the only mention of my religion or politics was one post that joking about how my mental health often gets worse around the high holy days (very demure, very mindful)

and yet that's the blog that gets straight up death threats, not even disguised as anything else, just straight up calling me a pig who deserves to burn. not the personal blog where i've posted about israel and palestine, or about dating while religious, or hell even this one that might as well be a "i'm a sensitive jewish minded person! thoughts?" blog.

no the one blog that people feel safe harassing is the nondescript recovery and relapse blog. that's where people feel comfortable.

and it makes me sad, not because of what was said, but because it *was* said. that there's people out there comfortable enough in their bigotry to go up to someone and spew vile hate like it's nothing, but only of course if they can't put a name or face to the person they're talking to

what this reminds me of is when i was in high school i had an art teacher who didn't stand for antisemitic jokes, and there were a lot in my school. one day a kid just asked him "Mr.Dexter, are you a jew?" and his response really stuck with me. he said "It doesn't matter, maybe I am, maybe I used to be, maybe my wife is. But you shouldn't not say mean things just because you don't want to get in trouble, you shouldn't say them because you know it's wrong. If you didn't know, you wouldn't ask."

and i think that really sums up all these trolls i've seen running through jewish blogs or even ones that casually mention it, they know it's wrong but the aren't saying it to a jewish face, they're just saying it to the idea of judaism

these people wouldn't walk up to you on the street and look you up and down and say half of what they feel comfortable typing, but here where they can not only hide their face, but seek out a target that has hidden their own they've found a way to give themselves free reign to say and do whatever they want. to them it's not a person on the other side of the screen, it's the strawman caricature of a jewish person, out here just for them to yell at to get whatever anger they have out of their system

of course there are some people who would say truly despicable things to a random person on the street, but cmon is that person really on tumblr hunting through buzz words to send hate?

anyways i know the compassionate thing to do would be to pray for them to heal what's hurting them so bad, but yanno what, they can suffer a bit first

#jumblr #jewish #jewblr #jewish conversion #jewitch #tw antisemitism #antisemitic asks #peace and love stay safe out here 🫶🕊️#sorry for any typos glasses are off and i think faster than i type

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7-wonders · 7 months

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Between Wrath and Mercy

Sith!Ankain Skywalker x Rebel!reader (gender-neutral)

Summary: Finding yourself in a fight with Darth Maul, you quickly realize that you're way out of your depth. Unfortunately, no one's coming to save you. Aha, unless?

Word Count: 2.0k

A note from the author: Remember how I was like, "I'm having a lot of trouble writing the words aren't coming like they used to"? I think this helped to unclog a bit of the writer's block I've had. Maybe I just need to write for a different fandom for a bit. This takes place in my Rebel!reader fic-verse (gender-neutral reader!), but before What You Stand to Lose. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round (especially the latter two), and I hope you enjoy!

How do I keep ending up in situations like this? you wonder as you dodge yet another Sith Lord’s lightsaber strike and immediately counter it with your own.

That’s a stupid question, because you know how. You decided to join the Rebel Alliance, to fight for a noble cause, and now your life is pretty consistently put in mortal danger. Still, when a mission to try and convince the head of Crimson Dawn that you were all fighting for the same goal was proposed, you were the first to volunteer. Maybe it’s a desperation to prove yourself as useful that made you do it, or maybe you need to remind yourself that you’re working for something good. Regardless, you had been stupid and self-assured, enough so that General Kessyk had given you a small team to command and sent you on your way to Corellia.

Said small team is now incapacitated, rendered useless almost the moment you had ambushed the Crimson Dawn leader who had turned out to be none other than Darth Maul—a surprise to you all, since Dryden Voss is the public face of the syndicate. This revelation completely turned your game plan on its head, as you’re now left to face his wrath alone.

And he has a lot of wrath.

“Look, if you would just listen for a moment,” you yell at him over the sound of electricity humming, “I think you would see that we all want the same thing!”

“And what thing is that?” Darth Maul snarls, raising his blade above his head and attempting to crash it down on top of you.

You meet it with your own, gritting your teeth under the strain as you attempt to hold him back. “The end of the Galactic Empire!”

He bears down harder in response, and your arms begin to shake. Knowing when to give up some yield is half the success in battle, so you adjust your strategy and drop to your knees, doing a quick roll to get some space in between you. He turns to face you once more, his yellow eyes so filled with hatred that it makes a frightened whimper get stuck in your throat.

“Please, we only came to talk. We can be allies!” you plead.

“What happens after the Empire is defeated? We part on good terms and go our separate ways?” Maul shakes his head, twirling his saber and stalking towards you. “No. At the end of the day, the Sith will always be an enemy. I will always be an enemy.”

“I’m sure that—woah!” He renews his attacks with vigor, clearly done talking. Unfortunately for him, you’re not done. “I’m sure that the Rebel Alliance would be happy to negotiate some sort of treaty.”

“I have had enough of arrogant little Force users thinking that they can change the galaxy with ‘the power of goodness,’” he mocks. “You are not the first to approach me with your misguided ideals.”

Maul kicks the center of your chest and sends you falling to the ground, a position you never want to find yourself in when fighting for your life. Attempting to scramble backward is made extra difficult with the lightsaber in your hand, and it’s only delaying the inevitable as Maul follows you slowly, a predator stalking his prey. With a firm smack, your saber goes flying out of your reach.

He holds his lightsaber to your chest and smirks down at you as it burns a hole through the fabric of your shirt. “But you will be the last.”

You raise both hands up in a last-ditch plea, though you know it’s for naught. This is it. You’ve lost. You’ll become just another name on the long list of lives lost as sacrifices for the fight for a better tomorrow.

Though you’d like to say that a sense of peace comes over you as you stare your impending death in the eyes, that’s not the case. You’re scared out of your mind, actually, and the only thing comforting you is the fact that it’ll be a quick death. With that in mind, you close your eyes and await the inevitable.

But the inevitable never comes. Where you were expecting pain and darkness, there’s simply darkness from screwing your eyes shut. After a couple of long moments, you hesitantly open your eyes. Darth Maul no longer looms over you. Instead, he’s a few feet away, engaged in battle with someone else.

“It was foolish of me to believe that Kenobi could actually finish the job and successfully kill somebody for once,” he spits, twirling his saber in his hand as another red saber clashes with his.

“You said it, not me!”

Belatedly, you realize that you know that cocky, annoying voice. Sure enough, Darth Vader is now Darth Maul’s opponent, and he’s faring much better than you had. His helmet is off, allowing you to see the arrogant grin he’s sporting, and his blond curls fly around his face as he swings his lightsaber through the air.

“Vader?” you call, still feeling like your eyes are deceiving you.

He looks over at you, his grin somehow getting bigger. “C’mon, get up and help me out!”

You stumble to your feet and call your lightsaber back to your hand using the Force, but remain back. Vader doesn’t need your help, because he’s very clearly winning. You would only be a hindrance if you were to join, so instead, you watch.

Even if you didn’t know that the two Sith lords had been trained for a very long time, their fighting styles would make it obvious. The way that they move, so fluidly and deadly, is an art form. It almost looks like a dance, if a dance could end in somebody’s death.

“Darth Sidious won’t be pleased when he finds out you’re helping out the Rebel Alliance,” Darth Maul taunts, bending over backward to avoid a swing.

Darth Vader curses at the near-miss. “Oh, but I’m not.”

“Then what do you call this?”

He looks over his shoulder and winks at you. “Helping the one particular Rebel that I have a vested interest in.”

“Pathetic!” Darth Maul spits.

Vader’s lightsaber makes contact with the palm of Maul’s hand, and he yells out in pain. He catches his saber with his other hand before it can fall to the ground, but he’s unable to grip it with both hands now. Though he could fight one-handed, against somebody as talented as Darth Vader, he wouldn’t be very successful. The light from his saber disappears as he extinguishes it, giving one curt nod before he backs off.

“This is not the end,” he promises.

“No, I don’t believe it is.”

Though Vader could very easily finish him, there are rules to a battle. When one willingly concedes, the fight is over, no matter how much the other wishes that it wasn’t. You and Vader both watch as Maul makes it to his ship and escapes, flying high above your heads and away from Corellia.

Vader turns his attention to you, wrapping his large hands around your upper arms and looking you up and down. “Are you alright?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“You were the one about to die.”

“I had it under control,” you claim, even though you very much did not have it under control. “And I didn’t need you to save me.”

“Oh, you didn’t? That’s not what it looked like to me.”

His fingers move to the open hole in your shirt left by Maul’s lightsaber above your heart. The skin there is shiny from a light burn—it’s nothing that will hinder you in the long run, but it does sting a bit, especially when Vader lightly touches this wound. You hiss through your teeth, but he doesn’t move.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” he notes, his voice soft from concentration.

Your cheeks burn at this because you know there are a couple of reasons for your racing heart, and only one of them is from the exertion of battle. Wiggling your hands up, you get enough of a space that you can lightly push yourself away from Vader.

“What are you—how did you know that I would be here?” you demand, having been under the assumption that everybody had done very well in making sure this was a top-secret mission.

“We received some intel that the Rebel Alliance would be making a rather stupid attempt at reaching out to Crimson Dawn. I was going to just let Maul have at it, but then I thought, ‘What are the odds that my Rebel would be involved in this?’”

“I am not your Rebel.” The way that he looks at you, like you mean something to him, makes your heart clench in a way that you don’t want to consider right now. Onto the next subject, then. “Why did you help me in the first place? You could have let him kill me. You should have let him kill me, actually. Would have saved you a lot of trouble.”

“I don’t want you dead.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course, you just want me to join you and go against every one of my morals.”

“I still have morals, Rebel. If you were willing to listen, to be open-minded, I think you’d find that the Dark Side is not evil. Where the Light Side wanted their Jedi to shirk all of their emotions and attachments, the Dark Side encourages those emotions. Anger, sadness, passion…love. Sith believe in a world where we’re all free to feel what we want, to allow that which scares us to be out in the open so that we may overpower it. You can’t tell me that this sounds evil.”

You remain silent, because you don’t know what to think. With how Vader puts it, the Dark Side doesn’t sound all evil. Actions speak louder than words, however, and you’ve seen the terror and devastation that the Empire and the Dark Side have unleashed on the galaxy. You’re not willing to dwell on it right now (or ever, really; just thinking about the possibility of Vader’s words having some validity makes you feel like you’re betraying the Rebel Alliance), so you force it to the back of your mind and refuse to think about it any longer.

“Well, I think my work here is done,” Vader declares with a sigh, clipping his saber back onto his belt.

You look at him in confusion. “Wait, you’re not…going to force me to be your apprentice? I mean, now’s kind of the perfect time.” You don’t want him to do so, but you were sure you knew what his end goal was, since he’s made it clear every other time you’ve encountered him.

“It is,” he agrees. “But I’ve decided that it does no good to have you join me against your will. When the time comes, you’ll give yourself to me—to the Dark Side willingly.”

He sounds so sure of this, like it’s a foregone conclusion. You’re about to argue, to insist once more that you’ll never join him, when you hear groaning behind you.

“Looks like your crew is starting to come to,” Vader notes. “I’ll see you soon.”

You don’t doubt that, but you won’t let him know that. “I sure hope not.”

He laughs, already walking to his own ship. “Make sure to get that burn checked out so that it doesn’t get infected!” he yells to you.

The groaning gets louder before you can tell him to not tell you what to do, and somebody calls your name sluggishly. Your pilot is trying to roll over onto his hands and knees, and the others aren’t far behind him in waking up. You get ready to help, as all good Rebels do—because that’s what you are, someone good and helpful and nothing at all like the Sith Lord that increasingly occupies your thoughts as of late.

You’re not like him, you tell yourself, and you’ll do everything in your power to ensure that you won’t ever be like him.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #sith!anakin #sith!anakin skywalker #sith!anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars imagine #star wars #rebel!reader #sith!anakin x rebel!reader #rebel-verse au

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seven-meds · 2 months

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A few interesting Letters to the Editor published in various adult magazines between the 50s and the 90s. Transcripts and sources below:

1: Future Sex (Issue 6, March 1994)

I love your magazine. The articles are well-written, and it's refreshing to see adjectives other than the words "throbbing" and "turgid" being used. Bless you and your thesaurus as well.

I particularly enjoyed Kim Teevan's essay, "Self-Service" (Issue 4), but some of the terminology was used improperly. One woman commented on the power of her 12volt vibrator being powerful enough to bore her with men. Well, that may or may not be true, but it's not voltage that determines the output power of vibrators. (I am an electrician by trade so I'm quite familiar with how vibrators work.)

The "vibes" or "pulses" that come from a vibrator are dependent on its rate of electrical cycles, expressed in hertz. A really good vibrator will have a "rate of fire" of about 60-180 pulses per minute. That translates to about

1-3 hertz. Other good rates lie in the 3003,000 pulses per second range. If this sounds a little fast, don't worry about it. Three hundred to 3,000 hertz is the average frequency of the human speaking voice. It's a nifty little vibration but it doesn't carry as far as the electrically generated vibrations due to limitations in the body's ability to maintain a sustained tone.

If I can make a personal recommendation to heavy vibrator users, you can get about a 40% increase in output power on your vibrators by bypassing the resistors that send power into the vibrator itself. Just solder a little wire around them and you'll soon be able to come so hard you'll shatter windows all up and down your block.

Charles Harris San Francisco , CA

2: Night and Day (November 1952)

Dear Sir:

It's wonderful to pick up your magazine a letter from a fellow uniped such as Beth O. I, too, think it is about time we were being heard from. 1 am 27 years old, blonde and not bad looking at all. I lost my left leg at mid thigh in an automobile wreck. Also I have never been able to wear an artificial limb. I use one special crutch, and my boy friend says I get about as well as a girl with two legs. I wear a 6B shoe and would like to swap with any girl that wears that size. Maybe Beth O. wears that size.

I have been walking on crutches for over ten years, I play tennis, dance and bowl. Can anyone top that? I don't believe there is a one-legged girl in the world that can get about better on crutchés than me. I challenge all comers. It is quite a nuisance being one-minus, but as Beth said, it has its compensations. I haven’t bought any hose in years as my friends give me all their odd stockings. I am waiting with bated breath for your picture spread of us one-legged girls — might even send in one of mine if I can find a good one.

E.C. CONCORD, N. C.

3: Eqqus Eroticus (Spring 1997)

Dear Sir,

I’m a middle aged white male living in the Cleveland, Ohio area. I took an early retirement from the Federal Government over a year ago. But I stay in good physical condition by doing my exercises such as walking, bike riding and playing golf. So I can keep up with if not ahead of just about everyone my age and usually guys who are years younger.

I want to be a cart pony and I could be a cart pony, if only I knew of someone who could train me.

I have almost always been in control. I usually am in charge of what¬ ever I am involved in. At work, I was always the boss. Usually when I joined any club and social activities at some point I became the leader. That may sound great, but it is not easy being the one who has to make the decisions, to be the person people wait to hear from, to always be the responsible one.

Through it all or maybe because of it all, I have always had a suppressed interest in bondage. To “be” in bondage, that is. To be tied strapped, shackled or whatever into complete submission. But there was no one who could or would control me, and I still yearn for bondage. I want to know at the deepest level what it is like to be controlled, forced to respond to any whim of the person who controls me.

In my spare time I found a newsgroup that had all kinds of photos of people in bondage. What attracted my interest most was the pony girls, especially the cart ponies. They were totally controlled, physically and mentally. They weren’t just in bondage; they weren’t held in one position. They were forced to behave and obey just as their masters or trainers instructed them. They were in body harnesses, stiff high collars, with a bit in their mouths, and harnesses holding their heads just right. You might see them in a corral, practicing their gait. They might be shown in a stall, chained to a wall by their neck or ankle or pulling a cart with the whip ready to give them extra incentive to obey. They were always total slaves with no will or choice.

I want to be the one who is being trained as cart pony boy. Held by my reins in a stable or my bit secured above me, holding me straight as my trainer works on my gait. To know that the littlest mistake would be rewarded with a crack or two of the whip. A whip crack I have yet to feel. Taught patience by being left chained naked in my stall, to wait for whatever would come next. I even long to be the one locked to the cart, my head held high by collar and head harness, reins telling me where to go, proudly pulling my trainer. To know that when the trip was done I‘d be back secured in my stall, left alone to await my trainer’s next pleasure.

I’m not interested in appearing in public, or being in competition. I just want to experience what it is to live the training of a cart pony. Maybe out there somewhere is a trainer who would give me what I am looking for. I want this experience so much and I would be forever grateful. I’d prefer female, but since sex isn’t the object, a male would be acceptable. If there is anyone who would train me, they can reach me at my e-mail address shown below. Please help me fulfill my desires.

PonySlaveX@aol. com

4: Eroticon (Fall 1980)

Dear friends of Eroticon,

I read porno magazines secretly, because my husband would not like having such “dirty” things in the house. Couldn’t you show more close ups of the male models muscular buttocks? I also would like to see cocks being soft and nice before the erection. I would really love that!

Finally! A lady with desire. We shall try to get some of the models to overcome their vanity and show “him” in a relaxed state. I definitely agree with you — not only womens asses are tempting.

5: Divinity 7 (1994)

I am enclosing a cutting from the DAILY TELEGRAPH of the 8th September. This indicated the flogging of a bishop.

There are no details and I would be very interested to know more about it, there is no doubt that it was a severe thrashing, but the culprit did not need to have hospital treatment afterwards, and he was fit to sit and walk next day, therefore no real injury.

I think that many of us would like to have details, such as how was he dressed for the flogging, did he have pants and shirt on? Was he standing or laying down?

It would also be interesting to know the conditions for flogging in other countries like Pakistan, Arabia and Turkey, with descriptions of the faults for which one can be flogged.

A photo or two would be interesting or better still a video of an actual flogging in public or in private.

This being an item siutable [sic] for the DAILY TELEGRAPH, and the true record of a news event I would think that a video or photos would be quite OK and legal imports, am I right?

As you are In touch and a publisher, I would like to hear from you on this subject, you may already have information or know of videos available.

Douglas Finlayson Essex

6: Transformation (Issue 6, 1994)

Dear TRANSFORMATION,

| recently picked up your Magazine #2...it’s great! | like what I’ve read in your magazine, especially a story titled “Dominant Lady Turns Boyfriend into Crystal” on page 10. | have this fantasy...about a dominant lady dentist who has a thing about a trampy TV, and fetish PVC or latex clothing.

Sometimes | am the patient, all dressed in shiny PVC. Other times I’m the nurse, in a white PVC uniform, long blond hair and a shiny nurse’s cap. The dental equipment is an old belt-driven drill and a sit-up chair.

If possible, I'd like to get in touch with Karyn R. and Crystal. But anyone...please write me!

K. Johnson

7: High Heels (Vol. 2 No. 7, 1965)

Dear High Heels.

I would like to see more pictures of handicapped girls in high-heels... I am enclosing some of mine, showing my 6" heel—some also show my peg. I have other pictures showing me in 7" heels...

Thank You,

U.N.A.

#On fetishism

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sapphia · 2 years

Note

Hey friend, I hope I can ask a favour from you. I’m a black non-binary lesbian going through a tough phase as Both of my parents are openly homophobic and transphobic. I've organised a crowdfunding to solicit for support to evacuate my home, it's been help for me. Please consider to donate to my pinned link on my profile if you can Reblog and share my pin post to reach a large audience with support . Anything helps at the moment.🙏❤️

Alright everyone, time for an impromptu lesson on how to spot scam asks!

The first sign that this message is a scam is honestly that someone is sending me this message at all, especially since I don't interact with the person enough to recognise their name. I'm sure that 99.9% of donation messages will be spam messages set up by accounts specifically designed to get money out of people, enough that I will delete these by default. I don't think I've ever had a genuine one. But if messages like this tug on your heartstrings enough to want to find out, let me show you how to do that.

The first warning sign is that I'm not following them. Maybe they're a longtime follower of my account though, and I might want to help them in that case, so to check that, I go to my account page, scroll down to the blog that was sent the message, and click on followers.

There I can type in alicesgarcia's blog name in the search, to see if she's following me. But I don't have to because I can see that she's right at the top of my follower list. This is a bad sign--it means she's followed me recently. To check this, I go to my notes and filter for followers only.

I left my ask notifications on too, and from this, I can see they actually sent me the ask BEFORE they followed me. Definitely a scam.

But let's say I want to go deeper. Maybe they're not my follower, but perhaps they are a genuine long-time tumblr user in a hard time--after all, they're a black non-binary lesbian with bigoted parents. That's all of my weak spots in one! I really want to support someone in that situation (Which, of course, I do, I'm on tumblr. This scam is highly targeted, and they s know what will get my sympathy).

So let's check out her blog. She's got a lot of posts, but they're all photo posts, which is another red flag. Though I'm scrolling and scrolling, most of the posts were made 1 day ago, with another big dump 5 days ago. There's a LOT of posts, too much to scroll through. This is deliberate, to make her look legit and discourage people from seeing the date of her first post. But by offsetting posts hundreds at a time (see address bar), I can find her first post.

And there we go--their first post was made five days ago. Definite scam. These are all huge red flags, but you don't need every one of them to tell you it's a scam. Any single one of these should have given me enough doubt that I would just click the block button. New follower? Scam. New blog? Scam. Blog all one type of post? Scam. No interaction with other blogs? Scam. Even the fact that she was so vulnerable and marginalised is a huge warning sign (you're being targeted), as is the fact that her blog just doesn't make her feel like a real person.

Look for ALL of these things. A good scam might set up a blog a month in advance and make personalised posts to gain your trust, or get the login of an old blog and use their age to make them look legit. Keep digging, and keep making sure that what you're seeing tracks with this being a real person in genuine need.

And if you're going to signal boost, even if you're not donating your own money, PLEASE do these basic steps before you post or reblog. Let's protect each other from this.

#scam #psa #alicesgarcia #fraud #scams

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imagineanime2022 · 9 months

Text

Cursed Siblings *Part 2*

Ryomen Sukuna X Reader!Sibling

Word Count: 1214

Requested: @imperatrizpirata @bronze-metal

Request: Hello, I really liked it, reader, being Sukuna's sister (sukuna as always very affectionate lol) If you don't mind I would like a part 2.

*Part 1*

In the weeks that followed Junpei was put under scrutiny but he never faltered not with you there, they forced endless tests and had even attempted to kill him on his first arrival, the principle of Jujutsu Tech had attempted to have Junpei enrolled with the other students but it seemed that even his word was not enough and if they would not act in trust you would make them act in fear.

It was yet another meeting this time with all who had a say in Junpei’s future, they were all as stone faced as they had been every other time and you could tell that nothing had changed. It was easy to take control for yourself with just one word, ‘activate’. The change in pressure in the room was felt by all of them, you could tell by the sweat rolling down their brows or slight shift in their seats, Gojo who had been standing next to both of you felt it too and one glance told him all that he needed to know, his hands moving out of his pocket prepared for a fight should it be needed. “No need to worry six eyes, I'm in no mood for a fight today.” You informed him “I just thought it important to remind them of the power that I am allowing them to wield.” “You think you hold any power here?” One of them asked. “Are you stupid enough to believe that I don’t?” You asked, increasing the pressure in the room, the only person unaffected at this point was the six eyes user himself. “What… Do… You… Want?” Another finally asked. “They’ve already stated what I want. I won’t repeat it so you can have the satisfaction of me asking.” You answered. “You want to enrol in Jujutsu Tech?” He asked as you let up on the show of power with a deadly smirk. “Junpei wants to enrol in Jujutsu Tech.” You corrected them as you lifted his hand to point back at yourself “I want to be with my brother, a king needs his advisor after all and when it’s all said and done you don’t want to piss off the more rational of the cursed siblings.”

That was the day they decided that Junpei would enrol in Jujutsu Tech despite the security risk that posed. Junpei had spent the better half his first day getting the tour from Yuji with Gojo not far behind, he met Yuji’s friends who were quick to accept him as part of their group forgetting about you looming over his shoulder, that is until you make yourself known. The training started the next day, you knew that Junpei had a strong Shikigami under his belt but he needed more self defence and fighting skill in general, you watched the first few matches from the side slowly moving around the field as the second year Maki came at him. On the third loss you appeared in his view holding your hand out to him, you helped him to sit up as you crouched in front of him “How are you doing?” You asked. “I can’t do this.” He mumbled “Yes you can.” You answered softly “she’s a seasoned fighter, you won’t beat her but you can defend yourself just listen to me.”

Yuji sat on the stairs with Megumi, Nobara, Inumaki and Panda. “He's never going to get it.” Nobara said as she sipped on her drink “Maki is too good.” “You think?” Yuji asked. “Maybe we should help him.” “Help him? No thanks.” Nobara muttered as her eyes shifted over to the fight again. “He doesn’t need your help.” Sukuna’s voice reverated through Yuji. “What are you talking about?” He asked. “They taught me everything that I know and they will teach him, he’ll be on your level in no time.” Sukuna answered and as if to prove the point Junpei successfully blocked an attack with an excited smile on his face as he moved away from Maki to create space. “Your sibling is teaching him how to fight?” Yuji asked. “Why wouldn’t they?” Sukuna asked, he knew that Yuji was going to make a comparison to himself. “You’ve never helped me.” Yuji answered. “I don’t like you kid.” Sukuna muttered “They chose him, they want him to succeed and they’ve always loved a challenge.” Yuji didn’t say anything further in response as he watched Junpei improve over the session. Sukuna didn’t like many people let alone compliment them, he’d often cursed Gojo but never had he complimented anyone’s strength not the way that he did yours, Junpei was 10x better than he was when he started and it seemed that everyone had noticed that.

Later that evening Junpei was sleeping when Sukuna reached out to you, it was easy for you to slip into his domain given that there was no actual barrier but you still groaned as you were submerged ankle deep in something. “What is it with you and the fluid?” You asked. “Do you even know what this is?” “Does it matter?” Sukuna asked from his place on his throne. “It does when it’s soaking into my socks.” You complained as you took steps towards him. “Then wear better shoes. No one else complains.” Sukuna argued and you rolled your eyes. “That’s because they’re too busy pleading for their lives.” You answered “they don’t have time to worry about wet socks, not to mention they probably think they’re the ones who wet them given the fact that most people who see you lose bladder control.” “There are other ways you could have said that.” Sukuna mumbled as he stood, appearing in front of you moments later. “What is your plan?” “What?” You asked. “With the meat suit.” He added. “Junpei?” You asked. “You’ve got a body perfectly made for you, I’ve got to mould one.” “Are you sure that’s what you're doing?” He asked “with that one?” “Bodies can be changed but minds, it takes far more to break them, Junpei doesn’t need to be broken by the end of our time together, he will have given into my way of thinking or given me his body entirely.” You explained. “And if he doesn’t.” Sukuna asked. “Ryo, you hold the one thing that’s he’s been clinging to in the palm of your hand, you’ll break him for me won’t you?” You teased as you skipped forward to meet him at the base of the skull pile. “I suppose I can do that.” He smirked as you bowed your head to him. “Thank you little brother.” You said softly, Sukuna had gotten taller than you long before he had been sealed and so it was a natural behaviour for him to lift his hand and flick your forehead before saying. “You owe me.” “You haven’t done anything yet, you’ll only get something if I actually need your help.” You responded. “Well then I hope this kid is strong enough to give me a job to do.” Sukuna smirked and you rolled your eyes before making your way back to Junpei. Your eyes moved over him as you thought about your next move, you hoped that you didn’t have to do anything drastic after all you were starting to like this one.

*Part 3*

Request Here!!

#jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujustu kaisen oneshot #jujustu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujustu kaisen #ryomen sukuna imagine #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna oneshot #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #gender nuetral reader

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crystalyssa35 · 1 year

Text

A General Guide to Writing Well, Now, & Consistently

In all my years writing, I have struggled with keeping writing as a fun and healthy habit. It took me five years (and many instances of writer's block and giving up) to actually have a basic set of guidelines to keep my writing going...

And I would like to share these "rules" with you all today!

Now, a bit of a disclaimer: developing the quality of your writing skills comes with time, research, and thinking. It may sound frustrating to hear, and you may hear it often, but the only way to get better at writing is to write and read often. Many times, just by jotting a silly thought down or reading fanfiction, you can spawn ideas without realizing it.

Now, to the list of tips that (I hope) will help you on your writing endeavors!

If you are not having fun writing your story, your readers will not have fun reading it. It sounds silly, but it's true! If you're enjoying your writing, you're more likely to write more and input more ideas into it!

Even if you have people to check your works, reread them on your own anyway. This may be a little frustrating tip for some, but let me tell you: I used to HATE checking my own stuff. The worst way I learned that personally checking it is a necessity was when my aunt checked it and pointed out tens of mistakes within my grammar, storyline, and characters. Check yo work, it will save you a LOT of embarrassment in the future.

Write anything. Read everything. As ambiguous and obscure as it will sound, it makes sense with context. As I mentioned before, the only way to get better at writing is to write and read often. Write anything your mind desires, that's simple enough. But read EVERYTHING; not only books, blogs, and articles, but also games, texts with friends, billboards, pictures with text, and (sorry, students) even homework as well. You'll be surprised how much your vocabulary expands when you actually pay attention to anything that is written (for me, it was video games. Seven-year old me knew vocabulary that I was taught in seventh grade because of it). And on that note...

Research what you don't know. Please, this one is genuinely important (I'm biased because it's one of my pet peeves). This includes words you don't know the definition of, spelling, and even generic, real-life information you want to add into your stories (e.g. I actually spent four hours researching how gemstones are categorized for my sci-fi story: Eco-Adstrum). Unfortunately, sometimes researching and fact-checking your ideas before writing them down can prove to be unmotivating, especially when you're wrong. But, it's always good to stay optimistic and be creative enough to twist the actual fact to mold it to your stories. Unless you're writing non-fiction, then maybe don't do that last bit.

If you have no ideas, keep wiggling your pencil. To those that recognize that phrase, yes, it is not my own. This is a piece of writing from former Tumblr user "officialtheonite" (I was only able to find the post because it has been reblogged multiple times) and their fifth grade writing teacher. Essentially, even if you have no ideas, keep writing. Write ANYTHING, even if it doesn't make sense. You will always be able to double-check it later and you will save yourself a lot of wasted time sitting around trying to stir the soup in your brain.

Balance the usage of your names and pronouns. To this day, I still struggle with this. I tend to use an abundance of pronouns when I'm referring to a character, so much so that sometimes, it becomes unclear on if we are still talking about aforementioned character or if we're talking about a different character entirely. Use names when the focus or action of a character is on stage; use pronouns if we are still talking about said character (even if we are talking about the same character, make sure you at least reiterate their name when there's a new paragraph).

I'll be editing and reworking this list as time goes on. I hope these tips can be of use so some of you all. Feel free to ask me any questions if needed. Enjoy writing and keep at it! I believe in you all!

#writing #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing thoughts #creative writing #personal experience #ask me questions #writing advice #writer things #writeblr #writerscommunity

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dark-night-hero · 2 years

Text

Imagine being Gojo Satoru's significant other.

Imagine having enough patience to be his childhood friend, classmates and let alone his lover for years. Or maybe you don't have the patience, rather you manage to get used to him and his attitude, the way he treats everybody and anybody throughout the years where you've been by his side.

Imagine being on the same year but instead of being put on the same team as him and the others, you were in tasked on a solo mission just like Geto's s/o but was overseas by the time you were at the jujutsu high. Not that you don't mind being away, but unlike Satoru who can do whatever he wants being the most powerful sorcerer alive. You who was the only descendants of a ruined clan have no choice but to obey unless Satoru stepped in, in which he never does, not because he doesn't care but because you never let him know.

"Awwe how come you always accepted missions overseas?" "Well Satoru, other people needed some aid you know." "But why does it has to be you? It's like the elders have been doing this on purpose." "We-" "Should I just kill them all?" "..." "Just kidding babe. Muah!"

Imagine being the dumb and dumber couple. Always making trouble for the principal when you were together. Going on a days when you both have times and making it always fun and memorable. Being with Satoru was like being in the eye of the storm, whenever you were with him everything was calm and bright, like everything was alright.

"Do you really have to go?" He was pouting like a child you're rather finding him silly than cute. "This job is the most suitable for me" You spoke, caressing his cheeks, looking at those mesmerizing blue eyes underneath those black glasses of his. "Don't worry, I'll be back before you knew it like always. Besides don't you have your own mission to do?" You remind him as he pout once again. "Oh come on you big baby. Stop looking at me like that, I'm not going to change my mind"

Imagine your mission being longer than what you've imagine, plus the danger you've faced was far more worse when you face it. As if someone was trying to get rid of you on purpose by not giving the right details about your mission. Nevertheless you manage to survive, thought attaining a few major and minor injuries, there was nothing that can stop you going back home.

Imagine the confused look on your face. The man right in front of you was the man you've loved the most at the same time he wasn't. He looked and sound the same and yet.. There was something different. He wasn't the only one. Everything seems to have changed. You want to asked him, really. But as soon as you went back to jujutsu high, you were put too focus on your recovery.

"You good?" He sat on the empty chair right beside your bed. "Yeah, just a little bit tired but I'm good." You replied not wanting to worry him. "How about you?" You asked, finally looking at him who was wearing his usual glasses. I heard from Geto that you... That was what you wanted to ask but you hold back. "I'm fine, aren’t I the strongest as ever?" He smirked playfully at you. But wasn't it we that it used to be?

Imagine being in the middle of a mission when you have heard the news about his best friend being wanted as a curse user. The look on your face as you hurried off and went to finish the work so that you could go home and head towards your lover.

Imagine as you burst enter his room, there he was sleeping peacefully, making you sit on his bed side as you watch him breath peacefully, only when times like this does it seems like he was a normal person, a beautiful normal person not the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the history of sorcerers. But you knew that was never the case, reaching out to touch the lost strand of his white clocks on his face, your hand was blocked by an invisible barrier. A bitter smile making its way on your lips.

Imagine as you were about to leave him be for the rest of the night and was about to come back the following day, as you were to retract your hand, you found yourself laying on your side, his arms wrapped around your waist, his front pressing on your back as you can feel his breathing upon your neck.

"You're leaving me again, aren't you?" His voice was emotionless. It almost made you stop breathing for a second. "No. I'm not." You said with a sigh. "I'm staying for the night." You heard him chuckle after that. "Just for the night, heh." You felt his hold tighten around you. "No. I'll stay by your side as long as you like." For the first time in your life, you felt the strongest sorcerer tremble upon holding you as he buried his face upon your neck.

Imagine as times goes by, you learn how to love and adjust this new Satoru. In the first place its not like you stopped loving him and vice versa. It's just this Satoru was a little high wild. And also.

"Who's this kid?" You spoke upon seeing the little boy beside him. "Did- did you kidnapped a child?! OH MY GO-!" "Hey!" He spoke putting you on a headlock and eventually messed with your hair. "Babe stop!" You laugh, pushing him away. "But seriously who is this child?" You spoke once again referring to the kid that was looking at you two with emotionless. Just like that Satoru lean close to your ear and whispered. "He's a Zenin." Enough for you to know what he was referring to. "We're going to be his guardian." "What?" You look at your lover with a flabbergasted look on your face.

Imagine as you two spend the rest of your days together, as the two of you continue to love each other, days where just passing by. You slowly grown to love the child that Satoru have picked up. It was peaceful, though can a little bit of a mess sometimes because of your lover, it was wonderful.

Imagine, as at least you thought, as you were both teacher at the jujutsu high, you can agree at Satoru's decision when it comes to the vessel of Sukuna, Yuji Itadori was a bright young man after all. Though everything was a bit of a hellish mess, everything was fine, until the real tragedy came, the Shibuya Incident.

#gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jujutsu gojo #gojo imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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befuddled-calico-whump · 1 year

Text

Abandoned

For Angstpril, Day 6

cw: aftermath of torture, mentioned hand whump, death mention

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hero was troubled.

It wasn't the fight. He'd gotten better of the five supervillain-wannabes without breaking a sweat, stripped them of the tech they were using, and watched as they were all led away in handcuffs.

He'd dusted himself off, briefed law enforcement on the scenario, then started collecting the gear the criminals had used so it could be turned in as evidence.

It wasn't until he was holding the first piece—a cuff that let its wearer manipulate electricity—that Hero's blood ran cold. It was inch-for-inch identical to something he'd seen Villain use.

He collected the rest of the gear in a hurry, giving each item a quick once-over, and each piece further confirmed his suspicion.

Villain had made the tech that outfitted the aspiring criminals of the day. Dammit. He should've realized this was bigger than an attempted robbery. Villain was always a step ahead.

And he'd been missing for months. Plenty of time to plan something big. How many other petty criminals had he outfitted in that time? Would the city see a spike in crime? Or…

A chill washed over Hero as he remembered the last time he'd seen Villain. Running away, tail between his legs after a crushing defeat at Hero's hands.

Was this revenge? Had the robbery been a distraction?

He handed the rest of the gear off quickly, trying not to let the worry show on his face as he took off.

What if Villain had attacked his base? His team? His family? Even in route, he called back to the team's headquarters in a hurry.

"Hero?" Sidekick sounded half asleep.

"Sidekick! Are you… tell me you're okay."

"M'fine. Why? What's going on?"

"Check the perimeter. I think Villain's up to something."

"What? I mean, okay."

"I have to go. I'll be there soon."

"Hero?"

He hung up before she could finish her question. First he had to check on his parents. His brother. It felt unlikely, unreal even, that Villain would be able to find them, but he couldn't risk it.

It wasn't as if Villain wouldn't stoop that low. He'd taken hostages before, and had proven time and time again that he didn't make empty threats. If he'd hurt any of them…

But he hadn't.

A thorough search of his parents' house, his brother's apartment, even the surrounding block, yielded nothing.

Nothing at home, nothing at his base.

So what was Villain planning? It was so unlike him to do anything without it being part of some grander scheme.

Maybe he'd just handed off the tech to a random gang and told them to go wild. Spread some fear. A promise of a chaos that would plague the city.

Or maybe it was all a mind game, a way to get back at Hero without ever having to touch him.

Dammit. If that was it, it was working. Even after assuring the safety of his family and friends, Hero couldn't sleep. He had to get to the bottom of this. Find Villain and imprison him for good. Prevent any further weapons dealing. Protect the city.

Hero got in contact with the police first thing the next morning. They'd managed to get an address from yesterday's delinquents, and it was as good a starting point as any.

Before taking off, Hero got one more look at the gear the group had been using. If nothing else, it would give him an idea of what he'd be up against in the weeks to come. Villain was an engineer. An innovator. His only power was his intellect, but that was enough to let him go toe-to-toe with the likes of Hero.

The police had locked everything up in a vault, but he had no trouble convincing them to grant him access. After all, this could finally lead to Villain's arrest. An end to a reign of terror.

There were five items locked away, one for each criminal. Two electrokinesis cuffs. One pair of vision-enhancing goggles. A pair of boots designed to increase speed. And a belt that equipped its user with near-invisibility.

A collection of Villain's favorites. Hero could identify all of them on sight. None of them seemed new, but why would Villain bother making petty thieves custom stuff? He'd probably just tossed them his hand-me-downs.

Or more likely, he'd given one of them his hand-me-downs. The collection seemed more designed to outfit a single person, not equip a full team.

And wasn't this the exact setup Villain had used in their last encounter? An odd coincidence, but Hero tried to shake it off. Once Villain was safely behind bars, he'd ask about it directly. Right now it was time to investigate the address. Maybe by the time he returned, the police would have more information for him.

The address didn't lead to some secret base, or shady warehouse; just a one-story house on the edge of city limits.

It felt a little odd to knock on the door, knowing who this place was affiliated with, but Hero was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. What if it was just one of the robber's mothers? A grandparent? He wasn't about to bash in the door and give some poor old lady a heart attack.

After a few tries with no answer, he forced the door open. A standard deadbolt was no match for superhuman strength, and if the homeowner did end up being an innocent bystander, a lock would cost him less than the whole door.

Inside… there was no one. All the lights in the house were off. The front room held nothing but a beat-up easy chair, and the rooms beyond didn't offer much more. No spare tech, no mysterious notes, not even an unlabeled phone number or address. Before Hero could call it quits, a shed in the backyard caught his eye.

Not much, but it was worth a look.

He tore away the padlock that held the shed closed, taking a chunk of wood with it. The door swung open, sunlight spilling in to illuminate the area. There was a tool chest against one wall, with a workbench directly across from it. A wooden chair sat beside it, speckled with something that looked suspiciously like dried blood.

Hero stepped inside cautiously, wanting a better look at the part of the shed where the sunlight didn't quite reach. A small scraping sound stopped him short, and he held his breath and listened.

Whatever the noise was, it was coming from the back corner. A box. No, a large dog crate.

Did the bastards from the robbery keep their dog locked up in here? Stale air and darkness, no protection from the elements… He muttered a curse under his breath, and the thing in the crate let out a quiet whimper that sounded almost human.

No way…

Hero reached the front of the crate, letting his eyes adjust as he peered through the metal bars, taking in a silhouette that was definitely not a dog.

He knelt, a little too quickly, and the figure inside flinched back, as far as the cramped space would allow. The scraping noise followed them, a sound Hero now recognized as chains.

"Dammit… don't panic. I'm going to let you out," Hero said in a low voice, crushing the locking mechanism with one hand and pulling away the front of the cage. What the hell had the bank robbers done? He knew they were reckless. Stupid and selfish enough to put people in harm's way in order to get what they wanted. He never would've guessed they'd be keeping a person in a dog cage? And who…

He clenched his jaw. No. He already knew the answer to that.

"I won't hurt you," he said. "Just come out, and I'll get you out of here, okay?"

He couldn't bring himself to think about it. Not right now.

The figure in the cage began to crawl forward on bruised, bony limbs. A short length of chain linked their ankles together, and a longer one hung from their neck, like some kind of leash. A muzzle glinted from somewhere beneath their dark, matted hair. Hero took a step back, giving them room.

He could leave now. Call the police. Call an ambulance. Leave and never confirm what he already knew to be true.

"Come into the light," he said instead. "Let me get a look at you."

The captive seemed to be in pain as they crawled to the other end of the shed, stopping just short of the door and staying there, head bowed.

Daylight reflected off of their chains and lit up the bruises scattered across their naked torso. A few sloppily-stitched gashes cut across their legs, and welts ran across their shoulders, but the worst of it was their hands.

Bloodied bandages wrapped around mangled fingers, most of which looked like they'd been broken or dislocated.

Hero knelt next to them. He could still go. He could still get away with pretending this was someone else, some innocent victim—

"Look at me," he said, trying to soften his voice.

He wasn't surprised when it was Villain's eyes that met his own, half-shrouded by dark strands of hair.

Villain, who'd once held a daycare hostage to get the City Council's attention. Villain, who'd murdered the mayor's wife to get her to take his threats seriously. Villain, who now looked up at him with tired, fearful eyes.

Whose body was a testament to the cruelty he'd lived through.

Who was chained and muzzled and broken.

Dammit, why couldn't it ever be easy?

"I'm going to take the muzzle off okay?"

Villain nodded, eyes downcast as Hero tore through the leather straps like they were pieces of paper.

Villain reached up, rubbing his jaw awkwardly with the back of his hand.

"Please…" came his voice, rusted with disuse. "Please, Hero, just arrest me. Please. I'm done. I c-can't—"

"You're okay. I won't… I won't hurt you," Hero said, the words coming out stilted and wooden. How was he supposed to comfort someone like Villain? He'd made his fair share of assurances. Accident survivors, rescued hostages, Villain's own victims. But they were always innocent, undeserving of whatever misfortune had befallen them. Villain on the other hand…

He took in his nemesis. Gaunt frame, hunched shoulders, unable to stand, barely able to crawl—

Did he deserve this much?

"Let me see your hands," Hero said quickly. He was no healer, but damage assessment was better than contemplating whether or not the man before him deserved his pity.

Villain shifted, holding both hands out, wrists bared. Like he was expecting to be cuffed, Hero realized.

"I'm not arresting you. I just want to see them," he clarified, reaching out to unwind the bandages, one-by-one. Both hands were spotted with deep puncture wounds, some of which looked infected. The marks were strange, and Hero was unable to guess at the cause until he removed the last bandage, revealing a small screw still embedded in Villain's palm.

"Dammit—!" he almost dropped Villain's hand.

The hand of an engineer. Someone who tinkers and builds, someone who uses their hands to create— The notion sickened him more than anything else he'd seen today.

"Why?" was all he could say.

Villain didn't answer.

He couldn't sit here and dwell on this. Villain needed a healer, or at least a hospital. And then— and then, he'd need to be arrested. He'd pay for his crimes, but not like this.

But what if it happened again? Villain had plenty of enemies. Rivals and ex-henchmen who were in prison now, ready to take revenge. Guards and cops who'd been personally wronged who would look the other way. He'd have to take preventative measures against that.

"Alright," he sighed. "Let's go then." Hero knelt, taking Villain into his arms and cradling him to his chest as he took off. The beaten man curled in on himself as they flew.

"Please…" he said, barely above a whisper.

"No one will hurt you," Hero replied. "Villain, you're under arrest." After a moment, he added,

"And under my protection."

#angstpril2023 #fic #day 6 #abandoned #whump writing #heroes and villains #reluctant caretaker #villain whump #villain whumpee #whump aftermath #hand whump #lot of leadup lol

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